Radiant Fire [Tyrant's Grasp]

Game Master mike9322

Argus glances at the sorceress. "Am-manteia? Are y-you up to t... talking to the ch--children?" He glances around at the others. "I f-fear you m... m... may be the only one who c-can w-w-without f...frighten-ning them."

Amanteia nods. "Of course. Lead the way."

You walk to the spot in town that the mayor told you you'd find the children. They are playing together in and around a massive, dead oak tree tied with ribbons and unusually vibrant flowers. They see you approaching and come running, calling out Argus and (to a lesser extent) Raybin's names.

The children are dancing and playing and laughing. None of them have the same detached demeanor as the adults.

Argus takes the party through the woods, toward where he believes the children will be, trying not to think about the fact that his hideous face and stutter are once again hindering him.

He didn't used to stutter. His son's death caused many terrible changes in his life, including his speech impediment. He knows, now, that Shelyn imposed it upon him. He tries to remind himself it was not as a punishment for his actions, but as a test. He can overcome the barriers it imposes, if he holds onto his faith. But gods, sometimes it's hard.

Amanteia steps forward and squats down to speak to the children. "Hello, children. I am afraid I have some difficult news to share with you." She hesitates, unsure how to proceed.

The children laugh. The biggest one speaks up. "Oh, we know! We're dead! The lady told us." When Amanteia asks what lady she means, she continues. "A woman with a beautiful voice spoke to us through her pet bird! She told us to be good and brave and she would be here soon to make everything right."

As the children speak, a large crow with white wing tips lands atop a child’s head and opens its beak. A lyrical voice ushers forth, with a curious, lilting accent. "Ah, newcomers, you must be the curiosities I heard tell of. I am Mictena, and I cordially welcome you to the Boneyard and eternity. Do not fret about your unusual condition; I shall be with you shortly to correct this horrible error and help you on your way to the final rest you have earned!"

Ray narrows his eyes at the bird. Final rest? Does she intend to kill them?

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10

Barf.

Dellan looks the creature over. It doesn't look the same as Umble...

Trying to figure out wtf this bird is. Another nosoi, or...?

Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

This is a witchcrow. Although it has the power of speech, it is certainly not a psychopomp. It is far more likely that the little girl was correct: that this witchcrow's mistress is speaking through it.

Witchcrows can inflict hexes as a witch and has several spell-like abilities such as mirror image.

Raybin draws his silver blade and snarls at the creature, CGet gone, witch-minion. Tell whoever your mistress is, that they can speak to us face-to-face. Otherwise piss off. These kids are under our protection."

Intimidate: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

You wouldn't have guessed before this moment that a crow could laugh, but here is the evidence, directly in front of you. "But whatever for? These children are in no danger. Psychopomps exist to guide the dead to their final rest. Look at the children. Do they seem afraid to you? They are the only sensible ones in this entire town!"

"And as for meeting me in person, you needn't worry. I will be there soon enough. Duskfeather here is simply overseeing things until I arrive."

Cute, so I wasted a nat 20. Super. I finally get two nat 20's in three rolls and both of them are useless.

"Your minion is no psychopomp, witch. You're not getting anywhere near these kids. Get your minion gone or I'll get rid of it with extreme vengeance."

Argus glances uncertainly at the occultist. "Ray? W-what's going on? W-what are you t--talking about?"

Ray's grip on his sword tightens. "That's no psychopomp, paladin. That's a witchcrow. They're mooks for witches. They can use their hex magic through them. Whoever this is, they want the souls of the children. I ain't havin' it."

Argus considers the occultist for a moment. He is crazy, but he also hasn't led them astray yet...

Finally the paladin nods, readying the glaive and facing the white bird. "Y-you won't get any k--k--kids today, w-w-witch."

Dellan doesn't draw a weapon, but keeps his hand near the frog holding his mace. "This just keeps getting better and better," he mutters.

Bob comes to rest on Ray's shoulder. [color=blue]"Huh. Never heard of a witchcrow. Sure as Hells ain't a psychopomp, though. That's for sure."[/color]

I should mention, Bob only speaks one language: Celestial. So unless Amanteia speaks Celestial, only Ray and Dellan understand him.

The crow looks at Amanteia. "Is he...?" The sorceress just shrugs, so the crow turns back to Ray. It speaks more slowly this time. "Look, this isn't difficult. I am a psychopomp. I am not with you right now. The crow who is with you is Duskfeather. He is my familiar. You have a familiar! You should understand this!" The crow shakes its head in a very humanoid gesture of frustration. "The children are already dead. There is no more you can do for them. That is why we are here. Do you understand? Tell me you understand."

