Then down you go, into the dark mouth of whatever ancient mistake waits to be rediscovered. You've all shown… let’s call it bravery, though some might say it’s just a stubborn refusal to recognize doom. Still, if anyone is going to stir the ashes of forgotten horrors and walk out breathing, it’s likely you.
He turns to Alvarius specifically.
"And you—your presence is... notable. Few can rattle so ominously down a hallway and still contribute so little tactically. But perhaps your charm lies in being already halfway to whatever grim fate lies below. One foot in the grave, as they say, and the rest... well, we’ll see soon enough.
He speaks to the rest of the group again.
"Go with purpose. We’ll be here, keeping what lies above from joining you below. Gods willing—or not—we hope to see most of you return, safe and sound, or at least mostly intact."
"Very well. If death will not take you, then let fear hold you in its grip.
You, creature of fire and sinew, pretend at strength, but I see through the performance. There is a part of you—small, buried, but still screaming—that knows what it is to be powerless. You remember the chain. The voice that commanded you. The hand that shaped you from suffering. You have spent your existence defying it, drowning it beneath violence and rage, but it never left. It waits.
And now, feel it rise. Not as memory, but as truth. The chain is tightening. You are not the master. You never were. All your victories were permitted. All your rage, rehearsed. You are a puppet, and the strings are being drawn again.
This is not your fear imagined. This is your fear remembered. Sink into it. Let it hollow you out. Let it ache in the marrow of your bones. There is no escape from the truth you’ve always fled: you were born a slave, and somewhere, something still owns you."
Grundle scuttles up the stairs, spots the demons and tries to hasten the death the creature so desires.
Demon... I see the swagger in your form, the heat of your breath, the arrogance etched into every cruel line of your being. But beneath all that—there is fear. Ancient, buried deep. You try to forget it, but it has never forgotten you.
You fear the silence. The moment when the screams stop, when the fires dim, and you are left alone with nothing—no blood, no conquest, no one to witness your power. Only stillness. Only the cold, eternal quiet. You fear being forgotten. You fear being nothing.
Look now. Feel it settle around you—the silence growing louder, swallowing every sound. Your claws touch only air. Your shadow fades. There is no audience. No adversary. No self.
This is your end. Not in battle. Not in glory. But in stillness, where even the gods no longer bother to remember your name.
It seems even now, in the company of those who have walked the edges of reality, the body betrays us with its humiliations. We cross planes, we confront gods, and yet we remain prisoners of flesh—fragile, imperfect, prone to failure at the most inopportune moments.
In the grand tapestry of existence, this moment of shame is but a single, meaningless stain. Far greater beings than we have collapsed under far less. Let us move forward, with dignity reclaimed not by denial, but by the quiet, grim acceptance of our own ridiculous condition.
So the majordomo was under a spell—how surprising, and yet... how utterly expected. We recoil at the idea of enchantment, but is it not merely a crude metaphor for what we all do, constantly? We persuade, we coerce, we withhold affection or approval, all in the service of bending others toward our designs. Magic only makes visible what is already deeply human.
If the master used a spell to command loyalty, was it so different from the promises and threats that govern every household, every nation? Perhaps the only real crime is being too transparent in one’s manipulations.
Grundle wanders off to talk to Gatewalker Vaxtervin once more.
Diplomacy:1d20 + 15 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 15 + 4 = 20
As Grundle opens his mouth to speak, an unnaturally loud sound echoes screams from his undercarriage.
"It must be something I ate. Excuse me. I need to go investigate whether those winds brought with them any unexpected passengers."
Grundle will provide an Amped Guidance as a reaction if (when) Alvarius fails.
Amp You can project a flash of insight to your ally in the nick of time to save them from failure. Amped guidance doesn’t cause a creature to become temporarily immune to guidance, and a creature can be targeted by amped guidance even if it is temporarily immune to guidance.
You can cast an amped guidance spell as a reaction triggered when your ally fails or critically fails an attack roll, Perception check, saving throw, or skill check, and the bonus from guidance would change the failure to a success or the critical failure to a normal failure. The bonus from guidance applies retroactively to their check.
Grundle, feeling like he is getting nowhere with the Gatewalker, decides to talk to the staff.
You wear worry plainly—like a cloak too heavy for comfort. The halls here are quieter than they once were, and there's a certain tension in the air, as though even the walls are bracing for bad news. Tell me... is something coming? Or perhaps something already has.
