Chelman, or the twisted wreckage that was once the proprietor of the Theatre Infernalis, sloughs forward leaving a trail of black ichor behind 'him'... the effect, tragically comical, is not unlike that of a slug. Dead eyes fix upon the group as he opens his mouth... the lower mandible drooping lower than should be anatomically possible and a miasma of vapours pours from his throat... the last thing the group sees before the billowing cloud engulfs them, is Chelman attempting to stand upon the stumps of his knees.
There is now Partial Concealment within the room... 20% miss chance to all attacks
...and the vigour, that had been sapped by the visions within the mirror maze, of the group starts to return.
Everyone may act now - the STR penalty will only last this first round of combat.
Erkkkkk... that is some seriously low Strength going on!!!
From the gloom lurches the broken form of the demon-warped Chelman, the proprietor of the theatre. His legs have been torn off below the knees, and his limp and broken body is bloated like a waterlogged corpse, infused with a viscous, writhing black tar that oozes from every wound. As it draws close, the group can see the nail plunged squarely into a smouldering wound in the crown of the pathetic creature’s head.
Ahhhh... what a shame but totally understand having been through something similar!!! I'll totally miss Ziomarra but at least we got through two full chapters of Shattered Star with her... she was a cool character and really worked well in the campaign.
What are other folks' feelings? Happy to continue, to wait until we see if Teldon returns or prefer to stop at this point... I'm certainly up for running the next part of the adventure but no pressure if people don't want to commit.
Apologies... I posted last week at the same time as in my one other game - and the forum goblins must have eaten it...
Also, if you ever have the chance, Rhodes Town in Greece is amazing!!! So much of the medieval town remains - and in pretty much the same condition as hundreds of years ago...
It has been, by reckoning of the season's passage and the transit of the moon, no more than a month since the group left Magnimar on their adventure... and, to the untrained eye, little has changed in the great city - the docks still ring out with the noises of unloading cargoes, the markets that stretch away from the quayside still ply a wild range of colourful goods, and the climb towards the upper class mansions where the Heidmarches reside is still a mixture of tedious queues and vertiginous views. But, to those who know the City of Monuments, the tell tale signs are there... the fruit and vegetables being sold tell of an approaching autumn, the notices and banners tell of fayres anticipated in the latter half of the year - and the puddles (and, in places, streams along the roadways) suggest that the rains have truly arrived.
...and finally, after their time away - after the horrors of what lurked beneath the Lady's Light, the defeat of one who would call herself Sorshen and the ultimate redemption of some of Queen Ileosa's guard - the group arrive at the porchway of the Heidmarch manor. Some more changed than others...
What follows, amid a flurry of surprise, welcomes and re-introductions, eventually arrives at the group seated - as they had been not so very long ago - around the table in the Pathfinder Lodge... and Lady Heidmarch quizzing them about their adventure, what they had learned and, eventually, what they plan next.
Wow... Rhodes!!! Medieval city with almost entirely intact city walls that you can walk around plus a rabbit warren of ancient alleyways, etc - just fantastic... if you ever have the opportunity to visit the Greek Islands, I can 100% recommend it - genuinely amazing.
Onwards, and into the disorienting maze, the group push on... Drin, stabilised but barely conscious, being left behind in the chamber. The heat is oppressive and, moving around in peripheral vision, the adventurers repeatedly see skittering shapes within the labyrinth... real or imagined, the nagging feeling that there is something accompanying the group is ever present...
GM Only:
1d6 ⇒ 2
...and then, just as the friends feel that they are nearing the end of the maze, they arrive at what appears to be a dead end - stopping for a moment, each are confronted with the vision of small winged quasits tugging and pulling on the four corners of the mirror they are staring at... horrifically stretching the subject’s reflection. Each viewer takes a temporary 1d6 ⇒ 4 penalty to Strength, as if affected by Ray of Enfeeblement. A successful DC 12 Fortitude save reduces this penalty by half.
Queasy, and disoriented, the group finally emerge from the maze - extreme heat seems to have melted the walls and displays of the final chamber of the spookshow; the wire framework and clockwork mechanics of the boulders that once stood here are now exposed in scorched, jumbled, and half-melted piles. The silver tracings of the visible half of the summoning circle arcs across the floor, and the exit lift beckons beyond that.
