Autumn Forfallan's page

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Autumn says reflexively as she gently presses Alma’s hand. She drops the idea of a journal—even if Arika had one, surely she would keep such important notes on her person. “I’ll definitely keep an eye out for her though. Do you know any of the people she was adventuring with?”

After offering some more encouragement and support, the sorceress takes her leave. For the next few days, while waiting impatiently for the others to conclude their research, she lapses back into running a con or two—where did all the gold from Rusthenge go?! She dons a disguise, of course, adopting the appearance and manners of a nondescript young man.

Earn Income for 3 days
Deception (Expert): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (11) + 13 = 24
Not sure how many times I need to roll? Please feel free to roll for me.

Autumn nods, sympathetic to Alma’s plight but also relieved that Arika didn’t brave the dangers of the Pit again. “Of course I will. But did she really not tell you anything about what she’s been up to the last time you saw her?” she ventures, wondering if the daughter had learned anything useful about the Pit. “That’s not right that she should worry you so. I wonder …” she muses thoughtfully, “… does Arika keep a journal or diary anywhere? I know it’s not strictly right to peek at someone’s private writings, but maybe there’s a record of what she’s been doing, to help put your mind at ease. I mean, you are her mother, and you deserve to know what your daughter’s been up to.”

Not sure if I need to roll since she influenced Alma before? Feel free to roll Diplomacy +10 if necessary.
Btw, I’m ready to head out to the Pit after this scene with Alma concludes.

Upon learning that one of the foreign alchemists has directions to the pit, Autumn leans forward eagerly. “That sounds most interesting indeed,” the disguised sorceress says in a raspy voice. “May I copy those instructions for my notes? These are exactly the kind of details I was hoping to add to my maps.” After thanking and bidding the trio adieu, she visits San and Morga in the evening to share what she has discovered.

“I know it sounds dangerous,” she admits after hearing what the elves have found out at Brodert’s, “but I think we need to take a look at this place for ourselves.” She doesn’t sound particularly enthused by the prospect, especially since all the easy-to-access treasures have already been claimed, but she knows she’ll need something more substantial to get back into Titus’s good graces. In the back of her mind, there is also another worry. “And seven levels of chambers, and seven dooms for Sandpoint? That can’t be a coincidence.”

Day 5

The next day Autumn pays a visit to Sandpoint Savories, but waits until closing when Alma is less busy and more available to talk. The sorceress kindly helps out as they chat, stacking chairs and sweeping the floor (and probably scoring some discounted pastries in the process).

“Really, I think your new recipe is a success. But you know I’ve got a sweet tooth, so I’ll always prefer your blueberry muffins. That dwarf Morga I was telling you about loves them too—she brings some home to her parents, not that she’s ever bothered introducing them to me. Say, speaking of mothers and daughters—what’s Arika been up to lately? I haven’t seen her around for a while. Has she gone off adventuring in Magnimar or something?”

How old is Arika? Is she Alma’s only child?

After a couple nonproductive days, Autumn reads the signs and takes a bit of a break on the third day. She visits the Feathered Serpent, ooh-ing and aah-ing over the weird and wondrous curiosities there, while chatting amiably with Vorvashali. There’s plenty of praise for the variety of his wares, and idle questions about their provenance—perhaps even a question about whether he’s ever had anyone sell treasures from the Pit—but mostly she’s just being friendly with a friendly face.

Diplomacy to increase reputation with Mercantile League: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17

In the afternoon she resumes visiting the usual places for gossip, though magically disguised—from her reception at the Hagfish the other day, she senses that people are tiring of her. With the insight shared from San yesterday, she poses as a visiting cartographer and strikes a new tack, asking about interesting geological features in the area, with interest particularly about the Devil’s Platter.

Cast Illusory Disguise 2-3 times/day for the 2-3 hours needed to gather information.
Diplomacy (gather information): 1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (6) + 10 - 1 = 15

Day 4
Diplomacy (gather information): 1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (12) + 10 - 1 = 21

“Hello Charn,” Autumn greets the son with a manufactured smile. “I have some valuable information for your father,” she replies calmly, easily ignoring his threat and calling his bluff—she hasn’t been given any information about her mother for months, so it’s really not that hard to wait a little longer. “But since he’s so busy I’ll return some other time.” She pivots immediately, not wishing to waste her time on an heir who doesn’t hold any real power yet. “Please do give your father my regards—he should be happy to hear that you didn’t mess up his chance to gain some inside information on the good priest—and my apologies for interrupting your meal.” With that she strides out. When she sees the servant again though, she does pull him aside briefly, not trusting Charn to deliver her message. “Please tell Lord Scarnetti that I have some valuable information for him. At his leisure, he may send for me.”

