polyfrequencies's page

Dolgrin lets out a whistle of awe and wonder as he holds the blade. "Ms. Brushbender," he says, "I believe I have found our first item decisively of Azlanti origin."

The dwarf gently leans his spear against the wall of the house and gives a test of the longsword, remembering footwork lessons from his youth long ago. He takes the blade in both hands, testing the weight and balance (and finding it distinctly to his liking), and then tries a few quick test slashes at the air. "And it is quite the blade."

I believe that only Dolgrin and Braxton are proficient with the longsword, and it would be a significant downgrade for Braxton. So unless there are objections, Dolgrin will take the longsword. It's +3 (1d8+4/19-20) instead of +2 (2d6+3/x3), so the overall damage is a bit less but it will be a much more reliable weapon.

If Olenna could be said to have a specialty in her alchemical prowess, it was almost certainly the art of transmutation. Of course she had experience with most of the other schools, but nothing quite grabbed her attention like the ability to change herself.

Perhaps it was because of her racial heritage: feeling caught between two worlds and wishing that she could blend in.

Perhaps it was her familial heritage: aristocratic but service-focused, and a role that she had never felt comfortable with.

Perhaps it was her professional heritage: a woman geared towards subterfuge, always ready to take on a new identity if she wasn't disappearing into the shadows.

But change was inevitable. Change was survival. Life was change. And so Olenna changed.

As Laori dismisses her silencing spell, Olenna has already drunk her latest extract and her body is undergoing a rapid metamorphosis. "I'm Olenna," she says as her skin takes on a yellow, chitinous appearance. "And I'm going to get you out of here safely."

The mass of the ex-guardswoman shifts and swings backwards as her abdomen distends backwards and sprouts another pair of legs. Her magical equipment distends and reforms around her as chitinous plates layer up in spots otherwise exposed by her lightweight armor. Her hands grip against her blade and buckler as their balance shifts. Antennae wrench from her forehead, and her mouth splits open into mandibles while her face elongates. And at last, she appears like a formian worker. Perhaps, for those familiar with the Harrow deck on the room, a bit like the Queen Mother, but much, much smaller than an actual formian queen.

"Still me," she chitters, gripping her sword, her voice transformed but still recognizable. She leaves the way through Salvatore's new door, scampering with preternatural speed towards Magda. Can Magda shift out of the way so that Olenna can stab? A 5 ft step would be sufficient.

At this size, and with her current speed, Formian-Olenna begins poking her blade into every fleshy spot she can find in enemy armor.

Move action 15 ft into Mags' current spot on the map, swift action study the troop, standard action STAB

+1 human-bane rapier, studied strike, power attack, buffs*: 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (12) + 23 = 35
Piercing Damage, studied: 1d4 + 13 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 13 + 4 = 18
Human Bane Damage: 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4, 1) + 2 = 7

Dolgrin isn't sure whether to be more disturbed by the creature or Ankha's preposterous claim. As she lurches forward, Dolgrin sucks in a sharp breath. She hadn't even hesitated. Did she know what it was? Or did she just not care?

(I'm guessing from the picture that it's an aberration, but add 1 if local is more appropriate or 4 if arcane or religion are more appropriate. The below roll applies for the other knowledges, too, because bard.)

Knowledge (dungeoneering): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Please and thank you: special defenses and special attacks. I doubt I'll get more than that.

But violence was breaking out, and Dolgrin wasn't going to just let Anka go at this alone. He sighs, steps forward, and stabs at the creature.

Giant-Sticker vs FF AC: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16
Piercing Dmg: 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (5, 1) + 3 = 9

At the mention of the Cult of Razmir, Father Prasst's eyes widen, his brow furrows, and he sucks in a tense breath. The Mayor notices and turns to him. "What is it, Rantal?"