...and there, slumped in the circle, a vaguely humanoid shape is lethargically moving around.
Hey cool kids... sorry for the slowdown, I've been getting ready to go on holiday for the last week (we're off on a family jaunt to Greece) and tomorrow, we're off!!! Not sure I'll have interwebs so not sure I'll move us along until next weekend... 'pologies!!!
Hey cool kids... sorry for the slowdown, I've been getting ready to go on holiday for the last week (we're off on a family jaunt to Greece) and tomorrow, we're off!!! Not sure I'll have interwebs so not sure I'll move us along until next weekend... 'pologies!!!
Emerging from the depths of the boat, each of them battered and traumatised from events since the boat moored, the crew are grateful for the protection and for the healing that they receive... barely noting the flying cat - for maybe he has seen far more bizarre things in his time, the captain explains that the bottle from which the spectre had emerged had been pulled from a net. It was a moment of incaution that had led to one of the crew members opening the bottle... and the rest, the terror of the creature, the group well know...
Careful examinations and explorations around the boat confirm that, if there was ever anyone controlling the polong, there is no-one within any distance of the vessel... and so, with a watch set for the night, the crew - and the friends - finally rest.
The next morning brings a gentle wind accompanied by a grey drizzle - and, with a final eye to the radiance still burning from the Lady's Light, the Wanton Ways raises anchor and fills it sails... visibility, as the boat skirts along the coast, is poor and with such morose weather, there is little to raise the spirits until nightfall approaches... the group hear it a long time before they see it, the sound of other shipping, the occasional tolling of bells, and - in time - other voices calling to each other... and, as the indistinct shadows of the Irespan loom above them, the friends are finally back in Magnimar.
...and with Ziomarra acting quickly, her card slicing through the air with a pulsating radiance, the bottle shatters into thousands of shards... and the aura, so strong moments ago, evaporates to nothing.
The rising heat, the vaguely sulphurous fumes that are seeping through the corridors and the increasingly uneasy feeling pervading through the Theatre all suggest that there is little time now to rest... something bad is happening here and it may soon be too late to stop it. With the trapdoor through which the group had fallen now latched closed again, it seems the only way forwards - short of attempting to tear down the walls - is through the maze.
Joanna - the bottle, and the smear of blood across the deck, is darkly radiating a malevolent evil...
Ziomarra - the creature, as Arsith had previously deduced but not been able to say much about, is almost certainly a polong...
Polongs are the spirits of murderers who have been magically bound to a bottle. Whoever possesses a polong’s bottle can command the creature to carry out murderous acts. Necromancers, cultists, and assassins sometimes use polongs to perform assassinations from afar. Commanding polongs is dangerous, however, as their desire to kill makes them turn on their own masters if given the chance.
When a polong’s bottle is opened, the creature manifests as a blood-drenched spirit with hands transformed into long claws. Its thirst for violence and murder twists its distorted features into a hateful visage. Polongs remember little of their past lives, their own thoughts turned to committing the heinous acts commanded by their masters.
Velrun's axe, somehow expertly wielded this time, takes the zombie's head off at the shoulders... what would have caused a fountain of blood on a living foe brings nothing more than a grim ooze of dark material from the heinous wound. With the pair of ex-Theatre employees dealt with, it takes a few minutes of ministrations to bring Drin back to consciousness... but it is clear that he is in no fit state to continue the fight...
...the way forwards, into the depths of the spookshow, seem ever more perilous - the mirrors of the reflective maze ahead of the friends are now somewhat warped and bowed, as if half-melted by some hellish heat.
Something rudimentary, a long suppressed biological imperative for survival, stops the last zombie's initial feeding upon Drin. Standing clumsily, the thing that was once a woman called Cynthia turns towards Oscar with vacant eyes and a slack mouth...
Clambering up the ladders that take the party back to the deck is a full rounds worth of actions... however...