After leaving the grounds, she attends to her second task. Visiting the taverns, she chats amiably about adventurers and the adventuring life, and places they might venture to—like the Pit.

Diplomacy (includes Scarnetti penalty) to Gather Information: 1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 10 - 1 = 18

Day 2 Gather Information to catch up: 1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (9) + 10 - 1 = 18

Autumn gives Morga a warm smile. “That’s a good idea. Who knows, maybe the Horn itself is one of the Dooms.” She nods at Zantus, acknowledging his desire for discretion, and says “As for myself, I’ll see if I can find who talked to these travelers and what they know of the Pit.” Sensing that the meeting is coming to a close, she takes her leave for the day. “Good luck everybody.”

Outside, she spends some time meandering around town, lost in thought as she ponders her next move. Ordinarily confident and decisive, she knows deep down what needs to be done, but it takes a while before she decides that it’s best to just get it over and done with. No sense putting this off. With newfound resolve she heads directly to her destination: Scarnetti Manor. There she asks for an audience to speak with Titus.

Though pleased to hear that Nualia’s spirit has progressed to its next stage of existence, Autumn is puzzled and annoyed by the cryptic fragments offered as ‘help’. She gives the priest a nod at his final suggestion. “The Pit does sound like the best lead we have, especially compared to the gobbledygook Audrahni got from her divinations. If it’s nearby, maybe someone around town’s heard of it.” She shrugs noncommittally. “I can try asking around.”

The sorceress exchanges a glance with Morga, then asks the priest “Should we tell the Sheriff about all this? If trouble’s coming he’d want to be prepared—and I’d want him to be prepared—though I guess we don’t really know what to even prepare for. These dooms could be monsters, or plague, or vermin, or who knows what.”

The way Vildran’s post is written, it sounds like he’s visiting Brodert in the middle of the night, so he could actually be with us at the cathedral in the morning.

Autumn shakes her head and half-rolls her eyes at Morga’s suggestion to wait for the elves. “We could be waiting for hours … have you seen how slow Vildran is? Rather than wasting the good Father’s time, he can tell us now and we’ll fill in the boys later.” She gives the dwarf a wink, then turns and looks expectantly at the priest.

Tired from the protracted trials of a long, long night, Autumn falls asleep quickly and sleeps well enough, in spite of her unease about what they’ve learned. But somehow it’s not the Seven Dooms threatening Sandpoint that has her on edge when she wakes in the morning; it’s not so much fear or anxiety, but anger. She can still feel her blood simmering at Nualia’s death—the poor girl tries to make a fresh start in a new town and then that evil jerk dredges up her past and takes it all away from her? It literally feels like her blood is thirsting for vengeance, as if the incident were personal.

She grabs a muffin from Alma’s for breakfast, then heads over to the cathedral. “Hope you’re feeling better this morning,” she greets Zantus with a friendly smile, “and Audrahni too.” She waits for them to be gathered in private before asking if there are any updates regarding the elf’s premonitions.

The Pit is also something we should investigate. Here are my thoughts on handling the various leads.

---The Pit
Might the Thassilonian map/writings we found mention it? The Pit sounds like a Thassilonian thing.

---Ripnugget: Where is he, and what's he up to? Who are his secret allies? (Zoduk said Ripnugget intended to go to the Pit. Is he working with the red hawk man?)
The trail’s probably long cold, but we might try to track the ghouls/Zoduk.

---Study the Thassilonian device in the room that had those two fire thingies that almost killed us.
This is the easiest and most concrete lead to investigate, though Autumn obviously won’t take part in it.

---Who/what is the red hawk man? Why did he *need* Nualia to bring about the Seven Dooms?
If he’s visited Sandpoint, someone might have seen him/know more, so we could try gather information with the locals.

---the massacre in Riddleport
I don’t think we’re expected to travel to Riddleport, so hopefully a library here would have records of the event?

---Start educating Sandpoint folks about what their treatment of Nualia did to her.
Autumn would take a hard pass on this (though the others are free to educate)—there’s no profit she can see, and it’s likely to agitate the citizens. Besides, the townsfolk already know what their treatment did—it turned her into a Lamashtu-worshipping villain who tried to destroy the town.

---The Seven Dooms themselves
No idea.

