Half-elf Bard (archaeologist) 1 | HP 9/9 AC 17 T13 FF 14 | CMB +4 CMD 14 | F +3, R +7, W +3; +2 vs. enchant | Init +3 | Resource Tracker
Skills:
Bluff +8, Diplomacy +8, Disable Device +4, Kn arcana +9, Kn History +9, Kn local +8, Kn planes +8, Perception +10, Performance sing +8
Alara’s eyes danced with a dangerous, manic spark as she locked gazes with the charging goblin. Her voice dropped to a theatrical, taunting lilt, cutting through the smoke-filled air like a razor, "Call that a warsong?! It’s about as rhythmic as a sack of wet squirrels! Let’s fix that melody for you, shall we?"
She gestured sharply, her arcane flair weaving the mockery into the goblin's mind:
"Goblins trip and goblins slip,
Goblins lose their iron grip!
Ditch the torch and drop the blade,
Watch as all your courage fades!"
As the spell took hold, her grin widened. "There! Much better, don't you think? Why don't you have a bit of a lie-down..."
Casting Hideous Laugher on the first one to come in range, DC 13 will.
Half-elf Bard (archaeologist) 1 | HP 9/9 AC 17 T13 FF 14 | CMB +4 CMD 14 | F +3, R +7, W +3; +2 vs. enchant | Init +3 | Resource Tracker
Skills:
Bluff +8, Diplomacy +8, Disable Device +4, Kn arcana +9, Kn History +9, Kn local +8, Kn planes +8, Perception +10, Performance sing +8
The peaceful evening in Sandpoint had been shattered by the shrieking of blades and the manic laughter of the small, wretched creatures. Alara stood amidst the chaos, her composure utterly obliterated by the sight of the marauders defiling the town square.
"Goblins? Goblins in Sandpoint?!" she cried out, her voice a pitch of indignant fury that cut through the cacophony of battle. "WE'RE NOT HAVING THAT!!"
Her eyes locked onto a goblin, a cackling menace crouching behind a splintered delivery cart. With her heart pounding and her arms shaking from a mixture of fright and fury, Alara drew her short bow. She pivoted, her boots skidding on the blood slicked cobblestones, and drew the string back to her ear, seeking a clean line of sight.
She breathed in, exhaling as she loosed the shaft. It was a calculated shot, bolstered by a whispered prayer for fortune and the steadying rhythm of her own resolve but as the arrow whistled through the air, it caught the edge of the cart, burying itself harmlessly into the wood with a dull, pathetic thud.
"By the gods!" she hissed.
4/7 rounds of luck used. Reckon she'll run out before long. Short bow, bless, point-blank shot, luck:1d20 + 3 + 1 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 1 + 1 + 2 = 12Damage:1d6 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 1 + 2 = 7
While the bridge engulfed with a cacophony of ringing steel and roaring fire, Valeria retreats. Clutching the invisible, warm weight of the Prince to her chest, she flees into the trees to the south, moving as fast as the uneven ground allows. Every instinct screams at her to keep running; she is carrying the spark that the Reaper intends to snuff out!
Triphylla down the extract and simply vanished, with practiced ease she ghosts into position, preparing to unleash a devastating strike. The bloodlust within her was rising and for a horrible moment she came to the realization that the beast within her wanted to open Xan up to see what was inside and to rip and tear and most of all to taste...
With a final, desperate surge of Lope's arcane reservoir, Gloriana flares into a blinding, white-hot pillar of pure energy. Lope drives the blade forward in a rapid, lethal sequence. He targets the creature's joints, carving deep, cauterized gashes into Xan's shoulders and ribs. The smell of burning, ancient marrow fills the air. The wounds aren't deep enough to topple the giant, but they are beginning to bleed grey essence, the damage finally accumulating. As the strike ends, the supercharged arcane surge fades, and Gloriana reverts to a blade of solid steel once more—though still wrapped in hungry, licking flames.
St John attacked with fury, but Xan was a canny fighter, never standing still. He managed to connect solidly with his buckler but apart from make a loud noise and send a jolt up his arm it didn't seem to phase the psychopomp.
Enraged by the burning pain of Lope's blade and the defiance of the mortals, Xan turns on the Magus with single-minded, murderous intent. His monstrous black scythe becomes a blur of executioner’s steel. Xan unleashes three blinding, savage arcs meant to partition Lope into pieces.
The first swing whistles through the damp air, slicing clean through a mirror image, which pops into a shower of harmless silver sparks.
The second stroke follows a vicious upward trajectory, tearing the mist apart and shattering yet another illusory double into nothingness.
The third and final blow sweeps low, a brutal decapitating horizontal arc.
But Lope is already moving. The scythe passes through empty air, the freezing wind of the blade ruffling the Magus's hair as he slips through the teeth of the Reaper's wrath. The crowd of images has thinned, but his flesh remains unpierced. For now.
Scythe:1d20 + 21 ⇒ (4) + 21 = 25Hit on a 7:1d7 ⇒ 2Damage:2d4 + 10 ⇒ (2, 2) + 10 = 14 <--- MISS
Scythe:1d20 + 16 ⇒ (4) + 16 = 20Hit on a 6:1d7 ⇒ 4Damage:2d4 + 10 ⇒ (3, 4) + 10 = 17 <--- MISS (but close enough just to shatter an image)
Scythe:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14Hit on a 5:1d7 ⇒ 5Damage:2d4 + 10 ⇒ (2, 2) + 10 = 14 <--- MISS
STATUS: Round 5 wrote:
Environment: Normal.