Clambering up the ladder, maybe not quite as quickly or as freely as when she had first descended below decks, Joanna is the first to see the mist - barely visible in the darkness of the night - collect behind a pair of barrels. And, as she draws closer with dripping sword still drawn, she watches it dissipate... until all that is left is a puddle of blood and a barnacle encrusted bottle...
The creature, face now contorted with a long forgotten agony, is more mist than anything semi-corporeal now... the continued assault from the group rendering it perilously close to a second death. Turning upwards, as it moves backwards from Joanna, the thing 'passes' through the timbers of the low ceiling - leaving a slow 'drip, drip, drip' of blood as it does so...
GM Only:
Polong = 91 damage
Polong, Withdraw Action - and Incorporeal / Flight upwards
Arsith's weapon, wielded with a cold passion, strikes its target true.... smashing into, and through, the apparition - an arc of gore splashing outwards as the warpriest's weapon arm swings around...
The burst of energy, pulsating in the darkness as Briana calls to the primal spirits, washes over Joanna... bolstering her even as the monstrous creature looms over her...
Waiting on actions from Shadlah, Joanna, Arsith, Ziomarra and Teldon
And... to make sure we don't end up in dragged out combats (my fault for waiting on actions in the last round), I'll actively GMPC or delay people after 24 hours.
Euphemia, relying on sounds and instinct more than anything else, misses wildly as she staggers around with her blade... Velrun, on the other hand, smashes his axe deep into the neck of the reanimated theatre worker. It jerks twice against the impact, either in surprise or by some rudimentary instinct trying to pull clear of the blade, before falling still...
Brarl is now 'dead' (technically it was already dead... but you know what I mean!!!0 leaving just one enemy
Shadlah's blast rips stone from somewhere deep below the vessel and tears it upwards... and through the gore soaked apparition!!! Even more diminished now (under 50% health remaining), it moans a silent refrain towards its attackers and, once more slashes at the Iomedean...
GM Only:
Polong = 47 damage
Polong, Incorporeal Touch vs Joanna: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24, hitting for 6d8 ⇒ (8, 5, 5, 2, 3, 1) = 24 damage plus Bleed and Terrible Wounds
Hopeful eyes, sunken into the darkness at the rear of the hold where the sailors had retreated to, watch on as the heroes turn the battle in their favour...
Sorry folks... I just got snagged up with doing things once more - I waited for some Ziomarra / Teldon stuff before realising that Teldon was super busy and away... ok, let's do this!!! Also, hearing you on the dungeon crawl aspect... bearing it in mind for the next section of the adventure!!!
Flames, cold but intensely bright, wreath Euphemia in a veil of ultraviolet - blinking and rubbing her eyes, she staggers away from the fake fire.... past the attackers who have started to chew at the unconscious Drin. Neither Oscar nor Velrun, who are unaffected by the light, can land a blow...
Both Brarl and Cynthia are attacking the prone Drin
Sorry folks... Easter holidays!!!! Totally cleared the decks now though... let's PbP!!!
This time, maybe girded to fury by Drin falling, the friends are far more deadly in their attacks - steel strikes again and again as the group push the things that were once human backwards and away from their dying comrade...
GM Only:
Cynthia = 2 damage, Brarl = 6 damage
Growling, a low bestial noise that belies the thought of any remaining humanity, the attackers shove Velrun and Euphemia backwards - away from their dying meal and back towards the rear of the chamber...
Brarl, Bull Rush vs Velrun: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18, Velrun is pushed back 5ft
Cynthia, Bull Rush vs Euphemia: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21, Euphemia is pushed back 10ft
There is a sudden noise of rushing gas... and the heat at the back wall of the room soars...
Joanna, her wounds staunched by Arsith almost as quickly as they were rent upon her, steps forwards with righteous indignation... and her blade, singing in the dismal light, slices twice through the apparition. Somewhat diminished it wavers...
Polong, Reflex Save vs Entangling Hex: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
...and barely slips the bonds that Briana would have placed upon her.
GM Only:
Polong = 35 damage
Shadlah - you are outside of the creature's immediate reach so you are able to act with a degree of freedom - don't forget everyone within the Polong's aura is Shaken
There is a stench of burning flesh as one of the re-animated corpses recoils from Euphemia's touch... staggered somewhat by the attack, the retaliatory lurch forwards is clumsy and feeble. Drin, on the other hand is inexpert with his swinging axe and leaves himself open to the crunching attack of Brarl... and he falls backwards, unconscious...
