Radiant Fire [Tyrant's Grasp]

Game Master mike9322

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Let's get caught up, shall we?

Everyone awakens in coffins. You eventually freed yourselves and discovered there were others in the same predicament as you. No one remembers anything besides going to sleep the night before in Roslar's Coffer, the town that each of you have some sort of connection with.

You left the room you woke up in and immediately encountered a skeleton that, it turns out, was not an undead creature. Instead, an ostovite, an extraplanar magical creature, was controlling the skeleton as a "bone chariot". You continued to clear out the bottom floor of the tomb, making several interesting discoveries, most significant of which is the fact that Roslar was *not* buried in this tomb. Also, apparently Roslar had a bit of an obsession with Arazni, a demigod who was a contemporary and friend of Aroden. She was killed by Tar-Baphon during the Shining Crusade; several years later, Geb acquired her body and turned her into a lich and his queen.

You ascended to the second floor, which you found overrun by mites, nasty little fey creatures. You solved a floor tile puzzle (after much electrocution) and found Roslar's valuable armor, both emblazoned with a red-winged rapier, the symbol of Arazni. Next, you found a mite druid named Barple Stonebreaker, a cowardly little thing. After defeating his mooks, you took pity on him and let him go, with the promise never to return to plunder the tomb again (you certainly didn't take him prisoner!).

On your way up to the ground floor, you encountered a construct guardian: a celedon named Number Three. You avoided a fight with him, and he explained that he and his "brothers" were built to protect this tomb. He was hiding down here because the mites killed another of his brothers.

You ascended to the ground floor and found Roslar's sword embedded in a gorgon sculpture. You approached the exit (actually the entrance) to the tomb and had to fight two other celedons to escape. Once outside, you discovered to your horror that you were not in Roslar's Coffer as you expected; instead, you were in the Boneyard! Are you dead?

Two psychopomps, Umble and Thoot, approached and quickly explained to you that you were not dead, but they have no idea how, other than there is something lodged in your hearts. And while this is good news, it is quickly followed by much grimmer news: last night the entire town of Roslar's Coffer was killed in an instant. A simulacrum of Roslar's Coffer materialized in the Boneyard, partially due to the residents' inability to accept or understand that they are dead. Umble and Thoot tried to explain the situation to them, but the residents were afraid and chased them away. The psychopomps requested your help in the matter; perhaps, given your connection to the town and its residents, you will be able to convince them of their fate. If you help Umble and Thoot in this way, they will show you how to use The Dead Roads to escape the Boneyard and return to the material plane.

Umble and Thoot directed you to talk to the mayor of town, Lady Mullana Grave. It turns out she actually understands the nature of their existence and thinks that, if you are able to convince the members of the town council and the town's children, the rest of the town will have an easier time of accepting it. The mayor tells you where you can find everyone you need to speak to, and that is where our story continues.

I've listed all the treasure in the AP so far below. There are a good number of potions so I'm taking back what I said about giving your PCs free potions; you can allocate from the treasure list. Amanteia took one each of CLW and CMW.

You have just finished speaking to the mayor. Go!

Ray turns his bug-eyes toward the rest of the party. "I'll talk to the kids."

Bob flaps his wings excitedly. [color=blue]"Oh Hells yes. This'll be a riot."[/color]

Argus clears his throat. "Uh. P-perhpas M-master R... R... Raybin should c-come with me to the c-council. Dellan, why don't you--"

He appraises the oracle's pocked, disease-scarred face. "On s-second thought, I'll..." He then remembers he is a brutally scarred, massive half-orc, and sighs. "Amanteia should t-talk to the kids."

Ray looks crestfallen. "Kids like me though." He reluctantly falls in line with the paladin.

Dellan sighs. He learned some time ago his face made him less-than-popular with most people, and kids are the worst. They have no filter. "Yes, of course, Sir Argus." He nods to Amanteia. "Good luck. Show them a magic trick; kids love magic tricks, right?" he winks and heads off.

I'll have Argus roll a Diplomacy check on the council with Dellan aiding. Ray will try to aid as well. As a reminder, Argus has been serving in Roslar's Coffer as a defender for ten years, so my guess is he either knows the council well or has at least met them a few times. His face is pretty hard to forget.

"G-good afternoon, good council. Or evening? Hard to t... tell in this place. This is, ad--admitt...edly not how any of us ex... pected to reach the B-Boneyard. Th-the t-tragedy is p-p-profound. But... it happened. You m-must find a way to accept this. The t-townsfolk still n... n... need you."

Spending a Hero Point cause this is important.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 7 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 7 + 8 = 21

UGH.

"Yes," Dellan adds. "Whatever horror wiped out the town, we will discover its source and avenge you. But while your death was cruel, Pharasma is not. She will guide you all to your final rest, where you can be at peace. Leave the cares of the mortal world to us; we will see it done, I promise you."

