DM Monty's page

Erebus proves a point, as the stabbing wound from his dagger might be small, but it is that last, infinitesimal distance to close from 'the Zoog is alive' to 'the Zoog is dead'. The weird, creepy, not-a-rat collapses, the unreal light emanating from its eyes faltering, flickering and going out.

Frantic, cornered, and rapidly becoming aware that its time is running out, the last of the rats launches itself at the person who killed the larger, cleverer 'rat' it had been following, and tries to bite Erebus.

Dire Rat 2 Attack Erebus: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Tries being the key word, as it fails to connect. Erebus doesn't hear its frenzied squeking and squeeling, but everyone else is aware that this is a non-rational rat at this point.

Odeta, Simza, and Vano, put this last rat out of its misery.

Dire Rat 1 is dead, and so; Allera and Erebus's initiative block is up!

The rat that died? Was that the one who attacked me?

Negative! The rat that attacked you is Dire Rat 2, and still up and menacing you with its general rattiness.

The map functions just as a spreadsheet does, so 'moving' isn't clicking and dragging, but rather 'deleting' or cutting-and-pasting from where you are to where you want to be. I'm still exploring options for maps, and if anyone has something more amenable, I'm happy to take a look at it.

Odeta's blow lands on the giant rat (Dire Rat 1) and drops it with a muffled squeak, while the blows of the other humanoid members of the erstwhile party don't manage to connect with their agile targets. The snake, however, demonstrates its abilities as a predator as it absolutely wrecks the weird, not-a-rat thing as it sufers the fearsome bite from Luncea, and only just avoids being ensnared by the coils of the snake.

Frantic and mortally wounded, it bites and claws at the snake, trying to fend off its death.

Zoog Bite Luneca: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21
Zoog Bite Damage Luneca: 1d3 - 2 ⇒ (3) - 2 = 1
Zoog Claw 1 Luneca: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Zoog Claw 1 A Crit? Luneca: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Zoog Claw 1 Damage Luneca: 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0
Zoog Claw 2 Luneca: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
Zoog Claw 2 Damage Luneca: 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0

Luneca takes 1 point of damage, and 1 point of non-lethal damage. Lunceca suffers the Bleed 1 condition.

Cole, you're up!

Can we put a link to the map on the Campaign tab or something?

Smart. Added. It was otherwise just in a post in this page.

As the group fills the room, securing the door and taking stock of their situation, Simza gets low and peers beneath the iron bulk of the industrial machinery that fills the room with its inert and cold presence. The eerie light which drew Simza’s attention also illuminates what is down here; three creatures, filthy and visibly riding that knife’s edge of fear and fury that animals find when confronted with uncertain circumstances. Two of them are dire rats; there can be no other word to describe the massive, furry creatures, too large to be normal rats, and too ugly to be a dog.

Squatting between the pair of large rats is something that could almost be mistaken for a cousin of theirs, if one ignored the mouth ringed in writhing tentacles, the strangely simian hands caked in filth, and its eyes—too large, and the source of the eerie light spilling out from underneath the boiler. Simza has eye contact with this strange creature for the span of a heartbeat before the trio of large vermin boil out from underneath the boiler, and attack!

Odeta Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Erebus Initiative: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9
Cole Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Vano Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 2 = 18
Simza Initiative: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Allera Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
Dire Rat 1 Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Dire Rat 2 Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Zoog Initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

One of the dire rats, frenzied and panicked in the extreme, paradoxically bolts towards something that absolutely terrifies it, and tries to bite it out of existence as it assaults the fire-wielding Cole, though the half-orc successfully avoids the fetid teeth of the creature.

Dire Rat 2 Attacks Cole: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Combat begins! Odeta, Simza and Vano are up in the next block of initiative, and can take actions. After them, the zoog will act.

Initiative Blocks:
Dire Rat 2
Odeta, Simza and Vano (Up Now)
Zoog
Cole
Dire Rat 1
Erebus and Allera

For myself, " Waiting for the last player to place themselves on the map" turned into "focusing on other things including the holidays". Luckily, Allera poked me in the eye and Erebus has returned. I've got a post ready as soon as they place themselves on the map.

