Wrath of the Righteous Table Unwavering (Inactive)

Game Master nightdeath

There is no other danger inside and outside the temple for 100 feet that Caelus, Oynar and the others can find.

Morgrym knows that to reconsecrate the temple would take almost a fully day with the temple needing to be cleaned, rituals to be performed and prayers offered.

Sarthonn finds a basin on water in the chapel, the water looks fresh and clear.

Razul manages to find a forge and the body burns merrily filling the temple with smoke as everyone discovers that the air vents are apparently clogged up. The smoke though gives everyone a coughing fit though for a short while as the forge consumes it entirely leaving nothing.

As the group is settling in for a rest, Caelus asks Aravashnial, Anevia, and, if he is concious and capable of sitting up, Horgus to sit with him - well within earshot of the group. Assuming that they agree, he sits, back to the wall, Oynar stratched out beside him, one hand idly running back and forth over the eidolon's back. Oynar rests with her head in her paws, eyes closed.

"My freinds, " he begins, in a neutral tone, "it seems that there is some bad air to clear amongst you, and we must all work well together to survive whatever awaits us above. Am I correct in asuming that the three of you, Aravahinal, Horgus, and Anevia, knew each other before the tragic events of Armasse?"

If needed or appropriate,

diplomacy: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23

Razul apologizes for the corpse-smoke and does his best to clear the air, as Caelus begins his air-clearing!

Sarthonn calls to Razul and Morgrym, "Priests, perhaps you should look at this. It seems odd that the water would be clear and fresh when the old guardian was so decayed. What do you make of this?"

Razul shakes his head. "I am no priest and I have no knowledge of the supernatural, merely the natural." Razul sniffs the water, staring into it. Knowledge Nature: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24 and Survival: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (12) + 13 = 25

Morgrym looks up from cleaning the chapel and wanders over, reciting prayers under his breath.

Hmm... It may be that its Holy Water, created since before the priest lost faith and unable to be touched by what he became

knowledge religion: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

Razul knows that the water is drinkable and is as natural as he can see.
Morgrym's musings however brings out its true nature. It's actually water blessed from the prayer's of the devoted.

Aravashnial sits himself heavily against a wall, glad for the respite.
"Bad air? No sir, you misunderstand, all I see is a group of heroes thrown together by fortune of misfortune, you decide, along with a bunch of us. One is married to a woman, despite being a woman herself and the other a demon worshipper, a patron to the unholy arts and rich enough to avoid getting caught. So no. Nothing to be misunderstood here."

Anevia hobbling to opposite side of Caelus, fixes a glare upon Aravashnial.
"Not all of us have the time to sit in a library coming out with ridiculous conspiracy theories. My wife and I do love each other and I wish to get back to her as soon as I can, unlike an arrogant elf who likely has no one to go back too. I at least have someone. Do you, oh wise and scholarly elf." The venom in her voice obvious to all who can hear her.

Horgus lies where he is, a thin layer of sweat lining his forehead. He hasn't moved from where you last left him.

Please note if you are reconsecrating the temple to Torag or to some other diety. Also Horgus is diseased.

Sarthonn breaks into the conversation, "Personal differences aside, let's concentrate on the task at hand. Once we find a way back to the surface, you can worry about things not so directly related to survival."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

After that Sarthonn continues, "I am no doctor but Horgus doesn't look good. Can anybody do something to help him?"

Sarthonn will help guard/watch the area if nobody else needs assistance.

"Horgus showed a good bit of courage just now, in striking out at that undead monster, Aravashnial. If he were a cultist, why bother trying to 'help' us?" Naravash shrugs, obviously uncomfortable with the idea one of their number could be a cultist, but not yet willing to write Horgus off.

I presume we'll reconsecrate the temple to Torag

Reconsecrating it to Torag

All I can do to help Horgus is make him more comfortable for a short time. Unfortunately Torag has not seen fit to bless me with spells that can remove disease yet.

Heal check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26 DC = Disease save DC. If it works, Horgus gets +4 on his next Fort save

Helping Horgus to a more suitable area, Morgrym discovers that his wounds have turned black, seeping ichor and starting to smell. Morgrym also discovers a well hidden tattoo of the symbol of Torag on his chest hidden beneath a false skin patch. The battle with the Huecuva must have shaken it off and it looks like Horgus took great pains to keep it hidden.

Disguise for Horgus 1d20 ⇒ 13 vs Morgrym's Perception 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
Fort Save for Horgus 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10

Aravashnial's tone turns derisive.
"That's what one as cunning as he would have done. I had discovered his hand in some of the cultist trying to gain a foothold in our fair city a few years passed. I brought it up to the council and then Nothing! His tone taking on an incredulous pitch. Absolutely Nothing!!!! The city council judged him innocent and not knowing anything about the cult at all. Taking a deep breath before continuing.
Mind you he funneled quite a bit of money to it and many dark objects were sized but he got off with a light slap on the wrist! Mark my words, he's doing it once more and this time he's tricking all of you."

Crossing his arms, Aravashnial waits for your response with the air of someone who won this debate if it was a debate at all.

