Blake's Tiger's page

It would be a few months before things got back to what might be considered normal, and as things began to slow down, the gardeners began to slowly drift apart.
Wanderlust and responsibility are not easy bedfellows, and while there was never any doubt as to the loyalty and comradery shared by all, they desired different things in life in the long run.

The last evening spent together was an event to be remembered.
Derek had staged a new play, celebrating their victory, and it was directed by none other than a certain demon director of the party's acquaintance.
A feast would naturally follow, with good food and plenty of drinks, and towards the small hours, they would do nothing but just sit around and talk, reminiscing over the extraordinary events they had already witnessed.

As time passed, Derek increased his holdings somewhat, adding a tavern and an inn to his growing "empire".
And over time, the tavern would slowly fill with mementos and trophies from many strange and wondrous locations.
The tavern would serve as something of a living storybook and museum to the patrons that came to visit.

And so another chapter in the great book of Golarion comes to an end.
In the whole it was perhaps not the most impressive story ever told, but for the people who lived it, it was a tale of epic proportions.
Of romance, thrills, high adventure, crime, love, betrayal, murder and more.
And it did decide the fate of a city, and created a legend that would grow with each telling.
And an opera that while unlike most operas of its time, was still well received for it's lighter telling.

Derek makes a show of rubbing his chin as if deep in through, considering all the options.
Eventually his normally cocky grin returns to his face and he nods.
"I think we'll be up for the task general, you won't have to regret it...much."

Derek, finding himself grooving less impressed by the hard noses military man which each passing second, but at the same time, he is not worth telling off...except in subtle ways.
"I think they are still reorganizing their ranks after half of them being put under domination by Eccardian's pet vampire lord.
What remains is still at the citadel.
Since they were compromised, they were forced to rely on outside help."

"As for your first question, the lord Mayor saw fit to jump ship as it were, but not before tasking us with putting down the demon who was rising from the secret vault underneath the hill upon which the mansion stood.
And I am more than will to swear to the accuracy of my statement and be subjected to truth telling spells."

"After Liebdaga (that was the fiends name) was put down, the leader of the council of thieves (after removing the rivals to his power) attempted to do a hostile takeover of the city, the after march of said battle can be seen before you.!"

"As for me, my name is Derek Kegan, and not to brag or be insulting, but after staring into the visage of a pit fiend, I dare say nothing mortal will ever intimidate me again."

Hmmm, well, let's start by feeling out the generals mood, then we will take it from there.

Derek steps forward, but rather than the typical flourishing bow the favours, he instead makes a more military salute by putting his fist over his heart and bowing more shallowly.

"Greetings General Vourne to Westcrown. You find us in perhaps less than pristine condition, but we can happily state that the troubles that have up until recently plagued us has now been dealt with.
If you will allow us to take you to a suitable locale (seeing as the mayors home lies in ruins) we can give you a detailed report of what has been going on in the city."

"Probably the head of the Dottari as well as the leader of the Hell Knights.
I suppose we should make an appearance too, just in case..."

"Well, without a mayor to receive him, I would say a temporary council will have to be assembled to greet him.
We should find and organize the most important remaining citizen of Westcrown, quickly."

Derek lands lightly and looks down at the single coin at his feet.
"I think it is indeed over, Mammon has claimed what was promised to him, Eccardian's soul has been taken as a trophy to be added to the hoard of Mammon."

"I would advice that this coin be blessed and then destroyed, lest it's lingering aura corrupts someone else."

He then turns to the crowd, assumes a suitably heroic pose and calls out.
"People of Westcrown, rejoice. For today a tyrant that sought to crush you under his boot has been defeated.
The council of thieves have ben crushed, and the person ultimately responsible for the terrors that until so recently haunted the night has been defeated for good."

Stabbing Dusk hunter into the sky, Derek gives voice to a call of triumph, allowing himself to fall into the role of not just saviour but also the saved.

Derek, deciding that he might as well try to get in one blow in the main contest, activates the flight ability of his armour, and as the translucent wings bears him aloft, he flies towards Eccardian.

Attack: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (17) + 19 = 36
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 7 ⇒ (7) + (5, 2) + 7 = 21
Self damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6

I still need a little more healing, one more round before I get involved.

Derek begins to move cautiously towards the final enemy, the grand obstacle, the...big...bad.
As he does so, he expends one more charge from his curing wand.

Cure serious wounds: 3d8 + 5 ⇒ (5, 3, 2) + 5 = 15

Derek slowly and painfully gets to his feet, his body coursing with pain.
Death is not easy, a violent death is not the way to go.
I don't want to die yet, I have things to do, places to be, a family to put together...