Marked.

You might want to try google sheets for future maps. It's what most people here who aren't using Roll20 use. It's quick to copy and paste maps from the AP PDF in, no building needed, just sizing. Character icons can be added the same way. You can also add color filled shapes to cover unexplored areas. It would probably be a lot less work.

This is a Google Sheet; I hadn't realized it was possible to just copy and paste an image in. I'll poke around some more with it.

Looks like I still need Odeta, Cole, Erebus and Vano to mark their locations on the map.

The map of the room is here. I haven't tried using Sheets before, but its definitely scratching the NetHack itch I didn't realize I was feeling. If everyone can please mark in the room where they're at, that would be swell. For now, just pick a letter that isn't currently in use for one of the colors in the key; and if anyone has prior experience with using Sheets for this, please share your wisdom.

Cole is… unnervingly good at starting fires. Even if he isn’t consciously aware of it, he knows exactly how to prime the pile of bodies to catch fire. The make-shift wooden spikes he tries to add to the pile are notably less well done than the fire itself. When he sets it, the bodies take some time to start, but the wood catches immediately, and a thin stream of smoke starts going up the chute.

The ascent through the ductwork is extremely unpleasant (if the ducts you’re going up were ever cleaned, it certainly wasn’t recently), but not particularly difficult. It’s a short ascent, too, and more or less a straight shot up; any worries about having to wriggle around tight corners, or coming to a dead end which may have started percolating in heads is proved unfounded as the duct goes upwards maybe twenty feet. On the way up, there are numerous other branches of the ductwork leading off into the dusty darkness, but all of it is small, too small for any of the group to pass through (excepting, perhaps, Luneca, but the snake loyally follows the commands they were given).

The short climb terminates in what seems, at first glance, to be a cut-rate iron maiden; the same general shape, but no spikes on the inside. On further reflection, it’s some sort of industrial heating device, and there’s a door out of it. The door, already ajar, is easy enough to push open, permitting access to the room beyond.

The room the group finds itself in is given over almost entirely to the service of the boilers, the heating chamber for one being the thing which they have just exited. The looming, iron bulk of the boilers fills the west of the room, the pipes rising too and away from them like so many arteries connected to a heart run into the walls and ceilings, headed elsewhere in this building. Shadows and rust are otherwise what decorates the boilers.

On the tiled wall of the room there are several hooks and pegs, clearly intended to house tools such as wrenches (in fact, most of them have the outlines of the tools painted in a sloppy red around them, rendering their absence glaringly obvious) though none remain. A closed wooden door heads to the east.

A faint gleam or glow is visible from underneath the boilers to Odeta, Erebus, Vano and Simza, a pallid green light leaking from beneath its bulk.

Odeta Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Erebus Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Cole Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8
Vano Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Simza Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (19) + 10 = 29
Allera Perception: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (10) - 1 = 9

I'm back and putting together a post. Sorry about the delay.

@GM: Are there specific climbing rolls we need to make? Can I use escape artist skill instead? Do you need me to roll anything more to set up the fire the way I intended?

The climb DC is a whopping 5. I'll only need one roll from each of you. If you were doing more lateral, Die Hard crawling through ducts, I would take Escape Artist because of the squeezy squeezy, but this turns out to be a fairly straight forward vertical ascent.

EDIT: And no, I think I understand what you're trying to do with the fire, and it won't require any rolls, unless you secretly have Craft: Pyre on your sheet.

That, and for my life to uncrunch itself. I've sent their player a poke.

While we wait, can the group please establish a couple of Marching Orders; standard layouts. I would like to know a marching order for when you are traveling in narrow corridors or spaces (such as a duct out of a furnace), so

(FRONT) PC-PC-PC-PC-PC-PC (BACK)

As well as a marching order for when you're traveling down wider spaces, so

(FRONT) PC-PC-PC (BACK)
(FRONT) PC-PC-PC (BACK)

Cole's search of the heap of corpses is unpleasant, though not without results. The first thing that he finds is that many of the corpses, though certainly not all are wearing a uniform of some sort; white clothing that buttons in the front and a heavy smock, the same sort of thing that the 'doctor' was wearing, in fact. The second thing that he finds is a total of 15 gold pieces in the various pockets of the dead.

