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I'm stuck without internet until Sunday. I'm posting here so that it's not a bot. If you can use this, please post it!
"Look, I AIN! Going to tell you again! I'm tired of yer damned WEIRDNESS!" Iarann is practically frothing at the mouth mad.
He closes!
He rushes forward, there's red in his eyes and his teeth reflect the riot of colors on the field, "THUNDERSTRIKER!!!!!!!!"
for and
for and
for and
for and
Makai heals Bair. Though Kamil, Iarann, and Bair attack with fury and frustration their weapons get tangled in the King in Thorn's vines.
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BOLD IS UP!:
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Fafrd
Bair
Monarch
Kamil
Iarann
➤ Morgan
⠀⠀➤ Rhob
Makai
Critical Success The creature is unaffected and is temporarily immune to the scale dust for 24 hours.
Success The creature is unaffected.
Failure The creature hallucinates that it is beginning to transform into a plant or animal native to their homeland, becoming either clumsy 1, enfeebled 1, or stupefied 1, at Qxal’s choice. The condition lasts for 1 hour. Each time a creature fails this save, Qxal can choose an additional condition.
Critical Failure As failure, but the condition value is 2.
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"Return from whence you came," Morgan mutters darkly, releasing the Combusted from her command. With a haunting cry it dissipates into ash.
"I am very much done with you," the necromancer says, mostly to herself. Her hands move in classical wizardly gestures, and with a series of flourishes six magical missiles appear before her. "Die," she says, a casual flick releasing them towards the King in Thorns.
Rhob moves a little bit closer to Morgan.
Six missiles streak across the battlefield the Necromancer turns to the Evocation arts. As the undead Combusted screams… each glowing missile crushes against the monarch's viny body, withering leaves. The buzzing of their wings is barely audible now. The monarch struggles to stay afloat.
But stay afloat they do.
The King in Thorns Steps twice, wobbling violently, closer and closer to the ground, trailing twitching tendrils. Then they burrow down into the soft earth, in an attempt to reposition.
Only their head makes it out from the earth. The King in Thorns — deposed — struggles pathetically in the mud as the alien malevolence fades forever from its faceted eyes. A fitting grave for a false monarch.
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Morgan breathes a deep sigh of relief. The King in Thorns is dead. Having managed to keep her head despite the sickness from the curse, the changeling looks on at the befuddled states of Bair and Fafrd with a degree of pity. "Rest, the both of you. What ails you will pass."
Rhob reaches Morgan, bringing with him his stench. "Rhob, walk in a circle around our group, and kill anything that tries to get close."
It immediately moves off to obey.
"I am glad magic was able to bring down our foe. And I commend you all for your work. You... have earned my respect," Morgan says. Her tone suggests that this is not a typical occurrence.
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Kamil spits imaginary lilacs from his mouth until he realizes that it was all in his head!
Good job all! Sorry to not have been as useful as I would have like, but even without my help we have vanquished this False Monarch!
And thanks to our other comrades you added healing support when it was most needed.
Says Kamil, breathing heavily from the effort and the fight.
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There is a strange sensation throughout the demiplane of tension being released. It’s as though the plane itself had been holding its breath for a long time and finally exhaled. The Thorned Monarch has fallen. Gregaro Voth, now freed from his planar prison, stands before the assembled group.
“Pathfinders, there are no words to thank you for coming to my rescue. I have talked with Venture-Captain Tolal, and I understand I’ve been trapped here for a great many years. Unfortunately, I cannot return with you to Absalom. If I leave this place, the weight of time would suddenly bear down upon me, and I would immediately die. So, I shall remain here, though I imagine I can make this a more palatable prison.”
Voth, still wearing the crown, looks around him, and the landscape suddenly changes. In an instant, where before there was a copse of trees, there now stands a brand-new Pathfinder lodge with sprawling grounds. The scene is beautiful, with dozens of small buildings dotted across a verdant landscape complete with tall trees, colorful flowers, and chirping birds. “I suppose the adventure can come to me! Please, Pathfinders, stay and enjoy a well-deserved rest. Tell me of all the journeys you’ve taken and the discoveries that you’ve made!”
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After a full night’s rest, though perhaps with a few odd dreams, Oraiah Tolal and Gregaro Voth ask everyone to meet the next morning. Agents assemble in a garden on the new lodge’s grounds.
Gregaro Voth begins, “Pathfinders, you have done amazing work, defeating the Thorned Monarch and his forces after making the arduous journey out here.” Oraiah Tolal continues, “But if Alseta smiles upon our work, you will have a much easier journey home.” Together, they cast a spell, and a shimmering archway appears. After a few moments, Master of Spells Sorrina Westyr and Decemvirate member Eliza Petulengro walk through. Westyr exclaims happily, “Well done, Pathfinders, all of you!” Petulengro explains more. “We’ve established a link between this new lodge and the Maze of the Open Road, a hedge maze and portal network that used to be carefully restricted by the Decemvirate. The Decemvirate is planning to add new nodes to the maze, allowing Pathfinders to swiftly travel to places far from the Society’s current reach. And so, if you are ready to go home, please follow me. You have more than earned a swift trip home!” Petulengro and Westyr lead the way through the portal, into the maze, and through another archway that leads straight back to the Grand Lodge.
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