Diplomacy (aid): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Ray stares at the ghostly council for a few moments, then says, "I have a bird. He talks to Pharasma. She says you guys are alright by her."

Diplomacy (aaaiiidd...?): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Screw it I'll spend a hero point to bump it up.

Okay, my bad for not being more clear. I was more expecting a little RP and then a "we go see the council/the children". You've chosen to go see the council, but I need to set the stage first. Let's play this out and we'll see what we do with those rolls and hero points based on how things progress.

You begin heading toward the thicket where the mayor told you that she saw Arbella Thearmethion and the rest of the council. Along the way, you pass many people you recognize, going about their daily duties as if nothing has changed. Almost everyone you see has a bewildered look on their face as they go through the motions; they can sense something is different, that something is wrong, but cannot (or will not) figure out what it is. Most people are in their own heads and generally oblivious to anything happening near them, but a few look up and see the party. These few can instantly tell that you are different from them, and they react in varied but strong ways: utter confusion, deep curiosity, or sudden and violent fear.

Passing through the center of town, Ray suddenly realizes that you are going to pass directly by Auranya's bakery. Before he has time to consider the implications of this fact, you reach the bakery storefront. And, sure enough, he can see Auranya through the front display window, working on her wares in that same detached manner. Like most people, she does not look up as you pass.

Ray can go in and talk to her, or he can continue on his task and she will never know that he was there.

Ray stands and stares at Auranya through the window, unable to make his feet move. He wants to run screaming into the hazy darkness of the wilds of the Boneyard, hide away from the memory of this image, but he can't move.

"Bob," he whispers hoarsely. "Bob. This isn't real. I need this to not be real. Please."

Bob is uncharacteristically somber as he alights on his companion's shoulder. He doesn't speak for several moments.

[color=blue]"I can't do that, Ray. And I wouldn't if I could. Fate decides when people leave us, and the Lady of Graves decides Fate. You can't go against that, no matter how hard you try."[/color]

Ray doesn't look like he's processing those words particularly well.

After several long, horrible seconds, he says, "Do I... Should I talk to her?"

The raven ruffles his wings in a passable mimicry of an uncomfortable shrug.

Ray stands there for another long, agonizing moment, then turns away and hurries to catch up to the other two.

Argus glances at Ray as he catches up. "You ok-kay fr...riend? Your face is w--w--wet."

"Stop talking." The occultist's voice is quiet, hoarse, and intense.

Dellan opens his mouth to chastise Ray, but at a look from the paladin, he clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head irritably. Something spooked him. Just give him some space.

Then again, everything spooks him.

Amanteia, in her usual fashion, walks at the back of the group, but her imperious demeanor somehow makes it seem like she is leading from the rear (or at least she thinks she is). She sees Ray stop at the bakery window and notices how he stares at the girl. Though she never slows as she passes him and her face betrays no emotion, she realizes immediately what the girl must be to Ray; the first thing that occurred to her when the reality of their situation was revealed was that her parents must be here somewhere, just as lost as everyone else. If they should run into them, will she react as Ray did? Or will she speak with them? She doesn't know, so she just continues to walk, every step calculated and practiced, head held high.

Amanteia is a bit over average height and middle aged, maybe late 40s. It seems likely that her beauty has faded over the years, which makes it all the more remarkable that she is still an absolute knockout. She wears a fine, deep red velvet gown that falls all the way to the ground and carries herself with a careful and deliberate manner that screams nobility. She is played by Elizabeth Mitchell.

You continue another ten minutes or so to the spot that Mayor Grive directed you to. As you approach, you see Arbella Tharmethion, who Argus knows as the economic advisor on the town council. Arbella is speaking with several of the other members of the council, along with a ranting ghostly man that bears a strong resemblance to Arbella, albeit with a short beard and broken nose.

The ghostly man is speaking animatedly. "...why I've come. You aren't dead! There is some nefarious trickery that has befallen Roslar's Coffer, and I have returned to help deliver you from it. Once free of this, there will be greater heroics awaiting you!"

Helloooo, cougartown!

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

"Sheka," Dellan whispers under his breath. "This complicates things."

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

"Uh, that guy's Arbella," Ray says, pointing to the spirit talking to the people. "He was one of Roslar's crew. So, you know. Dead for hundreds of years."

Argus takes the occultist's words in, pondering a moment before striding forward. His confident bearing stands in stark contrast to his potent stutter.

"Arb-bella. Yes? F-friend to R... R... Roslar himself. You have b-been dead for hundreds of y-years. Surely y-you d... you d... do not mean to l-lead these people as-s-stray on p--purpose?"