Father Prasst generally acts much older than his 24 years, which is about the only reason that anyone else in town gives him any credence. He hadn't been born in Kassen and was much much younger than Father Dalaston, who had retired a couple of years ago. So far in the meeting, he has been fairly quiet, only responding when asked a direct question. But now he sighs out his built-up tension.
"I know the Razmirans," he says quietly, his voice dripping with contempt. "From when I was a soldier in Tamran." He locks eyes briefly with the only other person in the room who had actually fought against Moltune--Arnama Lastrid--before casting his eyes back down. "Our soldiers do what we can, but there's not much money to be had for training and equipment. And you can't just mint more coins. Our army struggles with basic resources...we're scrappy, but--"

"Rantal," the Mayor urges.

The priest bites his tongue and closes his eyes, but nods. "Razmirans follow Razmir: the living god who has set up his own country across Lake Encarthan." Murmurs are exchanged between people across the room. "Like a lot of faiths, they do a lot of evangelism. The Church of Razmir set up a Temple in Tamran right around the time that I was mustering out of the military. It was just a few people at first, but they started drawing converts faster than any other Cult I had seen. I'm a born-and-raised Erastilian, but I admired them. They did good charity, feeding the poor, healing the sick, protecting businesses from criminals, that sort of thing--and unlike the stuffy Abadaran bank they weren't trying to charge money for it. The local government liked them: they were bringing in foreign coin and solving problems that the city was too poor to manage itself. They would make good donations to the military as well, enough to feed and arm our soldiers. They were even able to help us hire some mercenaries to fight against Molthune. It got safer to travel even for normal folk because they didn't have to worry as much about the privateers Molthune hires to harass our trade ships. They were gaining influence with the city guard and the government. But...there were some uncomfortable things, too."

"First, they talked about Razmir being a jealous god. They'd openly mock Erastil if I walked by one of their street sermons wearing my holy symbol, calling him a distant god. Second, they seemed even more focused on accruing money than the Church of Abadar. It was like an obsession: they promised wealth and power to anyone who followed Razmir and learned his truths. And those masks: they wear them all of the time. I had a friend who joined before I left Tamran and...well, I never saw him again. I mean, I might have seen him in the streets, but I wouldn't have known it because they never show their faces."

"Razmir has temples all around Lake Encarthan, so there's no way to know for sure whether the thieves came from Tamran, but..." Prasst catches the eyes of the young heroes who had retrieved the Everfame. "Everyone I knew who joined the Church of Razmir was about your age."

Arnama Lastrid's eyes widen and she looks over at her apprentice. "You're not seriously suggesting that--" She cuts herself off, frowning. "Tamran is right on the border, Rantal," she chides. "We're still at war. And never mind the soldiers. There's spies. Opportunists. You said it yourself: privateers. And they're just ch--"

Captain Wisslo interrupts the ranger. "They're adults. Ms. Tani said so herself."

Arnama looks up at Brandark once again, a grim look on her face. Colbin Vetnar stops scribbling. "Are they now?" he says. "Adults? I thought you were smarter than that, Gregor."

Joras' mother Renetta speaks up. "Why don't we let them have a say in all that, Colbin?" She glances over at her son. "They have their own hearts and minds, after all."

The Council turns their attention to the young men and woman who had retrieved the Everflame. "Well?" prompts Mayor Uptal.

They had been so careful only to be foiled by an elementary spell. And snuck up on besides. Were it not becoming par for the course to find herself so foiled; were she not suffused with chemicals to keep her alert and ready to go; and were she not filled with rage at the crimes heaped on crimes destroying her city...Olenna might almost be tired.

But as it is, the Gray Maiden is not the current enemy. She hopes.

Sense Motive, Gray Maiden: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (14) + 12 = 26

Even if this woman was still loyal to Queen Ileosa, they could absolutely agree that Pilts was bad news for Old Korvosa. She nods.

For now.

The artist is secured. Of course Queen Ileosa wanted Salvatore. Salvatore Scream knew where Vencarlo Orsini was. Vencarlo Orsini knew where Neolandus Kalepopolis was. Neolandus Kalepopolis was one of the few remaining legitimate authorities in the city who could oppose Queen Ileosa.