Autumn nods as Vildran mentions the mob. “Yes, they overheard you talking about the ritual—in the future you’ll want to be more discreet. Charn Scarnetti was leading the inquisition, and he was not pleased at all when we convinced his followers to head home—I have a feeling he’s going to make life difficult for us.” She shakes her head. “Do you have any idea why Charn would care so much about your affairs?”

“Anyway,” the sorceress suppresses a yawn, “sleep sounds like a good idea. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

"I'm not sure I could have done the same. She was... overwhelming."

Relieved that the tense danger of maintaining the ritual is over, Autumn gives Zantus a playful wink. “Yes, she didn’t seem to think much of you. Did you hear what she said about the Seven Dooms of Sandpoint?” She repeats everything that Nualia had said about the massacre in Riddleport, just in case.

Looking over at Vildran, she suggests “You might start by researching the massacre in Riddleport—that would’ve definitely made the news. Though it seems odd that, out of a tavern filled with everyone dead, someone would have picked out Nualia’s remains and known to bring her back here. I mean, there’s the claw, but still.” She looks at Zantus. “What do you know about this courier who returned Nualia’s bones to Sandpoint? Have you ever met him before?”

“Wait a minute,” Autumn tries to squeeze in a few more words before the ghost completely evaporates. “You said that this man kept on talking even after you killed him?” She looks at the others, bewildered, before focusing back on the fading spirit. “Do you think he was maybe an illusion, to distract you from whoever stabbed you in the back? Or … was he some weird sort of undead? It just doesn’t make sense.”

Struck dumb with emotion, Autumn slowly steps forward and gingerly extends her hand, gently placing it on the crying ghost’s shoulder. “I … I don’t know why.” Her words are soft and sympathetic, but her one eye is as hard and black as coal.

“But what I do know is that person who killed your friends and everyone else—that jerk is the one who truly deserves your vengeance.” Her tone somehow remains soft and comforting, but lined with a determined edge of hot steel. “And the best way—really, the only way—to achieve this is by defying him. By foiling his precious plots. And you’ve already begun. He wanted you to destroy Sandpoint but you refused. You proved that you’re better than him. And the little weasel couldn’t accept your superiority, so he had to resort to killing you. But you’re still better than him, no matter what he says—his pathetic lies are driven by his inferiority and failure.”

The sorceress takes a deep breath, clearly moved by the young girl’s plight. “You did something remarkable. Most people would have given in to old hatreds and past trauma, but you didn’t. You stood up to that toothless bully. And you’ll continue to stand firm and thwart all his precious plans.”

“Oh, that sounds dangerous! And exciting!” Autumn gushes appropriately at Nualia’s description of fighting and killing. “Maybe you were an adventurer, then? Perhaps part of a party of adventurers? Or maybe you were a gladiator?” She exchanges a glance with Vildran and asks the elf “Do you know if there are any fighting arenas in Riddleport? Or really, anything about Riddleport that might help Nualia remember more?”

Returning her attention to the ghost she continues. “You must have been very brave. And what stories you must have! I so wish you could remember.” She leans forward with interest—a genuine interest in Nualia herself, not in her looks or her heritage, but in her experiences and the story of her life. “But now I wonder … do you recall how you died? Were you fighting a monster or something?”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28

“It knows there's something you still need to do. Gives you another chance to do what in life you weren't able to."

Autumn lowers her lashes, knowing better than to tell her, or even just suggest, what she needs to do. While the elves continue pressing a public relations angle, she sticks to a simple, friendly conversation, treating Nualia like any other normal person, without any hidden agenda or ulterior motives.

“Riddleport? I’ve been to a few towns and villages, but never to such a large city, though I’d definitely love to go there. I’m so jealous if you were there. Did you maybe visit afterwards? After Thistletop? I know it must be hard for you to remember, but I’d love to hear about what it was like there. Maybe you were drinking with some friends in a tavern?”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29

Autumn barely suppresses an astonished eye roll when Morga speaks. Dwarves are well-known for being gruff and uncharismatic, but this is far beyond anything the con artist has ever experienced. All of the cleric's words would seem quite reasonable and helpful if written down on paper, but the tone is just ... wow.

The sorceress sidles next to Morga and gives her a little nudge. "Maybe listen more, talk less?" she suggests in a whisper.

"Why... Are you trying to rub it in now? After all you said about letting go of the things that fuel me, you want to remind me of all those things I've lost forever?"

"Of course not," Autumn responds in a light voice, "don't be silly. Just because you can't eat do some of those things anymore--though you can still hear music, and we could play a coin-tossing game if you want. Heads or tails?" With a playful smile, she holds out her silver piece, displaying one side then the other.