I thought they were used by witches, not psychopomps? I'm so confused.

Argus looks helplessly from Ray to the bird, then to Amanteia. "D-do you know w...what's going-g on here?"

Dellan tries to tell if the creature--whoever is speaking through this thing--is lying.

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 5

Well that's awful.

He shakes his head. "If it truly is a psychopomp speaking through the creature, then we have no reason not to trust it, Ray. I believe you and your bird may be wrong here."

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20

"I agree with Dellan. I believe the crow, and I believe that his mistress is coming soon and she intends to kill us."

Ray looks back and forth at Dellan and Amanteia as if struck. He sheathes his sword and storms away.

Bob lets out a small, alarmed squawk as Ray hustles off, causing the raven to fall off his shoulder and right himself in the air with an indignant caw. He settles on the ground and considers the others, before turning to Dellan, the only one of these meatbags who understands him.

[color=blue]"He may be wrong about what this thing is, but he's still in danger. You better protect him."[/color] The raven's tone is somewhat accusatory.

He then takes to the wing again to rejoin his master.

Dellan's olive skin has turned nearly ghastly pale. "Argus," he says in a small voice. "The psychopomps are servants of Pharasma. I... I can't fight them. Not even to save my own life."

Argus frowns as he considers Dellan's words. "W-what about Am-m-manteia's l... life? Or-r-r R-ray's? Are th... they worth less than y-y-your m... morals?"

Dellan looks absolutely stricken. "That's not my choice to make, any more than yours is. You do what you do because Shelyn commands it. Your powers exist to serve Her will, and if you did not, She would strip you of your powers."

He takes a long, shuddering breath. "Mine come from Pharasma. She is the reason I am alive. She chose to let my soul leave the Boneyard and come back to my family after I died as a boy. The intervening years I only had because of Her, and my powers arose by Her grace. I owe Her an unpayable debt. If Her servants say it is time for me to return to Her, then it is my time."

He crosses his arms and shivers, feeling helpless. "I cannot stand aside and let them kill my friends, either. I stood aside and let Thoot tear apart Padrym because he was a servant of a very dark power. You aren't. I..."

He clenches his jaw and moves up to the witchcrow. "Fellow servant of the Gray Lady. I know it is the children's time; however much it pains me to say it, they have passed on, and must go to the River. My friends are a different matter entirely.

"Whatever was done to us, I do not know. I know that we do not belong in the Boneyard yet. If your service to Her Grace demands you take a life, take mine. I will give it freely. But I will not let harm come to my friends. I owe Pharasma my life, but I also owe them." He points back at Argus and Amanteia. "Even Ray, in his sorry state, does not belong in the Boneyard. It is not their time. Take me, if you must take anyone, and let them go; their time will come, as with all mortals. But it is not today."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

The crow (or Mictena; this is a confusing situation and it's hard to tell) seems struck speechless for a moment. When it speaks again, it is still in Mictena's voice. "That is an intriguing offer, mortal, but I'm afraid I must refuse. My purpose is simple and unambiguous: to usher the souls of the dead into the afterlife and to protect the Boneyard from those that could threaten that process. Your continuing life is an existential threat and you -- all of you -- must be stopped before you upset the balance of creation."

Amanteia turns to Dellan. "This is all very noble, I'm sure, but we are the only ones who survived whatever happened to Roslar's Coffer. Would Pharasma have been in favor of all of those people dying in an instant? Will she be in favor of it happening again to another town? If so, maybe your deity isn't as benevolent as you think?" She gives him a condescending look. "We were the only survivors. We need to find out what happened and stop it happening again. If some misguided psychopomp seeks to stop us, then I will do what I must. And you should too."

Dellan scowls at Amanteia. "Spare me your condescension, sorceress. Pharasma isn't a benevolent goddess. She cares not for the well-being of the mortal world. She only cares about maintaining the Cycle. I knew that when I signed on. I already said I would not let harm come to you, and I meant it. But I also must do whatever I can to ameliorate Pharasma's wrath."

He turns back to the witchcrow. "Fine. Come, then. I will take no actions to harm you, but I will do everything I can to keep my allies alive. It is the best I can do to satisfy both of my debts."

Argus sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "P-please stop bickering. W-we will have en... en... nough of a fight on our hands m-m-momentarily."

He speaks to the witchcrow. "D-Dellan has his oaths, b-but I have mine, as w-w-well. They are under m... m... my p-protection from all threats, inc... cluding themselves." He gives a disapproving glance at Dellan.

