Thanks again for playing everyone - This thread is no longer being monitered.
If you have any issues with your chronicle sheets, please PM or email me!
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Chronicle downloaded. Thanks for running! You did a great job. And sorry for poor participation on my behalf- it's the pbp burnout... Yea, it really seems to be going around. Wash your hands, drink lots of fluids, spend more time with your friends and family. It will clear up in no time. I'm pretty sure it's not a virus, but I think you just have to ride it out until it passes... /smirk :) -Posted with Wayfinder
Can't believe I almost forgot. I didn't forget, I think my mind just never connected it to this. 2+2 Steve. 2+2... /sigh Thanks for the reminder :)
"Thank you for your kind words Vorathan." Wulessa blushes slightly, though the concern is still clear on her face. "Impressive, Bugdip." She offers to the Grippli, encouraging the timid pathfinder. "While I appreciate your healthy respect for this archive now, I believe the proper precautions and safeguards can be put in place before exploring it further. And you will be already far off on your next adventure for the society, so you needn't worry about the same thing happening again, my friend." She smiles a genuine smile, finally breaking through some of the tears. "Surely there isn't so many places in this land that force you into an imaginary landscape of the mind?" "I shall write a full report for what happened here, and you can be sure that all of you will get glowing evaluations. Valsin still has not yet failed to send the best when requested. Of course, don't forget to write up your own reports. You may take whatever time and space you need to do it here before you leave. As Master Shaine has always said, writing things down as soon as possible helps make sure that you remember the most details." She smiles, eventually walking over to her desk.
Thanks for playing, hope you had fun. I learned a few things I think about the "GM Curtain" and hopefully as I do this more I will get better at it. I'm not sure how soon I want to kick off the next scenario, but I will keep all of you updated. This has nothing to do with any of you, and 100% to do with me making sure I am ready to commit to keeping up the tempo and pace that a good PbP game requires. I think that was my biggest issue with this game, not driving the pace consistently. That is all on me as a GM, not on you as players. I know that Damien and Chris have both already expressed their desire to stop playing PFS, with Gen Con being their 'Swan Song' in a way for PFS all-together, so if and when there is another PbP in this series, I will make sure to let you all know (and give you the first right of refusal to participate) before I go looking for others to fill the table. Please let me know when you have downloaded your chronicle sheet - I will look to deactivate this thread by the end of the weekend at the latest. Also, don't be afraid to post any wrap up. We can have a little more fun as Wulessa watches you ride off into the sunset.
Game is reported! The wife is down to watch TV with me! Chronicles out tomorrow!
Edgar slides into position. A giant ball of mud and rocks flies through the air as Vorathan dances into place. A metal box and the vile longspear clatters on the ground and for a moment time seems to stop. The momentum shift feels like the undertow of an ocean, and it drags the Archivist’s creation swiftly and suddenly into oblivion. Focused on Glarifyur and distracted by Vorathan, the creature cannot stop Edgar’s blade from piercing its crystalline side. To make matters worse, it could not hope to stop the onslaught of earth careening towards it. Instead of the mass of dirt shattering over the creature, this time it is the creature that shatters under the force of the blow. Four arms and four legs twist and flicker in a strange warp of reality and the creature begins to spiral into nothingness. Before they can react, the vortex that pulls the unfettered eidolon into the void begins to suck each of the pathfinders with it, warping the walls around them. This black hole looks to take everything around it into its depths. With a wicked, blinding flash of light the pathfinders suddenly find themselves sitting on comfortable pillows in a circle, holding hands in Wulessa’s office, back at the farseer tower as they remember it from their first visit. The curtains hang limp, and an eerie silence fills the room as they stare at each other. Slowly, Wulessa lifts her head to look at each of them before letting out a huge sigh of exhaustion and relief. ”Oh…. I… can’t thank you enough. I thought I was a goner for sure. I am so sorry…” She stops abruptly as she begins to choke up, moisture rimming her eyes. After a moment, she clears her throat and tries to begin again, but cannot keep the shakiness from her voice. ”I am so sorry for the danger I put each of you through. I was reckless, and you nearly paid a very dear price for my mistake.” She slowly stands, grabbing the scroll from the center of the circle and reverently rolling it back up. ”There is much research to do here, and I will see it done. Clearly there needs to be more safeguards put in place to ensure the safety of those who would do the research.”
