DM_Scholar's page

Hi everyone. Sorry for not being around, that's fairly rubbish of me.

Remember when I said, "I don't want to bite off more than I can chew and wind up disappointing the players" or something to that effect? Yeah.

I've learned a lot in the nineteenish months since this game began. And there's a lot that I'd do differently, will do differently when I pick up GMing again. The biggest thing I've taken away, though, is that I don't really have the mental makeup for committing to years-long games as a GM.

It's been a lot of fun playing with all of you, and I hope to play with each of you again. When my schedule opens up enough that I can run games again, I'd be joyed to see you on that recruitment thread. I want to experiment with shorter adventures, modules and homebrew, games that resolve themselves inside of a few months. Experiment with different level ranges and systems, settings and tones. But I can't foresee myself having the time to do that for months at least.

It was an honor to be your GM, you guys have been the best players a GM could ask for. I've been debating writing this up for a while now, because of that. But I figure it's probably for the best.

"So Guthruc, allies, and elf go war with shadow world and fey world? Should preparation and make first strike. Kill them before can attack."

Guthruc moves to stand up, implying that there is nothing else important enough for discussion.

"Were that there were easy ways to traverse the planes! Then we could challenge entire planar realms to honorable combat, and doubtless win. Alas, for now there is little we can do but wait and learn and plan."

"What's this about the Nomen centaur?" she asks. "I definitely agree with Guthruc in that we have to prepare for whatever our next move will be... Know thy enemy and all that, at the very least."

"The Nomen centaur dwell far to the west, beyond the Hooktongue Slough. My dealings with them have been limited, I am afraid, and they are, as a people, suspicious of outsiders - I do not know what they do, in even rough terms. But that is the glory of life, always to be learning - I will speak with the Nomen."

"We've laid out our agenda," quoth Iliwraek. "What is yours?"

After an exchange of stories and pleasantries the party's command structure (read: the PCs) somewhere more private along with a small contingent of wise old elves, to discuss the future of the Stolen Lands, leaving those with less of a say in the way that things are and will be done to divert themselves in the elvish city under curious and watchful eyes.

And Rakgah is being contained somewhere secret, in case someone in the party is of a mind to help him or set him free. You've all been checked for enchantments, but there's no magical way to discern where loyalties lie and satyrs are known for their rhetoric as much as they are for their magic.

In a grotto lit softly by diffuse sunlight, sitting on the roots of trees wrapped about in climbing ivy, sit the PCs and also Bright Awn's parents - Tuar, who you have met (smiling benignly and radiating peace and surety as he always does - the confidence of an elf who knows themself and the world well enough to have largely outgrown anxiety and fear - eyes unfathomable, his gaze always straying back to Bright Awn), and Naia - a half-human who an elf would describe as wise far beyond her years, and a human would describe as old enough to have seen it all before once or thrice, old enough to know the patterns of nature and human behavior, to guess the answers to questions before they are asked. Her hair is grey and her face lined, and her robes mark her as a druid to those learned in the lore of the Green Faith. Seated crosslegged in midair is Iliwraek, who is a wizard. To those sensitive to such things he glows like a beacon, so many spells he's wrapped around and through himself that those attempting divinations must turn their heads away. Across from him sits Ruith, who is also a wizard, though you wouldn't know it for divining it. She emits no aura, as if she didn't exist at all. Standing is Rolim Ulamaris, in scratched and patinated mithril, who gives the impression of something cast from adamantine - but that's an unfair comparison. Even adamantine can be broken - by the gods, perhaps, or eroded by the passing of an eternity - but a paladin is unmovable.

"Forgive my Taldane," Tuar says in accented common, "It's been some time since I've had need to speak the common tongue. Troubling times are upon us, friends! There is much that must be discussed, and yet the time we have to speak is not proportionate to what must be said. If the movements of the world will not deign to accommodate us, it falls on us to match our pace to it's marching song - we may not have weeks to deliberate. We might not have even days. I propose we say all that must be said this day, and we do not reconvene."

This elicits disapproval from the assembled elves. "Costly mistakes are made in haste," Iliwraek remonstrates. "The slow course oft proves fastest in the end."

