Jayma crosses her arms, lips pursed ever so slightly, emerald eyes narrowing at the quickly dispersing ghostly remnants of the hellshadow. "What a complete and utter fizzle. A perfectly respectable spell, full of flair and finality, and yet... nothing! Not even a flicker of destruction for my trouble. Hmph."
She lets out a small sigh, dramatic but elegant, and tilts her head thoughtfully. "Disintegration is not supposed to be merely shrugged off. That was supposed to be my moment."
Twyl pokes his small, pointed face out from her sleeve, chittering in a way that sounds suspiciously like amusement. She clicks her tongue, brushing his nose with one manicured fingertip. "Yes, yes, I know. The others handled it well. It is not their fault that infernal puff of shadow magic had no appreciation for proper theatrics."
With a huff and a flick of her fingers, Jayma waves her hands in a quick flourish, casting a quick spell to smooth her singed curls and mend the faint scorch marks on her coat with a shimmer of invisible magic.
She glances around the theater-turned-battleground, her gaze traveling across the scuffed floorboards, broken props, and torn curtains. Her boots make a soft clack as she walks around the room. Eventually she ascends the stage, careful not to catch her coat hem on the edge. "Cowards and weaklings who fell through..." she murmurs aloud. "Not killed... not consumed... but fell. Through what, I wonder?"
Jayma begins to circle the stage, eyes scanning for any signs of arcane residue, traps, or hidden passageways. "Let us see where the cowards went, shall we, Twyl? I have half a mind to follow them, if only to scold them for leaving a girl to deal with such a rude guest."
Jayma walks up onto the stage, stepping between Marine and Lazarus, until she suddenly realizes there is no floor under her feet. She plummets, but manages to grab onto something (though it's difficult to say what) and pull herself back up.
Jayma focuses, and peers through Fallenta's illusion.
Without the illusions, the truth of this sad, abandoned theater becomes apparent. There are no audience members, and most of those seats are in ruins or have collapsed. The stage is a crumbling ruin as well, with old ropes and tattered curtains hanging from above. Props and scenery from the last play (which was set in a haunted castle) lie among the rubble or in decaying heaps along the corners and back wall—particularly to the northeast, where the ceiling has collapsed entirely into a heap of rubble that only allows brief glimpses of sunlight to filter through during the day. Below this heap of rubble lies further ruin—this area once featured a stairwell leading to the basement below, but that stairwell has since been completely obliterated.
One thing that’s noticeably new is the large, jagged hole in the floor of the middle of the stage; even at a casual glance, it’s obvious that this hole is a very recent development.
Fallenta bursts into the room. "That's not what's supposed to be in here!" she shouts, "I don't know what that is. It's real! You need to--oh, you already defeated it. Well. Okay, I daresay you've proven you're the real deal." She leans against the doorway. "Let me just.. catch my breath a moment here."
Seeing through the illusions, Dr. Lazarus nods knowingly. "You were right, Lady Fallenta ... this fake stairwell is indeed a health hazard." As he's retrieving his healer's tools, Lazarus points out, "The hellshadow we defeated was quite the terror. I do hope your illusory actors are okay." He grins.
To the group, the Doctor says, "Yes, yes, gather around. I only make house calls in emergencies."
After bandaging everyone up, he packs up and asks, "That was most interesting. What's next on the agenda?"
"Fake stairwells? Missing actors?" Marine draws her sword dramatically and holds it in the air. "This calls for an adventure into the bowels of Hell!...Or at least, into the hole."
Noticing that everyone is at least a little singed, she waits for the Doctor to treat their wounds. In the meantime, she spends a minute glaring at the stage until the illusion gives way.
"So, Miss Fallenta..." She says, after the director has had a moment to take a breather, "If you were the one who owns or at least rented this place out, surely you can tell us what's down this conveniently placed hole into the basement?"
Callistro brushes off the soot and flakes of ash from his clothing. That was unpleasant, glad the stupid thing has been dispatched. Sadly it seemed to be immune to my magic.
After the Doctor finishes tending his wounds Callistro hops on to the stage, but keeps to the edge. You say there is a hole here? He studiously avoids looking too closely at the illusion, not wishing to replace the swish interior with a depressing and grimy scene.
Turning to Fallenta he says, You hired actors yes? I dont see any of them in here now, could they have gone down this hole or be hiding out somewhere else in the building?
Jayma steps lightly onto the stage, weaving between Marine and Lazarus with her usual effortless grace, eyes scanning the shadows and the dusty props. But her next step finds only air. "Aaaah!"
She drops like a stone, coat fluttering in a burst of fabric and color, but her gloved hand shoots out instinctively, catching on... something, she didn't care what, as long as it held. Gritting her teeth, she hauls herself back up, arm trembling with the effort. A moment later, she flops gracelessly onto the splintered boards of the ruined stage.
Twyl chitters from somewhere inside her coat. "Yes, I noticed after I was falling," she mutters under her breath, brushing at her breeches and trying not to wince as she sits upright. She glances toward the others, cheeks flushed a pale rose. "I meant to do that. Obviously."
Gathering herself, Jayma sits back on her heels and lets her vision shift. Her eyes flare with greenish light as she peels away the illusion like old paint.
The theater reasserts itself in all its faded, decaying misery. The rot. The ruin. The bones of something once glorious.
And that hole. That recent hole. She narrows her eyes at it, lips pressed into a thin line. "So," she says softly, mostly to Twyl and herself, "something broke through. Or perhaps something was pulled in..."
