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Farrukh misses his first strike, utterly and excessively obliterates a shade on his second, and brutally injures the third ankou he strikes, which turns out to be very real.
Cuetzpalli's enchanted blade shreds through the corrupted fey like a hot knife through balloons of black oil, and it collapses in a heap. The second, though, lashes out with its tail and parries his sword. He brings his sword up again, and again, the fey parries. It leers at him. "Can you not hear the Mournful Song? It calls to us. It calls!" "It calls!" chime the other three surviving ankous. "It calls! "You will hear it, too," Cuetzpalli's target hisses, "when your head is cut open, perh--" It is cut off as Tanith's poleaxe slashes clear across its neck. Its shriek is cut short as it clutches at what passes for its windpipe, black oil oozing out. But it is not felled yet, and before the heroes' eyes, the oil seems to thicken and harden. Tanith's blade, though mightily wielded, lacks the divine power of Kelmarchen to cut through the ankous' resistances. Nearby, Farrukh's body, caught directly in the prismatic beam, begins to calcify. His curse is the last word from his lips before he becomes nothing but stone. Everyone watches in horror as the guardian warrior falls to the ground, as still as stone. The ankous shriek in approval, and the northernmost ankou immediately divses down to smash the statue apart in an act of pure malice. Clunk springs forward to intercept, but the ankou is too swift, and he's just a fraction too... The world freezes. The world rewinds. The world glitches. Farrukh is fine. It looks like the ray somehow... missed him? Wrong place, wrong time. Clunk stares in disbelief.
Eben's cold iron arrows shred the ankou's flesh, puncture deep into it, and it lets out a scream as black bile pours from its jaws. It seems grievously injured.
Clunk springs over a half-suppressed shade's swiping tail to siphon nearly all the life out of another, turning towards the nearest true ankou . "You should go to stand alongside your kindred," he intones, pointing to Cuetzpalli's foe. "The bloodrager cannot defeat both of you side-by-side."
Appearing to shrug off the compulsion, Clunk's mental target unleashes its fury upon Farrukh. Its nearby ally joins in the assault, bring a shade to bear as well.
The other remaining shades focus on Clunk.
Farrukh smashes another shade to pieces.
As two of the ankous flit over to attack Astraden, fully eliminating the silence effect, the one that weakened Tanith earlier seems to finally run out of patience and unleash a shower of wild fae colors--fully catching Carina, Tanith, Farrukh, and one of the shades in the twin blasts of color.
Carina/Farrukh After Rolling:
Tanith, After Rolling:
DC 24 to halve 40 acid damage.
The cunning beast waits until Tanith is directly between it and its ally before striking, but Tanith easily knocks aside its strike. He shreds through the illusion with a single slice, but as it explodes into shadowy wisps, it throws off his second swing, preventing him from hitting the next enemy in the lineup.
Cuetzpalli grievously injures one of the real ankous. His spelled blade cuts deep across its gut, and as it lets loose a partially-silenced scream, ichor-coated insects crawl out from the wound. The corruption of this wood--or of whatever dwells at its center--seems to have completely consumed the fey's bodies.
Eben's arrows fill the bodies of three of the shades like pincushions, and they explode into wisps of shadow.
Meanwhile, Clunk, still in the darkness and unaware that there's a space clear of the darkness, addresses one of the ankous he can hear nearby: "You should fall back to recover your bearings." As it sounds like it ignores his suggestion, he lunges at it, his mechanical arm whirring, opening up to reveal some disturbing contraption nobody can see.
He misses, though, on his first swing.
Carina's target hisses and flies at her, joined by its three intact minions. Abandoning all magic, it and the shades just aim to shred her apart.
The far northeast ankou flicks a hand, directing the half-suppressed shade bearing the darkness effect to retreat from the fight. Nobody sees this, of course. But the darkness suddenly lifts, and everyone sees the vast sphere of blackness departing. The northeast ankou and its other minions dive towards the battle, apparently having abandoned the strategy of divide-and-conquer in favor of something much more direct. The shades form a distant ring as they draw near, as if trying to ensure Astraden can't dispel more than one or two at a time. The summoner among them works some magic on itself, and its eyes glow with perfect awareness. As its nearby companion halts in its readied spell, almost seeming frustrated at the tricksome magic of Olidammara, the ankou to the north soars straight at Astraden and goes for the throat. Meanwhile, its shades focus entirely on Eben and Clunk, their only reachable targets.