Allera is certain that the staircase, though rickety, is more than up to the task of supporting her as she ascends them. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said of the passageway that the stairs lead up to; it has collapsed, the same as the passageway heading to the north. These two collapsed passageways are unusual, and can't be chalked up to simply poor maintenance; something has happened to this place.

With the two intended paths out of this basement blocked, it remains only whether the dusty ducts of the furnace or the gore-slicked slide of the chute are the path forward for the party. The ductwork of the furnace is definitely navigable to Erebus; to those larger, it will be unpleasant. These are not the sorts of vents that are spacious and accommodating, but rather, the sort that constrict and bind, and are a nightmare to any claustrophobic. The upshot to this path, of course, is that the 'doctor' didn't go this way.

The chute, on the other hand, is certainly capable of passing a human-sized body as the pile down in this room attests. Unfortunately, actually get up into that chute will likely require making rather close contact with those same bodies.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13

In the eastern room they'd just gained access to, the room with the heap of bodies underneath a chute in the wall, Erebus can spy an incomplete foot print on the wall underneath the chute, and a smeared, bloody hand print on the edge of the shoot. Bodies haven't just come down the chute; something (or someone!) went up it. Recently.

The Slip’s entrance into the furnace is precisely as dusty and horrible as one could imagine. There isn’t much actually within the furnace proper other than ashes, and the bones of the dead. There are the bones of dozens of people, hidden in the ash, their last resting place being a tomb of alternating pitch blackness and (when the furnace is in operation) searing light. Here, within the furnace proper, he can see up inside the vents. While the idea is a terrifying one, it occurs to him that it wouldn’t be impossible to climb up it, though of course, where such a path would lead is impossible to know.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Vano’s examination of the bone, and then several others for comparison’s sake, reveals that most of them suffered injuries from blades; the nicks and chips from the bone are evidence of that. There are some teeth marks, but they’re more gnaw-y, likely post-mortem, and not numerous enough to suggest consumption.

As Cole eases the door to the next room open, it does in fact reveal another room; but this visual revelation is on the heels of the smell, a horrible miasma of rot and decay which rolls through the doorway as it opens. The source of the smell is immediately visible to Cole, as there is a heap of two dozen bodies in an untidy (in every sense of the word) pile here. A cloud of flies hangs thick over the pile, and their buzzing is now a constant undercurrent, drilling into the mind. The lip of a broad, metal chute protrudes from the wall approximately eight feet above the floor, and maybe three feet above the level to which the heap of bodies now rises; it is definitely the ‘source’ of the pile of bodies.

Around the corner to the left, another alcove with a container. This one is probably only a treasure to one of the party, as it is a wooden crate, drilled with a paltry few air holes, and inside it is a snake. Vano’s snake. Here is a name, at last, in the confused absences. This is Luneca ; Vano will be certain of that.

To the north is an exit into a corridor, or rather, there once was; the corridor is filled with rubble, the ceiling having collapsed down into it. A rickety wooden staircase is in the southwest of this chamber, climbing towards the high, vaulted ceiling of the room.

DM Monty, is the pouch in the trunk distinct from Vano's spell component pouch, which I assume would be in the pile by the furnace?

It is the spell component pouch; the trunk was where 'the interesting stuff' got put by the 'doctor'.

The crumbling wall is decaying from the intrusion of groundwater into the foundations of this building, working mortar free from bricks and slowly but surely killing it from the bottom up. Unless one were to become a worm, or to wait another ten or fifteen years, however, it will not provide a meaningful avenue of escape.

A large, iron furnace squats just around the corner to the south, and is certainly the source of the charcoal smell; a chimney rises from one side of its top, and a large, rectangular vent rises from the other side of the top, presumably to transport heat upwards. The fueling door is open, and glancing inside the cold and lifeless maw of the furnace reveals an assortment of broken bones, and the curve of more than one skull protrudes from the heaps of ash, broken and scorched teeth smiling invitingly.