Yeah - and on the topic of posting / availability, it is the Easter holidays here with the kids so there are going to be a couple of days over the next couple of weeks where I'm unlikely to be near the interwebs...
The malevolent silence which had somehow descended over the unfolding horror is split apart by the explosion of rock in front of Shadlah... fragments of granite and basalt scream towards, and through, her foe with an increasing resonance. There is an enduring ringing in everyone's ears as the crimson apparition, slightly diminished but radiating evil, rushes at the group...
GM Only:
Polong = 15 damage
Polong's Murderous Intent Aura... anyone approaching the Polong (within 30ft) will, as an Immediate Action, be demoralised: 1d20 + 24 ⇒ (17) + 24 = 41
So that's a 41 against a DC of 10 plus character's HD (8) plus their Wisdom Modifier... so people entering the aura will be Shaken!!!
...and, with savage claws ghosting into reality, it slashes venomously at Joanna.
Polong, Incorporeal Touch vs Joanna: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (7) + 12 = 19, hitting for 6d8 ⇒ (4, 4, 4, 1, 6, 8) = 27 damage plus Bleed and Terrible Wounds
Joanna - each round that you take bleed damage from the polong's touch attack, you must succeed at a DC20 Fortitude saving throw or take 2 points of Constitution damage.
Safe travels. Hope you don't have to deal with idiots like the one that pulled out in front of my sister this morning. She's fine save some bruising and chemical burns, but there's some wondering if her car's going to be totaled.
The hatch down into the cargo hold, out of view upon the initial clamber aboard, has been smashed upon and the ladder downwards - towards an increasing clamour - is green slick with seaweed... rushing towards the fight below decks, and past one fallen sailor - face down and with barnacles embedded with the wound that felled him, the group move to rescue the crew from whatever has attacked from the depths....
...and there, cornered towards the prow of the boat and near shrouded in darkness, the remaining crew members are valiantly fending off some form of spectral humanoid that, floating just above the floor, drips with blood and weeds. Turning to face the new arrivals, the creature hisses with malice and the blazing aura that shrouds its skeletal face burns with renewed vigour...
Initiative Order Shadlah then Polong then Ziomarra, Teldon, Arsith, Joanna and Briana
Shadlah may act first
Knowledge (Religion) DC18:
Polongs are the spirits of murderers who have been magically bound to a bottle. Whoever possesses a polong’s bottle can command the creature to carry out murderous acts. Necromancers, cultists, and assassins sometimes use polongs to perform assassinations from afar. Commanding polongs is dangerous, however, as their desire to kill makes them turn on their own masters if given the chance.
When a polong’s bottle is opened, the creature manifests as a blood-drenched spirit with hands transformed into long claws. Its thirst for violence and murder twists its distorted features into a hateful visage. Polongs remember little of their past lives, their own thoughts turned to committing the heinous acts commanded by their masters.
Polongs are incorporeal and any wounds caused by their ravaging claws will bleed horrifically...
There is no map for this encounter... theatre of the mind time!!!
That is three of the 'Crooked Nails' that you now have... nice work.
The thick haze of smoke makes the flickering light in this room even more disturbing... and Oscar's illumination, whilst providing some visibility, does little to ease the bizarre atmosphere. And it feels almost inevitable when, with a groaning and dragging sound, the animated corpses of the Theatre's actors emerge through the smoke and lights... their eyes are dead and their mouths slackly open as they stumble forwards with flailing arms...
Rowenna, flitting ahead of the climbing humans, is the first to see the dead stillness of the empty deck... and, as the rest of the group - more laboured in their clambering up ropes - arrive, that stillness remains. The boat is not one of the larger trading vessels that routinely sail past these ways and has a crew of little more than ten hands... but, other than a half eaten meal scattered across the deck and a set of knives discarded in a heap, there is little sign of them.
It is Briana, or maybe her companion, who notices the wrongness first... the wet footprints along the other side of the deck, the seaweed that is bizarrely trailed across the railings opposite them and now, hanging morosely in the air, the scent of death and decay...