Your master is away, and I sense the uncertainty gnawing at the edges of your purpose. Is it true, then? That your time here may soon come to an end? We do not ask to pry, only to understand the ground beneath our feet before it shifts beneath us all.
After speaking with Vaxtervin, Grundle moves on to another Gatewalker (perhaps Iasanden?).
It’s strange, isn’t it—how we keep returning from these places. Not unchanged, just... worn thinner each time. I often wonder if the things we see out there shape us, or simply reveal what was always waiting beneath the surface.
Where have your travels taken you lately? Was it one of those quiet horrors—the kind that doesn’t scream, but lingers?"
Grundle snaps out of the trance he has been in for the past several days and runs to change his soiled clothes. He returns and sidles up to Gatewalker Vaxtervin.
"It is strange, almost disquieting, to find ourselves beneath a roof once more. The scent of firewood and polished stone is no comfort—it is a kind of lie. It masks the truth of the world, which is blood, damp earth, and the slow, grinding indifference of time. Out there, at least, the suffering is honest."
Grundle's eye stare piercingly into the Gatekeeper's.
"Tell me—have your recent days been as bleak and absurd as ours? We spoke with a god, if it can be called that, beheld a golem stitched from the regrets of the dead, and encountered a beetle whose ambitions mocked the natural order. There is no arc to this madness—only deeper layers of strangeness, waiting to be unearthed."
Grundle's brow furrows as Nicky wavers under the assault.
“The pain you feel is proof that you have endured, that you still stand where others have fallen. The world does not grant kindness freely, but in this moment, let it be known—you are not alone.”
Soothe:3d10 + 12 ⇒ (4, 8, 3) + 12 = 27
He then sends an Amped Message to Onye.
"I do not think he can take much more. Do what you must."
The target of the message can choose to Shove, Strike, or Trip with its reaction instead
Grundle's emotional outburst ends as abruptly as it started and he droops into a grumpy funk.
Stupified 1
He scuttles closer to Mackgammon and issues a decree.
"Demon, hear me now. Your malice is as ancient as the void, but it is not without limits. By the laws that govern flesh and shadow, by the weight of names long since buried in forgotten tongues, I forbid you from striking against my allies. They stand beyond your reach, their fates no longer yours to shape.
As for the skeleton—let it be known that our concern for its well-being is negligible at best. Whether it crumbles to dust or lingers in its unnatural state is of no consequence to us. And yet, even it shall remain beyond your grasp, if only because I will it so.
You will lash out at neither flesh nor bone. If your rage demands release, then turn it inward, let it gnaw upon itself, let the infernal fire that fuels you consume you from within. But you will find no satisfaction here, no quarry upon which to unleash your wrath. Obey, or be unmade."
Forbidden Thought against Strike, Will DC 24:2d6 ⇒ (5, 1) = 6
Grundle sees that Nicholo is fading and attempts to bolster his spirits.
"Do not fear. Death is inevitable but not necessarily permanent."
◆Soothe the Mind: Nicky regains 16hp.
Grundle then attempts to address the source of the problem by entering the mind of the Malgamon.
◆◆Agonizing Despair, heightened to 4th, vs Will DC24:6d6 + 8 ⇒ (2, 5, 4, 6, 6, 6) + 8 = 37
Agonizing Despair:
Your target’s mind tumbles down a deep well of dread, dwelling so intently on deep-seated fears that it’s painful. The target takes 4d6 mental damage with a Will saving throw.
Critical Success The target is unaffected.
Success The target takes half damage and becomes frightened 1.
Failure The target takes full damage and becomes frightened 2.
Critical Failure The target takes double damage and becomes frightened 3.
"Again, another god manifests before us, dragging its grandeur into our path like some cosmic peacock displaying its feathers. Do they not tire of their own theatrics? Their endless need for worship, their ceaseless declarations of power—an exhausting parade of divinity flaunting its superiority over mortals already burdened by their toil.
This one, no doubt, believes itself unique, special in its omnipotence, as though we have not seen its kind before. How many gods must we encounter before they understand that their awe-inspiring forms no longer faze us, that their grandiose presence has become little more than a tedious interruption to our journey?
Let this one step forward if it must. We are weary, yes, but not broken. If it seeks worship, it shall find none. If it seeks battle, it will find opponents who no longer marvel at celestial might. We have seen gods rise, and we have seen them fall. Another manifestation changes nothing."
