Not liking the timing...
I'll be keeping an eye out for news.
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Without DM intervention, this thread will go inactive on my birthday. :)
Survived the hurricane largely unharmed. Hope everyone else is okay.
Ganzorig approaches the metal door, watching for signs of abjurational nonsense as well as getting a feel for any locking mechanisms.
I don't want to spoil any twists, but I can't wait for Pyrope to burn down Ganzorig's house after he's collected the rest of the stuff for the ritual.
"Well, we know the stuff in here is safe, per the wards Thurin hasn't crushed into submission. Not a hundred percent on whether we qualify as stuff, but I'd take this room over the crux of a tree. We could bring goofus in from outside and tuck in for a rousing several hours of Rest and Research, my personal favorite table-top game."
The gnome smiles reluctantly at the compliment. Reading through the ritual carefully to commit it to memory, Ganzorig recalls another topic of research: "Uhm, one more request if it's not too much trouble: anything on Telloca's Finale, or the Cult of Telloca?"
Speaking over the spine of one of the survival journals, Ganzorig points out: "The illusion showed the books and the pages Kegan scanned before he left. Maybe you can pause and peek over his shoulder?" To the head librarian, "Cross-reference my previous request with methods of interplanar travel."
Ganzorig spurns the head librarian's offer at first, crossing his arms over his chest. Then, he watches the illusion, following Kegan's plight of swords and wolves, and while the others fuss over the abjuror's absence, he turns back to the nonbeing with a simple request. "Find me all references to The First World."
Ganzorig mutters something about wasting time with talking heads. He's clearly jealous of the attention.
As soon as it's clear that the room is a library, Ganzorig eschews caution to browse, which is no small feat at his height. When he spots the information on ijiraq, he sneezes dramatically, tugging on the page to no avail. Sheepishly, he turns the page and pats it firmly into place.
The gnome chooses to ignore the statue. "So... this is what most of us are after, right? D'you think Rocky will mind if we get to borrowing? One way or another, I think we need to get this stuff out of here."
"You never left a kettle on the stove before, Katsa? Sometimes the difference between a strong tea and a deadly poison is steeping time. Seems to me, Kegan didn't expect to disappear on such short notice." The gnome pulls open his sack with both hands and stuffs his head inside to check his stock of blow darts. Looking up to Hob and Thurin, Ganzorig opines, "were this an equitable arrangement, I would point out that Katsa and I have each entered a room, but seeing as how the two of you wield weapons in excess of my weight and stature, I defer to your judgement." Ganzorig glances at the front door, but sees no sign of Pyrope, then returns to busying himself with his sack.
With a pained expression, Ganzorig orphans the illusionary dwarf. "Good night sweet prince. May flights of faeries wing you to your rest..." Rolling up his sleeves, the gnome prepares something completely different. Not sight nor sound nor the impression of force, but baking soda. A wall of chemically basic material to block the doorway and give his allies a few seconds to collect themselves. The sensation of a base in contact with semi-cognizant acid is comparable to pain, much like semi-cognizance is comparable to sentience, but it's a bit like comparing brown wax to chocolate liqueur, and leaves a similar bad taste in the bleachling's mouth. Nonetheless, Ganzorig shudders as the artistry flows forth and paints the experience over the doorway and floor. It had been a few minutes since he had cast the double, and he had been feeling wane. Mechanics:
Creating the illusion of a strong basic chemical spilled over the floor, wall, and falsely closed door, set to buckle with little resistance if hit from the inside. The chemical should inflict 7 non-lethal damage on contact with the murderous puddle.
Ganzorig takes a few steps back, stumbling over the remains of the broken statues. "It'll be stalled at the doorway. Make it count. The longer you hold it in that there, the better. It's not going to like the trap I just set on the floor."
Ganzorig bites his tongue and leans to one side until his hair brushes the floor trying to get a look at the thing so he can reach out through the shadows. Thurin's stunt double charges out of the room, stomping as he goes. As soon as he sees the thing bubbling across the floor Ganzorig flicks his hand and barbs of shadow glide along the floor in its direction. Mechanics:
A solution I learned from an old DM of mine was to create a lose condition other than death. Protect the artifact, reach a location in time, find and activate switches, steal something off an enemy, etc. That way you can threaten the party's success without taking anyone out of the action. Doesn't work with all encounters or modules, but it does get players thinking about their abilities differently when you find an opportunity to pull it off.