"You are wrong you know, hell is close yes, we can all feel the infernal flames licking at our feet at this moment, but it is not us who are going there.
You are all alone now, alone and blinded by arrogance.
Can you feel the heat, the stench of brimstone and sulphur?
The ground is opening, ready to swallow you up, and it is Mammon him, coming to collect on the deal, on the bargain struck.
It may have been done against your will, and for that I pity you, but you didn't exactly reject the power or the promised did you? So now it is time to pay..."

Cure moderate wounds: 2d8 + 8 ⇒ (4, 2) + 8 = 14

Haha, ok, my mistake, I guess Derek just looks like ground beef instead of shredded then.

Yes, I did include it under my name in the last post, I guess you didn't see it?
So with the additional damage it would be -25 now.

Minus me too, I'm quite sure I'm dead after that last hug. Fallen at the last hurdle...

Ugh...dying here, without the armour on, I imagine I'd look like a piece of badly shredded pork...might not live through this.

Derek, badly injured and held in the merciless grip of the devil, finds himself somewhat out of quips and witticism to use as a weapon.

"Let go you!"

Break grapple: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (14) + 18 = 32

"Almost...almost..."

Focusing once again on self healing, Derek grunts as fire crashes all around him.

"Truly, this battlefield is hell itself...you should feel right at home here then."

Defensive casting: 1d20 + 8 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 8 + 3 = 21
Cure serious wounds: 3d8 + 8 ⇒ (7, 2, 1) + 8 = 18

Agh...I am really begining to feel pressed here. But I can probably hold on a little longer, IF I can get rid of some of these wounds.

Defensive casting: 1d20 + 8 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 8 + 3 = 28
Cure serious wounds: 3d8 + 8 ⇒ (3, 2, 4) + 8 = 17

Reflex save: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (10) + 17 = 27

"You know, if you intend on hugging me further, I wil just have to take you out before you get a chance..."

Attack with combat expertise #1: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (1) + 19 = 20
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (7) + (1, 3) + (4, 5) + 9 = 29
Damage to self: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Attack with combat expertise #2: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (1) + 19 = 20
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (4) + (3, 6) + (2, 4) + 9 = 28
Damage to self: 1d6 ⇒ 3
Attack with combat expertise, Haste: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (16) + 14 = 30
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (8) + (5, 3) + (5, 1) + 9 = 31
Damage to self: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Well I'll be...so many ones...

"I...ungh...do not much...hnnnh...care for this kind of...INTIMACY from someone whom I have not first bought dinner for you know.
Let me GO!"

Combat manuver to break free: 1d20 + 18 ⇒ (18) + 18 = 36

It's not bad, but you really need a light gravy or sauce to it, plus a side dish of some sort, mashed potatoes is usually a good idea.

Esoteric stretches are not so bad for a fish, at least not compared to being butter fried with onions and leek.

Derek frowns sourly, realizing that attacking a creature covered in spikes and spines may just be a painful experience, but at the same time, there is little choice in the matter.

Instead, he holds up the blade, allowing the enemy to see how the golden veins in the red blade slowly looses their lustre, growing dull and black, and at the same time, the crackling energy surrounding the blade turns from blue to an angry red.

Taking a step back, out of reach for the clawing fiends, Derek sings out a quick spell to restore his previous speed.

Casting haste

"Come now, this repetition is beginning to make some of our spectators yawn!
Why I declare, this high drama is descending into MELOdrama, and we cannot have that now can we?"

Derek will continue to work on the same hellcat (fall damn you!), switching to the next one should it fall.

Attack with combat expertise #1:1d20 + 19 ⇒ (12) + 19 = 31
Damage:1d8 + 1d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (3) + (6) + (1, 6) + 9 = 25
Attack with haste #2:1d20 + 19 ⇒ (9) + 19 = 28
Damage:1d8 + 1d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (7) + (2) + (1, 3) + 9 = 22
Attack #3:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19
Damage:1d8 + 1d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (1) + (2) + (5, 2) + 9 = 19

"I think the lady learned something from watching us play acting, if memory serves, she DID watch us perform did she not?"

"Why no, I am not taking you seriously at all master Devil, how kind of you to notice.
Must be the breath, have you tried rinsing your mouth with something BESIDES sulphur?"