As nimble as the corrupted spirits are, two of Carina's vials connect dead-on, and the real ankou lets out a scream as it is briefly engulfed in holy fire. It seems badly hurt, but as black lichen spreads across its body, it manages to extinguish the flames.
As Astraden casts her spell, the magical darkness around her vanishes in a pure dome of magic suppression. A constant gentle hum in the back of his head Eben never consciously registered suddenly goes quiet. Several conjured shades wink out instantly, while other shades' bodies only vanish where they enter the sphere, cut across as if on the dissection table. As she moves, some reappear, and others disappear again. Most notably, sound suddenly returns to the group, and a good portion of the magical darkness fades away like dust dropped into a river.
As silence envelops nearly the entire party, Eben, Carina and Clunk hear the battle directly adjacent to them go utterly silent. They can still hear the cruel laughter of the ankous from outside. No one, though, can see what's happening. All is pitch-black, and for most, all is quiet. Nothing is singing to them now. Readied Actions, for my own reference):
Meanwhile, Cuetzpalli's nearest foe to the northeast of him feels somehow more tangible, more real, as it lashes out at him with wing, tail and claw. The silence feels most intense as it draws nearer--this might be the ankou that summoned the silence into being.
Tanith hacks two of the creatures into shadowy ribbons, but Clunk clearly struggles much more, and only manages to bruise one of them a little. Meanwhile, freed to fire at will without risk to herself, Carina unleashes all her alchemical prowess. The last of the shades surrounding the party are blasted away, freeing them to pursue the shades' summoners. Of course, that's when the other three claw their way free, and another swarm of shades descends towards the party.
The ankou to the near north grins widely.
It reaches out and plucks a firefly from the air, then crushes it in its claws. The firefly crumbles into ash. With one breath, the ash is sent billowing straight towards the party. The feeling that passes through them is a terrible, hideous cold, but it fails to gain hold. The caster tilts its head to the side. The ankou to the furthest north seems unphased, however. It gives a merry laugh.
It zooms to the south and fires another burst of slug-like spirits, this one targeting Farrukh!
After Rolling:
On a 20 or higher, you are Fatigued for the next 3 encounters (or for the next uneventful 1.5 hours' travel). If lower, you are Exhausted for that period. The farthest ankou looks around, then picks something up from the ground--an old broken-off chunk of menhir. It sings, too, but its voice is muffled by the silence aura between it and the party. And then darkness swells out from the stone like smoke from a stopped bottle, and nothing more can be seen of it--although the cloud of darkness immediately begins to fly towards the party.
Eben:
These are ankous, fey assassins that ordinarily travel alone--although these ankous in particular seem much older, much more primeval than any you've heard of before, and they drip with the black ichor of the forest. It's said that fey take on aspects of their environment; these ankous seem to have taken on this forest's foul corruption.
The conjured shadows are illusions, shadow conjurations that can be disbelieved to weaken their attacks. They lack the spellcasting powers of their creators. Ankous possess magic to manipulate shadow and sound, to sap strength, to create rings of pure negative energy. Legend has it that they can only be slain with a blade wrought of cold-wrought iron, which, translated to practical parlance, probably means it's just a huge pain in the ass to do it with anything else.
The first of the creatures to act--the one to the southeast--looks around. Spotting the party, it ripples in form, and four shadowy duplicates split off from it. It streaks towards the party, but it arrives first.
Reality bends around its iron-like claws, and shimmering beams of twisted light shoot towards the party.
Eben/Farrukh/Cuetz After Rolling:
If you rolled a 24 or higher, you take 40 electricity damage. If lower, you instead take 80.
Carina/Astraden/Tanith After Rolling:
If you rolled a 24 or higher, you're fine. If lower, you instead take the effects of a permanent confusion effect, as per insanity.
Astraden After Rolling:
If you rolled a 24 or higher, you're fine. If lower, you are turned into stone, as per flesh to stone. This is considered a negative outcome.
Tanith After Rolling:
If you rolled a 24 or higher, you take 10 fire damage. If lower, you take 20.
Clunk is struck by a violet ray, and briefly, his form blurs and fades. But then he snaps back into reality. "This unit cannot accept a paradox," he intones grimly. Even as he speaks, the four split-off silhouettes form shapes akin to their summoner, encircling the party in a ring of foul shadows. The second of the monsters, the one closest to the party, gives a laugh like it's being electrocuted. Its shadow, too, begins to split into many. It raises one claw to point at the nearest warrior: Tanith. Wispy slug-like spirits crawl from the earth and swoop towards the warrior, sapping energy wherever they make contact.