Fallenta's entrance cuts her thoughts short. Jayma turns, brushing dirt from her peplum with quick flicks of her fingers. "Indeed. Real enough that I nearly joined the floorboards. This... theater of yours needs more health and safety inspections." Her tone was dry, clipped.
Rising smoothly, she adjusts the fall of her coat, and offers Fallenta a tight-lipped smile. "So... where are your actors then? Somewhere at the bottom of this hole presumably." She looks back into the hole, careful not to lean too far this time. Her eyes search the darkness below, green irises sharp and unblinking. Twyl pads from her shoulder to her knee, peering down with the same quiet suspicion. "And this is not part of your illusion. Nor part of your plan."
She rises again, smoothing the front of her coat, then turns to face Fallenta fully, one brow arched in sharp question. "Where does it lead, exactly? What lies beneath this stage? Cellars? Catacombs?"
Jayma watches Fallenta in silence for a long moment, her expression unreadable. When it becomes clear there will be no answers, no forgotten lore or hidden truths to draw upon, she lets out a quiet sigh through her nose. "Of course you do not know," she says softly, almost to herself.
She glances toward her companions now, gaze steady. "We do what we must. We descend. We look. We find the missing actors regardless of whether they still breathe or not."
The Doctor was so focused on properly organizing his healer's tools, he almost missed Jayma falling through the stage floor. "Jayma dear, are you alright?" After helping the little gnome to her feet, he carefully walks to the edge and peers down.
With the group intent on exploring below, Lazarus rubs his chin and asks dubiously, "Are we really looking for illusory actors?" He shrugs. "No matter. We go where the investigation takes us." He retrieves his climbing kit. secures it atop, and prepares to lead the way down.
Jayma turns her head toward Dr. Lazarus, a smile tugging faintly at her lips, half fond, half reproving. "Doctor," she says, her voice bright and crisp, "the characters may have been illusory, yes... but the actors are... or perhaps were, quite real. People, not phantoms."
She shifts her weight, resting a hand lightly on the hilt of one of her fancy daggers, though the gesture seems more for balance than threat. "If they are down there, then we must find them. I daresay they deserve a proper curtain call for their trouble."
Jayma pauses at the edge of the hole, her nose wrinkling delicately as she eyes the rope that Thurston begins to uncoil. "Oh, my goodness no," she murmurs, drawing back a step as if the rope were some sort of offensive laundry line. "Dirt under the nails, friction burns, awkward angles... I am a gnome of refinement, not a spider."
She smooths her coat, the multicolored fabric catching the dim light, then raises her chin with a smile that borders on smug. "Fortunately," she says, fingers already weaving subtle patterns in the air, "we need not trouble ourselves with such manual methods. I know of a far more elegant way to get us down. No slipping, no scraped knees." Twyl pokes his head out from her collar and gives a soft, approving chirp.
She starts preparing her spell. "Now, everyone, please gather round."
At her command, the air beneath the entire party shudders, then swells upward in a focused column. The floorboards creak faintly as dust lifts in spirals, and a sudden weightlessness settles over the group. Boots lose contact with wood. Cloaks and coats flutter. Even Twyl lets out a tiny, startled squeak before scrambling higher into Jayma’s collar, peeking out with wide, twitching whiskers.
They rise as one, then slide over and descend into the shadowed depths below the stage. As their boots touch down upon the dusty floor beneath, the column of wind begins to unwind, dispersing into silence with one final flutter of invisible wings.
Jayma lowers her arms, glancing about the room with curious caution. "There we are," she says brightly, brushing nonexistent dust from her sleeves. "No bruises, no broken ankles. Just a bit of theatrical flair... as is proper."
"Hey is your climbing kit big enough for me?" Marine barely gets the words out of her mouth before her cape starts fluttering gaily in the tempest that Jayma summons. Rising along with the party, she lets out a excited "Woo-hoo!" as they hurtle down into the not-so-illusory hole.
Touching down into the room, Marine immediately draws her blade and looks around, her keen eyes suited to the dark. Remembering that Callistro had refused to disbelieve the illusion, she goes over to him, asking "Callie, are you quite alright? From your perspective we must have just apparated through the floor. Did it feel weird for you?"
Dr. Lazarus grins at Jayma, "Ah yes, leave it to you to find an elegant way down." However, as the group gathers round, Lazarus continues securing his ropes. "While I would love the lift, I must, occasionally, practice mundane skills like climbing. One never knows ..." He begins his climb and meets the group below.
Callistro steps up to Jayma and closes his eyes. My dear Jayma, this magic of yours is excellent, I am looking forward to it.
After they settle down at the bottom he takes out a scroll. Casting the spell a delicate spiral staircase appears, rising up to the stage. We dont want to have to clamber back up now do we.
"Hole?" says Fallenta blankly, "What hole?" She takes a moment to concentrate, piercing her own illusion.
"Well yes, I did say... this place has historical value, but frankly it basically needs to be rebuilt before I can use it for any--oh. That hole." A hand moves up to her lips, her expression worried. "That was not like that last night. So.. yes, I daresay you're right."
She seems glad the party is so ready to immediately go after the actors. "Good. Yes, thank you. That--we need to do that. To res--fi--rescue the actors."