"Anyway, my point is that you can try to think of the good memories, even if there aren't so many. Especially if there aren't so many, because they're more precious then. I ..." she pauses, becoming more reflective and somber, "... I lost my mother. My memories are all I have left of her."

Autumn looks up and bites her lip. "But you're right--I don't really know what you can or can't do in your ... present form." She beseeches the ghost the way one might ask a respected sage for advice, valuing and respecting her opinion and expertise in a manner that was undoubtedly lacking during her life in Sandpoint. "What ... what happens after you die? Please help us understand."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19

NB: Just roleplaying my interaction with Morga--she should of course do whatever she likes.

Also, I haven't rolled above a 10 yet. I think the only way this is going to turn around is if our influence goes back down to 0. :)

Autumn shifts uncomfortably when Morga talks about ‘judgment’, ‘torture’, and ‘The Abyss’. In an effort to lighten the mood—perhaps more for herself than for the ghost—she says “Did you have any favorite songs you liked to sing or listen to, or games you liked to play? I always liked pretty simple games, like follow the ball under the cups, or even just flipping coins.” She takes out her predictable silver piece, displaying it in the palm of her hand, as if offering to play a game with Nualia. “What about food? I find there’s nothing better than a freshly baked scone with lots of cream and jam—though blueberry muffins are a close second.” It might seem inane, but these are the sorts of ordinary, friendly conversations that Nualia might have missed out on.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17

Failing to reach through the ghost’s preoccupations, Autumn doubles down on the topic that seems guaranteed to elicit Nualia’s most visceral response, though she tries to slant it in their favor. ”You and San don’t know this,”she looks over at the elf with a straight face, lying as easily as another might breathe, ”but there’s actually a motion to censure Tobyn for what he did to you, Yes, I know it’s much, much too late, but still, it would be nice for the town to finally recognize the fraud for what he truly is. It’s been a bit of a struggle gathering support, but we’ve been able to persuade more and more people—including the mayor and the sheriff—to see the truth of how he exploited you, so I’m confident this motion will pass—the plan is to add an official plaque to the cathedral, one that will tell the true story of Tobyn’s horrible misdeeds and blot his name in history.”

Deception: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21

Autumn notices the subtle change in San’s voice and, meeting his eye, realizes what he’s trying to do. Trusting in his instincts, she follows his lead, while also trying to steer the conversation into less bitter territory.

“Tobyn?” she echoes the elf. “That holier-than-thou hypocrite? He, at the very least, deserved what was coming to him,” she says with a huff. She waits a couple beats, then adds “But … what did happen afterward? After Thistletop? I heard that the adventurers who stopped the attacks offered you mercy. Where did you go and what did you do after that?”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Oof, my dice are ice cold. Fortunately we've got some good rolls from the others.

I feel like this ritual is critical to the AP working properly, so the mischievous side of me is wondering what would happen if we critically fail to calm Nualia? I presume the writers have planned for such circumstances with a way to progress with negative consequences? Because I'm not liking our odds so far. :)

I'll wait to see if anyone discovers useful info about Nualia before posting.

At the mention of a traitor, Autumn gives her companions a questioning look, wondering if they know who she’s talking about. Regardless, she shifts her approach, trying to find an argument that might find better purchase. “But hatred and vengeance don’t actually achieve anything,” she says, not truly believing it herself, but she remembers hearing this as part of a sermon she endured. “In fact, by holding onto your hate, you’re still letting them control you—letting them dominate your thoughts and your actions. Is that what you want? Only by letting go can you truly be free.”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11

I guess an argument doesn't work as well when she doesn't necessarily believe it herself. Let's hero point that.

Hero Point Reroll: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18

With a look halfway between annoyance and frustration, Autumn glances over at Abstalar. “Zantus is a bit of an idiot, isn’t he?” she admits to Nualia in a mixture of truth and ingratiation. How in the world did he think you could appease someone this furious?! As a relative newcomer to Sandpoint, she knows barely anything about its past, so she trusted in the priest’s faith and confidence that the ghost could be assuaged. She’s starting to wonder if that trust is misplaced. Still, she needs to make the best of a bad situation.

“But there are people like that in every town,” she continues smoothly, trying to shift the conversation away from the hated priest. “It’s a burden we must all bear. Fortunately, there are also decent people in the world. Surely not everybody in Sandpoint treated you so badly? There must have been at least one person who didn’t torment you? Someone who was decent to you?”