Illusory Thurin follows Hob into the room. He doesn't bump any shelves because he's a badass (and because he doesn't actually produce any force). Hopefully, the thing on the floor has some awareness. The senses of the amorphous were so finicky. While the opening salvo resolves itself, Ganzorig considers his options, moving to get a decent angle on the thing spooking Katsa.
Ganzorig walks back into the central room. "Door number three, or door number five?"
Ganzorig glances at the table and counter in this first room with apparent disinterest, raising his hands to present the empty room. "If all you needed was light, I can do that." The gnome's black eyes iris, and circles of sickly yellow light project into the area around him, swimming like sunlight through a pool of water. "I haven't any use for it myself--I only see light and color through others--but for you?" Ganzorig slaps illusory Thurin's calf. "Anything."
Ganzorig looks at the floor outside the door, and the curtains, several feet away. "I'm not entirely sure how you think I can do that. I don't go down to your forge and- nevermind." Ganzorig walks past the others into the kitchen, set on drawing the curtains. Illusiory Thurin shoulders past Hob, following the gnome.
While the others peer into the kitchen like a totem pole of cookie thief's, Ganzorig and Pyrope exchange a series of increasingly exasperated looks. Pyrope looks impatient, and anxious, pacing outside the door. The gnome's face is writ with excuses. He has the image of Thurin pantomime knocking him through a window with a clean swing of it's hammer. Then, Ganzorig mimes striking a fire, and points at the saddlebags, and shrugs.
Ganzorig gives the duo a round of applause. "Well, that was a near thing, and quite riveting. Might I suggest, however, that we make some small attempts to avoid provoking the house's deterrents?" Ganzorig hugs his shoulders and looks around. "Anything important is bound to be behind that metal door. Should we bother with the others?"
Thurin's double advances cautiously into a flanking position with Hob.
Welcome back Katsa! Another option would be to use cardinal directions. EG:
Ganzorig maintains the falsified Thurin, plucking the threads that maintain the nodes of light and sound like a lute’s strings and having it move beside the genuine article. This brings the image to the edge of the gnome's control so Ganzorig holds his breath and leaves Pyrope's side to take a step into the house.
"Can Dwarves not walk backward? Saddly, dear sweet Thurin, I have yet to learn the secret to casting magic on stone what's immune to magic, but there's a chance this might help..."
Mechanics: Using 1 SP (6 remaining) to create a Thurin clone. This may not be able to deal damage to the stone pillar golems, but it might pull agro, and it might grant a flanking bonus, and I can keep it running past the end of the encounter if it doesn't get poofed somehow.
The illusion will take a 5-foot step to get into flanking position with Hob. Hopefully "immune to magic" doesn't mean "literally cannot see illusions". If the illusion is visible to the pillars, they'll have to hit it and succeed at the will save per Illusionary Touch.
"I would suggest falling back. If you can put some space between you and them, I can drop one of them into a pitfall."
"Maybe they'd leave you alone if you acted like proper houseguests! I don't recall Kegan having any friends, but I'd imagine he wouldn't want to disarm his whole house to have tea with his mother. I'd hate to see you break your- nevermind." Ganzorig pulls his trap sack from his backpack and gets ready to plant a pit outside the door.
"On the immune-to-magic statues? No. No one can cast magic on statues that are immune to magic... And what magic I have cannot open doors. I'm a trapper, and a bleachling. Beyond that, I'm largely unremarkable without an audience."
"Those were sunspears, that was me." Ganzorig states plainly as he peers past the others into the room.
"Someone was here a few days ago. They took a very specific path. Might stick to those footprints while we investigate further. Who knows what might trigger more stone men. Those things aren't from around here. They don't get knocked out or poisoned, and you can't hit vitals on account of their being made of stone."
mechanics:
If you keep the enemies all in one clump, you can have a few PCs beat the the first round and still have free-for-all's between mob turns. I don't think any of us uses any of the stuff they're immune to, but I could be wrong. Sorry...
Ganzorig makes a show of focusing on the area around the elementals and conjures a wall of burning radiant energy spears which gather and rain down from the air. mechanics:
At the very least, we won't feel bad throwing me into traps... I'll keep quiet...