"Before we find cause to quarrel," Naia brokers peace, "let us first decide what it is that needs to be said, and then discuss discussions. One thing above others should not be forgotten in our hurry to speak of all that must be spoken of - Bright Awn has brought us envoys from human lands, and despite the current crisis the success of his mission remains important as ever. We need to decide where we draw our borders and write them such that they will be remembered."

"It's best that I list what it is we say we will say," Ruith says, writing "define borders" in letters floating midair. "So we can be sure to say that we have said it."

"The boundary between this world and the First wears thin. Fey beings are vying for power in the wild places of Golarion. Learning what their interest is in the Greenbelt and addressing it is a priority," Rolim states. "This all the more so if we've somehow attracted the Youngest's attention."

Ruith writes "thinning planar boundary" and "Nyrissa".

"The Shadow Plane, inseparable from the First World and our own, is leaking into both." Tuar steeples his fingers. "And when, like the distant ocean tide, the planes again separate it is not a perfect separation - our metaphorical sand becomes mud, the shadow realm's metaphorical water filled with our plants and animals. In my concern, on this and other issues, I woke a certain trusted Seer . . ." he lapses into silence, lost in thought.

"And?"

"And that Seer could not answer my questions. Only once before since Earthfall have the First World, Shadow Plane, and Material, in their intricate dance, bled into each other like they are now doing. The Seer, not quite so ancient as to have lived through such a thing before, could not tell me much of what was or will be - but they did recommend the records of the Nomen centaur as an alternate source of information."

Ruith adds that to the list. "What of you, Bright Awn? Travelers? Is there anything you'd like to discuss discussing?"

I've actually been meaning to ask the advice of the more experienced Play by Post GMs among you.

Typically (or atypically, lately), I read what it is that people have posted fairly early in the morning, and then I mull things over and decide what happens next while I go about my day. When I sit down at a computer to type things up, mostly I'm just moving the ideas I came up with while lost in thought waiting for something or doing brain-dead drudgery from my mind to the screen as fast as I can type it and beautify it.

Out of the two most common threads of advice I've heard for dealing with writer's block, the most common one - "just sit down and write" - has never really helped me. Sitting down and writing fiction without knowing what it is I want to write always winds up taking a tremendous amount of time for the number of words produced, and it's very seldom of high enough quality that I can honestly say that I'd seek it out to read. The second most common thread - "work on something else instead" - hardly solves our problem, does it?

Do any of you other GMs have this problem? If so, how did you fix it?

At Jen's words, a new round of elvish chittering commences. A small contingent of elves who were making a beeline for Bright Awn, hearing Nyrissa's name, turn to look at the satyr.

"Bright Awn," says Tuar, an aging elf wearing simple clothing and a smile that wouldn't look out of place on Bright Awn's own face, "welcome home. A little bird, who is in truth a rather large tree, told me you might be presently paying a visit. And here we are, in the present, with you visiting. And we'll all pay, as we've paid before, but you most of all I fear." There's so much that he wants to say that he stands a moment in silence. "Sadly, there's not time at this moment for long tales, as our honored guests need watching, and restraining? Why does the satyr walk free?"

"I promised not to cause trouble," Rakgah admits, hands raised.

"See that you don't," with a smile in his voice that only Awn recognizes as his 'you done goofed' tone. "As it stands, you're in trouble up to your neck. Trouble is a serpent with a voracious appetite - in trying to squirm free, you might force it to bite off your body. Tell me," and this Tuar addresses to the party at large, "what do you know about the youngest Eldest, Nyrissa?"

I'm alive! I'll get a post up some time in the next four hours.

The warband reacts.

“Guthruc,” Dharak reprimands, eyes wild, “dude. Seriously. Chill.” He positions himself where he can grab one of the berserkers arms if he attacks someone else while internally debating whether he should check on Jen; the full-orc will never learn to join society without a friends to show him how it can be done, and Dharak doesn’t want to alienate him by taking someone else’s side in front of him - in Dharak’s view, you support your friends even when they’re in the wrong. But he’d like to be Jen’s friend too. orc “You can’t just attack people. That’s not strong, it’s insecure.”