Buffs and Debuffs:
---- Round 5 ---- Lope Mirror Image (4) Xan Valeria Triphylla Invisible St John ---- Round 6 ---- Lope Mirror Image (4) Xan Valeria Triphylla Invisible St John
Damage Log:
Round: 1
Xan was hit by Lope for 6 (total damage taken 6)
Xan was hit by Lope for 7 (total damage taken 13)
Xan was hit by St John for 5 (total damage taken 18)
Round: 2
Xan was hit by Lope for 24 (total damage taken 42)
Xan was hit by St John for 10 (total damage taken 52)
Round: 3
Xan was hit by St John for 7 (total damage taken 59)
Xan was hit by Lope for 24 (total damage taken 83)
Xan was hit by Lope for 21 (total damage taken 104)
Round: 4
Xan was hit by Lope for 25 (total damage taken 129)
Xan was hit by Lope for 18 (total damage taken 147)
Totals: Xan: 147 damage
COMBAT ORDER:
Lope Xan Valeria <----- WE ARE HERE
Triphylla St John
Valeria’s voice rises in a crescendo, a desperate command backed by the authority of the Redeemer Queen. A shimmering, violet-hued cage of divine energy erupts around the towering psychopomp, the air warping as the very fabric of the Material Plane tries to reject the intruder. For a heartbeat, it looks as though Xan might be flicked away like a speck of dust. But as the energy collapses inward, it strikes an invisible, icy barrier inches from the red ceramic mask. With a sound like a hammer hitting an anvil, the spell shatters. The silver sparks of Valeria’s magic dissipate harmlessly into wisps of fog, leaving Xan entirely unmoved. He doesn't even look at her; he simply exists with a terrifying, immovable weight that the world cannot hope to displace.
Behind him, Triphylla acts with the frantic pragmatism of a survivor. She leaps onto the driver's bench, shoving the paralyzed coachman aside. "Move, you clod!" she snarls, snapping the reigns. The horses, already wild-eyed and frothing with terror at the reaper’s presence, let out a piercing scream. The carriage lurches, the wheels screaming against the stone as it rolls in reverse. Valeria is forced to dive aside as the splintered remains of the carriage door—and the prize within—recede from Xan’s reach. The shift in the battlefield is jarring, the heavy carriage groaning as it drags the fight away from the water’s edge.
Lope seizes the moment. With Gloria wreathed in arcane fire and his six illusory doubles moving in a synchronized, lethal dance, he strikes. The Aldori blackblade whistles through the air, finding the gaps in Xan’s feathered cloak with the precision of a master. THUD. THUD. The hits are perfect. Any other foe would have been cloven in two, but as Gloria bites into the psychopomp’s form, the sound isn't of rending flesh—it’s the dull, numbing shock of steel hitting a mountain of solid lead. The impact sends a jarring, bone-deep vibration back up Lope’s arm, nearly dislodging his grip. The fire of the blade licks against Xan’s skeletal ribs, but the reaper doesn't even hiss in pain. He merely turns his head, the red mask’s eyeless sockets fixed on Lope. "YOU PLAY AT WAR WHILE THE LEDGER LONGS FOR BALANCE. IF IT IS BLOOD YOU WISH TO GIVE IN HIS STEAD, I SHALL ACCEPT THE CURRENCY.”
St. John steps into the fray, his heavy falcata whistling through the air with the practiced grace of a duelist. He finds the opening a well timed strike aimed at the psychopomp’s left elbow, intended to disable that terrible scythe arm. The blade connects with a sickening, metallic shriek, like a chisel being dragged across a tombstone. Sparks fly as the falcata bites into the creature's gray, leathery hide, but the resistance is unnatural. Instead of the wet crunch of bone, there is only a shallow, dry furrow in the creature’s flesh. St. John’s arm vibrates with the kinetic feedback of a blow that should have severed a limb but barely drew blood. Xan doesn't even grunt. Focusing purely on his prize, Xan’s talons dig deep ruts in the earth as he barrels towards the broken door, threatening to knock St John down on the way!
He's using an overrun manoeuver. St John you get to decide if you stand firm (potentially stopping Xan, but risking getting knocked flat) or step aside.
STATUS: Round 1 wrote:
Environment: Normal.
Buffs and Debuffs:
---- Round 1 ---- Lope Mirror Image (6) Xan Valeria Triphylla St John ---- Round 2 ---- Lope Mirror Image (6) Xan Valeria Triphylla St John
Damage Log:
Round: 1
Xan was hit by Lope for 6 (total damage taken 6)
Xan was hit by Lope for 7 (total damage taken 13)
Xan was hit by St John for 5 (total damage taken 18)
Totals: Xan: 18 damage
COMBAT ORDER:
Lope Xan Valeria <----- WE ARE HERE
Triphylla St John
The night after the meeting with Abrun Palliettor, Lope’s sleep is not restful. It is cold, smelling of ancient ozone and the metallic tang of dry blood. He finds himself standing in the Grand Hall of Oppara, but it is wrong. The ceiling is gone, replaced by a swirling nebula of gold and violet. Before him stands a massive stone lion—the symbol of Taldor—but its eyes have been gouged out, replaced by something flickering.
Lope feels a weight in his hand. Gloriana. But she isn't a sword here; she is a sliver of jagged, singing light. She pulses and he knows the lion's eyes are soul-gems.
Across the hall, a small figure sits on the throne: Prince Carrius. He is dressed in coronation robes, but as Lope watches, the boy’s skin begins to crack like cheap porcelain. From the cracks, emerald smoke rises, coiling upward toward two shadows looming behind the throne.