Not sure what's called for here. Diplomacy, I guess? It's Argus' hope that this spirit isn't doing this on purpose. He's also going to use a move action to detect evil on the ghost, to make sure it isn't some evil spirit intent on trickery. If it's not evil, perhaps it's just confused, in which case I'm happy to roll Diplomacy.

Okay, retconning that last post because I'm an idiot and misread that.

"Arb-bella. Y-yes?" the paladin stutters. "Argus Coal-H-heart. Servant of S-shelyn. I f-fear you are m... are m... mistaken. A gr-reat t-tragedy has b--befallen our town. T-the c-creatures you m-met are ps... ps... psychopomps. They s-s-serve the L... the L... Pharasma. It is t-time to g...go to y-your f-final r-r-rest. Garrid awaits t-to greet you on the oth...oth... other side, my f-friend."

Do you want to use the previous Diplo check here or a new one? I doubt 25 is good enough, but I dunno what else to do to bump it up.

Ray clears his throat. "Uh. Argus?" He points to the ghostly man speaking to Arbella. "That is Garrid."

Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

Argus blinks and looks at the man. "G-garrid? Hero and f-friend to R-r-roslar hims-self? Why are y-you t-trying to c-convince this w-woman she isn't d... dead? You yours-self have been d-dead f-f-for centuries."

At this point, Argus gives Garrid a skeptical look.

Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Dellan studies the councilwoman, then studies the spirit of Garrid. Something seems odd...

Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Must be my imagination.

I screwed up! I didn't have the bestiary in front of me last night when I told you to roll religion. It actually should have been planes. You rolled well so I'm going to give it to you.

This is an unfettered phantom. It is not undead; instead, it is a willful fugitive of the Negative Energy Plane's dread gravity. They are escaped souls of humanoid creatures in desperate search of a psychically attuned being with whom to merge. They have DR 5/slashing and are incorporeal when they are moving.

--------

Garrid's face contorts with rage. "See, Arbella!? Here we have proof of this trickery! These people are telling lies! I will rid you of them to prove that I am right." He begins to approach.

ROUND 1
Raybin (14/14 hp)
Argus (21/21 hp)
Garrid (0 damage)
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)

Bold may act.

Before anything else, Argus takes a moment to read the auras of the creature for evil intent.

Move action to use Detect Evil on the phantom.

Oops, forgot. Not evil.

Argus sighs dejectedly. "Stay behind me, friends."

He steps forward, drawing his glaive as he goes. "You should be at rest, hero of Roslar. I shall put you there."

Glaive Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

OOF

Ray shakes his head. "Yeah I don't do 'behind', pal." He moves up, drawing the silvered longsword, and slashes at the phantom, a dangerous gleam in his eye.

Longsword 2H: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

Garrid screams in rage and horror as Argus and Raybin both tear into his ghostly form. You see it waver and break in the air, then reform. He turns his ire on Raybin and slams him twice with ethereal fists that certainly don't feel ethereal. Raybin is beaten into the ground and left unconscious (I rolled *stupid* well; 15 damage).

Garrid laughs and looks at Arbella. Pointing at Raybin's prone body, he says, "See!? These people are frauds!"

ROUND 1
Raybin (-1/14 hp, unconscious and dying)
Argus (21/21 hp)
Garrid (22 damage)
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)

Bold may act.

Amanteia's eyes grow wide at Garrid's violent show of force. She moves south to get line of sight on him, conjures a green orb of shimmering energy in her hands, and directs it at Garrid.

ranged touch: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3

Dellan curses under his breath, then strides forward and puts his hand on Ray's battered chest and face, sending a wave of positive energy into him.

CLW: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8

He glares at the phantom. "You are going to regret that."

Amanteia's acid orb passes harmlessly by Garrid and burns a hole in a tree trunk. Dellan brings Raybin back to consciousness.

ROUND 2
Raybin (7/14 hp, prone)
Argus (21/21 hp)
Garrid (22 damage)
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)

Bold may act.

Ray groans as his eyes flutter open, glaring at the phantom. "Sonuvab@@@+, that hurt."

He raises the slender, rune-carved rod in his left hand, calling forth burning anger in his mind to unleash it on Garrid.

Concentration DC 17: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (19) + 5 = 24

He manages to hold together the psychic energy and avoid interruptions before blasting Garrid full in the face with a cone of fire.

Casting burning hands, angling away so it only hits the phantom.

Fire Damage: 2d4 ⇒ (4, 4) = 8 Ref DC 14 Half

Argus continues to harry the phantom with his glaive. "Excellent shot, Raybin!" He brings down the blade on Garrid, hoping to end the threat to his allies quickly.

Glaive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

The bad news: Garrid dodges the hottest part of the flames erupting from Raybin's hands.
The good news: He dodges directly into the strike of Argus's glaive.