After Rolling:
On a 20 or higher, you are Fatigued for the next 3 encounters (or for the next uneventful 1.5 hours' travel). If lower, you are Exhausted for that period. Four more shades appear around the group. Now there are eight. The third creature flies forward with a wide, serrated smile, as four more shadow duplicates flit in to join the swarm. It opens its mouth to sing... ... and no sound comes out. Not even the flaps of its great batlike wings can be heard.
The trees split across the seams like ripped rag dolls, and out crawl six horrifying creatures. Cloaked by shimmering black wings, the skeleton alien things appear to be burning from within, a flaming glow shining through their emaciated chests. Sharp talons glitter in the fading light, and small multi-rowed eyes gleam a sickly pale yellow above sharklike maws of countless tiny black teeth. They drip with the foul, black ichor that pervades everything here.
Astraden Spellcraft DC 24:
You sense many ancient druidic magics emanating off of the stone, as well as from the twisted trees growing around it. It looks like some sort of binding spell, or perhaps a stasis effect.
You also notice an especially curious ambient effect hanging over the clearing. It entwines with your magic, bonding with it like water to water, and it takes you a moment to realize what it is: It's another detect magic spell. Even as you realize this, the 'feelers' the stone is extending outward suddenly snap. Six long threads. It's as if the very presence of magic--or perhaps your kind of magic--has set something off. Or broken something fragile. Something terrible is about to come from those six trees. Astraden, if failed:
The auras of magic here are overwhelming, and it's hard to pick anything out immediately. However, as you look deeper, you suddenly sense something snap. Astraden gazes upon the magics at work here, and briefly, all are quiet, trying to help her concentrate. She suddenly recoils as if struck. A moment later, there is a tearing, splitting sound, like wood peeling from wood. The trees begin to dance. No, not dance. Writhe. Contort. As if there are things inside of them, as if they are a spider's silken cocoons for her prey now thrashing for freedom. The trees sway from side to side, and a song fills the air sung by six voices as sweet as honey. Laughs bright Moon at bitter Sea
Cuetzpalli:
Funny enough, no. You've seen almost nothing at all. The one track of interest was also the oldest--in an area of the forest that seemed to have dried out, you found a single enormous clawprint, as if from a massive bird or dinosaur--or dragon. The clawprint has practically fossilized, though, meaning it must be thousands of years old.[/ooc] Astraden:
The party has been traveling for two hours through the murk and foulness when they come to the top of a ten-foot cliff. Astraden's spell on Cuetzpalli guides him further in, down the cliff and beyond. Down below, across a shallow, muddy, half-clogged creek, is a clearing lit by the glowing puffballs that seem to grow everywhere and on everything around here. Six tall black trees grow in a ring around the clearing, facing the party. The trees are reminiscent of aspens, but their bark is the same mucky, oily black as the sap they leak. Many of the trees in this forest are twisted into terrifying, monstrous shapes, but on these six trees in particular, the party can almost see faces contorted in agony in the black bark. At the center, framed by the two arching parentheses of trees, is one more mark of past life here--an eight-foot-tall standing stone. A sputtering silver light shines out from the stone, a mystical sigil resembling a many-petaled flower. Runes wind around the glowing flower, some sort of ancient spell, message or warning. Linguistics 20:
The runes are in the secret script of Druidic, a language rarely put to writing for fear the mercurial whispers of nature will be decrypted, given names, and so lose their power. Only a truly great scholar of language could possibly decode it. Linguistics 40 or higher:
The runes read,
Let this gateway grow hale and green And its guardians safe in dream As long as the forests untouched remain By the whispers of gods and by magics arcane.
After Astraden casts her spells for the morning, enchanting Cuetzpalli's pathfinding and Clunk's clothing and placing a couple of protective wards over herself and Carina, the party sets out into the Doomshroud Forest. What sets in first is the quiet. For the first time since they arrived, the members of Spiny's Six cannot hear the rain. Instead, there is the slow, oily drip-drip-drip of black tar from the trees to the forest floor. The leaves of these trees are large, thick and waxy, forming little 'bowls' full of the hateful stuff to cover the roots and stick to the bottoms of the adventurers' boots. The viscous drip-drip-drip forms an uneasy, irregular sort of rhythm to the adventurers' journey. It's dark and humid, with an unpleasant smell between burning bone and molasses hanging thick in the air over them. Spiders make their webs above pools of tar-sap to catch small insects lured in by the tar's foul sweetness. The most unsettling part might be that the party can see some signs that things weren't always like this. A clump of wild chamomile grows green and healthy, sheltered from the sap by old spiderwebs. The bones of what used to be a truly enormous elk are nearly swallowed up in insidious black vines. Here and there are even scattered marks of intelligent life--a broken wagon wheel, a scrap of cloth, the moss-eaten remains of a cellar descending down into the earth. But the deeper in they go, the fouler the forest becomes. Surely nothing natural could live here for long and escape corruption. Not even the spiders.
