The Hags of Heibarr (Inactive)

Game Master Elfriede

As the undead falls, Sizy stays in place growling silently, puffing and recovering her air - clearly fatigued. The sting is still there, as well as the sharp claws and long fangs that resemble most fey creatures. She is still a young woman, but at this point she looks more like a monstrosity.

Hair over her head, she turns back to Eshki and the others as she calms down. As she lifts her head, her face is again fully revealed, showing the coagulated dead blood and pieces of the enemy still scattered over her cheeks. Her green and purple eyes are very evident. Her silhouette is still not fully there (the effect lasts one minute), resembling someone almost in constant motion.

I... I am on your side... - she says, voice trembling but back as that of a young woman - I mean, I need help, as much as any of us, despite what I may really look like.

She stoops, for a moment, searching around the fallen floodslain, but keeping her attention on her companions.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22
Inquisitor Pitch interupts. "She's a changeling. Likely hasn't chosen to hear her Mother's Call..yet. If she succumbs to the Call, then we'll end her. The Hag's Eye ooze is still in the vicinity. I say we make chase!" The Pharasman states.

Thraag the Younger nods and says, "The Elder agrees. So I guess we should go take care of the threat." He pulls out his wand once more and waits for the others to be ready for the hunt.

Pitch takes out his hand crossbow, loads it and cocks the hammer. "Indeed."

Up the wooden stairs is the wreckage of a simple barracks. Bunks lined one wall, and though most of them have fallen into disrepair or been destroyed on purpose, there's a couple of intact ones. Hanging from one of them, watching the party, is the hag eye ooze!

Init. (Ooze): 1d20 - 5 ⇒ (5) - 5 = 0
Init. (Sizy): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Init. (Thraag): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Init. (Obsidilan): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Init. (Eshki): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Init. (Giradan): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Init. (Caolaidhe): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17

Order is: Party, the Ooze. Since we got a DC 20 perception check, the ooze has already been sighted.

"Fortune favors the bold!"
Giradan rushes forward boldly and tries to drive his spear home!

move to 10' from the ooze and attack...

To Hit: 1d20 + 2 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 2 + 3 = 7
2 Bab +3 str
Damage: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10
+4 1.5*str

"...Or perhaps the cunning," Caolaidhe suggests, slipping around Giradan and past the ooze before reversing direction to attack it from the other side.

Not including the bonus but Caolaidhe would like to get to a flank if possible.
Attack: 1d20 + 8 - 1 ⇒ (10) + 8 - 1 = 17 Damage: 1d12 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 3 = 10

The ooze is quickly taken apart by Giradan's spear and Caolaidhe's greataxe, and soon there's not much left but the eye itself, devoid of its transparent shell. It rolls to take in its killers, its iris a brilliant whitish-blue, and then falls still.

Combat Over - again

The bunk room the hag eye ooze fled into is decorated much more poorly than the office below. Here and there, a somewhat-rusted spear lies against the wall, and shields in white and yellow hang from the ends of bunks. Most of the chests at the foot of the bunks have been broken into by force, their contents strewn across the room as if by a tornado. There is a chest labeled 'taxes' in the far corner, though it's still locked and seems to have been bolted to the floor.

The entire wall adjoining the wall, however, is completely gone, except for some heavy beams, though even those are badly burned. Outside, the sound of the Sellen below can be heard. The fighting platform of the wooden wall travels both northwest, toward what were farmlands long gone fallow, and south, along the Sellen River, as if to protect the town from those traveling on it. Oddly, the farmland to the north seems to be untouched by the fog that, by now, forms an unbroken wall across the Sellen and towers over East Heibarr's walls.

Now that the fight is over, Giradan has a question:"You, Obsidilan, you said this thing was a hag's eye ooze. What does that mean?"

The ooze is quickly taken apart by Giradan's spear and Caolaidhe's greataxe, and soon there's not much left but the eye itself, devoid of its transparent shell. It rolls to take in its killers, its iris a brilliant whitish-blue, and then falls still.

Combat Over - again

The bunk room the hag eye ooze fled into is decorated much more poorly than the office below. Here and there, a somewhat-rusted spear lies against the wall, and shields in white and yellow hang from the ends of bunks. Most of the chests at the foot of the bunks have been broken into by force, their contents strewn across the room as if by a tornado. There is a chest labeled 'taxes' in the far corner, though it's still locked and seems to have been bolted to the floor.