Anura turns to a nearby elf to see if he can turn the situation to his benefit. “Am apologize. Am trying to council orc, am making good progress but slow. Am interested in elf magic and metal weapons for fighting demon-worshiper boggard. Am need orc help for fight demon worshiper boggard. Orc am very strong, nice when get to know, please no kill.”

The captive satyr makes a bid for freedom.

While the elves are still overcoming the bystander effect, Auchs comes trundling up to the front of the party. “You can’t attack people smaller than you,” he explains patiently, wrapping Guthruc in a bear hug, “unless you want to break them. Or you might break them accidentally.”

And we're back! Welcome back, everyone!

Things: I've advanced the calendar four days, because by my best estimate that's the number of days I've forgotten to advance the calendar. The weather's changed too, but it isn't raining and it isn't freezing, so. Also, the map is updated with little grey dots. Friggin' finally, eh?

Just so y'all are forewarned ('forewarned' is a good word. Much ominous.), I might miss a few updates going forward while I get back into the swing of things.

And we're back! Time skip to entering Bright Awn's village-type-thing.

Elven cities, large and small, look fundamentally different from places populated with more mortal creatures. Every last house, footpath, and every bridge crossing the streams running through the town is a work of art - little home improvements add up over the centuries and make every useful thing ornate as a human chapel. The buildings themselves are made of stone or trees grown patiently in the right places, in the right shapes. When elves build, they build to last, and dead wood rots. But in such nonlethal weather, most of these buildings lie empty; preferring to live without an insulating layer between themselves and the world around them, many elves can be seen sitting crosslegged around cooking fires under the open skies. As the party walks down the mosaic-tile path that runs through the village (the path is walked often that it had to be paved, or else the dirt tramped down without regards to aesthetics), the elves turn to look. Talking quietly at first, they recognize Bright Awn and come down to greet him, calling out greetings and congratulations and jubilations and piling on questions about his adventures, the success of his mission, his human friends, his orcish friends, his fetchling friend, his tiefling friend, his ogreish friend, and is that a dragon?

From the onslaught of questions, those who speak elvish gather that Tuar and Naia aren't immediately present, but that someone's run to fetch them.

Then we’ll reconvene on the twenty third. See y’all then!

Advance warning received. Should we put the game on hiatus until the twenty third? I'll be less all-consumingly busy after this month as well.

Righty-O. Expect an update on Tuesday; I'm somewhat extraordinarily busy at this very moment in time.

"Very well, then, keep your secrets."

Heh.

With that, she moves over to the card game; she's never been much for gambling, but she finds herself curious and this seems a good opportunity to learn as any. "Mind if I join in?" she asks Abaos and Amrymm.

"I don't mind," Somar acquiesces.

In-character some time has passed - Abaos has made some money, Guthruc's wandered off and returned. Does anyone have anything more to do in this scene? I know Abaos wanted to be invited to talk with Somar; I suppose one of the many NPCs could initiate that.

And a happy Kwanza of July to you too. x)

It’s July already?!

Merry Thanksgiving, folks!

You win 3 gold and 3 silver!

Abaos smiles, and takes a step forward to the elvish ranger. "Wonderful! Many thanks. Tell me, do you play cards?"

He begins untangling a deck of cards from his belt.

As it turns out Amrymm doesn't know how to play any of the human variants Abaos knows, but is willing to learn. Give me a diplomacy check to shift her attitude one step closer to helpful, and a bluff or profession: gambler check with a +2 bonus to see how many gold piece you win off her while she's still figuring out the rules.

"Worg proverb. Mean if world change, worg change too. If not, worg will die."

Somar wonders who this orc is, who knows worg proverbs and travels with Bright Awn is. "There's an elven proverb, diametrically opposed. 'Accept decay and you commit to it,' they say. If always you change to other's whims, you might persist but nothing you value will."

With this, Guthruc grabs his club and heads into the woods.

"Guthruc hunt for food."

After a long while searching, Guthruc happens across the tracks of a deer with a crippled leg. Liking his chances of catching up to the unfortunate ruminant, the adventuring orc follows it's trail. Unfortunately, predators' minds think alike, and when Guthruc catches up to his quarry he finds that a pack of wolves got there first.