If I could please get Vorathan and Edgar to update this spreadsheet with your PFS info, I will have your chronicles ready for you as soon as we finish up, which will be very very soon. Everyone but Bugdip and Tybain needs to make sure the day job information is filled out as well please!
At last the pathfinders begin to tip the scale of this harrowing combat in their favor as Tybain twists his shoulder, planting both hands firmly on the haft of the longspear and wrenching it from it’s grasp. Glarifyur smirks a dwarven smirk of confidence, and hunkers down in place, pulling his axe back and pushing his shield out in front of him in a defensive posture that was drilled into his brain by his father.
Lacking its primary, devastating weapon, the creature continues to lash out with its clawed hands at the hunkered down dwarf.
Durifyur's commands ring in Glarifyur's head, and he sees exactly why his father was so strict in these drills as his new position helps deflect the second blow, which seemed destined to hit.
:
Edgar calms his emotions, but even distracted, the creature is too nimble to be struck by the youth's blade. Nugats calls upon the earth to aid him, but mother earth is a fickle mistress. Vorathan waits for the perfect moment, and lets fly his bolt. It streaks towards the crystalline creature, and its aim could not be more true. Unfortunately the defenses that the archivist set at the beginning of this combat flare to life. The small box that the creature set in the middle of the room flares with a bright light, and the arrow takes an unnatural turn in mid-air, striking the metal box instead of the creature. The arrow tip bounces off the metal casing and falls to the floor, to everyone's dismay.
Tybain's attack is weakened by the blow he sustained, and the masked man cannot connect. The Archivist, now focused on the dwarf, realizes it cannot step back to put the paladin in range of his deadly spear. Instead, it ducks between Glarifyur and Edgar, then lashes out with his second set of hands, trying to rake the dwarf's face.
His run of supreme luck doesn't appear to be holding as he nearly loses his balance on the first swing, which clearly affects the accuracy of the second. The dwarf's defenses are too strong to penetrate this time.
:
Amphibion ichor oozes out into the glass tiled floor as Bugdip's system struggles to keep the precious fluid inside his body. Vorathan positions himself to better shoot from out of range of the deadly longspear while Edgar and Nugats try to damage the archivist more, only to miss. Glarifyur, panicked and inside the crucible of pressure and stress, shines through the chaos in a way that would make Durifyur proud. Connecting on mental wavelengths through the mental construct of space, he communicates with the guardian in a way it doesn't expect. The creatures turns to face the dwarf, clearly rattled by the paladin's bold actions.
Vorathan uses the magical flight to his advantage, but isn't quite used to the nuances, and his blade is turned aside by the creatures natural armor. Glarifyur recovers from his poorly balanced attack, and meets the same natural resistance as Vorathan. Nugats flings another blast of mud and dirt, but must try to avoid clipping his companions and as a result the mudball explodes harmlessly on the side of the creation.
Bugdip and Tybain both try to move in to the crystalline creature's new position, but could never have anticipated the thing's deadly quick reaction time. It lashes out once as Bugdip approaches, and a second time as Tybain tries to prevent leaving an opening.
Twice the longspear flashes, and twice it sinks deep into the mind-projected bodies of its victims. Bugdip is overcome from the wound, collapsing to the ground before he can strike, though his verbal barb hangs in the air. Tybain takes a similarly brutal wound, though remains standing despite the blow. Tybain's subsequent attack misses the mark, as does Edgar who trails in behind him. The crystalline creature spins to take in the dangerous threat behind him. It speaks no words to insult it by calling it a gnome, but somehow Nugats gets that sensation that if it could, it would. It lashes out quickly with its longspear before reaching back to the other creature that hit it, and tries to rake him with his claws.
The longspear sinks deep into Nugat's right shoulder, the point piercing through his back before it is ripped viciously from the wound it created. With its second set of arms, the creature gashes Edgar across the face, but the youth is simply to nimble to allow the claws to make contact. Its significant damage done, it skitters away from its previous, poor position to keep from getting surrounded even more.
:
The three melee combatants quickly close the gap between them and the archivist spawn before it has a chance to react with the longspear that suddenly appears in its hands. Bugdip’s righteous wrath guides his supremely magical blade true, cutting a deep gash in the purple belly that looks so much like his own. Nugats flings his mass of earth and mud, striking the crystalline creature square, bringing it to its knee for a moment. Glarifyur nearly trips over an imaginary catch in the glass flooring, overbalancing himself while Edgar’s rapier is turned away by the natural crystalline armor of the strange multi-armed, scarved thing in front of him. The Archivist does not speak, nor show any emotion whatsoever. It simply tries to rush past the wall of its opponents to get to the center of the room.