Heaped to the side of the mouth of the unlit furnace is a motley collection of bloody clothes, and assorted gear such as weapons and armor, atop a heap of other objects, geological strata of garbage revealing successive waves of victims of the vanished 'doctor'. The top layer, the layer which contains the weapons, armor, and only somewhat dirtied clothing, is in decent enough repair to consider taking; from the lower layers, only an extremely fine viol is notably not trash, so much so that its presence is outright anomalous.

Within this pile is all the party's remaining gear, ready to be reclaimed.

The trunk is neither trapped (as far as Simza can tell), nor as it turns out, locked. It will swing open easily, revealing far less of a prize than one hopes for when opening a chest. That's definitely a thought, and a memory, even, that can resonate with them each; this isn't the first time that any of you have hauled open a chest.

Within it, there are no heaps of gold, or magical swords, or any of the other sort of things one hopes to find in a chest. Instead, there is a pouch filled with spell components tending towards the mossy and natural, a holy symbol to Iomedae carved from well-polished walnut wood, a small leather portfolio which contains an exhaustive array of clever tools, probes and picks, and lastly a handheld leather case which, upon further examination, contains a small grooming kit. Set atop this pile is a well-used whistle, wrapped in its strap which makes of it almost a pendant.

From the Player's Guide: When the Adventure Path begins, you have no memory of who you are, but you have a vague recollection of your childhood and a hazy grasp on your early memories. What’s most disconcerting is that the last few years of your life are completely beyond your ability to recall, as if they never happened.

Despite this condition, you are still capable of performing all tasks normally. You discover that you still know how to use your class abilities. Access to your skills and feats are not hindered in the slightest, and you can inexplicably recall trivial information about the world that you knew before this condition took hold of you.

Names thus are unlikely to have at hand, though fragments of names or things adjacent to the actual name could work. Nicknames or common name replacers (e.g. John Doe) are what are likely to be in place.

Yeah, I could definitely have run that better. My bad. The cutscene-y-ness of it all was something I should have planned better for.

A lot happens all at once; though this is often true in combat, it is all the more true in the uncomfortable state of having just been wrenched from a nightmare. Cole lands a blast of fire, an unexpected attack on the doctor. Allera boils from the cell as soon as the door opens, and Odeta manages to struggle free of her bonds. Whirling around in a panic, the ‘doctor’ sees that even the halfling, the one she would have considered least threatening, has managed to arm himself with a large shard of glass, the fatter end of it wrapped in rags to create a terrible (in every sense of the word) shank.

After considering this tableau of determined and deranged looking ex-prisoners, the ‘doctor’ breaks and runs, her form fluid and unsettling as she sprints for the door to the east, and vanishes into the room beyond. The door clatters as it slams shut behind her.

With the precipitous exit of their tormenter, the group has the luxury of time for the first time that they can remember, time to see their surroundings, time to think, possibly time to talk.

Vano and Simza together can bring her bloody nose to a conclusion.

There is the large cell they all occupied recently, and immediately outside of that is the ‘operating table’ that Odeta has just freed herself from. At the head of this table is a smaller table filled with oddments of pain and torture, knives and forks and blades, and bricks.

To the west is a vaulted alcove, half filled with rubble from the wall and ceiling adjacent to it, decay and disrepair eating away at the structure of the room. A large chest is in a similar alcove to the north. Around the corner to the south wafts an acrid, charcoal stench that manages to rise above the mildewy undertones of the dank cellar.

The interminable combat-that-wasn't-combat is over. The opening cutscene is, at last, complete. Welcome to Strange Aeons.

The door was locked. The key term here is was, as the key is correctly marked, the lock engages with the key, and turns smoothly; however dreadful everything else looks, apparently the key to the cell was well maintained. Unlocked, the door to the cell swings open with only the faintest grumble of metal hinges.

Furthermore, are we in initiative? It feels like we are, even though we haven't rolled.