...and from below decks, the sudden sound of steel upon steel!!!
The cold light of the stars twinkling down upon the gentle waves of the bay makes the night feel colder than it truly is... and the frigid worry of the quickly extinguishing lanterns makes it worse still. With the jagged rocks of the shoals making the row out to the ship a treacherous, and slow, proposition it takes far longer to get to the 'Wanton Ways' than the corresponding trip to shore a week or so ago...
...the ship is not a large vessel and, from fifty feet away, it is possible to see that the decks are devoid of life - before a shroud of fog settles upon it. Securing the small boat to the ropes trailing from the starboard side, the group quietly listen... but in place of the noisy work of a merchant vessel, a deathly silence is upon the ship.
Caught by surprise as the trapdoor latches open, both Euphemia and Oscar plummet downwards... following the remains of Luther as they slip, with an unpleasant slickness, from the opened floor. Crashing to the floor, (taking 1d6 ⇒ 1 falling damage) they find themselves in the lower levels of the labyrinth... with Velrun and Drin, both barely avoiding the fall, looking down from above...
The flickering light of an askew light reflector creates a strange strobe effect in this chamber, as unearthly shadows dance and play on the plastered-rock walls like an insane children’s magic lantern.
Perception DC20:
There is a residual heat on the walls and floor here... and blackened scorch marks - more evident at the rear wall than anywhere else - tell their own story.
Actions? Velrun can jump down with no risk of falling damage.
Luther's axe slams down upon the flailing form of Luther and, with a crunching finality of shattering bone, ends the threat. No longer pulling at the entrails trapped in the floor mechanism, he slowly - and grimly - slides back towards the central part of the painted 'Maelstrom' floor... and, as his weight moves into the centre of the trapdoor mechanism, a latch releases and the floor opens!!!
Acrobatics Check (DC12) to jump clear of the opening floor and avoid falling...
It takes a couple of hours between first seeing 'The Wanton Ways' before the sails on the horizon and it finally anchoring out beyond the shallow shoals of the cape... the warm wisps of sunset are fading to be replaced by the cold light of the stars and, reflected upon the lapping waves, the lanterns of the boat.
Maroux huffs at the young lady's question, the suggestion that the witch 'needs' to do anything is clearly something that she would disagree with, "They came... they explored the Lady's Light and then, they left again - don't know how and I didn't go looking... they didn't bother me, didn't ask for anything and haven't left any troubles behind them... left me be so I left them be". And if Joanna made any attempt to further explore the question... Maroux will reiterate exactly what she has already said...
The days pass surprisingly quickly while the group camp out on the Lady's Cape... the simple joy of the sun's rise and passage across the sky followed by the beauty of clear star-filled nights are in marked contrast to the chaos and the pain of the days beneath the Lady's Light. Despite Maroux's conviction that the land and sea provide meagre pickings, the friends have few troubles foraging for rations to last them the four days until the arrival of the 'Wanton Ways' is anticipated...
And then finally, late in the evening of the fifth day and with the threat of the weather turning, the recognisable sails - scarlet and gold - of the boat appear upon the horizon...
Any last business before we wrap up here on the Lady's Cape and we turn the story on towards Magnimar once more?
Velrun's tune, hummed above the dissonance of the carnival music echoing through the passageways, guides Euphemia and Oscar's hands... first the witch's hands brand a fearsome scar across Luther's brow - and then Oscar's blade near cleaves the head from the zombie's shoulders...
Skipping forwards with undue frivolity, Drin brings his axe down...
After helping herself, Maroux doesn't ask whether anyone else wants the dregs of the pot, to more porridge, the hermit starts fussing, "Well, you can't stay here in my hut... there's no room... no room... a whole week???!! And you can keep your madman away from my island whilst you are here as well... all that doom and gloom, why can't he simply enjoy the sun on his face without endlessly preaching that these are the last days???"
...and then she says something that seems to make little sense, "The others, the cloaked folk, they left as soon as they were done... no need to linger, no need to linger... I won't cook for you anymore!!! The sea and marsh offers little food... you must look out for yourselves". Huffing slightly, she returns to scraping the last of the oats from the blackened pot.