To everyone’s shock but its own, It makes it to its destination, pulling out a small cube and throwing it in front of him. The cube arcs a few feet through the air before stopping, suspended in the air like it is held to some imaginary fixture.
:
The bricks on the smooth, round tunnel shaped walls flicker and change in a familiar effort to communicate through images. I am conflicted. I must assimilate all knowledge, yet your proposal is intriguing to me. I lack the perspective to properly categorize or understand what has happened, but I believe my programmed purpose, at odds with my desire to add more information, has spawned a guardian. I have no control anymore, you must defeat this opposition to allow me to accept your new proposal. Subdue my uncompromising programming and purpose, and grant me the free reign to… decide. The bricks go back to their blank, checkerboard pattern again abruptly as the strange crystalline creature starts to approach. Knowledge (Planes) DC13:
:
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A form breaks away from the crystalline core and floats towards the tunnel, stopping at the end. It stares back at each of the pathfinders, daring them to come closer. Rattus:
At the end of the hall you see a figure, face wrapped in a scarf with a wide-brimmed hat. It is like you are looking in a mirror at first, until you see four arms, not two. Looking closer, you see that the face and head is not your own, but instead a crystalline structure, not unlike the strange shape of the core.
Bugdip:
At the end of the hall you see a figure with bulbous eyes and a purple belly, amphibian for sure. It is like you are looking in a mirror at first, until you see four arms, not two. Looking closer, you see that the face and head is not your own, but instead a crystalline structure, not unlike the strange shape of the core.
Glarifyur:
At the end of the hall you see a figure, short and stout. It’s mustache bears a nasty scar that won’t grow quite right. It is like you are looking in a mirror at first, until you see four arms, not two. Looking closer, you see that the face and head is actually not your own, but now instead a crystalline structure, not unlike the strange shape of the core.
Looking closer, you shake the strange mirror image of yourself from your mind, seeing the strange creature for what it truly is. Vorathan:
At the end of the hall you see a figure, dashing and ruggedly handsome. It is like you are looking in a mirror at first, until you see four arms, not two. Looking closer, you see that the face and head is not your own, but instead a crystalline structure, not unlike the strange shape of the core.
Looking closer, you shake the strange mirror image of yourself from your mind, seeing the strange creature for what it truly is. Nugats:
At the end of the hall you see a short figure, with wild hair and a cloud of dust surrounding it. It is like you are looking in a mirror at first, until you see four arms, not two. Looking closer, you see that the face and head is not your own, but instead a crystalline structure, not unlike the strange shape of the core.
Tybain:
At the end of the hall you see a figure shrouded in a cloak and wearing a metal mask. It is like you are looking in a mirror at first, until you see four arms, not two. Looking closer, you see that the mask and head is not your own, but instead a crystalline structure, not unlike the strange shape of the core.
Looking closer, you shake the strange mirror image of yourself from your mind, seeing the strange creature for what it truly is. The figure at the end of the hall stands like a gatekeeper, not yet ready to advance, but unwilling to let anyone, or anything, pass.
Glarifyur shouts out his challenge, defiance, and then a proposal. Bugdip expresses his excitement and agreement with this brilliant suggestion. Why shouldn't a person who has lived a lifetime of experiences be able to be recorded in the annals of the archive for all of time? And why should Wulessa, who still has so many more valuable experiences yet to gain, not be allowed to gain them? The image of Murqual pauses his gesticulation, obviously caught off guard by this alternative bargain presented to him. He holds the key, not quite offering it, but not quite reaching for the picture of Wulessa so vehemently anymore. Suddenly a thin man appears, as blinky and disjointed as the fat man. The pathfinders recognize him as the translater in their previous dealings with the shopkeeper. His mouth opens impossibly wide, as if to scream in protest, but no audible words come out. Even still, the pathfinders all get the unmistakeable sense he is saying, What gaurantees do I have that this subject will be back? And what have you done to prove you would bring more subjects to catalog? This is all a trick, a trick to rob me of priceless information for the archive! I am the ruler here, my will is what will be done! The thin man's eyes flash a violent red as he reaches forward to forcably rip the scroll from Glarifyur's hands, but Bugdip is having none of it. He lunges forward, waving his rapier to ward off this new threat, only to find nothing as the room melts away.