Also, I wouldn't assume that a 12 misses touch AC. Average Touch AC tends to be very low, since it only adds Dex, Dodge, Deflection, and a handful of other bonuses. The chances of a Touch AC much higher than 12 at level 1 are relatively low.

Cole will hit with a touch attack at 12.

We're technically in initiative! We just went with "the PCs are all acting at once" for simplicity sake.

Simza has a bloody nose, but is having first aid applied. I'll allow her to use her standard action to unlock the door at this point.

Is Odeta able to attack again by kicking?

Yes indeed. You are prone, however, so you'll take a -4 on the attack roll.

Odeta remains strapped to the table, despite her attempts at wriggling free of the bonds.

The Escape Artist attempt fails.

The “doctor” thrashes free of the arms reaching through the bars to grab at her, spinning to stare and hiss at the imprisoned party.

The grapple attempts miss.

Yes, hiss. The “doctor’s” face is briefly not her own, but that of a monstrous snake, its tongue darting out between it’s curved fangs, before it melts into another shape; Allera’s own visage, and glares at the woman, before returning, at last in this progression of unsettlingly wax remolding into her ‘own’ face. “ Impudent. You’ll all get your turn,“ says the doctor as she turns back to face the table and the restrained Odeta, and brings the trowel down as an improvised chopping device, aimed at the “patient’s” leg.

Trowel Trouble: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 181d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4

Odeta takes 4 points of damage.

Meanwhile, Erebus is left holding the ring of keys, and whatever actual jailer once owned these was a fastidious, thoughtful sort; written in a silvery ink on the bow of one of the imposing chunks of metal is the word ‘Cells’

Simza’s nose continues to bleed. Drip. Dribble. Drip.

The party's turn.

Is my animal companion present?

Excellent question!

No. Distressingly, no.

Cole, and anyone else who succeeds on their Perception check can see the following..

There, jingling on the belt of the 'doctor' is a keychain, tempting and beguiling with its clanking siren call of freedom.

So do I have access to my spells?

Yes.

Demrakas and Simza
Something… something… there’s something... Simza strains to catch the threads of a thought that was almost there, but gone, gone, gone. Her nose starts to bleed. An inconvenience that is forgotten almost immediately as the implacable hunter behind them chooses her as its next victim.

Raggedy Strike 1: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 261d12 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Raggedy Strike 2: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 241d12 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Raggedy Strike 3: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 91d12 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Raggedy Strike 4: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 201d12 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Raggedy Strike 5: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 261d12 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13
Raggedy Strike 6: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 201d12 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Raggedy Strike 7: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 131d12 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
Raggedy Strike 8: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 141d12 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

The strikes snap at her, dealing grievous injuries, and spattering the walls of the alleyway with her blood.

Allera, Cole, Erebus, Simza and Vano
As Simza’s body collapses, and she joins the others in the trapped non-oblivion of this half-death, she watches as… Demrakas reaches the end of the alleyway.

The dead end of the alleyway. A third wall of crumbling brick rises, blocking any exit from this corridor of death and despair. Demrakas stops, turns around to face the ragged, looming specter of pursuit, and as he does so the blood spattered on the walls of the alleyway from Simza’s injuries finish running down the brickwork, spelling out the word WAKE. In this moment, from each of your dead throats rises the screamed,” HELP ME PLEASE! WAKE UP!”

—-----------------------

You each start awake, catapulted from a horrible nightmare, exiting the gripping tendrils of rag and fog into a reality only incrementally less horrid. You are unarmed, without armor, instrument or device other than the tattered and stained clothing you wear; the same clothing you were wearing in your dreams, only obviously uncared for for a long span of time. You are confined to a cell, the walls around you made of bars of metal, all six of you together; or is that five? The form of Demrakas remains unmoving, unwaking; vacant.
Simza’s nose is bleeding, a steady pulse of blood with each beat of her heart.