"Good work you two", the inquisitor said drily.

Now that the fight is over, Giradan has a question:"You, Obsidilan, you said this thing was a hag's eye ooze. What does that mean?"

"A Hag's Eye Ooze is a special magical construct that only hags and some witches can create. The central eye, that I was trying to burst, is the central controlling eye of the mass. With the central eye gone, the hag directing the ooze is still out there", Odsidilan stated. "We are not out of danger yet."

With a disgusted look at the eye lolling on the floor, Caolaidhe stomps on it, then looks out over the area through the missing wall. He's careful not to get close to the edge--rotting, broken floorboards could easily give way--but scans for a possible escape route, or a least a way to the gatehouse's portcullis crank.

"Swimming isn't going to happen, I don't know what those things in the water were but I'd just as soon not find out," he grumbles, half to himself.

"We should finish clearing all of this place and the search it to find anything useful. I am not sure how much food we have, but things might get tight if we do not find something to eat before we run out." Thraag says.

The inquisitor takes the rusty spear, gives a few practice jabs, and looks at the locked bolted 'taxes' box.
Thinking aloud, Obsidilan ponders "Should I risk the weapon for the contents inside..likely not."

Turning to give Thragg a nod of agreement, Caolaidhe follows Obsidilan's gaze towards the lockbox and shrugs. "What good are coins in a place like this? That box has sat there for decades, if we need money we know where to find it."

Does it look plausible to get down onto the town wall below and make a break for the north-side farmland? Or is it clear that we're trapped?

There seems to be a way into the farmland north of Heibarr. About three hundred yards to the north, a large section of wall has been smashed open, as if by something gigantic forcing its way into the town from the outside. Judging from the freshness of the holes that ones held palisades, the damage is relatively recent.

Aside from the chest, and the assorted rusty weapons, anything the group might find in the gatehouse is age-rotten, destroyed by weather and mold, or a combination of both.

"Hmm...something big came through the wall, there. Not too long ago, either." Scratching at the stubble on his jaw, the half-elf ponders the distance to the fallow fields. "Do we care to make a break for it? Whatever it is, I don't see it now."

If there are visible tracks, or at least a trail of destruction, Caolaidhe will Study that and keep an eye out for something large and strong enough to smash through a palisade.

"If that box has sat here for decades, there's more to it than meets the eye... Everything else has been smashed open; why not that? Also, why would the 'taxes' chest be in the barracks, not the office below?"

As he considers his own question, Giradan steps away from the 'chest', and grabs one of the rusted spears strewn about the place. He throws it (full force) at the 'chest'...

Who has detect magic? I will bet this chest radiates, and we should also check out the floodspawn's gear: her armor was described as shattered and rusted, but her sword seemed fine...

Seeing as his new companions were interested in the box, and listening to Giraden's point. Thraag calls upon his abilities and scans the box for lingering signs of power.

I will cast Detect Magic and scan the box and the rest of the area.

There is, in fact, a trail of destruction. It seems to have come from the bridge over the river and moved along the wall until it found a place to easily break through, whatever it is. Caolaidhe is able to follow the trail well enough until it leaves easy sight from the party's perch on the wall.

Thraag is able to detect a strong aura of conjuration from within the chest. However, there aren't any other auras within the gatehouse.

Giradan Spear (break): 1d8 + 3 - 5 ⇒ (5) + 3 - 5 = 3

Giradan's spear toss gouges into the chest's wood, but isn't strong enough to break into it. However, the spear tip does snap off the rusted, old spear.

Turning at the sound of the spear thunking against the lockbox, Caolaidhe turns on the balls of his feet from his crouched position, elbow resting on his knee and chin on his fist as he watches.

"It's the River Kingdoms, why wouldn't the taxes be in here? Maybe the lawkeeper did it as a power play, maybe they installed the box in the wrong room and never got around to correcting the error. Only the gods know now. Are you going to smash it open?"

Caolaidhe will wait, or help if asked, but he really does want to discuss the apparent opportunity to just leave before nightfall.

Spinning from emotion to emotion, Eshki turns on Obsidian. "You'll do no such thing! The poor girl said she's on our side. If she's under a curse, well. I know something of that myself." Eshki will take some time to try and make Sizy feel a little more comfortable, while the others investigate the inside of the boathouse.