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20

“Zantus?” Autumn whispers fiercely at the priest, resisting an urge to poke him into awareness—that might well disrupt this delicate ritual. She waits for a bit, but when both priests remain unresponsive, she squares her shoulders, takes a deep breath, and addresses the ghost in their stead.

“Greetings Nualia.” she curtsies with friendly deference. “We summoned you to apologize for the way you were treated by Sandpoint—though none of us” she quickly gestures at herself and her three companions in a show of innocence “were even here at that time. We would hear your side of the story, in the hopes of making peace.” She glances over at Abstalar and then cautiously adds “Is … there a reason why he should be dead?”

“Well, that didn’t turn out so bad,” Autumn remarks, relieved that both she and the ritual escaped entirely unscathed. But her forehead crinkles with concern when she gets a better look at the enfeebled warrior. “Are you okay?” she asks San. “Your shadow looks … off.” She beckons the dwarf over. “I think he could use some healing.”

It’ll take 10 minutes for Autumn’s illusion to expire, so we might as well Treat Wounds on San in the meantime.

Upon seeing how much less effective the blast of flame is, compared to the force barrage that formed his opening salve, Autumn advises “More of your first spell!” to Vildran. For her own part, she has no choice but to try her own magic against the shadows, as unsuitable as it might be. The sorceress fixes one with a withering glare while launching one of her stuttering phase bolts at the other.

◆Cast Jealous Hex on purple. Will save DC 20.
◆◆Cast Phase Bolt on green
Phase Bolt attack & damage (P): 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 294d4 ⇒ (2, 4, 4, 3) = 13

@Morga: I appreciate the buff, but Autumn recently cast Guidance on herself here, so she's immune for about an hour. May I suggest that the Guidance spell go to San instead?

The relief Autumn feels when the blue shade redirects its attention away from the ritual quickly turns to horror when the other two shadows surround and attack her. “So not good,” she gasps, ducking and dodging for dear life. Amazingly, she remains unscathed—perhaps the gods are looking out for her after all.

She instinctively darts away, seeking some measure of safety at the sides of the stout dwarf and capable elf. Only then does she ponder how to stop these creatures, but her mind draws a blank. Clearly normal weapons won’t have much of an effect, and she can’t imagine any of her spells being much better. But then she spies the recently purchased vial hanging from San’s waist, the one he said would allow mundane weaponry to be effective against ghosts.

“Hold still for just a second,” she says, snatching the bottle from the elf’s belt. Quickly uncorking it, she splashes the contents over the branched spear then steps back, out of his way. “Okay, you can resume killing now.”

◆Stride
◆Interact to retrieve Ghost Oil from San’s belt
◆Interact to apply Ghost Oil to San’s weapon
Great call on buying the Ghost Oil!

“So much for invoking the gods,” Autumn mutters as her words prove insufficient. Since protecting the ritual is their top priority, she quickly weaves a spell, conjuring a solid steel hemispherical dome over the ritual’s circle, so that the dark spirit is blocked just outside of it.

“Morga, what are these things?” she wonders. Unsure if any of her magic will be effective, she waves her arms and tries to draw the attention of the spirit away from the dome. “Yoo hoo! Over here!”

◆◆Cast Illusory Object – I drew where I want the dome on the map, but I don’t know how to make it just a circle instead of a filled in disk.
◆I’d like to try to draw the blue spirit away from the dome and towards us instead. Maybe with Diplomacy +10 since her words had some effect earlier, or Deception +13 to Create a Diversion?

Autumn casts an uncertain glance over towards Morga as the shadowy shapes sharpen into reality. She is severely out of her depth here—what does she know about divine rituals and ancient ghosts? But with no other choice, the young con artist resorts to instinct—when in doubt, fake it until you make it. Standing straight and tall, and bolstered by a quick appeal to the magic in her pendant, she projects a self-assured aura as she assumes a role fit for the part.

Cast Guidance and use it on
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 10 + 1 = 28

Taking a step forward, she calls out in a weighty voice so unlike her own “Begone, dark spirits!” The words have the formal, authoritative tone of a priest exorcising demons. “You have not been called. This is a place of Sarenrae’s light and warmth, Shelyn’s love and beauty, and Desna’s hope and dreams. There is no place for you here.”

Her newly purchased gloves sparkle as she channels their innate magic, levitating a lit candle (one that isn’t being used for the ritual) into the midst of the shadows, trying to ward off their cold darkness with a mote of fiery light.