Movement, however, is happening in spades immediately outside your shared cell. A figure dressed in the manner of a doctor is circling a makeshift operating table in the room outside of your cell, her raiment spattered with sprays of blood both dried and distressingly fresh, as well as the sort of stains that suggest close contact with gore even more grim than jetting blood. Her hands are in constant motion, waving back and forth as though she were conducting an unheard symphony. In place of a conductor’s baton, in one hand she holds a wicked knife, and in the other a mason’s trowel; both of these are also stained with blood.

Strapped to the table, and the focus of the “doctor’s” attention is a young woman, brown hair, brown eyes, dressed like the rest of you in tattered clothing. She is bound to the table, but poorly, as the attending physician clearly has more of a passion for surgery than knotwork. A single, long slice marks her face, tracing a path of glittering crimson from her left temple down to just above her chin.

I will need a Perception check from everyone, DC 12.

You are all unarmed and unarmored. You have no gear. If you have to prepare spells, you have none prepared, and if you have an ability that requires you ‘rest’ before using it, it is not charged. If you have any questions about the environment or the situation, ask in the Discussion thread.

I've got something planned, we'll see if I can execute on it.

Demrakas, Erebus, Simza
Footfalls as the surviving trio keep running, a sound echoed by the implacable hunter behind them. A soundscape filled with the sound of the chase, their own labored breathing, and then it is amplified by voices, voices from beyond the grave.

The trio of corpses behind them groans out a sepulchral,“ Plee-ease. He-elp mee-eee.”

Once again, Erebus can hear this, impossibly, though muted, through cotton. The corpses repeat this wheezing entreaty, and halfway through the repetition, Erebus can no longer hear; the brief presence of auditory perception snapped away like a cheap magician snatching away a tablecloth. As a consequence, the halfling is completely unaware of the torrent of slashing, tentacular rag strips which lunge up from the yellow fog; they only feel them strike home.

Raggedy Strike 1: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 161d12 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Raggedy Strike 2: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 201d12 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16
Raggedy Strike 3: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 191d12 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Raggedy Strike 4: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 271d12 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Raggedy Strike 5: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 171d12 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Raggedy Strike 6: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 91d12 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Raggedy Strike 7: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 161d12 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Raggedy Strike 8: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 101d12 + 10 ⇒ (12) + 10 = 22

Once again; the splashes of blood as Erebus falls, brutally murdered. Once again; the words written in the crimson ichor of life. This time, the word is UP.

Allera, Cole, Vano
Words leak out from your slack, dead mouths, words that you do not speak, words only partially in your voice. The words clearly once were infected with the madness of frantic terror, but this tone is muted, leeched of its intensity as your dead throats give it voice.

Demrakas, Simza
d never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends. The road never ends.The roa

A Will save please, Simza. DC 20. Good luck.

Erebus
You’ve fallen face down on the grimy cobblestones. You are once again deaf. You can neither see, nor hear, anything. You are trapped in a prison of unmoving, inert flesh.

Demrakas, Erebus and Simza

Again, the eerie sound of rising whispers that crescendo into a split-second of fabric whipping in gale-force winds.

Raggedy Strike 1: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 231d12 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18
Raggedy Strike 2: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 261d12 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
Raggedy Strike 3: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 201d12 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14
Raggedy Strike 4: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 171d12 + 10 ⇒ (8) + 10 = 18
Raggedy Strike 5: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 141d12 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16
Raggedy Strike 6: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 221d12 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Raggedy Strike 7: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 271d12 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Raggedy Strike 8: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 121d12 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21

One end of the visible alleyway is now anchored with three mangled bodies, as Allera withers under the onslaught of the ragged pursuer as a snowball would beneath the regard of a dragon’s flame. As she crumples to the ground under the force of the blows and the weight of Vano’s body, blood spatter once again onto the alley wall, and once again the splatter spells out a world; there can be no mistaking it for anything other than a plaintive PLEASE.

‘Anchoring’ is not just a metaphor, either, as the presence of the bodies seems to define that end of the alley, a place in the confusing miasma of soupy, yellow fog. As the three survivors continue to run away from the grim spectacle behind them, though they clearly (clearly!) are putting distance between themselves and their pursuer, in the same moment, it feels like they’ve barely moved at all. Space is stree-eee-eeetching behind them, like taffy being pulled long and thin, drooping down in the middle; this isn’t possible of course. It can’t be true.