The first shadow is Maxillar Pythareus, wearing a crown of iron and holding a leash attached to the boy’s neck. The second is Panivar Lotheed, standing behind the General, his hands hovering over Pythareus’s head like a spider spinning a web. Panivar isn't looking at the Prince; he is looking at the General’s back, holding a jagged diamond that pulses with the rhythm of a dying heart.
Then, a voice rings out—not in Lope's ears, but in his very marrow. It is a voice like a whetstone on steel: sharp, regal, and vibrating with suppressed fury, "A thief sits in the counting-house, Lope de Vega. They have reached into the Boneyard and plucked a blossom that was meant to wilt. They have stitched from it a shroud and called it a King."
The dream-Gloriana flares bright, the light stinging Lope’s eyes.
"The General is blinded by ambition. He thinks he holds the leash, but the Wizard has hollowed out the world to build a cage. The boy is the door, the General is the prize, and the Wizard is the key. Break the key, Lope. If the key turns, the Lion dies, and a puppet-master wears its skin."
Lope feels a sudden, sharp pain in his palm—the sensation of his own blood hitting the cold marble floor. "The boy is an echo, Master. You cannot save a sound once it has been spoken. You can only give it silence. Seek the 'Heart of the Siphon' before the General's blood is traded for the Wizard's soul."
Lope wakes with a start. His hand is cramping, his fingers curled as if gripping a hilt, and the scent of ozone lingers in the room for a heartbeat before vanishing.
Valeria:
Sleep comes quickly and at first it is peaceful but little by little you realize you are dreaming in a strange place - an art studio. You know for certain two things, firstly you have never been hee before and secondly you are in the Midnight Palette a place holy to Nocticula. The air is cool and smells of jasmine and charcoal. Above, a massive, weeping moon hangs in a sky of deep violet, its light casting long, velvet shadows that don't frighten her—they feel like a protective cloak.
You are holding a stick of charcoal and before you stands a canvas of pure, white silk. Without thinking you begin to draw. At first your movements are feverish but little by little details appear and you realize you are drawing a person, except it's not. You are drawing a threshold.
In the center of the silk, the boy appears. He looks as he did when you found him—fragile, altered, and "porcelain." But in Valeria's drawing, he is surrounded by the grasping clawed hands of succubi. They are reaching to tear the boy apart, to feast on the "unnatural" spark within him. From the bottom of the canvas, a Spider begins to weave grey, sticky silk upward, trying to cocoon the boy. From the top, a cold, grey light—the sterile, uncaring light of the Boneyard—begins to bleach the color out of him.
A shadow detaches itself from the corner of the room. It has the silhouette of a woman with massive, dark wings, but her eyes are kind, sparking with the embers of a sun that has already set. The voice isn't a scream; it’s a low, melodic hum that vibrates in Valeria’s almond-shaped eyes. "Patience, little rose," the shadow whispers. "Redemption is not a strike of lightning; it is the slow burning of a wick. The boy is a candle held in a dark room. If he is snuffed now, the shadows will have no shape to flee from."
You looks down at your hands, the charcoal has stained them black, but the blackness begins to shimmer like the night sky. "The Spider has built a cage that protects him utterly. One only this boy can unlock the cage, and only if he chooses to and accepts the price."
On the silk canvas, the boy begins to crack leaking shafts of pure, blinding moonlight. For a split second, Valeria sees the Spider recoiling, his spectacles shattering from the brilliance.
A whisper at your ear, gentle yet commanding says "The Grey Lady will try claim him, this is her right he was stolen from her. But she must not take him too soon, destiny calls."
You wake up bed, your heart racing. The room is dark, but for the first time in weeks, the pull of the Abyss feels quiet—sublimated by a sense of crystalline purpose. Your fingers are clean, but you can still feel the phantom grit of the charcoal.
Meant to post before now. Lope my kids are a bit older but I remember well how tired I was when they were very little. I promise you sleeping does (eventually) get easier! Important to carve out some time for you.
@Triphylla glad you're enjoying it, hope everything went smoothly for you.
Abrun listened in a silence that grew heavier with every word Lope spoke. The warmth he had greeted them with didn't vanish, but it was quickly overshadowed by the practiced, calculating stillness of a man used to balancing ledger books—and lives. When Lope mentioned the boy’s resemblance to the late king’s line, Abrun’s hand tightened perceptibly on the edge of his mahogany desk.
He didn't speak for a long moment, the only sound in the office being the distant, rhythmic tolling of a bell from the cathedral’s main hall.
"Oh dear," he breathed at last, the words carrying the weight of a long-dreaded prophecy. "It seems the proverb is true: we live in interesting times. And 'interesting' is rarely good for the peace of the realm."
He rose from his chair, pacing a short line behind his desk. "If word of this 'Twilight Child' reaches the Church of Pharasma, we will have a theological crisis on our hands before the week is out. They do not take kindly to the manipulation of life and lineage. And Pythareus..." Abrun trailed off, a grimace flickering across his face. "If the Promachos learns of a potential pretender, or even a convincing puppet, he won't just 'draw conclusions.' He will seize the boy, or he will end him. Either way, he will twist the narrative until it serves his claim and chokes the Princess’s."
He stopped pacing, his eyes turning toward the window overlooking the city, taking on a flinty, uncompromising look of determination.
"Speaking of the Promachos, the fallout from Earl Yander’s... indiscretions... has left a particularly foul taste in the Council’s mouth. The winds are shifting, Master de Vega." He turned back to them, a sharp, professional smile touching his lips. "There is a vote scheduled for this evening, sponsored by Lady Hallianna Cobbin. If the tally goes as I expect—and I have a very good eye for the numbers—Yanmass will officially declare its endorsement for Princess Eutropia. The city is finally choosing a side."