Fortunately, the wolves aren't suicidal enough to stick around when Guthruc rushes at them with club in hand, and he gets his meal to himself.

Guthruc finds enough food for himself and three others.

Posting from phone, forgive typos and terseness.

“Your parents are well,” Somar assures Bright Awn. “Except that, as you might have guessed, they worry for and miss you terribly. Sometime after you left as our envoy, the humans became yet more aggressive - ” Akiros looks distinctly uncomfortable “ - under the direction of a terrifying man who wore the skull of a stag. We feared that you’d come to some harm.”

She turns to Somar, "Perhaps you're not interested in an exchange of goods, but what about an exchange of magic?"

“If you came alone, I’d welcome you and your shared culture and knowledge, happy to share as much of my own as you would find useful. But you are not alone, and you do not represent only yourself. Even as we stand here and speak, trappers and traders blaze trails through the Narlmarches, and behind these trailblazers those less intrepid travel the ways they’ve opened. I am but a youth, and while I have not and will never stand atop a mountain and see one forest unbroken as far as the eye can see, as my grandparents did, in this past century that I’ve walked Golarion alone vast stretches of sacred and untouched wild have been touched. And you humans . . . humans and demons alike destroy all they touch.”

“Jen is correct. We've traveled far, and would love safe lodging for the night. If that would be ok with you, Somar, Amrymm?"

“We’d be happy to have you.” Amrymm states in a tone of clinical detachment. “Any friend of Bright Awn’s is a welcome guest.”

Google Translate is a wonderful thing. Some day, that sort of technology will remove all barriers to communication, and we'll become one global culture that probably gains more in the transition than it loses.

But day is yet to come. I ran what Bright Awn said through the translator, and the service transmuted what it detected as Samoan into English thusly: "Tira po kal. The diath is probably a four-dimensional diaphragm. Four, please."

Fascinating.

Intrigued, I decided to feed the English translation of Bright Awn's Elvish into the translator and ask it to convert it into Samoan. I got: "Ia faaeteete. O le orc ma le tarako taumafa ma le vaega e valea. E matua leaga lava." And then I turned it back to English: "Be careful. The ork and the dragon trunk and the area are foolish. It's very bad."

It's very bad indeed. xD

With that, he bounces right up to the nearest tree, extends his hand, and says "Welcome tree! I'm Abaos! I'm the mighty slayer of many mites, and have come in peace! Tell me, what is your name?"

"Careful," Bokken warns, "this deep in the Greenbelt, trees are liable to answer you."

This one doesn't, though.

Iorskan looked around expectantly, hoping to see an elf. They didn’t sound tasty...all skin and bone. But that didn’t necessarily mean they lacked flavor. He hoped they were hostile.

Sadly, they come in peace. The two elven sentries approach the party. Amrymm and Somar have as little in common as is possible for a set of identical twins. Somar, the sorceress, wears bright colors and swings her arms as she walks where Amrymm, a ranger by vocation, wears greens and browns and moves like she's trying not to call attention to herself.

"Somar Xyrdithas," the spellcaster introduces herself, and, gesticulating wildly at her sister, introduces her too: "and this is my sister Amrymm."

"Hi." Amrymm's hands don't stray far from the pommels of her swords as she eyes the cannibalistic party warily.

Somar opens her mouth to address Bright Awn, but before she can -

"And I am Zornesk!" Iorskan's herald proclaims. "Herald of Lord Iorskan, chief among the Official Finders of the Sootscale Kobolds," His Taldane really has improved. "I look forward to many years of prosperous trade between us."

Amrymm looks down at him. "Right."

Nakpik begins untangling herself from Abaos's backpack as Somar expounds. "We aren't in the market for . . . markets. I speak neither for all us Narlmarch elves, nor for the Assembly that does, but if there is any one thing one which there is a consensus, it's that we'd like to be left alone."

Zornesk takes about five second to digest this. "Left alone? That could be arranged, if the price is ri-"

"Excuse us," Nakpik apologizes, dragging Zornesk away to have a hurried conversation in draconic.