Shaking her head at Lazarus, Fallenta confirms what Jayma said. "There are limits to the spells I used. I can create the illusion of creatures and program a specific reaction to specific stimuli, but it can't do interacts as complex as actually fighting you. I hired six actors. Three of them should be dressed as mummies and three as demons, though since I don't know when they fell I don't know if they were in costume yet.
"And no," Fallenta winces slightly when Jayma accuses her of not knowing, "I haven't been down there since the stairs are collapsed. This was primarily a puppet theater, so probably storage more then a green room--and rumors of what happened down there after the theater was captured are mixed, so I couldn't say what's true. You've probably heard that; the building definitely housed dottari--Chelaxian guards--but was also rumored to contain a hidden shrine to Asmodeus."
The party makes their way into the hole.
The brick walls and floor of this large, twenty-foot-high space are damp and mottled with strange patterns of mold. Cracks on the floors and walls make the area seem on the verge of collapse, but several still solid-looking support pillars seem more than up to the task of holding the roof up—save for in the middle of the room, where a recent collapse under a hole in the ceiling took place, and in the northeast corner, where a much older collapse lies heaped around a crumbled wooden staircase. A partially buried skeleton still wearing a suit of dark-blue leather armor lies in the rubble near the northern wall. This collapse also caused part of the southern wall to topple over to the southeast, and an old wooden door stands in the same wall further to the west. Recent blood trails lead away from the collapse at the center of the room.
Jayma moves with practiced grace through the damp, crumbling chamber, the hem of her multi-colored coat skimming just above the mildew-stained floor. She stops near a dark smear of blood on the cracked brick floor, crouching low without a sound. Her fingers hover above the trail before she touches the edge of the stain, testing its freshness.
"This was recent," she says evenly, her voice clipped but never cold. "Minutes, perhaps. Someone survived the collapse..." She turns to Thurston with an amused smile. "Would you not concur, Doctor?"
Rising, her eyes sweep the room, taking in the treacherous rubble, the old stairway buried beneath rot and stone, and the skeleton half-submerged in debris. The dark-blue leather armor still clings to its frame, remarkably intact despite the passage of time. Jayma steps carefully toward it, her curiosity tempered by caution. She studies the corpse with narrowed eyes. "This one's been here for years," she murmurs, mostly to herself.
Twyl chitters and suddenly darts into her sleeve, only to pop out again beneath her collar, staring fixedly toward the old wooden door in the western wall. Jayma follows his gaze. "If there are survivors,..." she says as she approaches the door, "... they would have left through this door."
She waits for the more robust members of the troupe to take the lead through the door.
The blood is dry, and isn't quite that fresh.
Jayma notices some scorch marks on and around the skeleton that suggests this person lost a fight with the Hellshadow--but the armor is undamaged. Whatever else it may be, it is resilient armor.
Extricating the body without causing further collapse would likely require a bit of care and take about 10 minutes.
Looking around, Dr. Lazarus focuses on the skeleton. He asks, "If you'll allow me a few minutes to study the corpse..." While Jayma studies the armor, the forensics professor studies the body.
The Doctor then studies the blood spatter.
When Jayma suggests going through the door, Lazarus corrects her, "Jayma dear, if you look carefully, the trail leads toward this gap here in the southeast."
He heads in that direction and waits for the group.
Lazarus is able to confirm that this person died several years ago in a violent clash with the hellshadow, that also resulted in the collapse of the stairs.
He also confirms the blood trail was left by a half dozen or so humanoids who, while they moved quickly, appeared to stagger, stumble, and crawl as much as ran while fleeing the area.
When Doctor Lazarus corrects Jayma about both the longevity of the blood stains and the direction in which the blood trail leads, Jayma tilts her head slightly. Her green eyes flick to the blood, then to the gap she had missed entirely. She shrugs with easy grace, one shoulder rising beneath the swirl of her multicolored coat. "Well, Doctor, I daresay I'm no expert in the state of spilled blood or the angle of its wanderings. Such things are your bailywich, and I for one, am happy to keep it that way."
Jayma then turns her gaze toward the southeast corner with renewed interest and moves closer for a better look. Her nose crinkles and she leans slightly away from the mound of rubble as if it might suddenly collapse further just from being looked at too hard. She stops some distance from the gap, and peers into the dimness beyond trying to make out whatever may lie beyond.
"Climbing through that looks positively dreadful," she says, tone dry and clipped. "All that scrabbling and squeezing and... Ugh! dust."
She turns her gaze instead to the old wooden doors set into the center of the southern wall, tilting her head thoughtfully. A gloved finger taps idly at her chin. "I suspect those doors lead to the same space beyond. Architects love symmetry, especially in places like this. And unless I'm very much mistaken, that section of wall isn’t so far removed from where our less-than-fresh blood trail is heading."
Jayma lifts her eyes to the others, expression poised but firm. "I'd rather not ruin my coat or my knees, if it's all the same. Let's try the proper entrance first, shall we? If it's blocked or locked or crawling with infernal marionettes, we can always come back and disgrace ourselves in the rubble."
She smiles sweetly, but her foot is already turning toward the door.
The Doctor then picks that very moment to inform them that the blood almost certainly belongs to the missing actors who left it while fleeing for their lives.
Jayma exhales slowly through her nose, her shoulders sinking a touch. "Of course it is," she mutters, glaring at the unstable rubble pile as though it has personally offended her.