Ziomarra's observation that the demon who had taken Sorshen's form is slain and her explanation as to why she now inhabits the body is hardly questioned by the witch, "There are stranger things beneath the sun and the stars than you standing here before me in this guise... I have no cause to doubt what you say is true and, if it troubles you not, then I say go forth into the world as you now are..."
The smell from Jo's porridge, if it can truly be called that, fills Maroux's hut... it is cloying, strangely acrid and showing no sign of dispersing. Yet, for all that, Maroux tucks into the gloop with some enthusiasm, "Oats!!! Oats!!! It has been an age since I tasted these", wistfully she continues, "...it must be many seasons ago that such a thing washed up on the rocks here. The sea occasionally offers up cargos and goods intended for the cities... speaking of which, what are your plans now? You will return to your homes... and leave us alone to find a new balance without the Lady of the Light tipping the scales to her needs?" The question isn't forceful nor would it seem to imply that Maroux wants the group gone - it's more that she sees little reason for the adventurers to be here anymore...
The animated puppet, grotesque as it is, that had once been Luther - or at least the upper half of Luther - is really little threat to the group... it is mindless, tangled by its own entrails and has nothing more than a rusty nail to offer as a threat... so, saving their oils and greases for a fight yet to come, the group make their way back into the sppokshow. They hear 'Luther' long before they see him again... a hideous half creature that slashes uselessly at Oscar as he moves around it...
Okay - rather than rolling initiative, I'm going to let you folks have the first round in combat.
Euphemia's examination of the axes reveals, maybe unsurprisingly given the other fake occult memorabilia scattered around the place, that the markings on the axes are nothing more than cheap imitations... but the axes themselves - they are robust enough for the job ahead...
...and so, with the honourable intentions of ending Luther's torment, the group head back into the labyrinth.
Velrun: yeah - all of the items are still available
The drooling remnants of what was Luther drags itself as far as it can before the viscera dragging behind it catch on the unseen mechanisms below... hurrying quickly away from the horrific scene, the group are back in the bar in no time - and, following their instincts, are looking behind the bar for whatever weapons may be stored there...
...and their suspicions are well-founded - hung out of view, there are four hand-axes... each of which is forged of black steel and embellished with byzantine symbols. Drin, suggesting that he would be better coming into the labyrinth rather than staying on guard outside, takes an axe for himself... hefting it, he smiles...
Going to run Drin as a GMPC
And so... back into the labyrinth or a different approach?
Wow - that was quick... I've updated various status's, chucked a few hero points around and tossed the Lady's Light Maps into the proverbial bin... I'll take a gander at the Gameplay thread and get this thing moving!!!!
So folks - I've been asking around and checking availability of folks and we're down to half of the original crew. I've been backwards and forwards with this in my mind and have, given that I am easing back in to PbP, decided that I'll probably leave this one on hiatus. I do apologise and I know you all worked hard on those characters... let's just say that, for now at least, the Blight slumbers. If I feel confident and inspired any time I'll work out a way to successfully reboot...
Hearing Oscar's call, Tessara - who had been at the back of the group and unable to get near the animated corpse - retreats back into the 'caverns' where the smashed remains of the mechanical imps lie on the floor...
Hello again!!! And sorry to you all for sliding off of the face of the planet... I had a perfect storm of work, inability to access the internet, home stuff and then a bit of PbP burnout (including a little bit of peevishness about PF2 and not wanting to get dragged into that!!!) - long story short, I just logged out for my mental wellbeing and just put the whole thing on a shelf.
So, I'll commit to not doing that again and, kid steps, I am only picking up two or three of my old games - I'm going to do a little bit of reading and then I'm just going to go ahead and launch into GM'ing this again...
Once again, apologies, and I'm glad to be back as your GM!!!
Euphemia's spear tip strikes the glistening surface of the floor before getting wrapped harmlessly in Luther's ostentatious robes... and, if the thing that was once Luther feels any anger at the attack, it is not shown in the dead stare of the corpse dragging itself towards Velrun... lashing out with a metal spike, Luther attempts to slash Velrun's legs...