Dellan's cheeks brighten a little bit at the paladin's look, and he turns away. I thought of all people, he would understand. I suppose no one does. I just hoped he would be the exception...

He glances to the side and scowls, seemingly speaking to the air. "Main nahin hoon! Aur main aapake nihitaarth kee saraahana nahin karata. Mujhe achchhee tarah pata hai ki vah mere pita nahin hain. Vah ek kaatil nahin hai, ek ke lie."

Argus turns away from Dellan uncomfortably. This talking to thin air thing seems to be a regular occurrence with the boy. How did I end up with not one but two crazy men? Is this part of my test, Shelyn? What more do I need to prove?

The crow ... clears its throat? "Well, it seems you all have much to discuss. Just remember, none of it will matter soon, so I suggest you relax, find a happy memory, and I will help you shed these fears soon."

A flash of magical energy erupts from the crow and it suddenly seems less ... humanoid. But then it speaks again, and this time the voice is not Mictena's. Instead, it is smaller and raspier. "Ah, finally! I hate having her in me." It spreads its wings and shakes, turning its head back and forth. "Well. This has been fun, but I don't see any point in waiting until Mictena arrives. I'll just kill you now."

Then the bird vanishes.

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

Bold may act.

Ray steps away from the others, draws his blade, and pulls psychic power into his mind, forming a rippling disc of force in front of him that then vanishes from sight.

Casting shield.

Dellan looks around, readying himself to aid the defenses of one of his allies once the bird shows back up.

Readying an action to Aid Another to increase someone's AC.

Attack Roll (aid to AC): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16

+3 to someone's AC if they get attacked.

Amanteia begins mumbling and tracing complex runes in the air. She lifts her hands above her head, then pulls them down toward the ground, pulling a curtain of protective magical energy with them.

Mage armor

You hear flapping wings and that annoying little voice chanting, but he doesn't appear.

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

Bold may act.

Argus readies his glaive to strike at the witchcrow when it appears, but other than that, he isn't sure what to do.

Readied action to attack if the witchcrow appears within range, but I highly doubt it's going to do that if it spent its turn chanting so I won't bother with an attack roll unless it becomes necessary.

Everyone stands at the ready, waiting for the crow to make its move.

ROUND 2
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Raybin (14/14 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)
Duskfeather (0 damage)
Argus (21/21 hp)

Bold may act.

Dellan tries to figure out by ear what spell the witchcrow was casting.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

It was mirror image.

"Illusion magic," Dellan grumbles. "Great."

Once again, he readies himself to aid an ally's defense if they're attacked.

Mace (aid AC): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

+3 AC to an ally if they're adjacent to Dellan when attacked.

Ray looks wildly about, waiting for an enemy to show itself.

Readied action to attack if the witchcrow shows up in melee range.

Longsword: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

Amanteia steps to the side and calls arcane energy into her hands. She knows she can only hold it for a few seconds, so she hopes that the crow shows itself soon.

Readying magic missile.

damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Readied Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22
Damage: 1d10 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

The flapping grows louder as it becomes clear that Duskfeather is dive-bombing one of you. He suddenly appears (well, five of him appear) directly next to Raybin (in the square to the south) as a talon tears across his back (7 damage).

Then some crap happens. Argus jabs his glaive past Dellan and Raybin.

5 hits: 1d5 ⇒ 3

An image pops. Raybin swings his sword.

4 hits: 1d4 ⇒ 4

The crow lets out a half scream, half caw as blood sprays from its new slash wound.

Then Amanteia's missile erupts from her hands and slams into Duskfeather as he continues past Raybin and up above the trees. (He's about 15 feet up.)

ROUND 2
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Raybin (7/14 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)
Duskfeather (13 damage, 3 images)
Argus (21/21 hp)

Bold may act.

Argus moves forward, glaive at the ready, and places a hand on Ray as he passes, calling on the blessing of Shelyn to seal his wound.

Lay on Hands: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Four Duskfeathers await the party's next moves.

ROUND 3
Amanteia (15/15 hp)
Raybin (11/14 hp)
Dellan (16/16 hp)
Duskfeather (13 damage, 3 images)
Argus (21/21 hp)

Bold may act.

Ray doesn't say anything to Argus after being healed. He simply strides directly underneath the bird, raises his blasting rod above his head, and channels psychic energy down it, to burst forth in a cone of flame.

"Dodge that," he snarls.

Casting burning hands. Ref DC 14 half.

Fire Damage: 2d4 ⇒ (3, 4) = 7