Twyl darts back onto her shoulder, tail curling around her neck like a scarf. She places a steadying hand on the ermine as she steps closer to the collapsed section, her expression caught somewhere between regal dismay and grim obligation. "This is deeply undignified," she declares to no one in particular. "But I suppose if they dragged themselves through it half-dead, I can manage it merely inconvenienced."
She lets the others go through first and then follows, muttering under her breath about dust, splinters, and the shocking lack of proper staircases in abandoned theaters.
Callistro stands in the middle of the old basement shivering in the damp. Well, this place is frightful. So, it looks like our missing actors fled to the south. It seems likely that these doors lead to the same chamber as the collapse does there. I for one am all for not clambering over broken bricks, splintered beams and rotting plaster. Lets try the doors...
Stating the obvious, Dr. Lazarus says, "Our skeletal friend here, who died years ago, was not one of the actors." He continues, "Although, that hellshadow we destroyed has clearly been terrorizing actors for a while."
When Jayma and Calistro both make it clear they prefer a civilized entrance, the Doctor holds up his hand. "You're probably right about the door leading to the same chamber beyond. However, I prefer to let the clues lead me, and follow in the actor's footsteps." He adds, "By all means, feel free to use the door and I'll meet you on the other side."
When everyone is ready, Lazarus climbs over the rubble in the southeast.
Marine at this point has spent the last few minutes digging the skeleton out of the heap it was under in hopes of getting to the sweet loot it has on it. Her manic digging is interrupted by the sounds of the party deciding to split itself - Jayma and Callistro heading to the door while Lazarus preparing to climb (again) over the rubble.
Marine puts her head in her hands (not caring that they happen to be grubby with dirt and bone dust) and sighs. "Guys, why do we have to split the party? Can't we just pick one and choose? This is just like the previous adventure when we..." She realises that with lives at stake, now is not the time to reminisce.
Not wanting to leave the doctor alone, she follows along behind him and climbs over the rubble with him.
Calling back over the wall, she says to the other two "Yell if you get into any trouble, okay?"
The party quickly determine that the tracks through the broken wall lead to the same room as the door.
Cool, damp air fills this chamber. Mold and water damage mar the brick walls, making unsettling patterns on the stone floor. Six solid-looking support pillars hold up the ceiling some twenty feet above. Here and there in the room’s eastern side, blood spatters and smears stain the floor. A bewildering number of puppets and marionettes in varying stages of decrepitude lie or sit or dangle from shelves or sprawl on the floor around the room’s edges. The old workbenches and tables scattered about appear in states of partial collapse in the middle of the room. A door exits to the north, while a portion of the wall east of this door has collapsed into rubble. A second door stands in the wall to the southeast, and a short phrase adorns it in swipes of dark gray paint, runners of dry paint descending from the letters.
The supplies in here for creating props, scenery, and, above all else, puppets are old and ruined. The vacant gazes of moldering puppet heads and the distorted limbs of mannequin bodies do a fantastic job at giving this abandoned theater workshop an unsettling air.
After climbing over the rubble, Dr. Lazarus greets Calistro (and Jayma?) who have no doubt already made it inside through the door. Following the blood spatter, he once again eagerly notes the obvious, "The trail leads to that eastern door."
Making his way, the Doctor sees the creepy puppets about the room and casts Detect Magic. He describes anything interesting and continues.
Waiting at the door for the group, Lazarus sees something written in paint. He reads it aloud.
Callistro steps into the room and peers around. Well, this isnt weird and unsettling at all is it. Who knew that poppets could be quite this disturbing.
He looks over to Lazarus, What have you found good Doctor? Some evidence of what has happened to our missing actors? I do hope all this blood does not suggest something, permanent, has happened to them?
Jayma follows Callistro through the northern door. The cool, clammy air hits her face like a whisper from a forgotten crypt, and she draws her coat tighter around her shoulders. Twyl chitters softly from inside one sleeve, his small head poking out to scan the chamber with alert, beady eyes.
She stops short just a few steps into the room, one hand rising instinctively to her chest. "By the Everbloom..." she murmurs. "I was jesting about the place crawling with infernal marionettes." She relaxes somewhat when they turn out to be mere inanimate props.
She glances toward the stains on the floor, then quickly looks away. "I'll leave that mess to you, Doctor," she says over her shoulder as she begins a careful circuit of the room.
Her eyes go to the southeastern door, where the dark gray phrase streaked across it looks like a warning or a dare.
"That appears to be our only proper way forward," she says, tone brisk but composed. She waits for the others to lead the way through.
The phrase on the door reads, in Common: “Can you hear Him?”
Lazarus detects magic. Something hidden among the many old and moldy puppets (including pirates, knights, a huge range of animals, and sundry parts of monstrous creatures) is fairly powerfully magic.
Jayma doesn't see anything else of interest, though she notes that there could easily be something hidden in the piles of puppets and tools that she couldn't possibly spot without taking some time to dig through them.
Jayma narrows her eyes as her gaze flickers across the smeared phrase. "Can you hear Him?" she reads aloud, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Her brow furrows as she takes a step closer, lips pursed in thought. She tilts her head to listen. "For the record," she adds, tone lighter, though something about the way she's standing suggests that she's not as relaxed as she wishes to appear, "I can't hear Him. But I suspect we will soon enough."
Twyl chitters softly from her shoulder, tail twitching with agitation.