Anevia has only this to add.
"It's no secret that Horgus maybe one of the richest men in the city with his interests widely spread out over the inner seas and beyond. There have being rumours of his involvement with various cults."

Morgrym estimates that the restoration of the temple would take only a few more hours before they can rest. With Sarthonn, keeping watch over the now feverish Horgus, Morgrym can complete the final rites.

Morgrym tries to re-cover Horgus' false skin patch.

Disguise: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14

After doing the best he can to re-cover Horgus' tattoo Morgrym walks back to the others.

I'm almost done with the rights, then the temple will be sanctified again. Horgus is not getting better, and as of a few minutes ago I've become convinced he's no more a cultist than I am. If you have something more than hearsay or rumors I'd like to hear it, but until then know that I vouch for him as a Priest o' Torag.

Aravashnial is not pleased at Morgrym's proclaimation. Mutering to himself as he leans against the wall.

Anevia looks intrigued.
"What makes you so confident, Master Morgrym. Even in the city slums, word about Horgus is rifle about his shady dealings. My wife herself has some suspicions but cannot prove it."

Caelus stays quiet, observing the conversants.

sense motive: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Sarthonn has nothing to add to the conversation about Horgus. But, he does think, So, he is wealthy. All of his boasting about a reward for rescuing him may not be idle boasting.

While Morgrym is finishing the consecration, Sarthonn asks the rest of the party, "Does anybody have extra bottles? We could use them to carry the holy water. It may be useful if we run into any more undead."

Morgrym turns to Anevia, Something I've recently seen of him. For now I'm respecting his wishes, though if he passes in time I will show you what it was that makes me trust that he's not a cultist.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Naravash frowns as the discussion continues on regarding Horgus' involvement or lack thereof with demons. "Maybe he is a cultist, maybe he isn't. And as much as I'd like to put an arrow through the eye of any cultist I come across, it doesn't seem to matter all that much at this particular moment, does it? We're trapped and lost underground; we're going to need each and every one of us if we mean to get out of these tunnels. And besides, cultist or no, I get the impression Horgus wants desperately to survive all this. Sabotaging us only cripples his own hopes of survival and escape. Don't you agree, Aravashnial?"

Razul watches the whole exchange from outside the fire light. "You quibble over who beds who and who is a cultist? Even as we walk through the darkest depths of the city you lived in? What matters it if a woman beds a woman? What matters it if a man was or was not something in his past? We are here, now. We must deal with here, now. Either commit to life or commit to death. I will live." He spits into the fire and turns to walk away from the group, to peer into the darkness.

Sarthonn continues to watch over Horgus while Morgrym finishes the consecration.

He adds to Navarash and Razul, "Agreed, gentlemen. Surviving to get to the surface should be the primary goal. Anything we can do to help that is in our best interest. I'm not ready to start executing people based on rumors. Should we be betrayed, however, I'll be the first to be the executioner."

Red Stick clicks his tongue in derision. "Yes, we've got to survive this, first. Now we've got members of our group who have taken ill, others with wounds that refuse to heal, and I, for one, am NOT going to spend the rest of a short life in these tunnels. We may have finally found a place to rest a moment, but we still need to reach the surface. We've seen too many people get crushed or mauled or what have you today, we don't need to be adding to the count ourselves."

Naravash nods along with Red Stick's words and, satisfied the chapel is safe for the time being, sits down beside Aravashnial as Morgrym continues the rites to sanctify the site once more. "Let us know if we can help at all, Morgrym." He then turns to the blinded elf beside him and speaks quietly, asking Aravashnial what he knows of the history of the Crusades and Kenabres.

The night passes over with no disturbance during the night. Everyone has fallen asleep. Your wounds heal, and Horgus's breathing slows and evens out his wounds fully healing. Wounds fully healed and all disease cured.

All your weapons glow with a inner light leaving them fresh from a forge with a tiny mark of a hammer over a forge. Masterwork weapons!

All of you wake up refreshed and feeling divine approval washing over you.
Benefits of a bless spell and 1d10 temp hitpoints for 24 hours. Please roll your own temp hitpoints.

The basin of water refills on its own with fresh water and all of you know that the temple is once more a safe bastion within this carvern.

You also know about the scales power

Wow! Very neat reward for consecrating the place! =)

Temp HPs: 1d10 ⇒ 4

Naravash rises, frowning that he'd fallen asleep when he'd not meant to, but his expression softens as he realizes everyone is still safe. As the others begin to stir and the realization dawns on him that Torag had obviously moved through the chapel and blessed its reclaimers, he smiles and turns to Morgrym. "It seems Torag smiles on you, Morgrym. And us by extension too. I feel remarkably good for having been swallowed up by a rift in the ground yesterday."

Temp HP: 1d10 ⇒ 1

"I agree. I do not know much of your god, Morgrym, but his favor is appreciated. We should determine who is to carry the scales. I would favor the one that allows shifting of faces." Razul takes the time to fill his waterskin from the basin.

When he wakes, Caelus calls Oynar, then prepares to travel, taking a moment to look, wide-eyed, at the newly razor-sharp edge of his spear.