I'm going to be pretty out of the swing of things for the next couple days, but I'll try to make at least a tiny bit of progress every day. Today it's listing Astraden's buffs on people. all day: magic vestment, magic circle against evil (2), magic circle against law, find the path, antimagic field, wind walk
Astraden will cast magic vestment on Clunk, magic circle against evil on herself, and find the path on Cuetzpalli to find the quickest route to the forest's center. She plans to cast communal resist energy (sonic) and when the group is closer to the center, along with most of her support spells.
Amended list: Cleric spells prepared (CL 15th, concentration +19)
Buff Durations:
Clunk will take magic vestment, since that's what he did last time. Cuetzpalli is looking for bear's endurance, but remember that you have an overland journey to worry about. You might not want to take the 16-minutebuffs just yet! Also! I'm actually talking in the Discord about implementing a new house rule for buffs, since those are a major slow-down for us in general. The house rule is meant to standardize buff durations. Borrowed from a friend: Spoiler:
Note that the first two sets are only relevant for your lower-level magic items.
SPELLS CAST AT CASTER LEVELS 1-4
SPELLS CAST AT CASTER LEVELS 5-9
SPELLS CAST AT CASTER LEVELS 10+
Extend Spell increases the spell's duration by one step. Spell durations split between multiple targets (like water breathing) are reduced by one step, or two steps if split between more than six creatures. Also, if you have an existing magic item deliberately increased at a higher level for duration purposes, you'd feel free to retcon in the extra gold if it's not quite at one of these cusps. In this case, cast at Astraden's level, a spell like bear's endurance lasts you for up to an hour and a half of travel, or three encounters if you're clearing a dungeon with encounters right next to each other. Meanwhile, magic vestment is just treated as an all-day spell. Thoughts? Unless there are any strong objections in the next day, I think I'm going to implement this.
So, Gark is pretty unavailable, so we're running with Schrodinger's Leveled-Up Cleric for now. Here's Astraden's spells for today, treating her as if she's leveled up with an extra 7th- and 8th-level spell. Cleric spells prepared (CL 15th, concentration +19)
If anyone has alternative suggestions, let me know. Of these, wind walk, communal air walk, communal resist energy (2), death ward, blessing of fervor, prayer, magic vestment, magic circle against law/evil, invisibility, owl's wisdom, shield of faith and protection from law are the buffs of note. Notably, it's about five hours' walk through the forest to get to the center where you heard the music. You could fly over, but it's a tall, thick forest canopy, and the journey down isn't necessarily easier or safer than the journey through. You can see things crawling through the canopies, and an aerial approach is a lot less subtle. This is my Subtle GM way of suggesting you walk and do the atmospheric forest crawl, but if you want to air walk, we can definitely roll with that. I'll figure out the buffs once I know the plan of approach.
Clunk is silent a moment. "It is difficult to predict the behavior of time in this place, but this unit believes the anomalies will stop soon. It is unlikely we will face excessive delays beyond what have already been observed."
When the party awakens, Krekie and Sabir are already gone. "The kenku indicated that she does not enjoy conversations meant solely to facilitate partings," Clunk says by way of explanation. He turns to face the forest. "Shall we get this over with?"
Okay, I think I'd like to try co-GMing! We'll try it for a while and see how we're feeling. If it's slowing things down too much, or causing too much of a clash in styles, we can revisit the question at the next level-up. Sound good?
Lashonna blinks. "Well, you left the 14th, and it's the 18th now."
Lashonna's eyes widen at Cuetzpalli's words, and she actually takes a step back. "Of--of course! Aside from Maralee, Tenser was the dearest to Bucknard of any. I would never betray one he loved, nor your trust. Nor would I get you disintegrated." She lets out a soft laugh. "Tenser alive. That is a secret that gladdens my heart. I will keep it close, and I will trust him." Her expression turns serious again. "There is one third final piece of news. Two days ago, a vast shadow was seen gliding under the Nyr Dyv near the docks. No light could penetrate it. The water was ice-cold, as heavy as the deepest depths. A nearby fishing trauler's haul came out completely crushed. And whatever it was, it turned after a moment and took off in the exact direction you chose." Her lips tighten. "And then it was gone. It blinked out of sight, as if hopping to another plane. Something's following you. The servants of Kyuss seem to have finally gotten wind of our plans. Are the island's protections intact?"