He reached into a drawer and pulled out two heavy, wax-sealed envelopes, sliding them across the desk toward Lope with a rhythmic scritch against the wood.
"The Council is not blind to who cleared the path for this change. They wanted you to have these as a token of the city's gratitude," Abrun explained, gesturing to the packets. "The first contains a ring, a fine piece of Abadaran craftsmanship meant to ward the wearer from the chaotic blows of the battlefield. The second..." His voice lowered slightly, touched with a hint of reverence. "The second is a fragment of history. A stone said to have been hewn from the very throne room of Taldaris's original palace over four thousand years ago. They say the foundations of the Empire still hum within it, bringing the holder the same fortune that saw a general become the leader of the largest empire Golarion has ever known. Use them well—I suspect you’ll have need of every advantage in the days to come."
The ring is a ring of protection +3 and the stone is a luck stone.
Colin passed the book back to Em and took stock of what they'd learned, "So Electrum conducts lightning and Arkonite conducts essences spiritual... Sounds like they were researching a material suited for enchantment to me. As for the furnaces I think I understand the general principle now, they don't burn coal like we would, instead they pump heat from the fiery depth below. Finally it seems this facility was stable for hundreds of years but some time after Arkhoria passed it began to decline before some sudden calamity."
He was lost in thought for awhile before musing, "Mmm. I wonder how safe arkonite is, I know long exposure other metals like quicksilver are said to drive people mad. This whole facility is likely contaminated with arkonite, perhaps that explains why it's haunted, it's captured a spark of the souls of those who lived and worked here..."
"This places seems to have little history or a forgotten history."
::Hmm, history may be forgotten by mortals but the akashic record contains all. Lets see what I can find...:: sent Azzim over the hive mind. He went to his room and retrieved a square of dull looking material. He sighed, it was silver and it had tarnished again. He had a little bottle he'd found in one of Sigil's bazzars with the label 'Brasso' on it. Remarkably enough this was something that actually worked, he carefully poured a little onto a rag and began rubbing, all the while whispring strange words.
Laurana popped out from where she had been hiding to watch, seemingly fascinated by the process. Ten minutes later the square had become so shiny Azzim could see his reflection in it. He peered into it, seeing hidden depths that seemed to stretch to infinity...
Casting akashic communion, and seeking to gain knowledge about the town's history, and any religious or planar significance it might have.
Colin suddenly had a hacking cough after Brimble spoke, not quite sure if this was a joke, surely it was a joke? He couldn't be sure though, he always found it hard to read others.
Anyone got anything to add in the gameplay thread? :)
There's a few things you can do:
1) Make a report to the council, or at least the Chief Enumerator - he was the one most interested in the cult
2) Any last minute business in Yanmass
3) Head on back to Oppara (and book 4)
"Uh are you sure?" stammered Colin who could scarcely believe what Brimble was about to do. When it became apparent that yes he was serious, Colin called after him "Please be careful!"
If Brimble manages to find it:
Colin was momentarily speechless, and when he managed to compose himself he was effusive, "Thank you Brimble! That was, daring! But please don't make a habit of yourself at risk on my behalf, I'd feel terrible if something was to happen."
Afterwards he carefully started reading, determined to go cover to cover and hopefully gain an understanding of Locating Arkhorianite Lodes and Navigating Their Hazards. The ore was likely different to the refined product but it seemed as good a place as any to start understanding why the facility was here and what the stonebourn had discovered.
Not entirely sure what rolls are needed to get the most out of the book, but let's try these. Dwarven Lore?:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24 Kn: Alchemy:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
"That was unpleasant!" said Colin as Argatha pulled Phantrel out, "Hopefully that, uh, was it a ghost? Anyway I hope he's not going to go wandering the halls desperately searching for Klah... It feels so sad, I wonder if we can help him find peace somehow? Not really my area, I don't know if that's even possible."
Under his breath Colin muttered to Pantrel, "Raka's closer to the door and I fear we'll need her strength to rescue Argatha."
He walked over to Raka and taking her arm he said, "Come let me help you get your klah, it's this way!" He then started walking towards the exit dragging her along!
"Yikes!" cried Colin as cold water splatters him and the world suddenly snapped back into focus. Dripping he stands there for a moment before saying, "Crikey we've got to get them and us out of here!" Looking at Phantrel he asks, "Together do you think we can uh carry them out?"
Colin wasn't a burly warrior but he wasn't a complete wimp either, perhaps this could be done?
Lope finds a key on the high cultist which fits the prison door. St John Finds a small room filled with an enormous, luxurious bed. A narrow writing desk and chair stands next to the bed.
Two books sit on the high cultist's desk: a stolen, handwritten book of notes entitled “Diverting the River of Souls” which includes a mix of theological musings on the nature of life as well as arcane scribbles related to the overlap between resurrection magic and summoning spells. While the book does not name its author, it includes a short passage about “fishing out some shred of her soul from the Beyond and in so doing, animating the most resplendent likeness of her youthful days—all at once wondrous and terrible”.
Kn: Arcarna DC 20:
With a horrible feeling you're certain this is obliquely referring to the trompe l’oeil of Duchess Veleto Lotheed.
The second book continues some of the first book’s arcane notations
in a new handwriting, surmising that someone “already blooded by the Beyond” could usurp mortal worship and channel it into himself.
Kn: Arcarna or Religion DC 25:
Diagrams later in the book mirror those painted on the stage above. You strongly suspect the high cultist was researching how to gain immortality, likely at the cost of the twilight child's life.