Cast Telekinetic Hand

Autumn watches and waits for the crowd to fully disperse before exhaling a slow sigh of relief. “I am so not looking forward to my next meeting with Titus,” she murmurs to herself. But there’s nothing to be done about it now. “Go on and see how they’re doing,” she waves the elves inside, “I’ll be along in a bit.” The sorceress remains, savoring the cool night air while watching to ensure that none of the mob returns. Once she’s certain that everyone is completely gone she rejoins the ritual.

Autumn suppresses an inward sigh. For all Abstalar’s warnings about the importance of keeping the ritual secret, it appears the priest is unable to practice what he preaches.

She glances over at Vildran. His approach might be sound—though a bit too academic and detail-oriented for her taste—but it risks them having overheard the truth and immediately gives the platform back to Charn, which is the last thing they want. Before the Scarnetti can answer, she interjects with the incredulous laughter of one confronted with the absurd.

“So ‘keeping secrets’ is a crime now, is it?” she chuckles, making that the crux of her opponent’s argument. “Are you demanding that Father Zantus tell everybody all the secret confessions he’s heard? Your confessions?” Her gaze sweeps over the crowd, hoping to shame at least a few people who indulged in such a practice.

“Who else is guilty of such secrets? Should we pound on Pillbug’s door and demand the truth of his concoctions? What dangerous secrets of ancient Thassilon is Quink hiding? Wait—scratch that one—I couldn’t bear to suffer through such a long-winded lecture.” She laughs gamely, lightening the mood with laughter for a moment, before turning the screws—they need to recognize the folly of being such busybodies. “Oh, and of course the Bunyip Club! Why don’t you all storm over there in righteous indignation and demand that they spill their secrets?”

The sorceress waits a beat, then lowers and softens her voice, turning Charn’s argument against the mob itself. “And of course none of you are guilty of harboring such secrets. Come now, don’t be shy—,” she fixes each and every person in the crowd with her piercing gaze, “—tell us all the deepest, darkest secrets of your soul.”

There's more I wanted to say, but it would undercut Vildran's approach, so I'm holding off for now.

In as soothing a voice as she can muster, Autumn replies to the anxious woman “Please don’t worry yourself: there are no monsters in the sinkhole—we checked ourselves, in every nook and cranny. There’s nothing alive down there.” Indeed, any threats are dead—or gone. She gives Vildran and San a meaningful look as she remembers how they so mercifully let Zoduk waltz away, then glances around, half-expecting the ghoul to reappear at any moment and bite them in the ass—perhaps literally.

"Yeah! What about his plan to call the dead? We all know that's what he's doing. People heard it themselves! Calling some spirit or other!"

“I do wonder, however,” she turns her attention to the younger man, “where do you hear such things? Did you hear this with your own ears, from Father Zantus himself?” Her gaze broadens to take in the entire crowd, waiting. There are a few options for dealing with the man’s accusation, but first she wants to know how Abstalar’s secret ritual became so widely known—there’s a leak somewhere that needs to be plugged.

Okay, the loot log should be up to date now.

@San: Actually, you could solve this problem with your spear, but it’d be a bloody mess to clean up. :)

Taking a few moments to read the crowd, Autumn quickly recognizes that two different approaches are needed for the ringleader and everyone else. With an imperceptible nod to herself, she coolly strides forward, working more off instinct than any kind of plan.

“Hello, Charn.” she greets the eldest son with an easy, breezy smile. “So good to see you. But actually, I’m your father’s most recent sycophant.” She gives him a playful wink, then turns, as if to say something quietly to San, but instead subtly delivers a magical message to the ringleader’s ear.

Cast Message on Charn.

And I’m here on your father’s business—direct orders—so don’t mess this up. Unless you want to explain to Titus how you ruined his plan?

The sorceress turns, and for a brief second there’s a hard glint in one eye. It quickly disappears, replaced by a softer, more comforting look as she shifts her attention to the crowd. “Of course we’d be delighted to explain the situation. It’s quite simple, really. A small sinkhole has opened up in the graveyard, disturbing some of the graves. We’re simply helping good father Zantus set things right. Unless you’d prefer we do nothing and let the vultures feast on the dead?”

She glances over at the wizard, remembering how surprisingly diplomatic he was that one time in Iron Harbor. “Vildran, remind them of all the good Zantus has done for Sandpoint. This whole ‘consorting with evil’ is simply ridiculous.” Hoping the elf can help appease the crowd, she returns her attention to Charn, giving him a warning look that says ‘if you mess with me, you’re messing with your father’.

Deception +13 to lie to Charn. Note she has the Charming Liar feat too.