You're not taking Salvatore into custody when this is all over.

She accepts Salvatore's hug, returning it with a gentle squeeze, and smiling to see the life return to his eyes. She takes a deep breath.

One step at a time.

Flame hair now mud hair unstoppers one more vial, downing it as her form begins to change.

Imbibing Monstrous Physique and most likely becoming small. Depending on GM's response, she'll become some sort of small monstrous humanoid. A kappa (turtle) or formian (ant) would both be pretty adorable. And the Formian has a place amidst the Harrow Deck, so...I think it's gonna be ant time.

Ronan smiles. What wonderful magic! It was the sort that he was not capable of producing. His particular abilities with plants either focused on the manipulation of what was already there or the rapid growth. Neither was sustainable long term. This was the sort of spell work that folk in the before times sought to emulate through careful processes.

And that was the funny thing about technology: it was easy in the Barrens to look at the giant scraps of twisted metal jutting from the landscape and consider that technology. But no: this, what Grimple and Deytha were doing, was technology. Agriculture. Systematic treatment. Knowledge of the craft, lost across the eons and rediscovered here.

Yes. He could be happy here.

Will Save DC 16: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Knowledge (religion) DC 23: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16

Rough.

Constantine becomes aware of the temporal disconnect between his mind and his body: his perception and his behavior. Although he remains inherently aware of what's going on around him--and more importantly, what he does understand, his ability to react appropriately degrades.

* * * Younger Days * * *

Constantine, his cheeks not yet blushed with the shaved vestiges of coarse facial hair, grimaces as he inhales from a leaf-wrapped bundle of something glowing orange. "You know," he croaks, his throat tight as he tries to hold in the smoke. "Time is, like, subjective, you know?"
"Well that's obvious, Connie. Our perspective is inherently limited."
"No, man, like...I feel like I can...feel...time. Like with my fingers."
"You know you don't have to talk high just because you are, right?"
Connie, eyes slightly glazed over, glares at his friend and passes the glowing flayleaf over from his perch high up in a tree a mile away from the monastery. "I'm serious." His perspective is, obviously to his eyes, shifting slightly in and out of focus and playing tricks on his mind. As his pupils expand and contract with his breath and the cascade of his heartbeat, his brain sees the outlines of mythical creatures and half-forgotten memories jump into focus in the branches and leaves and grass and smoke and dancing light. And in mere instants, he remembers the tales about them, tells them to himself, imagines himself telling Sirio out loud.
"Nah," he decides, predicting that he would fall and break his arm in about three minutes, "You wouldn't get it."

* * *

It's distraction. It's horror. It's enough fuzz in the wires to shortcircuit his reactions just enough that he'll make more mistakes. It's enough.

But it's not more than he can handle.

If I can't get to it, I'll just have to get ready for it to come to me. And the sword already feels heavier. What's a few extra pounds?

And his sword pulses with spirals of indigo.

(Casting Lead Blades.)

Hadda tilts her head to the side as Dom makes quick work of the hag, lowering her spellcasting hand in the midst of her spell. For the first time since they began traveling together, she reappraises the man even more favorably than before.

He was a good man. She had known that already. He carried himself with the zeal of someone who thought of--cared deeply for--other people. When he saw someone in need, even if she was actively deceiving him, he was ready to protect her with everything in his power. But when presented with undeniable controverting evidence, he didn't hesitate. She appreciated that. A strong hand such as his was one to keep on her side, especially when those who stood in their way could do the same and worse if they had their druthers.

Rescinding the arcane energy back within her, Hadda's hand trembles as she gathers herself into a gentle bow towards Nostafa. "Hadda Sogard, daughter of Mirnbay," she says. "Thank you for confirming that we were with a traitor. We had been looking for her these last couple of days." Rising, she retrieves the bottle and uncorks it.

---

Reading the spoiler...