Loot on the high cultist and from his room:
The following items detect as magic:
* 2 potions in a green bottle that smell like pine sap. DC 17
* 2 potions in a red bottle that smell like musk. DC 17
* one potion in a clear bottle DC 18
* one ebony wand inlaid with tiny silver stars DC 18
* mithral chain DC 17
* a talisman inscribed with depictions of various predatory animals, lions, tigers, that sort of thing DC 20
* a talisman inscribed with the names and symbols of spirits and other figures associated with healing DC 22
* an electrum headband DC 23
* a gold signet ring DC 21
Other loot:
* a hand crossbow
* a mwk light mace
Loot from the other two cultists:
* A pair of potions in a clear bottle DC 18
* A pair of midline blue cloaks DC 18
* mwk light crossbow with 20 bolts
* 2x cult tunic
* 2x mirror
Notes on the table:
The table where you found the cultists contains piles of letters and communications. It takes a while to read through these but bit by bit you put things together. There's detailed engineering diagrams that outline the mechanism by which the high cultist Vaddrigan Pol displays the twilight prince during services via the mirror keeping him safely beneath the stage in this room.
Another series of notes strongly imply that the twilight prince is in fact Prince Carrius the risen prince of Taldor, although they don’t indicate
how the prince was raised or how he came under Vaddrigan’s control.
A different note lists the rather remarkable quantity of drugs they've addled his mind with to keep him passive.
Kn: Alchemy or Heal DC 16
Spoiler:
The poor lad is almost certainly deeply addicted to half a dozen potent and illegal narcotics. This isn't something you quit cold turkey, the withdrawal will kill him. Instead he'll have to be weaned off them in a process that will take weeks or months. There are some magics that can shorten this process but the party doesn't have a cleric.
The notes make it clear that the Cult of the Twilight Child is Vaddrigan’s brainchild, and that its aim is to create a popular cult of personality
around Prince Carrius—initially in Yanmass but eventually throughout Taldor.
The ultimate endgame of this strange goal isn’t explained in these notes.
Colin's vision suddenly swims and to his surprise his back suddenly hurts something rotten and he finds himself bending over like an old man or dwarf. His ears stop working like last time he tried his hand at a little mine engineering, how frustrating! He starts muttering to himself, in dwarven, "Now where did I put those glasses?!"
Goodness Triphylla has initiated a grapple, there's a flowchart for that! Grapple doesn't need a touch attack, I'll rule the first 16 as the grapple roll. Since Triphylla doesn't have improved grapple, the cultist is allowed an AOO.
The cultist lashes out at Triphylla with a mace as she comes in to grab him, but he's not much of a physical combatant and misses! Triphylla takes a firm hold of the man!
AOO:1d20 + 7 - 2 ⇒ (10) + 7 - 2 = 15 <--- Miss
Looks like I need to bot Valeria. What would she do in this scenario? Cast a spell maybe, Moontouch seems interesting but that doesn't sound optimal. Bestow curse? That's actually quite a powerful save or suck spell, but will is the cultist's strong save so it's risky. She could cast Rage on Triphylla, and St John, that's not a terrible idea - Triphylla is a dex character but it would still help CMB and it would be a straight up buff to St John. Rage would be harmful to Lope since he's a magus. I think that's the best option here.
Valeria invokes the wrath of Nocticula, and the red mist descends upon St John and Triphylla! There is a cultist here to rip to shreds and er in the case of Triphylla quite possibly eat!
Lope babbles incoherently, but St John has a moment of clarity and he downs an essence of independence and he feels the spell shatter as his mind clears only to descend into RAGE!
St John: New saving throw:1d20 + 5 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 5 + 4 = 22 <--- PASS
The cultist shrikes "GET OFF ME YOU FREAK!" and his strange eyes bore into the halfling!
he tries to concentrate! So he's using a move action to center himself to get DC 10 + Trip's CMB which should be 7 now, plus spell level. Concentration check DC 10+7+3:1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 30 <--- PASS
A horrible sensation builds in Triphyllas mind as the cultist stares at her. She sees her shadow elongate and detach and then something dark enters the world, a nameless thing out of nightmare coming for her!
Chance to catch fire, 50 or less = yes:1d100 ⇒ 73 <--- NO
Triphylla make a DC 19 will save with a -3 penalty or you'll be affected by [ulr=https://www.aonprd.com/SpellDisplay.aspx?ItemName=Oneiric%20Horror,%20Greater]Oneiric Horror, Greater[/url].
STATUS: Round 7 wrote:
Environment: Normal.
Buffs and Debuffs:
---- Round 7 ---- Triphylla Shaken (1 round) Valeria Shaken (1 round) Lope Confused, Shaken (1 round), Burning St John Confused, Shaken (1 round), Burning High Cultist Sickened (1 round) Diana ---- Round 8 ---- Triphylla Valeria Lope Confused, Burning St John Confused, Burning High Cultist Diana
Damage Log:
Round: 1
Blue Cultist was hit by Triphylla for 26 (total damage taken 26)
Lope was hit by Red Cultist for 22 (total damage taken 22)
St John was hit by Red Cultist for 22 (total damage taken 22)
Diana was hit by Red Cultist for 11 (total damage taken 11)
Valeria was hit by Red Cultist for 11 (total damage taken 11)
Red Cultist was hit by St John for 18 (total damage taken 18)
Triphylla was hit by St John for 12 (total damage taken 12)
Triphylla was hit by St John for 9 (total damage taken 21)
Triphylla was hit by St John for 7 (total damage taken 28)
Lope was hit by Red Cultist for 26 (total damage taken 48)
Triphylla was hit by Red Cultist for 26 (total damage taken 54)
Round: 2
Triphylla was healed by Valeria for 24 (total damage taken 30)
Round: 3
Triphylla was healed by Valeria for 24 (total damage taken 6)
High Cultist was hit by Triphylla for 27 (total damage taken 27)
Round: 4
Lope was healed by Valeria for 26 (total damage taken 22)
Round: 5
Lope was healed by Valeria for 26 (total damage taken 0)
Round: 6
Lope was hit by High Cultist for 3 (total damage taken 3)
Triphylla was hit by High Cultist for 12 (total damage taken 18)
St John was hit by High Cultist for 3 (total damage taken 25)
Valeria was hit by High Cultist for 3 (total damage taken 14)
Totals: Blue Cultist: 26 damage
Lope: 3 damage
St John: 25 damage
Diana: 11 damage
Valeria: 14 damage
Red Cultist: 18 damage
Triphylla: 18 damage
High Cultist: 27 damage
COMBAT ORDER:
Triphylla <----- WE ARE HERE
Valeria Lope St John High Cultist Diana
Triphylla, Valeria, Lope and St John are up. Triphylla and St John will take 1d6 fire damage this round unless they use a standard action to put it out.