"Morgrym, in your prayers, commend our gratitude to the Forgefather. ".

temp hp: 1d10 ⇒ 6

Temporary HP: 1d10 ⇒ 1

Aye lads, Torag ain't known as the father o' creation for nothin'. May he continue to bless us as we continue our journey, and guide us out of the rift into which we fell.

Pulling out his well-worn and beaten copy of Hammer and Tongs: The Forging of Metal and Other Good Works Morgrym starts reading a hymn of praise and thanks. Afterwards he checks on Horgus to make sure he really is cured and to be sure his skin patch did not fall off in the night.

Agreed, super cool bonus here. I presume only metal/forged weapons get the masterwork upgrade? A bow, for example, would not?

Temp HP: 1d10 ⇒ 1

Sarthonn swings his newly improved sword in the air, "Yes, Morgrym, let Torag know we appreciate his favor. I certainly hope we can put his blessings to good use."

After waking, Sarthonn makes sure to have some of his rations for the day.

There are 4 scales, I think?

Sarthonn responds to Razul, "I've no issue with that, Razul. The scale of Sacred Weapons is most interesting to me, though I don't know what others would want."

All weapons upgraded. Ammo is exempted.

A quick check on Horgus reveals that his secret is safe and that he is sleeping soundly with his wounds fuly healed.

Are Aravashnial's and Anevia's wounds healed as well?

Minor wounds yes. The major wounds like Aravashnial's eyes and Anevia's leg are not

Naravash sets himself to waking Aravashnial and Anevia, gently shaking them from their respective slumbers. He addresses both of them as Anevia rubs the sleep from her eyes, "I hope you both slept well. Let's get ready for the day, shall we?"

Sarthonn takes care of all of his morning routine, maintaining his equipment and helping everybody else get ready to move. If he has nothing else to do, he guards the entrance to the area.

Waiting near the door of the temple, Caelus scratches the back of Oynar's head. "Ready, friend?"

"I tire of tunnels and vermin," Oynar's vocies reply. "You never did show me much of the city above. I would like to see what is still standing."

Caelus nods, and looks around to see if anyone needs help preparing to leave. He will again offer his shoulder to Aravashinal.

Temp HP: 1d10 ⇒ 2

Waking up, feeling particularly refreshed, Red Stick adds, "Yes, my thanks to Torag. I've always felt comfortable around Torag's faithful, but chafed at its strictures. Maybe I should think again. Clearly there's something I've been missing."

Gathering his belongings, he stretches and stands tall. "Is everyone ready? Let's see the surface!"

All right, lads, lass, though it pains me to leave this holy place untended at least we have a place to fall back to. Onwards that we may see the skys as the dwarves of old did when they burst from the ground.

Aravashnial accepts Oynar's shoulder as the party leaves the safe confines of the temple to stride onwards towards danger again in hopes of seeking the world above.

It takes but an hour to find yourself in a cavern.
Stone figures are carved into the walls of this cavern. Each depicts a different crusader clad in armor and wielding weapons, but their carved stone features contain expressions of sadness.

Perception DC 15 check please.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

No Know/Hist...

Naravash takes point once more as the group departs the small chapel, his bow ever at the ready.
Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Sarthonn moves with the party to a large cavern with statues. Once he is there, he looks around, trying to see if anything is unusual.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

Too difficult a history check for Sarthonn too.

Both Sarthonn and Naravash spots something moving in the ceiling but they're moving to rapidly for either of them to pinpoint properly.

Both Sarthonn and Naravash have one action.

Sarthonn takes a step forward and draws his Morningstar. He will use a move action as it's not been established Sarthonn has a weapon ready.

Calling to the group he points to the ceiling, "Look there, movement! Make ready, I don't know what it is."

Razul begins to scan the stone ceiling.

Naravash hisses a warning just as Sarthonn does the same, "Up at the ceiling!". He puts arrow to string and draws back, ready for a threat to reveal itself.

Readied Action (Shoot threat): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12for: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
+1/+1 to the above if the target is within 30ft

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

Red Stick glances up at the ceiling, lips curling into a snarling smirk as he notices something. He hears Naravash's words and pulls out his whip, ready to grab something and pull it down.

Morgrym glances up, then at the other members of the party.

Are ye sure lads? I don't see anythin' but rock n' stone up there.

Darkmantle x2 Initative: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Red Stick Initative: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Caelus Initative: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3
Morgrym Initative: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (2) + 0 = 2
Naravash Avernus Initative: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Razul Initative: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10
Sarthonn Initative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
GM Roll: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
GM Roll: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
GM Roll: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

Initative Order
Darkmantle x2
Aravashinal
Naravash
Sarthonn
Horgus
Razul
Anevia
Red Stick
Caelus
Morgrym
Everyone up.
Swooping down, the darkmantles attack both Naravash and Sarthonn striking both except Sarthonn is grabbed by one of the creatures, its enveloping grasp attempting to choke the life out of Sarthonn.

1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 201d4 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 81d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 221d4 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 61d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

I take it my readied action triggered but failed to hit?

Razul snarls at the sudden appearance of the things, then charges forward with his club raised high!

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21 +2 if I can charge!
Damage: 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6