Derek will continue to work on the same hellcat, switching to the next one should it fall.
[ooc]Attack with combat expertise #1: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (8) + 19 = 27
Damage: 1d8 + 1d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (4) + (2) + (6, 2) + 9 = 23
Attack with haste #2: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (7) + 19 = 26
Damage: 1d8 + 1d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (6) + (2) + (3, 1) + 9 = 21
Attack #3: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (3) + 19 = 22
Damage: 1d8 + 1d6 + 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (2) + (1) + (6, 5) + 9 = 23

Time to play the game then, but I am quite proficient with swordsplay by now.

Derek lays into the closest Hellcat, shifting to a defensive stance before engaging fully.

Attack With Combat expertise: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (3) + 19 = 22
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (3) + (1, 2) + (5) + 9 = 20
Attack Haste: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (15) + 19 = 34
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (2) + (5, 2) + (5) + 9 = 23
Attack #2: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (14) + 19 = 33
Damage: 1d8 + 2d6 + 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (5) + (6, 4) + (4) + 9 = 28

Cayden Caelian...
I have flowed you all my grown life, been true to your tenants not just out of obligation but because I truly believe in them.
I have fought the good fight, sacrificed much and tried to bring freedom and happiness to the people here.
Yes, fighting a battle for freedom in Westcrown, in the heart of Cheliax of all places.
I've asked nothing, but I ask one thing now, one thing only.
This is the very end, the climax of a story that has yet to be written.
I ask you, that the stage be set to truly make justice for what we do here.
You are my lord and master, in as much as you WANT to be, knowing that you, unlike many gods do not demand blind obedience.
The stage is set, this is the final battle, but something is missing.
I do not ask for a boon, or for something to help us, simply for something, ANYTHING to push the mood from major to epic...

Derek dismisses the illusion, it having served it's purpose by now.
"Westcrown! Behold, behold a lie cast down, behold the tyrant who would hold you under his boot.
Behold the madman who would have sent an army of devils upon you, merely so you would be broken and easier to rule.
The Gardeners stand against him, stand for you!
Today, we decide the fate of westcrown!"

Oh, this is simply too good to be true. This calls for drama, for the stoic spirit of a true hero to step forward.
...
Pity they only have me then.

Unable to contain his laughter at the sheer pomposity of Eccadian, Derek cannot help but think of Thesing, minus the talent for acting of course.

Simply unable to contain his act much longer, and reasonably sure that some of Eccadians posturing will lead to a real attack, something that the REAL Liebdaga would be unaffected by, Derek decides to drop the charade now that it has accomplished it's goal.

"Liebdaga" thusly performs an act that few people would ever expect from a mighty pitfiend.
Putting one talon under his eye, he pulls the skin down, while at the same time giving Eccadian a very loud and rude raspberry.

"Looks like you've been had sir "Champion".
When you try to climb to the top of the dunghill, you better be mindfull of your balance, or you might end up covered in...yeah, you get the idea."

The imperious "Liebdaga" sneers at the paltry troops assembled before him, merely crossing his arms over his chest, tilting his head to one side and spits in contempt.

Derek is a bit unsure of how to handle the situation, being very careful not to think of anything for a moment.
The fact that he is contacted telepathically means that he is expected to answer, but he does not know how to do that so he simply settles for a sneer on his face and thinking forcefully.

Mortal...I was never the forgiving kind, less so now after my...absence.
Do not delay, for I grow weary of this infantile game.

"BOW! BOW WESTCROWN! BOW YOUR PATHETIC MORTAL HEADS BEFORE YOUR NEW GOD! YOUR ONE AND ONLY GOD!
YOUR GOLDEN IDOL WILL NOT SAVE YOU FROM MY WRATH....OR MY POWER!"

Derek, trying to think not just as an actor but also as a demon lord would do, adopts a sneering mien full of contempt and arrogance, before striding forth boldly and openly, daring anyone to oppose him or stand in his way.

As he walks, with a slow deliberate gait, he allows a slow rumbling laugh to build in his massive chest, a low deep sound, something between two large rocks grinding together and the very first thunderclap, heralding a storm brewing on the horizon.

"Heh, Appario my friend, you don't really know how a thespian think, despite being my good friend for so long.
But you are right, the stage waits for no man."

"Hah! Don't butter him up m'lady Yahirma, we'll be here all day.
So, do we have all we need or do we need to find something else? I think we may be a little pressed for time."

"Yes, he WAS a rather large creature, wasn't he?"

Here I am.

Derek, finding Appario and Maddok agreeable, decides to come along as well, even if he thinks the plan could do with some fine-tuning.