Colin does notice Em's attention is fully given to a curious metal square. Feeling the need to take a break from Dwarven filing systems he wanders over and asks, "What have you got there?" The game was unfamiliar but once Em had explained the principles he got it quickly. He watched her play for a bit before suggesting, "Maybe this piece with the upside down T in a circle goes over there?"
As Colin followed Em and the others towards the office, Colin told anyone who would listen "When you normally think of a furnace that involves burning something to heat things up. That's not how the dwarven tech works, it seems it transforms power from deep below into lightning which is then transmuted back into heat in the furnace. Ingenious. Still I feel like I'm missing much of the details, we wouldn't be able to build something like that ourselves without extensive and expensive research."
He mused, "Mmm if only we had an instruction manual of some sort... Oh Em! It's a long shot I know but can I borrow that book Forgewise gave you?" I guess time and some more dice rolls are needed to progress that 'quest'. But for now there's the office to consider!
Once inside the office Colin helps as best as he can. He decided that it would be interesting to learn anything about any expeditions beyond the complex. Dwarves where extremely organized so this boiled down to knowing the right title to look for, and based on what he'd learned about the dwarves of Thurznchakh he had an idea...
Lore: Dwarven:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Great seems there's some interest in this area :) I'll need a month or two to develop things. There's some great tools out there for generating maps for entire worlds which is cool, since there's no way I'd have time to do that the old fashioned way.
Have you ever read the novels from the Malazan book of the Fallen and wondered what it would be like to be a squad mage, a heavy or an engineer fighting in a war? I'm thinking of episodic squad based special forces action, sometimes fighting alongside the regulars, other times on secret missions behind enemy lines.
The world I have in mind isn't the Malazan world (although that would be cool), rather a homebrew world loosely inspired by The Elvenbane trilogy by Mercedes lackey and Andre Norton where the elves have invaded and humanity is fighting a desperate rearguard action to avoid slavery and the destruction of their homeworld. The players would be all human from any background (although they must be able to work together as a team), press ganged or volunteered into the army, probably starting around lvl 3.
Does this sound interesting?
To manage expectation I'll need to do a lot of preparation if I go for this which will take a few months.
No sorry he moved away on his turn. I've moved Lope and St John back, they can move their tokens if they like. I assume you will defer to set up a flank, since you're all going in one block there's basically no downside.
A flicker of a frown crossed Colin's face when Xira mentioned the professor. He muttered, "I can ask, but he's probably doing something fightfully important..."
Steeling himself, Colin carefully pulled the book out of his pack and he sent it a mental query ::Professor do you have any advice? We're concerned the chains on this body are hazardous and we're not sure how best to dispose of it.::
"Eutropia?", the word seemed to catch in her voice and she looked Lope right in the eyes as she seemed to come to a conclusion, "You're one of Martella's aren't you... Yes I can see it in your eyes."
She stands up fully for the first time, winces slightly at a wound before saying, "Thank you for getting me out of that hole, I'm Cassaranda Florint. I was passing through Yanmass on assignment from the Kitharodian Academy when I heard stories of this cult worshiping somebody who is the spitting image of dead Prince Carrius, you know the one who couldn't be resurrected. Thought I'd investigate and well I ended up here, the cult are a paranoid lot. You'll need to be quick because Triellas is bound to wake Pol the high cultist up. Pol is scary by the way, there's something deeply disturbing about his eyes. I watched him dominate a man the cult accused of disloyalty, he forced him to kill his family before they hacked him to death."
Llewellyn had long felt that if the gods had wanted him to fly they'd hae given him wings. He took a steadying breath, before saying with a brightness he didn't fee, "Oh great! Sounds like I'm going flying..."
Colin looks at the bench, touches it, feels it flex. He notices the wheels and a surprised, "Oh!" escapes his lips. Breathlessly he tells the others, "This uh bench isn't really a bench, see the machinery there? Those wheels turn and this uh, I guess you could call it a belt, moves, carrying whatever its on top of it along for the ride!"
Colin tried not to winced at The Professor's tone and he shares what he learned.
Colin agreed with Raka, "Yes it could be anywhere, but I suspect it's going to tie I to the furnace somehow. It needs energy and the furnace seems to be the logical source."
Colin listened to what Em had to say and he pointed out, "Going up is something I think we'll have to do, but there's no guarantee that up leads outside. Besides I think we should investigate the furnace and try to power things up."
Colin's motivation for this was as much academic curiosity as any practical concern. The dwarf tech was awesome and he wanted to see it in action.
Unfortunately you might be right :( I'll have to think about recruitment but in the meen time the minions of hell grow weaker, however you grow stronger! I forgot to level you up earlier, you should be level 9 at this stage.