When Thurston mentions detecting strong magic in the mass of ruined puppets and collapsed benches, Jayma turns toward the clutter, her expression tightening as she surveys the piles. "Of course there is," she says, almost to herself. Then louder, "I gave it a cursory looking over, but it's a chaos of limbs and rot in there. There could be anything hidden... or hiding. We'll need to dig through properly if we want to find what's giving off that aura."
"Ooh, magical loot within these creepy lifeless puppets? Gimme." Marine starts searching through these puppets. She pokes the ugliest looking ones with her sword first. "These ain't so scary...They remind me of the puppet shows Callistro took me to watch back in Absalom."
Given how enthralled she is by looting, she definitely does not hear him.
After pointing out something highly magical lies beneath the old puppets, and seeing Marine start sifting through them, Dr. Lazarus warns, "Be wary friends. The magic here could take the form of an animated object who means us harm."
Lazarus grips his hammer and moves closer to the center of the room. "If it's something dangerous, logic dictates we should deal with it now, so we don't risk being surrounded later." Poking around with his staff, he helps Marine search.
Searching through the pile, the party finds the source of the magical aura--a ring--along with a couple other items of value. There's doll’s head whose eyes are made of aquamarine and a miniature painting inside a rusty locket set with tiny emeralds depicting a heavily scarred, smiling dwarf .
And by the time they've located that, they discover that every puppet in the room has turned to look at them.
The puppets clatter to life, and the room fills with derisive laughter.
There is also a ghost-like creature in the southwest corner of the room, ever-shifting mass of black sack cloth, teeth, and mouths, folding in and out of itself and cackling like a thousand frenzied and doomed souls. It wasn't there before, but is now, as though it appeared from the walls or floor.
Lazarus notices another one, lurking in the shadows, half inside the wall, in the southeast corner, but the others don't spot it immediately.
The puppets' heads all turn to look directly at Lazarus, and their jeers and taunts become focused on him exclusively.
"Foolish man."
"So smart, but so dumb."
"You'll never know the answer."
The childish jeers have no effect on him.
Another of the creatures emerges, unnoticed by everyone--except Marine, just in time to avoid its teeth. It opens several of its mouths and emits a horrible, cackling shriek that shakes her... but not enough that its able to bite her the second time, either.
All PCs' turns.
Initiative:
Mocking Puppets
Orange Monster (Terrifying Laugh used)
Marine (AC 34, 188+6/188 HP, Slowed 1, Frightened 1)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 152/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, immune to Terrifying Laugh)
Jayma (AC 29, 116+6/116 HP, Slowed 1, immune to Terrifying Laugh)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 126+6/126 HP)
???
Blue Monster (Hidden from everyone but Lazarus)
Green Monster
This specific manifestation may well be unique, but the doctor is familiar with similar haunts. Destroying the puppets would be an effective short-term solution, but the haunt would reform eventually.
To properly destroy it, one must exorcise the spirits , though it might be easier to appeal to them if one is a true master--in this case, by entertaining them ?
They turn their malice back onto the living, antagonizing any nearby creatures, hoping to fatally lure their victims into the clutches of a haunt to be turned into another geist and share the torment.
They draw power from haunts. They're more powerful when one is nearby. They can also absorb the power of the haunt to make a particularly powerful attack, though doing so renders the haunt inert for a few moments and means other geists can't draw power from it.
They are incorporeal, and immune to death effects, disease, paralysis, poison, and unconsciousness--but not precision.
◇ Puppet Attack hits for
◇ Puppet Attack hits for
◇ Puppet Attack hits for
◇ Puppet Attack hits for
Jayma turns the little treasures over in her hands, holding them up to catch what little light the mold-stained chamber offers. "A ring, most certainly magical," she says. She tilts her head at the doll’s head, brushing away grime with the tip of one gloved finger. "Aquamarine eyes... unsettling, but valuable." The rusty locket receives a more delicate inspection. She pops it open and studies the miniature painting within. "A scarred dwarf, smiling, no less... curious. Emeralds around the frame. Perhaps we should try to figure out who he is before selling it."
It is then that she notices the change. Every puppet in the room has turned to look at them. Heads tilt in eerie unison, glass eyes catching the shadows. A brittle chorus of laughter rattles through the chamber, high and mocking. Jayma freezes; her breath catches; the confident sparkle in her dark green eyes dims. "Oh, surely not," she murmurs. "They were indeed infernal marionettes after all!" she says more loudly as her earlier jest turns into prophecy before her very eyes.
From the southwest corner, something peels itself from the shadows. Jayma’s gaze darts to it, and in her shock, she does not notice the second one lurking half inside the wall to the southeast. She clutches her coat tighter, instinctively taking a step back.
Thurston's voice cuts through the cacophony, calm but urgent. He speaks quickly of what he knows: The puppets are haunted; to be rid of them for good, you must win their release through performance. Jayma’s breath is still caught in her throat, her heart beating far too fast. Twyl nudges her cheek from the hood, the light brush of fur grounding her just enough. Thurston's words echo in her mind: Win their release through performance... make them feel joy again.
Slowly, deliberately, she steps forward. Her chin lifts, and though her voice shakes at first, the words still ring out. "Ladies... and gentlemen," she says, sweeping a shallow bow, "you are most fortunate this evening... for the performance is about to begin."
She squares her shoulders and draws herself up into the poised stillness of an actress at the opening of a monologue. Then, in a clear, ringing voice, she begins a dramatic recitation from The Poppet Duchess, a tragicomedy she once performed to modest acclaim in Absalom. Twyl joins in with unerring instinct, making tiny chitters and squeaks in the pauses between her lines, darting from shoulder to shoulder in time with her gestures, and even producing a small monkey drum from somewhere in her coat, beating a steady rhythm to set the tempo of her delivery.