Her own blood: well, that was Elvanna, yes? So at least Baba Yaga was aware, and able to actually send messages. That was good. Hadda didn't suspect that such a powerful geas would be so easily imprinted if the originator of the magic was entirely indisposed. But this brought a measure of comfort. She had so far been proceeding under the assumption that this was a task that could actually be completed instead of a hopeless cause. Otherwise, it would have been more tempting to find a way out of this enterprise. So, then: good.

She was not eager to die. Not yet. She wanted to traverse the planes and experience new worlds under her own auspices, thank you very much.

And Baba Yaga could lead her that way. So the way was clear.

"To the Eon Pit, then."

While she may not have been the biggest fan of his art, Olenna recognized the incredible talent of the poor man shuddering before them. Pain was still pain, even for a devout Kuthite. She wasn't in the scene, as it were, but her (limited) understanding of (irreligious) sadomasochism involved significant consent and aftercare. This captive had had none of that. Poor soul...

Olenna watches Magda's simple signs and nods. She had the right idea. Get Salvatore out to safety, and then come back to make sure Pilts couldn't do this to anyone else ever again.

She kneels gently in front of Salvatore. A look of understanding and resolve crosses her face, empathetic but not pitying as she tries to draw him into her gaze. To make sure she has his attention. She raises her index fingers to her lips, shaped now into a "shush," the hiss of air passing silently towards the painter. She reaches to her bandolier and retrieves the marvelous pigments she had discovered in his house, placing them into his hands. She nods once more, looking down to draw his attention to his hands. Then back up. Kindness. Determination.

These are for you.

Still feeling his bones shaking with latent fear but emboldened by his friends doing what they can all around, Constantine ends the Iomedaean prayer with a shout. "Journey before Destination!"

Longsword Attack, Shaken, Power Attack: 1d20 + 8 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (20) + 8 - 2 - 1 = 25
Slashing Dmg: 1d8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 4 + 2 = 8

Critical Confirm, Shaken, Power Attack: 1d20 + 8 - 2 - 1 ⇒ (16) + 8 - 2 - 1 = 21
Crit Dmg: 1d8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 4 + 2 = 10

With everything in him, Constantine surges forward and slashes, trying to kill this treacherous mayor before he and his cult can do any more damage. Would it be enough?

Will save vs DC 14 Fear, Secret Shame, Aura of Courage: 1d20 + 4 - 1 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 - 1 + 4 = 14

Constantine looks up at the aranea and her declaration. The Dreaming Host awakens. Soon.

No, no, no. It couldn't happen soon. Shouldn't. Mustn't.

The aranea probably had no way of sensing the mental assault that Constantine was already under, had been under for most of his life. He was a man well-acquainted with fear. He tried to pull off the cool, disaffected vibe: someone calm in the face of danger. In spite of that, there was plenty in the world to be afraid of.

But as he stands there, grappling with the aranea's buzzing words, he feels a sense of calm. It's not enough to banish the rising fear entirely, no. But there's something...stronger than the fear. Constantine turns from the spider and glances over as Emma strikes Mayor Kriegler with her sword.

Life before Death.
Strength before Weakness.
Journey before Destination.

Constantine draws in a sharp breath, turning his back to the aranea. He glances over his shoulder and rasps, "No."

He raises his sword and steps up next to Emma. "Life before death," he says, smiling at her.

Longsword Attack, Shaken: 1d20 + 8 - 2 ⇒ (7) + 8 - 2 = 13
Slashing Dmg: 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Will Save vs Sanctuary DC 14, Shaken: 1d20 + 4 - 2 ⇒ (14) + 4 - 2 = 16

I also definitely didn't think Angahaar was a paladin-bloodrager. Nope.

Albert screams for Edmund on the other side, knowing with near certainty that his friend and colleague can't hear him. He's too frustrated and (admittedly) frightened to be impressed by Chezarina's display of prowess, though he's sure to notice that before too long. Instead, he lets down his practiced guard in spite of being in front of so many of his students and keeps shouting. Tears streak down his face. He knows that when he turns to look at who is left, he's going to find himself even more distraught. He isn't ready. Please, not yet...