"Two orcs are eating a half-orc. a Gnoll happens by and asks if eating a half-orc is canabalism. The two orcs nod and say yes. It was a whole orc when they started eating!"
Perform comedy: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21
It was a good joke, but Eshki's delivery was a little shaky. She was off her game too. But now that she had refocused herself, she was sure that she wouldn't get thrown off again.

"Hmmm. Perhaps a little too grim for this particular setting. You stay here, I'll see what the others have found in the meantime, ok?" Eshki gives Sizy a reassuring smile.

Spinning from emotion to emotion, Eshki turns on Obsidian. "You'll do no such thing! The poor girl said she's on our side. If she's under a curse, well. I know something of that myself." Eshki will take some time to try and make Sizy feel a little more comfortable, while the others investigate the inside of the boathouse.

Inquisitor Pitch stands his ground, staring back into Eshki's eyes. Odsidilan flinches minutely as the sorcerer's beautiful eyes catch the pharasman offguard for a moment.

I am here, and waiting for Thraag to tell us that there is strong conjuration magic in the box. Given that, I think we should open it; the magic items inside could be quite helpful and it will not spend a bunch of time...

Thraag looks at the others and says, "The box itself seems normal, but I can see...power... within it. It seems to have a Conjuration aura. A strong one."

"That doesn't sound like a magical trap - that would be abjuration. I think that there is a magical item in the box, which, given Cayden's blessing, might be useful. Can anyone here charm a lock open or should I smash it open?"

"Conjuration is also teleporting. Whatever is put in may get sent somewhere else. Still, we should find out. I do not know how to open locks." Thraag says.

"Or maybe we should quickly search the desk downstairs - there might be a key..."

Impulsively, Giradan suits deed to word and heads downstairs to search the desk (with a muttered prayer Casts Guidance)...
Perception: 1d20 + 3 + 3 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 3 + 3 + 2 + 1 = 22
3 rank +3 trained +2 wis+1 guidance

"As fascinating as the mysterious lockbox is, do we want to discuss," the half-elf gestures out towards the splintered gap in Heibarr's wall, "--getting the Hells out of here? We are losing daylight, and Heibarr at night has a particularly hellish reputation."

Giradan is able to find a key inside the half-melted desk, and though it's rusty, it does fit inside of the chest upstairs. Inside are a bunch of assorted coins (worth, if counted, 300 GP), as well as a small feather from what may have been a blue jay. It's from this that the magic aura is coming. There's also a ledger inside. While most of the pages have been lost to time, a few remain.

So, onward?

Need a natural twenty to pull this...

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 3 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 3 + 3 + 1 = 27
3 rank +3 trained+1 guidance

Well, well, well!

"Heh, that might be a pretty useful thing to have. That feather can be used to make a one use campsite for up to 6, including tents, firewood and a table... No food though"

Then he turns his attention to Caolaidhe, replying "That was definitely a planned ambush for the boat, so I doubt whomever laid it will just let us wander our way on out of here. Especially if they conjured that giant magical wall of fog around the place as well. Still, may as well try, but I suspect it just won't be that easy."

"The destruction of the boat was no accident, but if ambush was the goal why didn't they--whoever 'they' are--hit us as we were dragging ourselves to shore like half-drowned rats? Mayhaps they just want to scavenge from the boat and consider our lives are irrelevant." Caolaidhe turns and scans the crumbling, ruined town. "If they can stop us I'd prefer to make them prove it instead of waiting here, inside their turf."

The party heads back down into the ruined town below, keeping close to the palisade wall. The logs making up the wall were close to two feet in diameter at the base, and even the weight of time hasn't managed to break them down much. The same can't be said for the buildings they pass. Most have charred fronts, second stories have collapsed through the floor and into the basements below, and the shingle roofs show their age with gaping holes.

It's near one of these buildings, the end of which was clearly once a butcher's shop by the hooks and rusted knives, that the party runs into a problem. The road seems to have been barricaded. A quick glance into the butcher's shop shows a mostly intact floor - a miracle, given the shape Heibarr's in - as well as a possible path through to the alley behind it.

DC 15 climb check to get over the rampart, or check out the shop's interior, or explore the road for another option.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 3 + 3 + 2 = 9
3 rank +3 trained +2 wis

"Shit! Goddamn bugs!"; apparently a flying insect has attempted to invade Giradan's eyeball...