Occultism:1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32
He will then send an Amped message to Onye to do his thang.
Grundle is surprisingly resilient to the spiritual force in spite of his tiny old weird body.
"Something about this horned giant silver ferret with moth wings is...unusual."
Occultism:1d20 + 13 ⇒ (6) + 13 = 19
+2 if the following is applicable:
When you become aware of a magical effect or see a spell being cast, you can immediately determine if it twists minds (with the mental trait), fights against fortune (with the fortune or misfortune trait), or reveals secrets (with the detection, prediction, revelation, or scrying traits). At the GM’s discretion, similar effects can also fall into these categories. When you Identify Magic or Recall Knowledge to learn more about these effects, you can always use Occultism without penalty and gain a +2 circumstance bonus.
He then attempts to haunt the haunt.
"As the air quivers with your presence, Enaaku, I name you as you are known in the forgotten tongues, in the whispers of the void: Zarrek-Thar, the Veiled Hunger, whose shadow devours the moonlight. By the scrolls of Ashen Khalith, you are called the Warden of Splintered Realms, whose wings carry the dust of forgotten eons. I have read of your dominion in the tomes of Karesh Dhu, where the ink bleeds the color of despair and speaks of the blackened fields of Ekranoth, where time itself fractures beneath your tread.
You are the Herald of the Pallid Spiral, the Sower of Discord Among the Stars. Yours is the breath that chills the hearts of dreamers, the horned scourge whose path leaves even the immortal undone. I name the Silent Hive of Krythian Hollow, your birthplace, a realm of ceaseless whispers where the very soil writhes with torment. I have glimpsed your kind in the cursed reflections of the Lamented Lake, where reality bends to the will of your kin, and all who gaze upon it are lost.
Enaaku, creature of dread and majesty, know that I have seen your end prophesied in the Hymns of Shattered Light. The silver of your form tarnishes, the wings that defy gravity will falter, and the worlds you haunt will turn against you. You are not eternal. Your power wanes as all do who clutch the essence of the void too tightly. Flee now, or face the tide of inevitability, for even gods meet their reckoning in time."
Occultism:1d20 + 13 ⇒ (10) + 13 = 23
Disturbing Knowledge:
You utter a litany of dreadful names, prophecies, and descriptions of realms beyond mortal comprehension, drawn from your study of forbidden tomes and scrolls. Even those who don’t understand your language are unsettled by these dire secrets. Attempt an Occultism check and compare the result to the Will DC of an enemy within 30 feet, or to the Will DCs of any number of enemies within 30 feet if you are legendary in Occultism. Those creatures are temporarily immune for 24 hours.
Critical Success The target becomes confused for 1 round and frightened 1.
Success The target becomes frightened 1.
Failure The target is unaffected.
Critical Failure You get overly caught up in your own words and become frightened 1.
"This creature, a grotesque lord of filth and decay, embodies the corruption that has seeped into this forsaken place over centuries. Its form is both a testament to resilience and a manifestation of the horrors that thrive in the shadows.
"Observe its vine-like appendages—sluggish, unrefined, yet eager to ensnare. If we are to confront this abomination, let our blades be sharp and decisive, our strikes swift and relentless. The otyugh hungers, but let it learn that those who descend into the depths of rot may find themselves consumed not by appetite, but by the resolve of those who refuse to be its prey."
Grundle looks for the sharpest debris he can find and hurls it at the trash demon.
He then sends an Amped Message to Onye. Now is your chance! Strike!
...Or Stride. Or Shove...or Trip...
Message (Amp):
Amp Your telepathic message allows you to coordinate your actions while you pass on information. The target of the message can immediately spend its reaction to Step or Stride.
Amp Heightened (4th) The target of the message can choose to Shove, Strike, or Trip with its reaction instead.
Can anyone try to grab the baton with a Mage Hand or somesuch?
"This cavern breathes with an unsettling vitality. We must tread carefully, for in disturbing this place, we may awaken whatever slumbers within its formless depths."
Embarrassed by shanking his last shot and concerned for the poor demon's soul, Grundle attempts a mercy killing to thwart the skeleton's depraved plans.
◇ Unleashe Psyche
◆◆ Telekinetic Projectile on Green
◆ Stride next to Nicky
Grundle scuttles up to see what's what. Noting that the skeleton has paralyzed one demon, likely for some nefarious, perverted ends, Grundle instead focuses on the other.