The orc bristles and Ganzorig sees the hairline restraint keeping him alive. "A- a wiley one, t-this Kegan. Tearing us apart from the inside." The gnome swallows. "The, ah, window might be easier than the door, if we don't have a burglar."
Ganzorig tells a limerick which crosses all the lines: Ganzorig looks up at Hob's towering form. "Hob's orcish mum was renowned for her bum, his da, a philandering ponce. One night at a fete, the drunkard did mate, and the next day I tasted his launce." Ganzorig makes a lewd gesture with his hand, pressing his tongue into his cheek.
"A dwarf, a half-elf, a human, a gnome, his dog, and a half-orc walk into a wizard's mansion looking for a wolf. Bartender says: 'that's enough wine for you, Zorig.'"
The illusion's runes flash, and the image fades, leaving the closed door behind. Ganzorig and Pyrope peer around their tree from either side. "Is everyone done doing the Golarian standoff thing? Hammers and bows and spells, oh my."
The man in the doorway doesn't notice the runes. He's facing Pip, who thankfully has an arrow drawn on him. "I don't want any girl guide biscuits, I don't take visitors, and I don't abide tresspassers. Leave now, or suffer." The man begins to swell, filling the doorway as the magic runes encircle an anabjuring finger.
It's supposed to scare people. Spoiler: Thurin shouldn't bat an eyelash, and that should keep the party together. Pip, on the other hand, seems skittish.
A Tale of Two Morrows:
Ganzorig reads and rereads the letter, marveling at such a find. Taking a reed from beside the fire, Ganzorig lights the bedside candle and attempts to reheat the wax without burning the letter.
Then, he slips the letter back into Morrow's armor and leaves, depositing the key on the counter downstairs before toddling home.
As things start getting exciting, what with the dwarf breaking Opan's Ward and Pip looking to put a hole in his head, Ganzorig decides to stir the pot. With a creak, the door to Kegan's mansion opens. The door feels and sounds solid, and moves snow out of the way as it opens. A tall man in a nightcap and robes stands just inside. He looks like he hasn't been sleeping well and someone with a giant hammer just wailed on his door. With a disinterested glance to either side, the man harumphs, and runes of abjuration begin tracing into the air around him. When he speaks, his voice is booming and heavy with metamagical intonations. "Begon, foul trespassers! This is a place of quiet contemplation! Stay, and I will banish you to a realm of infinite anguish."
Knowledge Arcana DC 18?:
It's sure shaped like abjuration magic, but it's complete gibberish. Kegan must be drunk or... Ganzorig and Pyrope run to duck behind the tree opposite Pip and their arrows. Mechanics:
I think Pyrope can still be in Long range (520') without line of sight, but if not, I'd just have to roll concentration. On an unrelated note, it looks like I might have misread Spell Conduit. I thought it meant I could cast illusions within Close range of Pyrope as well as Ganzorig, but even if that were true we'd have to be touching...
Ganzorig's face goes slack as the magekiller proves he's more than a pretty face and a large hammer. This could be it. He might just do it! If it doesn't wake ol' man Kegan, maybe it should wake faux man Kegan... Trouble is, I'm not sure I could spook these dummies. One solid hit and a protracted investigation later... well, my prospects with Thorin will be seriously strained. It'll take some serious illusion though. Might be worth seeing... Ganzorig scratches Pyrope behind the ears and lags behind the others, roughly thirty feet from the front door.
Crunch:
Ganzorig sidles up to Thurin with his recalcitrant albeit perfectly mundane dog which has no magical properties whatsoever, pulling rope from his robe hand over fist. "Okay, big papa, the only thing you've got to worry about, I think, is what's got the place locked up. It's less a matter of locking the place tight, and more like it makes all the surfaces harder, so that includes any windows. Not that you're interested, but picking the lock is going to be similarly tough. A few of us might have some trouble with two other wards around the place, if you think you might need a warmup. Certainly worth a look if you're in the business of breaking things. Long story short: Kegan's a bit of a racist."
Sense Motive DC 14:
Ganzorig is hoping Thurin won't ask for any further details about the other two wards. A sizeable length of rope unwound from his robe, Ganzorig raises one end. "Anyone mind hauling me over?"
After Morrow Goes to Bed: |