Jen observes via magic as the reefclaws slowly wrap their minds around the concept of actions contingent on other actions. Revenge is as novel an idea to them as coercion is.

I'm setting the reefclaw diplomacy DC at 18; 15 base, +2 for hitdice, +1 for WIS, +0 for the risk/reward judgement as any risk or reward to the deal is in the future, and therefore nonexistent. Jen didn't roll to Aid, so I'll do that for her.

Aid Another: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

The reefclaws agree to your terms.

. . .

The party ventures further from the river, deeper into the forest. Bright Awn recognizes every tree and rock - this is home. Any moment now, he expects a warm welcome home.

I think I speak for all when I say it hasn't been the same without you.

You definitely speak for me. It’s not the same game without all the players and their characters.

The reefclaws agree to do so.

The reefclaws agree to join your warband. Agonizingly slowly, they follow the increasingly menangerous I hereby declare that a word party towards adventure and a place carved into the histories of Golarion!

And by agonizingly slowly, I mean it's actually kind of painful to watch. They move one five foot square with every action. Hardly an insurmountable problem, but it's not the DM's place to make suggestions.

It's great to have you back again!

We'll wrap up this scene with the reefclaws, and then it's time to meet the elves.

Is intimidation additive or can only one person make the check? Jen has a measly charisma modifier of 1, so I nominate Guthruc or Iorskan to play the role of spooky-scary man (@DM_Scholar you said that you can factor strength into intimidation, right?)

One person rolls, but others can roll to aid another. (Hit DC 10, and add two to the total.)

At Iorskan's winning smile, the reefclaws are cowed! Alone, Iorskan matches the DC.

Once made to understand that they won't be eaten if they make themselves of service, they experience an emotion whose closest mammalian analogue is some mix of anticipation and anxiety. Jen would be hard pressed to describe it in plainer words than that. She also learns their names, as they converse amongst themselves, but they aren't names speakable by any creature that uses mouths to communicate, and they don't seem to map onto translatable concepts, either. She also finds that the reefclaws are somewhat worried that their means of communication only goes one way.

Give me an intimidate check!

@DM_Scholar Wait, why are there five will saves going on? I thought we only managed to capture three reefclaws...?[

. . . right you are. In that case, Jen can read all the gathered reefclaw's minds with impunity!

Since apparently the fish have higher saves than some of our party members...

Comes from their being aberrations. Seems like a silly design choice, in my book, to give a strong will save to the "everything else" creature type . . .

Will: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Will: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Will: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Will: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Will: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21

Jen can read the surface thoughts of fishes one, two, and three (and learns their intelligence scores (3), though presumably not in game terms). Right now they're angry and scared and dry, and above all else, confused. This is the first time that any of them have ever been interrogated, in fact, the concept is a fairly foreign one to them.

Sorry for not posting sooner! I think I know why, too; I must have opened the tab and then closed it before reading Guthruc's post, and then forgotten having done so . . . I was wondering why no one was saying anything, and debating whether to push.

The reefclaws wriggle one whisker, leaving the other stationary. Communication has been achieved!

To further facilitate understanding, the party's primary caster prepares to cast. Give me a DC and I'll give you some will saves.

"Thanks," Auchs smiles.

The reefclaws squirm in their bonds (y'all bonded them, right?), chittering in what's presumably their own language.

Wound up kind of long, so I'm putting it here:

By the way: have you read Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men? Is the relationship between Dovan and Auchs modeled off of George and Lenny?

I've read Of Mice and Men, but wasn't thinking of it in particular when writing Auchs. It's probable that Kingmaker's writers were, though. I didn't expect Auchs to last particularly long, so at first when writing his lines I was just bearing what little the book said regarding personal relationships in mind and doing my level best at portraying a 5 INT ogre. But Auchs got a larger speaking role than I'd originally forseen, and his personality grew pseudo-organically from there . . . it's not something I ever put any particular conscious thought into, which only now I'm worrying might led to a somewhat ableist portrayal, which was something I was trying to avoid when I turned him from a human to an ogre in the first place (being no Steinbeck myself, I didn't trust myself to write the character properly; ogres stereotypically have low mental scores but they aren't expected to be particularly human about it, since there's no reality to be true to it doesn't matter if I'm not true to reality . . . if that makes sense). Anyhoo, if anyone has any concerns or I've unthinkingly made someone uncomfortable, please speak up!