Lashonna smiles at Carina. "Hello, there, Carina. Sorry to hijack whatever dreams you were planning on having." She glances down at the water, where her reflection stares back at her. Her smile wavers slightly. She takes a deep breath, appearing to steady herself, and turns back to the party. "Zeech's Great Project is accelerating. I can't slow it down well, and I don't know enough about Kuluth-Mar to even gauge how. Did this Manzorian... know Bucknard well? Is he connected to the Circle of Eight like Bucknard was?" She pinches the bridge of her nose. "Because that's the second thing. News is that Mordenkainen has moved off-world. So have Bigby and Otto. With Tenser and Otiluke dead, those dead priests in Greyhawk, Rary turned traitor, Drawmij still missing... Bucknard was paranoid towards the end, but I begin to wonder if maybe he was right. Maybe someone or something is targeting the great mortal powers." A nervous laugh escapes her. "Scary times for the 'arch-bard', hm? So you think I should trust this Manzorian, this wizard of the coast? An archmage just popping out of obscurity like he did makes me very nervous. But I need help here."
"Understood." She nods curtly. "I have a backup scroll of this spell, but it's best to be concise if we can. First, do you know of a woman named Celeste? Blonde, pierced lip, a little rough around the edges. She's in Alhaster looking for you. I don't know if I should trust her, or this 'Manzorian' who-knows-who she says she works for." She waves her hand derisively, briefly looking a little more the noblewoman and a little less the anxious bard. Recap: Celeste is a disguised ghaele eladrin who helped the party infiltrate the Champion's Games. She works for Manzorian (Manzorian being the pseudonym of the archmage Tenser who faked his death, Allustan's old mentor and the party's primary patron) as a field agent.
"Waiting and hoping. You're in another plane, aren't you?" The bard pinches the bridge of her nose, then shrugs as if to brush the frustrations away. "It's fine. I just had to find the right spell to contact you, and that tasked me with a couple days' worry. Have you made it to the island? Have you found the library?"
There is no day and no night in this world, only an eternal rainy twilight. The embers of the fire hiss and slowly die as the group's rest stretches on. Sabir eats her dinner silently, while Krekie, perhaps in anticipation of her departure, is chattier than usual. Though her questions seem harmless, many are about the group's adventures to-date, making it somewhat hard to tell if this is innocent curiosity or a wish to gain intelligence. Clunk stands off to the side, grimly keeping watch over the forest. One can almost hear a distant song echoing from the depths of the woods. Sleep comes easier to some than others. Clunk, of course, does not sleep. "This unit can manage the watches," he says. "It advises all of you receive an interrupted eight hours of rest. Your judgment is severely impaired by lack of sleep." Krekie does not seem wholly convinced, but she does eventually lay down to sleep--once she is convinced that her prisoner has nodded off. A sea crow perched in one of the trees continues the vigil, however. For the members of Spiny's Six, there is only one dream.
Sleepers: The songs of buzzing bumblebees greet you as you find yourself awakening in a well-lit woodland meadow. The birch trees around you are young and green, and streams babble between their arching roots, all converging at the center of the meadow in a sparkling pool. The massive bumblebees--some the size of sling bullets--ignore the wildflowers to instead land among the willows, where they hungrily scrape up the sap and carry it off to nests unseen.
A great boulder rises from the pond. It looks like it has been carved, but only halfway, only enough to give the vague impression of a coiled-up dragon. A tamarack tree grows atop it, its autumn-golden pine needles
Whoever falls asleep first is the first to arrive here, and whoever falls asleep last is the last. Those who must wait needn't wait long--time bends, as dream time often does, and it doesn't take more than a few minutes before the entire group is assembled. Forzamele is missing, as are, of course, Krekie, Sabir and Clunk. A minute after the last arrival, silver light begins to spread across the pool, and a familiar face appears within: The party's patron of late, friend to the late great worm-hunting wizard Bucknard, the woman who sent the party on this errand in a quest to find the truth behind the stolen history of Dragotha the Dracolich's missing phylactery, emerges from the pool. Though water falls around her, she is perfectly dry, clad tonight in a pastel blue gown that compliments her shimmering pale hair. She glances back at the boulder, lips quirking, then turns to face the party and gives a wide, relieved smile. "Finally."
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