She ends with, "Mark me well, for the truth wears many masks... but only the bold dare lift them."
Spent, Jayma has no energy left to defend herself against the debris hurled her way by the remaining puppets.
As the creepy puppets begin animating, Dr. Lazarus rolls his eyes and ignores their jeers. "Quite frankly, it would have been surprising if they did not come to life." At Jayma's urging, the Doctor studies them and lectures to the group, "The puppets are indeed haunted." He adds, "They can only be destroyed if they are exorcised or entertained."
He then focuses on the ghost-like creature beside him to devise an attack strategy.
He continues his lecture, "Next on the syllabus, you'll notice a few ghosts called Geists. They feed off haunts, so disabling the puppets may help with the ghosts." He adds, "While they're quite obviously incorporeal, if I recall, they're oddly vulnerable to the precision of my attacks."
Even though he believes he has a reasonable chance at hitting the geist, he knows the importance of exorcising the haunts. He focuses on the animated puppets and mutters some religious incantations.
"Oh no...Am I really a hack and a fraud? Is that I left the Circus? Because I couldn't act?" Marine's self doubt gets to her.
She turns to the puppets and points her sword at them. "I'll show YOU how great of an actor I am...Check out this funny joke I learnt from Callistro's friends!"
Her persona mask switches faces from a bold blue eye mask to a cartoonishly looking clown mask. This mask has great big eyes, a huge honking red nose and a gigantic grin on its face. Marine starts to relay the joke.
"I told this joke the other when asked to stand up and introduce yourself to the group, and say something interesting about yourself... So this guy dies and goes to hell. He finds himself in a nice room with a group of other people. Asmodeus himself stands up and says, "Welcome to Hell!" The guy thinks to himself, "well, this doesn't seem so awful." Then Asmodeus says, "I'd like each of you to introduce yourself, and tell us something interesting about yourself. Eh? Eh? How about that, huh?"
The puppets don't seem to appreciate the joke and they give her a vicious lashing for her troubles. While the protective layer of her heavy armour would normally prevent the blow from striking a vital organ, Marine's self doubt means that she's too slow to avoid having the lash strike right at her jaw.
Lazarus starts the work of exorcising the haunt. They still attack him, though, jabbing him with tiny swords and spears.
Jayma gets some of the puppets giggling harmlessly instead of mocking, which loosens the spirits' grip on this world. They still pelt her with tools and loose bits.
A slight quiver of Marine's voice means the difference between laughing with her and laughing at her, and the puppets viciously lash her with their strings.
Callistro's turn.
Initiative:
Mocking Puppets (Disabled 2/?)
Orange Monster (Terrifying Laugh used)
Marine (AC 34, 170/188 HP)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 152/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, immune to Terrifying Laugh)
Jayma (AC 29, 101/116 HP, immune to Terrifying Laugh)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 114/126 HP)
???
Blue Monster (Hidden from everyone but Lazarus)
Green Monster
Callistro looks around the room. Are these things supposed to br frightening? I mean, the room is a bit of a horror and weird puppets with glowing eyes could be scary but mostly it all just looks a bit old, and frayed, and sad. You should all probably just stop this nonsense, it really isnt helping anyone, least of all yourselves. We will bring this place to life, I promise, in time, you will have enjoyable performances which will fill your souls with joy...
As for you nasty spirits with the glowy mouths and eyes and things, I can assure you that my allies here are quite capable of dispatching you forthwith!
◆◆
◆
The puppets fall silent for a moment, enraptured by Callistro's performance. Some of them start to go inert, the spirits leaving them. Then one of them slashes him with a piece of broken glass and their mocking laughter resumes.
A fourth geist appears from the shadows, swooping at Callistro. Its horrible laugh pierces the room--but this time nobody falls for it. It whips its toothy cloak at Callistro, but he evades it.
The one that only Lazarus noticed swoops up to him. It attempts to bite him, but he avoids it. And then while he's looking at its head, it bites his side. Having teeth all over is an advantage when biting things, it turns out.
The one in the southwestern corner flies up to attack Marine from both sides. ...which isn't as effective as one might think. It's just kind of a sad attempt, really. Horrible gnashing teeth, flailing horribly.
The puppet heads all turn to stare at Jayma. With mocking, derisive laughter, several of them imitate her performance. Spending their last gasp this way; it's almost flattering!
Marine is then attacked from the other direction, much more effectively. Teeth from multiple mouths tear at her.
All PCs' turns.
Initiative:
Mocking Puppets (Disabled 3/4; DC 32 Performance or 35 Religion to Disable)
Orange Geist (Terrifying Laugh used)
Marine (AC 34, 125/188 HP)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 133/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, immune to Terrifying Laugh, lingering courageous anthem 4 rounds)
Jayma (AC 29, 101/116 HP, immune to Terrifying Laugh)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 94/126 HP)
Red Geist
Blue Geist
Green Geist
Callistro gives a little sigh. You rally ought to understand that all of this is quite unnecessary. It's time to move on, the last song has been sung, the final bell has rung and the curtains are closing. I am afraid that you do not get an encore.
As he finishes speaking a glowing blue barrier appears around him.