Diplomacy to appease crowd: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

oh, I neglected to add the loot proceeds to vildran. It looked like Autumn was spending 1gp from it and not just taking a share. Which way are we going witht hat?

Vildran’s right—I am *not* dividing the gold 4 ways. The 79.5 gp mentioned in my previous post belongs to the party, and I plan on deducting all the costs straight from it, so no one gains any gold. (I’m perfectly happy if people prefer to always divide loot proceeds equally, but in that case someone else will need to do it. I generally divvy up gold only when we have a large amount—it’s too bothersome imo to do it every single time. And then we should really force each person to individually pay to transfer runes, or take an item, and … it’s a hassle. But if someone else wants to do that, I’m perfectly cool.)

Anyway, the costs are:
Autumn – 1 gp
Morga – 24 gp for two lesser healing potions
Vildran – 28 gp for two lesser healing potions & one minor healing potion
San – 18 gp for ghost oil

If you’re all okay with me crunching the numbers, that means 8.5 gp left to add to the party gold. I’ve removed all the sold and claimed items from the loot sheet, so make sure it’s tracked in your profile (e.g. add striking to San’s bow and +1 to Vildran’s staff).

Autumn exchanges a puzzled look with the others, then gives the acolyte a reassuring nod. “Of course,” she agrees, following San outside the cathedral. For the moment she simply scans the crowd, trying to get a better feel for the situation so that she can tailor her approach accordingly--it's rudimentary instinct for someone who's read as many marks as she has. But when the elven warrior dives headlong into a confrontational question about dark magic, she quickly inserts herself into the conversation. With a careless, silvery laugh, she tries to lighten the mood. “Is this one of those crazy rumors, like Kendra Deverin and Titus Scarnetti having a secret affair?”

Sense Motive (Perception +7) on whichever person seems to be the leader. Also, how many people are in the group?

Remember that we’re trying to reconcile with Nualia, not kill her, so it might be better to pursue nonlethal options like Kinetic Ram instead.

"Um, if there's enough to buy another healing potion, that might be a good idea."

“I think we’ll have enough for that.” Autumn winks at the dwarf with a knowing nod towards San’s recently acquired magical weapons. “We’ll see you tonight,” she says to Zantus.

After a successful day of shopping, she returns later that evening with a jingling purse and a contented smile. On her hands are a pair of fashionable silk gloves which she does not hesitate to show off. She had eyed these gloves earlier, very much interested in their potential for ‘acquisition’, but then realized that their ghostlike powers might also be useful in dealing with an actual ghost. As they prepare to appease Nualia’s spirit, she focuses inward, remembering peaceful moments from her past to draw calming magic from her blood.

Using Occult Evolution, add Calm to Autumn’s spell repertoire

@Morga: Shall I purchase a lesser healing potion with the party gold?

Note: we still haven’t identified the large shark tooth on a beaded string or the copper arrow with the strange spiral design.

For loot distribution I suggest the following:

--Autumn will keep the opal serpent wondrous figurine and the cold iron dagger (with the rune of Abraxas).
--For the +1 Striking Ranseur: transfer the Striking rune to San’s Long Hammer; transfer the Potency rune to Autumn’s cold iron dagger; sell ranseur. Transfers cost 10 gp; sale gains 1 gp.
--For the +1 Cold Iron Longsword: transfer the Potency rune to Vildran’s staff; sell cold iron longsword. Transfer costs 3.5 gp; sale gains 22.5 gp
--Sell silver bowl for 2.5 gp. All the garnets turn into 67 gp.

After these sales and transfers we should net 79.5 gp for the party. Does this sound okay to everyone? Autumn would use 1 gp plus her personal gold (49 gp) to purchase Charlatan’s Gloves.

Hmm, I was getting nervous about Morga's spell slots (and Vildran's are half depleted too), but she tells me she might have neglected to reset those on our rest between the two delves. Maybe I did too.

The only thing we did after resting was putting garnets in baskets, so everyone should have full spell slots.

Not wanting to endure another day of pointless waiting, Autumn shakes her head at the suggestion of postponing the ritual until tomorrow night. After all, what else is there to prepare? Zantus has already completed the core preparations. “We’ll be ready tonight,” she responds firmly, brushing aside Audrahni’s cautions. The sorceress eyes the valuable ranseur in San’s hand and gives the elf a knowing wink. “In the meantime, let’s go shopping!”

Autumn will sell the silver bowl to add 2.5 gp to the party purse.
Does San want to keep the ranseur? If not, we can transfer the runes—maybe the striking rune onto San’s cold iron long hammer, or onto one of Morga’s weapons? If no one wants the potency rune, Autumn would take it for her cold iron dagger.
There’s also a +1 cold iron longsword.