Allera, Cole and Vano

The experience of being the focal point of the monster’s wrath is so horrible that it doesn’t precisely register in Allera’s mind, your psyche editing incoming sensation on the fly to avoid being driven mad from the pain. Allera is dead, and crumples to the ground, her now-corpse tangled with the body of the already-corpse she had tried to save.

You each can still see out of your unblinking, unresponsive eyes, and though the living trio keep running, they don’t seem to be getting any further away.

Next round. Demrakas (if you’re here), Erebus and Simza, action; Allera, you’re dead. How do you feel about that? Cole and Vano, some more thought posting about how much being dead sucks.

And that's the start of round 3. Onwards, through the fog.

Apologies for the delay, giving Demrakas a chance to post turned into just a stall.

Cole and Vano

You'll note that your characters are dead. While you can't take any further actions, please thought-post their reactions to dying, and further, to realizing that they're stuck in their bodies.

Cole and Vano
The fire of Cole briefly brings clarity for the two in the fog, revealing the lurking shape that they start to flee from to an extent. It is tall (at least twelve feet), looming over them. Its mouth is lipless, and filled with rows of curved, razor sharp teeth. Either its eyes are covered, or it has no eyes. Its skin is lacerated, possibly burnt, and it is covered in rags.

No. Not rags. Rags don’t move like that. The torn and layered fabric of ragged strips whips and curls around the lanky giant, each strip of cloth moving and swaying like a hungry serpent, tasting the air, searching for prey. Dozens of the strips key off the fiery blast, and come about to face the duo which dared venture the fog.

And they strike.

Raggedy Strike 1 Vano: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 181d12 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12
Raggedy Strike 2 Vano: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 171d12 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Raggedy Strike 3 Vano: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 141d12 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Raggedy Strike 4 Vano: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 261d12 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17
Raggedy Strike 1 Cole: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 191d12 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16
Raggedy Strike 2 Cole: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 261d12 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
Raggedy Strike 3 Cole: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 211d12 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20
Raggedy Strike 4 Cole: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (19) + 12 = 311d12 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15

Allera, Demrakas, Erebus, and Simza
There is a flash of light from within the dense fog behind you, briefly showing the outlines of three humanoids in the miasma which you are running away from. Scant seconds after, there is a susurration that multiplies rapidly into the snapping, whipping violence of flags being blown in a gale force storm.

From the fog comes hurtling a shape, which hits the cobblestones in the fogless clearing with such force that it spatters the grimy walls with streaks of blood.

It is the body of Cole. He’s covered in hideous cutting wounds, and he lies motionless, unmoving and obviously dead. Perhaps it is just a trick of the light, or the shock of the sudden death, but the spattered blood on the wall seems to form an uncanny similarity to the word ME daubed in a hasty, shaking hand.

Another shape comes hurtling, and another body hits the surface of the alleyway, skipping twice, again splattering blood on the alleyway walls. This body is Vano’s, just as mauled, just as dead. And just as Cole’s blood spelled out one word, Vano’s blood seems to spell out the word HELP.

Cole and Vano
Pain. A symphony of pain. You can feel your skin break, and your body lashed as you are battered by a series of lightning fast blows, struck with such force that your bodies fly out of the fog bank, crashing to the cobblestones of the alleyway.

You are dead.

… and yet, you remain very much in your bodies. Your souls do not fly to any afterlife, glorious or grave. You don’t even have the satisfaction of being ectoplasmic vapors, drifting out of your slack, lifeless mouths. Your consciousnesses remain, locked inside prisons of dead, unresponsive meat.

Opening his senses up, Vano detects none of the things which might trigger his special method of detection. Instead, however, he gets a profound and undeniable sense of incredible danger, and it's getting closer.

Erebus detected no magic auras in front of them in the first round, and one behind them this round as they stumble on the uneven and cracked cobblestones.