◆◆
◆ Cast shield
With a collective sigh, the puppets stop laughing. Their eyes go blank once again, their jeering looks return to pleasant painted smiles, and they collapse into pieces of harmless wood and fabric.
Callistro is just as convincing while inexplicably on fire.
The geists seem rather upset and agitated by this, but they also droop a little.
Marine, Jayma, and Lazarus's turns.
Initiative:
Orange Geist
Marine (AC 34, 125/188 HP)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 132/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, lingering courageous anthem 3 rounds, shield)
Jayma (AC 29, 101/116 HP)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 94/126 HP)
Red Geist
Blue Geist
Green Geist
Dr. Lazarus nods his approval to Calistro and Jayma for their performances. He says knowingly, "As I suspected, with the haunts destroyed, the geists have lost some of their vigor." With that, he studies the one that just bit him.
With the enemies hopefully in a weakened condition, Dr. Lazarus swings his hammer three times in succession at the blue geist beside him.
+2 Striking Returning Astral Cold Iron Grabthar's Hammer (w/ Stratagem) +CA: 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (7) + 23 = 30
Jayma lets out a quick breath she did not realize she was holding, relief flickering across her face as by some strange twist of fate, the geists have chosen to ignore her. "Well... that is something at least," she comments to herself, straightening her coat and tilting her chin in quiet defiance of the shadows. Twyl chitters approvingly from her shoulder, his bright eyes darting between the attackers and the dangling, clattering puppets.
When the puppets finally fall silent, Jayma claps her gloved hands together, the sound sharp in the damp air. "Well done, Callistro! Those ghastly little marionettes will trouble us no more."
The geists drift nearer, their hollow faces twisting in silent malice. Jayma lifts one hand, fingers spread, and the air hums with sudden, crackling energy. "Now, let us be rid of the rest," she says, her voice light but laced with steel.
A dazzling bolt of lightning bursts from her fingertips, leaping to the nearest geist in a blinding flash. The strike explodes outward, arcs of white-blue energy chaining from one specter to the next. Each wraith writhes in the surge, their forms shimmering and tearing under the onslaught until the chamber reeks of scorched air and fading malice.
Jayma lowers her hand with a satisfied smile. "That should even the odds." Then she sweeps her other hand in a graceful motion, a swirl of pink light blooming around her. The magic snaps into place, a translucent rose-hued shield wrapping her slender form.
Like most incorporeal creatures, Lazarus realizes they're difficult to damage, but his weapon is enchanted for this situation. He clobbers the geist repeatedly. He also knows that force and vital energy would be effective.
They are very quick though. The first one nearly dodges Jayma's lightning, and the second avoid it entirely dissipates the spell.
Marine's turn.
Initiative:
Orange Geist (AC 22-26)
Marine (AC 34, 125/188 HP, +1 circumstance to next attack)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 132/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, lingering courageous anthem 3 rounds, shield, +1 circumstance to next attack)
Jayma (AC 29, 101/116 HP, shield)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 94/126 HP)
Red Geist (AC 22-26)
Blue Geist (AC 22-26, -94 HP, bloodied)
Green Geist (AC 22-26)
Marine staggers under the blow the puppets dealt her and pouts when they leave. "Typical terrible audience member. They throw insults and worse at the performers and refuse to stay for the redemption arc." She grumbles under her breath.
Noticing that she is being flanked by two Geists, she first performs a Dueling Dance to boost her armour class. Next she Strides towards the Doctor, who is busy pummeling a Geist into the ground.
Lacking space to move into flanking, she decides to Snagging Strike the ghost. She sticks her free hand through the Geist's body and wiggles it around, trying to set it off balance while the Astral Aldori goes for the head, in a textbook Snagging Strike maneuver. With the Doctor's advice, she hits it at the same sensitive spot the Doctor has been bludgeoning with his hammer.
"Laugh on this, you stupid clown!" Marine yells at the one she just hit. The fact that she's currently a clown is lost on the centaur.
Marine's maneuver looks like it's working--but it's a moot point as she slices through the geist. The two halves fall away, melting to nothing.
With the haunt destroyed and the party already shrugging off the power of their terrifying laughter, there isn't much for the geist next to Callistro to do other then sweep its robe over him, gnashing its many teeth; none of them manage to bite into him.
With Marine gone, the next one swoops after Lazarus instead. It throws its robe of gnashing mouths around him, biting him from multiple angles. Though he notes that with the haunt destroyed, their life-draining power is gone. Now it's just teeth.
Jayma fares worse as the last one swoops down on her. One of the bites is quite brutal.
All PCs' turns.
Initiative:
Orange Geist (AC 22-26)
Marine (AC 34, 125/188 HP, Dueling Dance)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 132/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, lingering courageous anthem 3 rounds, shield, +1 circumstance to next attack)
Jayma (AC 29, 48/116 HP, shield)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 94/126 HP, +1 status to AC)
Red Geist (AC 22-26)
Green Geist (AC 22-26)
Callistro raises his conductors baton and twirls it in the air. Its time for the spotlight scene and all of you are invited to participate.
With that bright light erupts from him, flooding the room! In its wake wounds heal but the ragged spirits are burned through.
◆◆◆ Cast Rank 6 Heal hitting everyone.
DC31 Fortitude save for the enemies, damage is 1 higher due to courageous anthem
While being bitten by the ghostly teeth, Dr. Lazarus sees that Jayma is having it worse. He calls out, "Have no fear, dear Lady. Don't move. Yet." As he's planning his approach, the Doctor feels a wave of healing pass over the room. "Why, thank you indeed, Callistro my boy."