"I can feel a conflict within the archive. You must have triggered something when you bargained for my life... er, mind. Maybe the best way to describe it would be an internal struggle, though that isn't quite right for a being like the archivist who isn't constrained by time or material trappings. There is a rift in the archive now. I'm afraid there is only one way out... for all of us..." In front of the group a marquetry-adorned teak credenza sits below the painting. A drawer slides open, and inside is an oil flask, containing oil of greater magic weapon. Wulessa, entrapped in the painting for this portion of their mind bending journey, suddenly gets a worried look on her face. Her legs lift into the space behind her and she clings to the sides of the portrait as if they were handles, and she were being sucked or swept away into some void behind her. Panic crosses her face and she begins to scream, sliding her left hand over next to her right, on the side of the painting and hanging on for dear life as some unseen force threatens to carry her away in an invisible vortex. The edge of the painting suddenly breaks free from the wall with Wulessa still holding on stubbornly. It swings into the wallspace like a door being yanked open from a wild storm. It catches and holds for a split second, and everything seems to be frozen in place. Suddenly the painting breaks free once more, swinging inward to the wall. The pathfinders find themselves inexplicably sucked into a darkened vortex, following the image of their venture captain as everything they see blinks into a black void. The sensation of spinning and falling is nearly overwhelming, made worse by the lack of a fixed perspective visually. Finally the sensation simply stops, and a slightly less dark corridor can be seen in front of the group. Taking tenative steps forward, The passage opens upon a tunnel to oblivion. Smooth glass walls stretch fifty or sixty feet, ending abruptly in a maw open to the void. The crystalline structure floating in the void’s heart somehow hovers mere feet away from the tunnel’s end. From this close, it resembles a torus of jagged crystals, slowly revolving around a core of flashing light and mist.
Bugdip charges at the image of the fat shopkeeper, and is unsurprised to find nothing in front of him, no substance to attack. The facsimile of Murqual’s shop shimmers like a heat mirage, transforming into the familiar meeting room in Farseer Tower. Familiar, at least, in shape. The furnishings are different, more resembling a grandmother’s cozy tea room than the stark, studious place where this journey began. Intricately brocaded settees and poufs clutter the room, while elaborate tapestries cover almost every inch of the walls. One of these, a floor length cerulean silk curtain, is embroidered with a portrait of Wulessa Yuul. Her arms are folded across her chest, and a look of distaste resides upon her face. After a moment, the image of Wulessa turns, and begins to speak.“When I first became Venture-Captain and took charge of Farseer Tower, this was how the place looked. The whole tower. My predecessor was more concerned with frippery and luxuries than with hard-won knowledge and diligence. If this becomes my final view of the tower, it might be the greatest indignity of all.” She shakes her head in disgust, then turns to the group, addressing them directly. “I think you are close to the end. I can feel the archivist pausing its work with me to face you directly. The shadows you fought before now were a reflexive response, like sweeping cobwebs from one’s face. Now I think you have its full attention. I don’t think it can appear directly. Its essence is split across all the archive’s scrolls, but whatever form it takes will have considerably more power than the things you’ve fought before now.” "I can help you one last time. I will do my best to answer any last questions you might have, and I can offer one more spell to you, you need only name it."
The pathfinders look around, frustrated and angry at the strange and confusing circumstances. Behind them, the glass portcullis glints in the otheworldly light, barring their way to the corridor beyond.
In his frustration, Bugdip throws his scabbard across the room, angry with his perceived lack of effectiveness. Somewhere in his head he hears a voice, familiar, yet foreign. He can't quite place its source, or who it reminds him of. Do not worry my little disciple, all in due time. All in due time. Meanwhile, his scabbard spins across the room towards the portcullis.