Right now we're in the last quarter of book 3 and my original intention was to run an edited book 4. I expect you to be level 13 at the conclusion of this game.
Colin's expression as he communed with The Professor changed from curiosity to a wince. Looking like he'd been chewing on lemons, Colin told Brimble, "No. Apparently the dwarf-gold power threads are gold, well an alloy of gold at least."
With a deep sigh, he added, "I did learn one thing, this whole complex was built to study Arkhorianite. I have no specifics but The Professor described it as exceptional. I think it safe to say the GMC among others would do anything to possess something like that."
Curiosity made Colin look inside but the dwarven homeliness of the made made him feel uncomfortable as if they where trespassing. He spoke up saying, "Agreed the bed looks comfortable, but it feels like the family that lived here just stepped out and could come back at any time. I feel like we're prying..."
Colin was surprised by The Professor's voice when it responded after an uncomfortably long period. Still the book's plan seemed plausible, "Hmm The Professor informs me there are various reagents that have mild reactions with the metals used here that if applied in aqueous solution would leave a patina that would cover up all these scratches and tool marks... I think this would help complete the disguise."
Colin got busy right away, mixing tiny amounts of odd looking reagents inside equally tiny test tubes from his alchemy kit. There where various strange smells and the occasional puff of oddly colored smoke as he worked. After a while Colin called for a damp rag which he used to smear a concoction into the damaged areas of metal.
The acid vigorously attacks the metal, releasing clouds of noxious fumes. After about five minutes it had worn through the end of the bracket which fell off with a muffled clang. Triphylla was confident that she could now leaver the wooden beam off allowing the door to open, but the heavy beam would make an ungodly racket when if struck the floor, that is unless she has a cunning plan...
I've been really busy and haven't had much time for this game of late, sorry all. I guess that shows, I notice interest had dropped way off.
Anyway as a reminder, you're looking into the cult of the twilight child. There is a rumour that the twilight child is in fact prince Carrius back from the dead. Carrius is the elder brother to princess Eutropia who died in a riding accident when he was little. Oddly he couldn't be resurrected and the reason for that was the subject of much gossip, at least behind closed doors. If he did come back he would be the heir to the throne.
But this all begs many questions, not least of which - if this truly is Carrius did he come back willingly? What are we actually dealing with here, is he all there? Taldor has already suffered one mad man on the throne after all.
Abrun replied, "Pythareus is many things, a demagog, a general, a would be dictator, but above all he is an opportunist. I'm not convinced he's behind this cult, but if the rumours about this twilight child are true and it really is Prince Carrius returned to life then you can bet your last copper that Pythareus will take full advantage unless someone acts first. For the good of Taldor the truth must come out, but I must warn you this will be dangerous. The cult will not respond kindly to interference, the council has tried to send a number of agents to keep an eye on them but last night their bloodless corpses were found stacked at the back entrance to the council building. Clearly somebody wanted to send a message."
Abrun frowned as this evoked unsavory thought before nodding to one of the acolytes. They then brought forwards what turned out to be a plain white-ash staff with inlaid with small silver runes, and with a wrought iron cap. "I think this might give you an edge. It was owned by one of my forebears and has sat unused in the reliquary for several generations. It's supposed to have great healing potential."
It's a Staff of healing which Valeria can use. It has 10 charges, and like all staves it can be recharged.
Heeding Valeria's advice, you make your way back to the Gilded Baldachin where hot scented baths are run and masseuses expertly ease away the aches and pains of pulled muscles and other minor consequences of battle. Suitably pampered, several hours later and dressed to the nines your carriage takes you the short way to the official residence of the Enumerator.
Located in an impeccable neighborhood, the townhouse exudes the understated confidence and solidity of old money in juxtaposition to the extravagant and oversized mansions you saw earlier today along the river bank. The door opens before you have a chance to knock and you are welcomed in by another one of the temple acolytes. The residence itself is warm and airy, decorated in a minimalist style by Taylor's standards with a unifying motif of Abadar's symbolism. Likely not to everyone's taste, but it was undeniably well executed.
Dinner was served in a cozy dining room with a roaring fire, spiced cuts of prime beef in a spiced Quadrian inspired sauce, with an unusual frozen and very tasty dessert that hailed from far off Jalmerry. Over the course of the meal Enumerator Abrun Palliettor engaged with small talk, sharing various anecdotes of life in Yanmaas interspersed with listening to your story. With the remains of dinner taken away glasses of port, whiskey, and other drinks served Abrun says, "On behalf of the council I'd like to tank you for everything you've done. It's clear to almost everyone that Maxillar has been stirring up much of the recent trouble. I think it's fair to say with the way things have gone he's burnt his bridges. I wish we could now draw a line under things, but the cult of the twilight child troubles me still. It's popularity grows but I'm increasingly convinced it's a sham. You attended one of their ceremonies, tell me what did you make of it?"
Drawn in by morbid curiosity, Colin winced as he saw first hand the results of his handy work. The stench of burnt rat hang in the air, the reek of burnt hair mixed with a meaty smell that in other circumstances would have set his mouth watering.
Replying to Phantrel, Colin gasped, "Er. Yes I'm um, er, fine..."
Looking a little green around the hills Colin retreated to an area where he didn't have to see and smell what he'd done.
The city watch turn up shortly after, responding to reports of violence in the streets. For a brief moment it looked like they were going to attempt to arrest you, but a runner from the Mercantile Council arrived with a warrant for Earl Yanders arrest, alive or dead.