"My burly friend. Is your kind nest harmed?"

"It's cold and wet," Auchs snivels.

I assume someone ties the reefclaws up before their epilepsy wears off? They won't initiate communications, on account of not being able to speak.

Iorskan cannot lift Auchs clear of the water, but he can aid Auch's swim check for a +2 bonus. This brings Auchs up to a 15, and he makes it another ten feet forward!

Jen's planᵀᴹ is explained to the frogfolk, and he carries Jen out to colorspraying range. This probably takes a round or two, but Jen's been a round or two without acting so we'll say you set it up earlier. With a bit of positioning, all four reefclaw are fit in the cone's range.

Reefclaw Will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Reefclaw Will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Reefclaw Will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Reefclaw Will save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Reefclaws three and four are unconscious, blinded, and stunned for 2d4 ⇒ (4, 2) = 6 rounds; and then blinded and stunned for 1d4 ⇒ 1 rounds, and then stunned for one round.

The two conscious reefclaw remaining decide that they prefer their fights a little more one-sided than this is proving to be, and withdraw, leaving their three hapless helpless comrades behind!

Out of initiative.

Hmm, maybe Jen will jump on the crazy train, too. Does Anura have the strength to carry her out to spell range?

Sure!

Do you mean we are up again DM?

Nah, Ozzy said something about summoning a reefclaw, but hasn't yet. Probably spent this round dismissing her eidolons. I wasn't thinking.

The reefclaws continue their assault, catching up to and swarming the ogre. Frantically, Auchs bats at one of them as it moves through his reach.

AoO Awesome Blow: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32 damage: 1d8 + 7 ⇒ (8) + 7 = 15 halved, reefclaw 1 has taken 7 damage

CMB Awesome Blow: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (6) + 14 = 20 The reefclaw catches air before splashing back down! It won't be attacking Auchs this round, or getting an AoO when he moves.

Reefclaw claw to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Reefclaw claw to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4
Reefclaw claw to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Fort saves: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Fort saves: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16
Fort saves: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

The reefclaws score several hits on Auchs, but fortunately their venom is yet to slow the giant down.

Swim check: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 7 + 2 = 13 Auchs makes no progress towards land, but doesn't flounder either. Party's up!

Auchs' swim, take two: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

Auchs surfaces! And moves forward ten feet, on account of having a 40 foot movespeed unarmored. If he keeps making the swim checks, he'll make it to lands in 4 turns.

AoOs from the four remaining conscious 'claws: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9 damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10 damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (8) + 2 = 10 damage: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Suprised by the ogre's Awn-enhanced speed as it powers through the water, the reefclaws' claws close on naught at all.

Also, one of the Reefclaws is unconscious due to Guthruc-ing - so here's it's death frenzy (despite not being dead (what an over-reactor (Guthruc, remember to heal from the last fight before taking any damage)))

nap frenzy!: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14 for damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1
I don't want to go to bed I'm not tired!: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3 for damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Oh... no map?

Maps get tricky when one must also account for depth; we're doing this theater of the mind.

Are there any actions that anyone wants to take this round?

Also, why would it take us 7 rounds to carry Auchs 40ft accross the river?

Pushing or dragging moves five feet a round, and difficult terrain (which I presume this river is) halves movement through it.

Your positioning looks correct to me!

Iorskan swoops out of the sky and pulls Guthruc above the water. Auchs struggles to stay afloat with only Anura to help him.

Swim: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 7 + 2 = 10

Auchs sinks below the water, holding his breath.

How far away is Auchs from Awn?

Roughly forty feet away.

Are the Summon Monster alternative summoning options available? If so, Ozzy could summon a reefclaw of her own (for 4 minutes at a time). It would be able to understand her orders, and could communicate with the others on our behalf...

Sure!