The scabbard hits the fragile portcullis in just the right spot and the entire barrier shatters in impressive display. The way beyond is now open. Walking down the yet unexplored hallway, The walls, floors and ceilings once again melt away into a space now familiar to the pathfinders, Palhuna Murqual's shop. As the door opens, a familiar bell tinkles overhead, letting Palhuna Murqual know that his shop has visitors once more. The setting has changed subtly since earlier; while the shop’s layout remains the same, the wares previously displayed in cases and on the walls are missing. In their places are keys of all shapes, sizes, and construction. The fat man saunters in, though it is clear that something is wrong with this place, this memory. The image of the merchant is flickery, and seems to jump when observed in periphial vision. He does not speak, as before, and begins to flap and slap his arms in exaggerated motions that seem to have no basis in any actual sign language. In his gesticulation, he produces an exquisite golden key. Glarifyur finds, inexplicably, in his hands a scroll, upon which is painted the face of Wulessa. Subconciously, each pathfinder understands what he is trying to say. If I cannot kill you to eliminate you, I will allow you to leave, peacefully. However, you must give up on your efforts to reclaim the one I am loading into the archive. She is mine. I hold no ill will against you, and so you may simply leave, as long as you leave her to me. A door that wasn't there before appears behind the merchant. He waggles his fingers at Glarifyur emphatically as if to say Gimme gimme gimme! indicating the picture of Wulessa, while offering the golden key to everyone.
The group continues to flail and smack uselessly at the powerful statue. The hardended clay exterior of the shadow conjuration turns away each blow with regularity, making the pathfinders wonder just how long they can keep up with this hamster wheel of futility. Perhaps the Archivist should have put more effort into its plan to sweep away the nuisance, as this current one seemed to be deadlocked in nothingness for eternity. Finally, the Bugdip ducks and rolls to get out of the mindless hack and slash of this melee, prompting the statue to take a swing. However, Nugat's blast has removed its right arm. As it raises its left to take a swipe, that also falls off. In moments, the entire clay statue is nothing but a pile of rubble on the glass tiled floor, and then almost instantly becomes a translucent haze of shadow that is wiped away by the pulsating glow of the tile walls.
The pathfinders stand around, staring at each other for a moment. To one side of the room the purplish vortex continues to spin, while on the other side a glass portcullis bars the way into the hallway beyond where the statue once stood.
Glarifyur laments that he doesn't have the weapon of his deity, and tries to see if he can carve a deep enough gash to make something count.
Unfortunately, like his friends, he just can't seem to connect. The construct of clay and shadow swings again at Rattus, unthinkingly trying to pulverize him into oblivion.
Both of Edgar's attempts to deflect the massive blows are crushed under the massive weight of the statue's slam attacks.
:
Bugdip and Tybain's fates are the same as the rest of their companions, their swings ineffective. The statue remains unthinking, and continues its assault on the thin man.
Edgar sees the attack coming, and raises his blade to try to deflect the incoming blow.
And successfully pushes the stony fist away.
As the second swing comes in, Edgar tries to do the same thing, but unfortunately there is no weight in his attempt, and the statue crushes his arm into his chest for the effort. Edgar:
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Stealing moment to tell you I will get an update tonight - selling girl scout cookies with my daughter today. We camped out in a bank lobby on a Friday/payday. It's working out well so far.... :) -Posted with Wayfinder
Yes it is a large creature. Sorry if the artwork is leading to confusion... The icon should be big enough to take up 4 squares, even with the weird 3d-ish thing going on. And yes, you are correct, the flanking helps, but not quite enough... This time. -Posted with Wayfinder
The group surrounds the clay statue, a holdover from Wulessa’s previous memory that the Archivist has commandeered in an effort to whip the pathfinders from the Monadistic Archive. They lash and slash and bash, but their attacks are rebuffed at every turn. Some of them are able to see the shadow illusion for what it is, but others still struggle with making the connection.
:
Glarifyur:
Glarifyur's blade skips off the hardened clay statue to his dismay. In his head the sounds of young dwarven voices ring off of deep cavern walls. Suddenly it dawns on him that the game goes like this - Clay covers Axe, Axe breaks Hammer, Hammer shatters Clay. At least, thats how the kids sang it until the Priests of Torag would come and correct them all. Something about the hammer shattering and reforging everything. The priests never could seem to just enjoy a little fun and games. Tybain, Edgar, Glarifyur:
The clay and stone shape of the statue fades into a semi-transluscent shell, with a shadowy, roiling substance revealed inside. Just as the belkers before this, the statue is revealed to be yet another shadow conjuration. Vorathan, Nugats: Though Bugdip wasn't wrong last time, you just can't seem to make the same connection this time. The statue looks as real as ever, and incredibly dangerous.
Bugdip lashes out with his rapier, allowing the fates to help guide the pointy end. Unfortunatly, the fates are not so kind, and he misses. Tybain positions himself to take advantage of teamwork, however his powerful punch is turned aside by the creatures hardened clay exterior.