Suddenly inspired, Derek stops and pulls out his lute.
Strumming softly he allows the words to flow freely as he composes a dirge to Eccardian.

"Here I am standing, darkness all around
Thinking of past, taking my last breath, the air is cold as ice
No one close to hear my voice
Did not leave me with a choice
Heaven will you wait for me"

"Will I find a way, will I find a place
Will you let me go in peace
Will I find a way to the other side"

"Sad are memories from the life I lived
Cannot go on, cannot go further
It has to end right here
For the things that I have done
All the girls I lost and won
Let me rest in peace at last"

"Will I find a way, will I find a place
Will you let me go in peace
Leave behind those dark days
Now I ask again, will you hear my cries
Then you realise why oh why
I must find a way to the other side"

"Hear them whisper calling out my name
The sentence is set, the hammer has fallen
I have paid the price
Sad to realise too late, death was meant to be my fate
All this pain will follow me"

"ill I find a way, will I find a place
Will you let me go in peace
Leave behind those dark days
Now I ask again, will you hear my cries
Then you realise why oh why
I must find a way to the other side"

As the last cord strikes, Derek sighs sadly, convinced that his Dirge is not for Eccardian at all, but rather the man who might have been has circumstances not been what they are now.

"No...the man we fight is not a tragic hero, I sing this song for the man that died when he took one step to far along a path from which there is no return.
His soul died, perhaps to ascend to heaven, what we have left to do is bury the body.
A hollow man in a shallow grave..."

"Not to mention we probably have more than a few other people who can help us if it comes to that.
We just need to involve enough shadow stuff to make the illusion at east partially real."

Derek smirks a little.
"Not to mention a large number of devils and other fiends from the netherworld.
I wonder if we can weave an illusion powerful enough to fool them as well?"

Derek merely snorts a little at that.
"Yes, it is a pity we don't need someone practiced in pratfalls and comic relief like say, Tybians actor..."

"I think we may need a little more, he is trying to destabilize the town right? So who does that mean he will go after? Law enforcement, spiritual guides, nobility, powerful merchants.
People who have spiritual and temporal power, and now the city no longer have a mayor.
I don't think it's enough to defeat him, we need to show Westcrown that there still IS a city even after his defeat.
If we have any favours or connections, we need to call them in to make a show of stabilizing Westcrown..."

"Well, it strikes me that we may have to do our bit to recruit allies in this fight.
His plan is grand, so we should take it apart bit by bit.
First we cut his support out from under him, then we build our own support.
And finally, when we hold all the cards, we do what every mean drunk with a winning hand has done since time immemorial, we humiliate him by throwing our drink in his face and laugh.
If THAT doesn't make him lose it and forego all his remaining advantages then I don't know what will..."

Fort save: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17

Despite the pain washing over himself, Derek is able to hold himself together, even if just barely.
I...I am glad I experienced it before, I'm not sure I could have done so otherwise...

"Service...no, I don't like that word, you've been freed from one master, I don't think you need another one, even if I think we'd be nicer.
Friendship however, now THAT I'd take, and maybe a little help to do more good in the future.
Seems we may need all the friends we can get..."

Derek, more than eager to try and help the poor tortured soul, will kneel in front of her again, hoping that his mind can withstand the pain long enough to prove his goodwill once again.

"Remember us? Remember me? We helped you once, and we may be able to do so again...please...trust me, even if you must share your pain with me, I shall bear it if it will help you."

After giving Yahirma one of his potions of course.

Derek just stares at Apparios back, mouth hanging so open one could expect he was trying to lure in flies.
After several seconds, he performs a face palm and stares in mute consternation at the others, looking for any kind of support before his brain melts altogether.

"No rest for the wicked they say, but clearly, the virtuous do not benefit from much more restive circumstances.
Well, mental scars or not, it sounds like we will have to continue without delay..."

"These scars...will take some time to heal...I hope we will be able to rest for a little while.
We're heroes of a high calibre now, so we certainly deserve it, but then again, in the stories, heroes seldom get such rewards."

Will save: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

Derek claps his hands over his ears, screaming in pain and frustration as he feel the malevolent and ancient hate tear into his very personality, shredding important facets and leaving him less than the man he had been his whole life.

Falling to his knees, he cannot stop a long deep soul wracking sob from escaping his lips.

Wasn't there some trick in killing him that we did not know perfectly yet?'
...
...
I COULD be thinking about something else here...
One question however, we're in Cheliax, where devils are more or less revered, will striking a pit fiend down in public be a good thing or make us seem like enemies of the state?