He picks up a rock with his mind and throws it at the demon in red.
Amp Your telepathic message allows you to coordinate your actions while you pass on information. The target of the message can immediately spend its reaction to Step or Stride.
Amp Heightened (4th) The target of the message can choose to Shove, Strike, or Trip with its reaction instead.
"Companions, we stand on the edge of inevitable conflict. I fear that this is not a foe we can negotiate with, nor one that will heed any call to reason. What looms before us is a force of raw, unrelenting power, a relic of death itself."
He points.
"We must be swift and resolute, for hesitation will only feed the jaws of this skeletal abomination."
Grundle finds himself agreeing with the skeleton. It is an uneasy feeling.
"Indeed, knowledge alone is passive. It is the foundation, the map, but not the journey itself. The other half of the battle lies in action, in the will to confront the unknown, in the courage to apply that knowledge amidst uncertainty and chaos.
To possess knowledge is essential, but it is the capacity to act upon it, to transform understanding into decisive movement, that completes the struggle. Many who know much are paralyzed by fear, doubt, or circumstance. It is the merging of knowledge and action, of thought and courage, that truly defines the battle."
Perception:1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14
"But I see nothing, so it appears I have no halves of the battle."
"Is it not the essence of hubris to name a town, a tower, and a lake after oneself? It is an act that speaks to the human desire to defy impermanence, to etch one’s name onto the landscape as if the earth itself could be claimed and conquered by mere identity. The folly lies in the belief that such gestures of ego can resist the ravages of time, as if by naming these places, one could transcend mortality and secure a legacy beyond the fleeting grasp of human memory.
Yet, nature and time are indifferent to such grand proclamations. The town will fade, the tower will crumble, and the lake will outlast its name. In the end, the land will reclaim what was always its own, and the name, once spoken with pride, will dissolve into the same oblivion that swallows all things. To name so much after oneself is to believe that one’s significance is greater than the forces that govern existence—a tragic and timeless error in the human condition."
Grundle pauses.
"I suppose in this case the name outlasted the lake."
"The ruins of this once-proud city stand as a testament to the bitter irony of human faith and frailty. Here, its people, with unwavering conviction, called upon their gods, their voices raised in fervent prayer, pleading for divine protection. And yet, the city now lies in silent decay, its temples shattered, its streets overtaken by the relentless march of time and oblivion. The irony is sharp: the very gods to whom they entrusted their survival did not, or could not, intervene.
It is as if the stone and dust whisper of the futility of seeking salvation from forces beyond human understanding. In their desperate calls for protection, they overlooked the fragility of their own existence, placing faith in the invisible, while the tangible world around them crumbled. Now, those who once prayed are gone, their voices lost to the wind, while the ruins stand as mute witnesses to the ultimate indifference of the universe."
Seeing the swarm devour Alvarius and Nicholo puts Grundle through a rollercoaster of emotions. After briefly weighing the pros and cons he switches the attention of his oozing psychic energies to the beetles.
"Leave my friend and also my associate be!"
He hopes the change in targets yields better results with the same strategy.
"These creatures, blind to reason and driven by their macabre purpose, leave us no choice but to engage in battle."
Grundle's psychic energies roil around the beetles, animating the loose bits of flesh and bone. He whips them into a frenzy, battering the insects in a grisly vortex of human chowder.
"On one hand, there is a twisted brilliance in this macabre recycling, an echo of nature's own relentless cycle of life and death. It is a form of conservation, an adaptation to the harshness of existence where nothing is wasted, where every sinew and bone is given new purpose. There is a grim efficiency in this process, a stark reminder that in the grand design of survival, even the remnants of the fallen can serve a greater function.
Yet, this practice, while undeniably resourceful, also plunges us into the depths of revulsion. It is a grotesque desecration of the human form, a perversion of the natural order that commands a visceral response of repulsion. The reassembly of bodies, stripped of their humanity and reconstituted as mere components, strips away the dignity of life and death, reducing what was once noble and valiant to a grotesque mockery.
As we stand at this crossroads, the decision to halt this grim enterprise or to acknowledge its brutal pragmatism must be made. Do we see it as an affront to the sanctity of life, a practice that must be extinguished to preserve our humanity? Or do we accept its cold logic, understanding that in the harsh theatre of survival, even the most grisly acts can hold a twisted form of utility? This, dear companions, is the burden of discernment that we must bear."