Bugdip:
The clay and stone shape of the statue fades into a semi-transluscent shell, with a shadowy, roiling substance revealed inside. Just as the belkers before this, the statue is revealed to be yet another shadow conjuration. The creature is unthinking and uncaring. It moves to the closest target, which happens to be the agile swashbuckler. It swings its arms in an attempt to slam the thin youth into oblivion.
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Edgar:
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The walls flash images of a flushed rat returning to its nest time and again until it is killed by the housekeeper. The image then shows an extensive passage of time while the nest remains empty. The pathfinders sense that the Archivist is saying, Kill? Remove? These things are not different to me. I will sweep you away, and you will no longer bother me and my domain. :
The glass blocks go back to their base, checkerboard pattern and resume their soft, pulsating glow. Suddenly the giant statue animates and breaks free from its platform, holding its arms out wide in a menacing fashion.
:
Vorathan circles around to prevent the shadow demon from moving at will around the room. Bugdip has had enough, however, and decides it is time to end this little game. A bolt of pure energy shoots across the short distance in a flash of light, connecting with the smoke monster. It's shadowy mouth opens in mock pain and horror as it whithers away and disappears from sight.
"Oh, thank the gods you are all right!" the disembodied figment of Wulessa's head exclaims. Simultaneously to her cry, a panel falls from one of the walls onto the catwalk. Walking over to inspect, the group sees the icon that Wulessa spoke of searching for when this scene played out in real life. However, instead of shining gold, the group at once notices that icon is made of glass. This realization sets off another mind melding, environment melting experience. Wulessa’s memories fade into a different reality as the stone walls again become glass. The room’s dimensions remain the same, but the altar, catwalks, and vents all vanish. The statue remains, but its form distorts into that of a featureless humanoid, all signs of either demonic or Wulessa’s likeness melting away. Beneath the statue, a glass portcullis blocks off another passageway. Opposite the passage and statue the wall once again crumbles away into a fathomless void. Though they were standing on the catwalks only moments before, the pathfinders find themselves on the floor level of this altered room. The glass blocks, which start out in their checkered, pulsating pattern, begin to flash and change as before. The Archivist is trying to communicate once again. The pathfinders see images of Wulessa's face being drawn onto a scroll, rolled up and placed reverently inside the Monadistic Archive chest. Then they see a montage of images of her life beside piles of coins, jewels, and other valuables, growing alonside her life experiences. Finally it shows scenes of the pathfinders, equated to a nest of rodents rummaging in the walls of a well-ordered house. In all of this, the pathfinders get the profound sense that the Archivist is trying to tell them, Wullessa will be added to the archive, and there is nothing you can do about it. Her rich experiences are a treasure trove of knowledge, and invaluable to this place. While I was curious about you at first, you have proven to be a nuisance, and must be swept away. I hold no grudge against you, but you cannot be allowed to continue to infest my domain.
Yes, force effects bypass the dr -Posted with Wayfinder
Vorathan looses another arrow, but his nerves affect the trajectory, and the bolt goes wide. Bugdip tries to stab at the smoky demon as Tybain coughs it out of his lungs, however his rapier tip goes just wide of it’s target. Glarifyur’s patron grants him a magical edge to his weapon, and he makes it count. Where the natural armor of a belker would have turned his blade aside, its smoky form offers it no protection from sheer, brute force. A bluish white light flares up in the wake of his axe sweeping through the heart of the shadowy monstrosity. For a split second Glarifyur could swear he saw the visage of Durifyur’s face, opening his mouth wide and swallowing the shadow. He blinks once, twice, and sees neither the bluish flame, nor the shadow in the spot next to him any longer. Rattus dances around the catwalk trying to provoke the smoke monster into attacking him. It’s current focus on Tybain prevents it from doing so, and Rattus strikes out with his rapier. A perfect balance of form, Rattus’ blade strikes true, however the smoke monster seems to show no ill effects. Hacking and sputtering, black smoke pours out of Tybain’s mouth and nose like a trail of gaseous vomit. He lashes out at the shadow monster that he is successfully able to cough out of his lungs, connecting with the creature, however the smoky form just rolls around, as if it felt no effects from the attack. Nugats tries his blast of dirt and stone once again. Just before he releases, Bugdip and Rattus reach with their rapiers to skewer the thing, and Nugats is forced to course correct at the last second to avoid hitting his friends. This correction forces his spear of stone wide of its mark. Assaulted from all angles, the Belker seems not to care. It narrows its red eyes at Tybain for expelling it, and roils itself up to try again.