Several more members of the watch arrived, they spoke to the watch captain briefly before he spoke to you, "Sorry for the confusion, it turns out you've done us a big favor here. Some more of Yander's correspondence has been found, partially burnt in his hurry to leave. It's clear he was working under instructions from Pytharus. We'll have to see what happens at Yanders trial but if he's convicted he'll hang for sure."
A while later a man you recognize as one of the acolytes from the temple of Abadar arrives with a message, "Chief Enumerator Abrun Palliettor extends his congratulations for Yander's capture! He cordially invites you for dinner this evening at his residence."
Lope's lightning empowered attack hits like a thunderclap and spalls off fragments of armour which hit the ground like metallic rain. But despite having a gaping hole in the breastplate, the animated armour remains active.
Triphylla attacks the other animated armour, hitting it like a freight train and she exchanges the coppery gall of blood for a mouth full of metal shavings! Again the armour she was fighting looks battered, the sheet metal broken in places yet it too is still active.
Diana's spell floods the area with slippery grease. The suit of armour fighting Lope and St John stand indomitably, but the other on battered by Triphylla nearly looses its footing!
Reflex: Red:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31 <--- PASS
Reflex: Green:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17 <--- PASS
The earl is unconscious but still breathing, and heeding Diana's words, St John steps away from the armor without any counter attack.
Con:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16 <--- STABILIZED
Unless you really want to continue fighting, I'll just call this one and say after two minutes the animated armours vanish with loud pops.
Loot:
Cape of the Mountebank, potions of barkskin (2), scroll of cure serious wounds, wand of bear’s endurance (10 charges), wand of
shield (30 charges); Other Gear mithral shirt, mwk light crossbow, mwk rapier, cloak of resistance +1, ring of mind shielding, noble’s outfit, 150 gp. You already figured out about his cloak and the rest of these are trivial for Lope and Diana to identify so I'll spare you the dice rolls.
Colin frowns before saying under his breath, "Or, I could try the other reaction type The Professor showed me, the one he described as increasingly brisant!" Suddenly excited he selected two vials from his kit and cried, "Folks, prepare yourselves this will be LOUD!"
Colin will give everyone a moment to prepare themselves before surging forward to Brimbles side.
With an expression like a naughty schoolboy on a dare, he gingerly poured the contents of one vial into the other. There was strong color change as the dark liquids flared with orange light. He then lobbed it like a hot potato into the middle of the rats! There was a sudden painfully loud BOOM!
Ranged attack:1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17Dice:1d6 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
OK I'm glad I waited, good to see you back Diana! And oh wow, dice bot doesn't like Earl Yander!
Lope manages to get his blade past the Animate Armour's guard, to score a solid hit, a considerable feat and one he wasn't sure he could repeat reliably...
With Earl Yander surrounded, he was more or less at Triphylla's mercy and in an act of unbridled savagery she used her knife like claws to climb up his body (stabbing a kidney and his spleen on the way) only to viciously gore his shoulders and to rip a large chunk of his neck out with her teeth! Serenaded by the earl's panicked cries, and with the now familiar coppery gall of blood tantalising her tongue, she faced a momentous decision: to spit or to swallow? In the background various members of the public who had been milling around, started screaming and running away.
Estinti pauses, shocked by the savagery.
Valeria I assume that roll was a touch attack? If so that lands.
Valeria summoned a crawling purplish darkness that made your skin crawl and with one deft flick, she splashed it over the Earl's face. He tried valiantly to buck away, but it sank into him and the color of his skin leached away leaving him ashen. Massive blood loss, likely contributed to this too.
Will DC 20:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13 <--- FAIL
If somebody cares to bot Estinti, (or if Estinti is able to post soon) that would be appreciated!
Clearly in terribly pain and in mortal terror, Earl Yander tried desperately to concentrate on another spell but being literally eaten alive.
Concentration check to cast defensively DC :1d20 + 13 - 4 ⇒ (12) + 13 - 4 = 21 <--- PASS
You felt him gathering power as his spell took form but before he could speak Diana opened her mouth wide as if to make a bloodcurdling scream, yet there was no noise at all! Horribly the Earl's face seemed to vibrate violently and specks of blood spall off his skin and one eye suddenly darkens with blood from an internal hemorrhage. Dazed he lost the spell.
Fort DC 16:1d20 + 6 - 4 ⇒ (2) + 6 - 4 = 4 <--- FAIL
STATUS: Round 3 wrote:
Environment: Normal.
Buffs and Debuffs:
---- Round 3 ---- Lope Satire Triphylla Haste, Satire, Various other buffs Estini Satire Valeria Satire Earl Yander Haste, Cursed Diana Haste, Satire St John Haste, Satire Animate Armour Haste ---- Round 4 ---- Lope Satire Triphylla Haste, Satire, Various other buffs Estini Satire Valeria Satire Earl Yander Haste, Cursed Diana Haste, Satire St John Haste, Satire Animate Armour Haste
Damage Log:
Round: 1
Earl Yander was hit by Triphylla for 14 (total damage taken 14)
Green was hit by St John for 18 (total damage taken 18)
Triphylla was hit by Red for 6 (total damage taken 6)
Round: 2
St John was hit by Red for 12 (total damage taken 12)
Round: 3
Red was hit by Lope for 17 (total damage taken 17)
Earl Yander was hit by Triphylla for 74 (total damage taken 88)
Earl Yander was hit by Diana for 12 (total damage taken 100)
"I'm glad for Forgewise, but I still sorrow that I can't thank him or wish him farewell in turn."
Colin knew Xira meant well they all did, but as something of an introvert found himself empathising with Forgewise in a way most others probably wouldn't. Without thinking about it he blurted out suddenly, "I uhh. I think he would have found the parting too much to bear, especially after being on his own for so many years."