Using Doctor's Visitation, Lazarus rushes over to Jayma to do some in-battle healing.
Dr. Lazarus calls out to Marine, "Care to take a flanking position in the corner with Callistro, so we can focus our fire?" Lazarus devises an attack strategy on the red geist.
Seeing a gaping hole it its defenses, he swings his hammer twice.
+2 Striking Returning Astral Cold Iron Grabthar's Hammer (w/ Stratagem) +CA, vs Red: 1d20 + 23 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 23 +1 = 39
Callistro's healing magic seems highly effective. The creatures do not like that blast.
The doctor is able to focus his fire well enough on his own. He smashes another geist into wisps of dust and smoke.
Marine and Jayma's turns.
Initiative:
Orange Geist (AC 22-26, -46 HP)
Marine (AC 34, 147/188 HP, Dueling Dance)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 151/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, lingering courageous anthem 2 rounds, shield)
Jayma (AC 29, 116/116 HP, shield)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 102/126 HP, +1 status to AC)
Green Geist (AC 22-26, -46 HP)
Marine attempts to slide through the Green apparition to get into flanking with Jayma. Unfortunately she overestimates the slide and bumps into a wall instead of going through the geist.
Finally making it through the incorporeal green geist, she enters flanking with Jayma and tries to end the Orange creature by setting up a Snagging Strike.
"Did you forget about me?" She asks mockingly as she Strikes Orange.
Jayma's lips curl into a pronounced pout as her lightning attack fizzles before it reaches the second geist. She lets out a soft huff, chin dipping in an almost childish sulk. "Oh, for the love of The Everlasting," she mutters, brushing an unruly lock of bright orange hair from her face.
Her eyes flick over to the nearest geist, the one looming toward her with a hiss. The corner of her mouth quirks upward as an idea strikes. Only moments ago, she had helped silence the puppets with a recitation from The Poppet Duchess. Now, she slips seamlessly back into the role, her posture melting into that of the doomed and delicate duchess.
She places a hand lightly to her heart, the other extended imploringly toward the geist, emerald eyes wide and glassy with feigned grief. Her voice trembles in that rich, lilting cadence that had once won her such praise: "Oh my cruel captor, must you wound me so? Spare me this final cruelty, I beg of you..."
Success The creature takes a –2 circumstance penalty to damage on the triggering Strike and all its Strikes against you until the beginning of its next turn. The penalty is –4 if you're an expert in Diplomacy, –6 if you're a master, and –8 if you're legendary.
Failure The creature's attack is unaffected, and the creature is temporarily immune to your Empathic Pleas for 24 hours.
Jayma straightens almost imperceptibly, the glimmer of the sorceress behind the duchess peeking through. Her voice drops to a private whisper meant only for herself: "And now... the coup de grâce."
Electricity once again blooms between her fingers, a sharp, hungry crackle that swells into a brilliant blue-white arc. The bolt slams into her attacker, then leaps to the next in a chain of searing light. The chamber rings with the hiss and snap of discharged power, the air thick with the smell of ozone.
Not pausing to savor the effect, Jayma gathers her coat about her and dashes across the room. Twyl clings tight to her shoulder, tiny claws digging for balance. She slips in behind Marine, peeking from the safety of that armored flank with a breathless, knowing smile.
The geist recoils from Jayma, unable to harm her. Instead it turns what might be a face towards Marine, and its voice whispers into the heroes' minds. "Foolish little insect. You'll be ground to dust, insignificant bug."
Marine has a little trouble getting to her target, but once she does she slices through it and badly hurts it.
The first is quick enough to mostly avoid Jayma's blast, which may be the only reason it still has a thread to hang on by. The other isn't so quick, and its hold on the world seems even more tenuous.
The wispy geist has enough wherewithal to move up to the closest party member, the doctor, and bite him once.
"How could I forget you, insect?" It hisses. Then is shrieks, and Marine finds herself surrounded by folds of sack cloth and gnashing teeth.
All PCs' turns.
Initiative:
Orange Geist (AC 22-26, -105 HP, bloodied, Off-Guard)
Marine (AC 34, 80/188 HP, Dueling Dance)
Callistro (AC 31/33, 151/152 HP, Cursebound 1, Persistent fire 1, lingering courageous anthem 2 rounds)
Jayma (AC 29, 116/116 HP, +1 status to AC)
Dr. Lazarus (AC 31/32, 84/126 HP)
Green Geist (AC 22-26, -116 HP)
Quick post before I will be afk for a while.
"Ow ow ow! O-Okay, I've had enough of you. Go back to forgetting about me - forever!" Marine says with a hint of panic in her voice before unleashing her own storm of sharp strikes.
With Marine getting eaten alive, Dr. Lazarus considers coming to her aid. "We could both use some healing, but maybe it's prudent to rid ourselves of these ghostly pests, first?" With Marine pounding on the far one, Lazarus focuses on the one beside him.
He can't see an gaping hole, but maybe? With Calistro still providing inspiration, Lazarus swings his astral hammer three times at the badly injured green geist hoping one of the swings strikes true.
+2 Striking Returning Astral Cold Iron Grabthar's Hammer (w/ Stratagem) +CA: 1d20 + 23 + 1⇒ (2) + 23 + 1 = 26