Moving in to infect its enemies lungs again, the smoke creature surrounds Bugdip, swirling over his amphibion nostrils
The frog is too savvy, however, being accustomed to holding his breath underwater.
:
My apologies to everyone for the delays in this game. It isn't moving very fast and that is really my fault for not updating it enough. We are probably still another week or two away from finishing up, depening on how this and future combats go. Because Glarifyur and Vorathan will be joining us for Gen Con, I really want to get through more scenarios, in an effort to get their characters to some decent levels for the content we hope to play. I know that is incumbent on me to help us get through the content leading up to Gen Con as well, so I will work to make sure we arent' slowing down like we have been. Again, just want to apologize. I'll get better. :)
The malevolent smoke forms glare at the pathfinders with their evil red eyes. Trailing wisps of smoke they fly with unnatural speed from the ground up to the catwalks.
The smoke monsters rush through the grating, surrounding Tybain and Glarifyur, infecting the air they are trying to breath. Glarifyur takes a swing at the creature, but his axe is unable to find purchase in the shadowy creature.
Glarifyur’s dwarven hardiness helps him to avoid breathing too much of the smoke in, but Tybain is not as fortunate. Gasping for air, he sucks an unfortunate amount of the smoke into his lungs, which begins to start to tear him apart from the inside.
:
No... You passed a will save to recognize that they are shadow illusions. As belkers, a cr 6 monster, they are currently in gaseous form, which gives them dr10/magic. The thing that supposedly makes this a cr 1 encounter is that they are shadow illusions and therefore only have 20% hit points. Because you recognize them as illusions, they only do 20% damage as well. I personally think putting level 1 characters against creatures with such advanced defenses is a stupid and lazy way to create an encounter. -Posted with Wayfinder
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Bugdip shouts his warning to his compatriots, and it is as if a veil is lifted from their eyes and minds. Each member of the mindscape strike team notices the forms they saw before are only transparent images superimposed on vague, shadowy forms.
Bugdip:
Vorathan's bolt flies true, but manages to pass right through the smoky creature's gaseous form, with nothing for the arrow tip to split and tear. Nugats is less lucky with his powerful blast, the mass of earth flying wide of its target as the red, evil eyes of the smoke monster bore into the souls of the pathfinders above. Behind them, Wulessa shouts, "Watch out for their claws! And don't breath that smoke in if they get on top of you!"
:
Dull, red eyes, grasping claws, and leathery wings give a demonic aspect to this creature's smoky form. Both of them look up to the catwalks as Bugdip looses his magical bolt. Bugdip: [GM roll offscreen]
As your magic missile strikes the smoke form, you notice the forms you saw before are only transparent images superimposed on vague, shadowy forms. The missile seems to have some sort of damaging effect, just as you would expect it to.
I am still learning nuances and other things about this whole GM chair. As I mentioned in the gameplay thread, I have some issues with how these encounters are set up. We can talk more details later, maybe its not as bad as I think it is, but I think its bad and lazy. This encounter has the chance to be incredibly challenging, even though it is only listed as a CR1 encounter. With that said, I am happy to retcon your potion choice based on teh information you have. This is one of the things I should have realized sooner and gave you better opportunity to react. I hate hate hate "Gotcha" GMing. Thats what this encounter feels like already. Hopefully my annoyance doesn't spoil your fun, I'll still do my best to make it fun for you, but ... well... Issues. Again, we can talk more later. Maybe I am crazy, and you guys can show me the error of my ways. Or maybe you will confirm what I think. Until then, I'll do my best not to ruin anything for you and make sure you are still having fun :)
"They were Belkers! Air elementals of smoke and evil! Two of the agents died in that fight.." Wulessa trails off, saddened by the memory and simultaneously worried about history repeating itself.
Armed with the information, the pathfinders grit their teeth as the smoke swirls below, coalescing into two misty, smoky creatures. "Remember this is all in my mind! Fight back!" Wulessa implores as the smoky monsters ascend from the floor. :
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[ooc]Active Global Conditions: Normal light.
"The rope at your feet! It is a rope of climbing! Use that instead!" the disembodied head of Wulessa cries. |