"This conversation isn't over Obsidian Pitch. When we aren't in immediate danger, we're going to have words about this sort of thing." Vouching for Sizy isn't entirely selfless on Eshki's part. It's keeping her from panic herself. She'd spent so long in a dungeon, just barely escaped, and found that the outside world was almost worse than being locked up. Almost. Picking up a rock, she focuses on it, causing it to cast light. She doesn't really feel like commenting about the whole spellcasting situation.
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

"Looks nice enough. Maybe we can sit down, introduce ourselves properly? Try and patch up some damaged bridges? We might be here for a while, depending on if anyone notices the ship we were on failing to arrive."

"Others ships may just be traveling up the river, but with the portcullis down they will have trouble getting to us even if they were willing to pick up random stragglers." Thraag said with a frown towards the river.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
"Look!" The inquisitor points to the others. "Candlelight. Coming in from the other side of the barricade."
Turning his head, Obsidilan continues, "And I heard something. Butcher shop. Possibly in the basement."

I'm assuming the barricade across the road is about 8 or 9 feet high.

In a quiet voice that won't carry far, Giradan lays out the options: "Well, we either need to backtrack and try another street, going deeper into the town, get over this barricade, or cut through the butcher shop, probably meeting whatever is in the basement." He leans his longspear against the barricade beside him and makes a stirrup of his hands to help someone up. "Someone take a peek overtop the barricade so we can know what's there."

Climb, Aid Another, take 10: 10 + 3 - 2 = 11vs DC 10
+3 str -2 acp

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

Creeping along the ruined streets with the others, Caolaidhe tracks the strange bobbing lights. He nods at Obsidilan’s wanting about the shop—he doesn’t hear the sound, but he doesn’t doubt that dangers lurk everywhere in this accursed place. Slowly, quietly picking up a small piece of rubble, he tosses it into the butcher’s shop to clatter across the floor, watching and listening intently for any sort of reaxtion from unknown threats.

Assuming something requiring immediate attention doesn’t occur…

”I can take a look,” Caolaidhe steps into the stirrup to be boosted up for a better look.

Climb: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 8 = 20

Over the top of the stone-and-wood barricade, Caolaidhe can see a cadaverous figure standing on the cracked cobbles. Its skin is black, where it still has it, and its skull and stomach have been mostly hollowed out. A candle flickers in each cavity, glowing against the twilight. It hasn't noticed Caolaidhe quite yet, though, as it's looking the other way.

I'll have a map of the section of town up soon. Had a busy holiday weekend.

Can anyone make the K Religion check, or only Caolaidhe (as he's the only one who's actually seen it?

Did anything happen with the rock tossed into the butcher shop? I assume not but want to make sure.

Study Target vs the undead with the lights
Slowly lowering himself back down, Caodaidhe quietly relays what he saw to the others. "It's hard to tell with the unliving, but it didn't look too dangerous. Pretty sure I could kill it quickly and quietly." He pats the bow slung over his shoulder for emphasis.

Giradan whispers a question "It's an undead thing you say? Describe it to me Caolaidhe..."

"Maybe we could find somewhere else? Or do you think we could rush it down?"

As Eshki continues to worry, Pipen the curious butterfly flies up to investigate.
Knowledge Religion(Can make untrained): 1d20 ⇒ 10
But when it flies back down, it is none the wiser, still being have born of Eshki's psyche.

Knowledge (religion) + Monster Lore: 1d20 + 6 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 6 + 3 = 24
"If you don't kill it quickly, it will alert other undead, so be sure." Pitch whisper up to the half-elf.

Yeah, the rock didn't really do anything. I'll allow the roll for people getting a description of the undead. And the action, mechanically, is a standard action, so you could go for a quick kill on it.

Giradan backs off from the barrier and motions the others in for quick, whispered, planning session "If we kill it quick enough, it won't able to get a signal off. Does anyone other than Caolaidhe have a good ranged weapon? The plan is simple. We figure out who our shooters are - Caol is one. We assign each of the a lifter - I can boost Caol. The pairs sneak up to the barricade and get ready. One person stays back here in everyone's line of sight to signal them all to go simultaneously. Lifters pop the shooters up and they all go for the Candle Corpse..."

"Does... does it have a mind? Like you and I have a mind? If so, yes. Otherwise, just the more of the same that I threw at that eye thing."