Knowledge Check (Nature): 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (18) + 12 = 30

Technically, it'd be a dungeoneering check, as they're aberrations. But Jen's bonus in that is the same as her Kn. Nature, so it doesn't matter.

Calling reefclaws river predators is disingenuous. They ambush land dwelling creatures when they're least able to defend themselves, and either drag them into the water or retreat to let their poison run it's course. Highly intelligent (compared to, like, wolves, not compared to humans or elves), they don't really have natural predators - an individual reefclaw'd be no match for, say, a crocodile, but reefclaws strive not to be caught out as individuals.

They're smart enough to use language, and many understand Taldane, thought they can't pronounce it themselves, communicating among their own kind via a fairly sophisticated sign language that's poorly understood by those four-limbed scholars with no color control for their carapaces.

Guthruc knocks the abomination unconcious and uses his quick-runners shirt to push out another several feet towards the banks.

Should a reefclaw's death frenzy proc when it falls unconscious? What do y'all think?

I've come to the conclusion that 3 dimensional combat is best done in the theater of the mind.

The party's crossing another river, hoping to make camp on the far side of it, when disaster strikes! Disaster being 1d6 ⇒ 5 reeflclaws. Everyone in the party excepting Auchs, Guthruc, Iorskan, and Elminster are on one side of the river together (Iorksan already flew you across). Elminster is on the other. Auchs is just past the middle of it, Guthruc and Iorskan are assisting him. It'll take seven rounds to reach the nearest riverbank, at which point any pursuing reeflclaws could be easily cut down by the campaigning party. We'll call that or the elimination of the reeflclaws the victory condition. I'm assuming that the party keeps moving, since any attacks of opportunity the reeflclaws get out of it are no worse than the full attacks they're denied.

There isn't much that most of the NPCs can contribute, but Townsend will use truestrikes in conjunction with longbow to damage the aberrations, which have improved cover from the water, and Auchs will be knocking them away with his awesome blows. If someone thinks of a winning strategy that requires an NPCs abilities, tell them.

The first indication that anything is wrong is Auchs crying out in pain. "Something pinched me!" he proclaims. Squinting into the water, you can barely make out the forms of five mine sized monsters, each looking like an unholy cross between lobster and eel. The pack predators fan out to surround Auchs, attacking him from all sides. Four of them find flanks, the fifth gets hit by an AoO.

Auchs's attack of opportunity: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (2) + 13 = 15 doesn't hit

reeflclaw's to hit: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 2
reeflclaw's to hit: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 + 2 = 14 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 3
reeflclaw's to hit: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 + 2 = 22 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4
reeflclaw's to hit: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 + 2 = 7 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 4
reeflclaw's to hit: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 + 2 = 8 damage: 1d4 ⇒ 1

Auchs Fort: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

Grapple attempt: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 8 + 2 = 28

One of the reefclaws lathes onto your ogre! . . . seeing as said ogre is being more or less dragged by Guthruc and Iorskan, I don't see that that changes much. Party's up!

Sorry for missing the Monday update. :[

The party's presumably crossing the river here, and wouldn't you know it but I rolled a random encounter. River monsters! But water combat takes a bit of set up . . . I'll get something up tomorrow.

Rakgah responds to Bright Awn's grin with one of his own - it's a stress response. "If a lack of shadows has you saddened, think but this and all is . . . damnation. Can we just all agree to pretend that saddened and mended rhyme? But at least the carrion eaters won't pick at our life-drained husks, fighting 'mongst themselves for the choicest cuts."

It seems we have a consensus to move on, if anyone has motive not to, speak now or forever hold your peace.

No need for concern!

It’s a trap I fall into sometimes, where I want to do something time consuming/write out something lengthy, but don’t have time to do so immediately, and then I put it off indefinitely because every day I put it off makes another day’s delay a comparatively slighter sin . . . if that makes any sense.

:D

I greatly enjoy this game where the PCs debate whether or not they should try and recruit the shadows they found to join the party's illustrious cause. Why aren't more games like this?

They speak common and have more than three INT, so I suppose they all have distinct personalities. Some of them respond to communication, but on the whole they tend to view living creatures as prey until proven otherwise.