Autumn nods along as San describes their latest exploration, then again when he mentions performing the ritual. “So Nualia used to work with this Ripnugget, right? So maybe she’ll know something about his plans.” She’s not sure if the dead communicate with each other somehow, but she can’t think of a better idea for finding out what Ripnugget is up to.

“It’s all just rock,” Autumn says, doubting that Vildran’s light will reveal anything useful about the dead end. “If you really want to know where we are, just retrace your steps above ground. Let’s get back to Zantus.” With nothing further to explore, the sorceress starts making her way back, adding “… and don’t forget to bring that Thassilonian map with you. Maybe you’ll impress your Runewatchers.” She doesn’t really care whether the elf curries favor with Quink’s group, but she’d rather he bribe them with something relatively worthless like the map instead of something more valuable.

Hmm... That consecration scroll... I wonder if it would be worth using for Nualia's ritual.

Autumn shrugs indifferently. “Maybe. But which god would you consecrate to? Desna? I thought the cathedral’s supposed to serve multiple gods.” She herself pays lip service to whichever deity is most useful in the moment, not favoring any one above the others.

But when Morga suggests that Vildran study the Thassilonian device, the sorceress instantly demurs, not wanting to waste an entire day watching the wizard think. “No offense Vildran, but why don’t you do that on your own time? Let’s finish searching the tunnel then get out of here.” In preparation, she loads and readies her crossbow before cautiously creeping down the western passage.

Voting to head west down the unexplored tunnel. Avoid Notice, and she’ll stay near the back.

“Thankfully those gems didn't get consumed."

“Thankfully indeed,” Autumn nods, returning San’s wink as she too enters the semicircular chamber. She looks approvingly at the trio of scrolls and the magical ranseur, welcome additions to their burgeoning treasure. “If there’s nothing else, let’s go somewhere a bit safer to identify them.” Following Vildran's advice, she takes the large garnet out of the statue’s hand then heads out, removing the other garnets from the baskets in the reverse order from how they were placed.

I suggest we ID the ranseur’s magic properties where I’ve placed Autumn’s token on the map.

Autumn rolls her eyes as she watches the meticulous wizard dither and examine and recite without actually doing anything. Why does he have to be so slow and awkward? She knows that elves are renowned for being patiently fastidious—which is a polite way of saying they take forever—but that’s just a stereotype—after all, San can discern the properties of magical items in a reasonable minute. It’s just Vildran who takes ten times as long. He’s not doing any favors for the stereotype of an insulated academic who can spout the most wondrous theories and yet utterly fail in practice.

“It would be so nice if you did this before I die of old age. Some of us don’t live as long as you elves.”

Fyi, I won't be able to post on Dec 28-29.

Autumn nods in response to Morga, happily staying out of the way of any traps that might be accidentally triggered. She seems less enthused that the awkward elf will be the one attempting the trial but, after exchanging a glance with San, gives the garnet beads to Vildran. “Good luck,” she wishes the wizard. “Don’t screw this up.”

Just for the record: Vildran now has 7 garnet beads, with values of
2 gp
5 gp x2
10 gp x3
25 gp

Tired and yawning from staying up all night, Autumn retires to her tiny apartment. Her small bed isn’t any better than a cot in the cathedral, but at least her space affords some privacy to stash recently acquired valuables, like the silver bowl. But the treasures she’s found offer no peace from a fitful sleep filled with anxious foreboding. The undead goblins, the fiery effigies, and the brimorak demon: these were all separate threats, lurking right beneath their feet—and that’s not even mentioning the impending ritual for Nualia. It’s one thing for a Podunk like Iron Harbor to be troubled by mad cultists and remnant demons, where no one really cares if the unappreciative villagers meet some horrible doom—it’s quite another matter when Sandpoint itself is threatened. She’s grown accustomed to this place she currently calls home, and of course it’s the closest link she has to her missing mother. Any dangers menacing Sandpoint are literally too close to home.

After recovering from her fatigue, Autumn returns to the cathedral and gives San a reluctant nod. “Fine. Let’s try the ‘beads in baskets’ test, and make sure that the chambers below are safe. The last thing we need is some demon interrupting our ritual with Nualia.” She hands over all seven garnets to the elf, hoping that the instructions they found for successfully completing The Three Steps will lead to something greater.

Let's go ahead and do The Three Steps as described in the notes we found. Autumn will stay back and watch while someone else puts the garnet beads in the right baskets.