Allera, Demrakas, Erebus, and Simza

With great haste, shaking uncertainty from their heads, you hurry away from the sounds of pursuit down the confusing, and yet unsurprising, alleyway. Dull surprise continues to be the degree of strangeness here, the awareness that this all isn't right, but eliciting a 'huh' more than anything else. The ochre fog, which remains extremely thick in the near distance both in front and behind your group of four, while remaining relatively clear in a pocket around you; this provides the uncanny sensation that you are remaining still despite hustling down the alleyway.

Behind you, however, Cole, Vano and Luneca the shake vanish into the murky wall of fog.

Cole and Vano

As you stand your ground, you're rapidly enveloped in the sickly, mustard colored fog. It billows, flowing past you as it chases after the quad that hastened away, blocking sight of the other four completely. You lose clear sight of even each other, being reduced to vague outlines in the murk.

You are not alone. There's something moving in the fog. The footfalls are there, of course, and nearly upon you, and added to them is the low, menacing chorus of ominous rustling sounds.

Round two, you may post en bloc as all PCs will act before whatever it is that is following you.

Just to be clear...we have all of our stuff? Weapons and armor? Etc...?

Yes indeed.

EDIT: And if you're a caster, you can presume that you have a full roster of spells memorized, and if you've got points that fuel abilities, those are full as well.

Initiative for the current combat sequence (and therefore, posting order)

Simza Purrun: 23
Cole Burns: 19
Demrakas: 11
Allera Belavren: 9
Vano Martoff: 4
Erebus the Slip: 4
???????:1

The following does not appear unusual to the Slip; reading lips works as usual for him, of course, but he can hear the others speaking; even as he can hear the footsteps. But there’s a weirdness to it, a muffled sense, as though there’s an added layer of distance, and the voices of the others has a ‘wah-wah-wah-wah’ element to it, a simulacrum of speech that isn’t speech, which nonetheless manages to convey information to Erebus via some unknown (yet entirely unsurprising) mechanism.

The sallow brickwork rises above them all, vanishing vertically into the fog. Behind you, down the alley, are the ominous footfalls, growing closer. Ahead, more alley, its end hidden in the same, dirty mustard fog.

We’re in combat. Typically, you’d be acting en bloc, but for this scene please post only in order of initiative.

How do you prefer I handle initiative for Vano's animal companion and/or other minions, going forward? Should they share his, for simplicity, or would you like each to have their own?

Same as you, for simplicity.

And the first post is up. It calls for initiative, and no actions, though descriptions of characters, emotional states, and deep confusion are more than appropriate.

Looking forward to this roller coaster ride.

All around you is a wall of sickly yellow fog, tumbling through the alley’s (an alley, of course, you’re in an alley) through the alley’s canyon of crumbling, gray brick walls like some jaundiced flash flood, a fulminating tide of fetid, thick air.

Ahead, the unfamiliar alley (an alley, of course, you’re in an alley) the unfamiliar alley splits, curving to the left and right. You aren’t alone, there are others with you (the others, of course, you know them {wait, who are they?}) others with you. Some of you are leaning against the rotten brickwork of the alley, others kneel on the peddle-pocked cobblestoned street, recovering as if from some ferocious exertion.

Behind, from the silent swell of mist, emanates the sound of footsteps (you aren’t alone) the sound of footsteps—slow, but somehow keeping pace with the careening, hungry wave (you are not alone) hungry wave…

Please roll initiative; you can post reactions, or internal emotions, but no actions until initiative order is determined.

Monty?

Anything in particular you want in the post headers?

HP, AC, Saves, Perception, & Sense Motive seem to be the most common elements desired.

Add Initiative modifier to that, and I'd say it's a good header.

I enjoy seeing the active discussion of character builds here. Exhaustive analysis of builds and stats isn't my cup of tea (I have people that are better with such things than I am when I need it), but I appreciate seeing it. Active evidence of people thinking about their characters and the game is the strongest drug for a DM.

Wow again! As a last minute entry, I was not expecting to get this. Can we go ahead and post in the discussion?

Yes indeed.

Thus begins the discussion thread for our Strange Aeons game.