Garrid screams and his form wavers and slowly fades to nothing.

COMBAT OVER

Arbella approaches. Having witnessed what just happened, she looks less detached than all the other citizens you've seen. "Was that really my ancestor, Garrid? What is going on?"

"I'm-m-m not ent-tirely sure. It w-w-was a ph...phantom. A soul escaped from the N... N..."

"Negative Energy Plane," Ray says from the ground. Blood flecks dot his face around his lips, and he's pretty sure he still has a cracked rib.

He ignores the look he gets from Argus. "Phantoms are souls that fled the Negative Energy Plane. They seek out compatible human hosts. I think he was desperate; compatible hosts are rare. But you are definitely dead."

He stops staring at the grinning moon in the sky and glances around. "Someone wanna help me up?"

Bob wings down and lands on Ray's forehead. [color=blue]"Man, you must be a riot at parties, Buzz Killington."[/color]

Dellan irritably shoos the raven away and helps Ray to his feet, pushing energy into Ray's body to heal his wounds as he does so.

CLW: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

He then turns to Arbella. "I am sorry for my friend's crassness, Madame Councilwoman, but he speaks truly. A tragedy has befallen Roslar's Coffer, made all the worse by the fact that the souls refuse to pass on. Look to the sky; that is Groetus, god of the End Times. And off in the distance. That spire? That is the abode of the Lady of Graves Herself. You are in the Boneyard, and have passed beyond the mortal coil. This is meant to be a way-station, a pause on your journey to your final rest. It is not meant to be a destination."

Argus nods emphatically at Dellan's words. "P-please Arbella. H...elp us to g... g... get the others to s-s-see. Y-you will only f-f-find suf-fering if you c--c--continue to s-s-stay."

Is now a good time for that Diplo check, or should I re-roll it?

Yep, I'll use the diplomacy from earlier.

Arbella blanches slightly and looks at the others, but then she nods. "Ever since I awoke this morning, I knew something was wrong. I didn't imagine that we could all be dead, but I suppose it makes sense." She stops and her eyes grow distant, her mind trying to process and adjust. She looks back to Dellan, clearly most comfortable speaking with him. "What could have happened to kill an entire town? And are you all dead as well?"

Dellan sighs and shakes his head. "I do not know what we are. The creatures you met earlier, they are psychopomps. Servants of the Gray Lady. They are intimidating in appearance, but mean you no harm. They simply work to usher the dead to their judgment and Final Reward, and to chronicle the deeds of the living. They said we have something lodged in our hearts? I do not know what this means. Whether we too are dead, or alive, or some strange state in-between is a mystery to solve later. For now, the people of our town need us one last time."

He stares off at the distant spire with an unreadable expression. "As to your first question, I do not know. Whatever it was, it was powerful. A large enough spell could do it, but it would have to be immense in scope. Certainly beyond anything I could cast, or anyone I have ever met--and some of the Pharasmin priests in Korvosa were quite experienced."

Ray nods. "Yeah, for sure. Working for the Varlokkur, we saw some next-level magic on a couple occasions, criminals wielding spells so powerful that it could overwhelm you if you looked at it with your magical Sight. Maybe a group of casters of that magnitude working together could do it? But it would be a helluva ritual. Maybe if we can get back to the land of the living somehow, we can start digging into this mystery, but for now all we can do is speculate. And getting back there is a big 'if'."

Arbella listens intently. Argus knows that she is the town's economic advisor, and now that she has been snapped out of her reverie, her analytic mind has been putting the pieces together. "We chased away those psychopomps, and they were here to help us! Excuse me one moment."

She returns to the other council members, who have been listening but haven't come around as quickly as Arbella. She sits them down and speaks with them for a few minutes, and you can practically see the understanding creep into them, slowly at first, and then the realization hits them like a dam breaking. To these people's credit, they all take the news surprisingly well. It seems they were well chosen for their roles on the council.

Arbella returns to you. "We are going to talk to the mayor. We need to hold a meeting to convince the entire town at once. It will be harder for the most stubborn among us to remain obstinate when all of their peers are accepting it."

She approaches each of you individually and shakes your hands. "Thank you all for your help. Are you coming with us to speak to the town?"

Kn (religion): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9

"W... we w... will. B-but f-f-first we m--must speak with the c-children. I th-th-think they will b-be h...harder to c... to c... convince than the others."

Kn (religion): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

"I do not mean to alarm you, but it is imperative we convince everyone to accept their fate. Any who refuse and linger could well return to Golarion as undead."

Arbella nods. "Very well. We will meet you in the town square when you are done." She and the other council members leave the thicket and head off in search of the mayor.

You know where the kids are. Anything you want to do before you visit them?