Dolgrin tries to ignore Ankha's increasingly unsettling moments of discussing bodies as samples so cavalierly. Most physickers had to dissect corpses as part of their training to become well-versed in anatomy. Then again, most of them that he had met did not discuss such training so openly.

"Now there's a question for the ages, Ms. Brushbender. Evolution. Metabolism. Diet. Lifestyle. There are many theories. But I'll admit it's never been a topic of great interest to me. Dwarves and elves don't usually go for things like the Sun Orchid Elixir nearly as often as humans do. And truth be told, Ms. Brushbender, just because we can live for centuries doesn't mean that we do. We dwarves are a hardy, stubborn folk, and that leads us often to dangerous work. If there's little risk of death in a venture, many a dwarf will scoff at the notion."

The +10 circumstance bonus from Respectful Quiet does not stack with the stalker's oil, but it will last long after Respectful Quiet is dismissed. But Lighten Object and the armor ointment overlap. So Marcus' armored Stealth should be: Dex +2, ACP -2, Circumstance +10, Invisibility +20 (moving) = +30. Magda should be +51, Olenna should be +46, Yazi should be +31, and Vera should be +34.

Olenna drinks her extracts as she strides invisibly and silently towards Pilts' palace, feeling her body and mind reorganizing in response to the plethora of chemicals. [Heightened Awareness, Tears to Wine, Barkskin, See Invisibility, and Dex Mutagen.] By the time she is done, she has drunk half of her remaining stock for the day. She feels practically electric, ready to do remarkable things. She didn't need all of the trappings of external silence and invisibility to do her magic. Yes, bring on Pilts, she would stick him through...

Calm, calm, calm. Patience. Calm. Patience. Calm.

Breathe.

Olenna adjusts her lenses and pulls on her studded leather gloves. With scant thoughts, the metal within each finger protrudes and recedes into some of the more specialized tools that she used to have to lug around on jobs. Now her toolkit is mostly contained within her gloves, with only the more esoteric tools now carried around separately. Powdered silver, cold iron shavings, bottled petrified oozes, carefully stoppered vials of acid, and so on and so forth. One could never be too careful, and magical traps were another level of complexity on their own beyond the mere mundane. Confident, she looks over the door and then tries to dismantle anything between her, her allies, and whoever was on the other side.

Perception, HA, T2W, Eyes of the Eagle, Dex Mutagen: 1d20 + 11 + 2 + 2 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 11 + 2 + 2 + 5 - 1 = 24 +4 vs traps

Disable Device, Dex Mutagen (alchemical), Mwk Thieves' Tools (circumstance), Trapspringer's Gloves (competence): 1d20 + 20 + 2 + 2 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 20 + 2 + 2 + 5 = 31

Well that's terrible. Let's see what we see!

Sorry for the silence. I play in enough games with most of you that you probably suspected I was busy and trying to get back on the horse in all of my games after a very busy weekend. I'm here!

The reduction in chattiness had continued during the investigation of the final ransacked house, with the exception of briefly correcting Ku'Hania about the possibly ownership of the house. He fishes out his crowbar as it looks like Ankha might need it before she ends up popping the chest open. All the while, he is looking around the house as the others discuss their theories, remembering the trials and travails of domesticity with a mixture of fond an bittersweet reminiscence. The other three were young. Almost certainly too young to have been married. No doubt that they had experienced loss, but...

"We should check the charter for any other names that are Livvy or could be abbreviated as such," he recommends after Anka brings up her theory. "It could be Eliza Haniver, but I'd suspect Lizzy sooner than Livvy there." Just based on the unusual human customs, such as they were.

It's also possible that Silas had come here without Livvy. Livvy might have died, and that could have driven Silas to seek out a new life far away from his memories of her. Dolgrin would understand that.

It's typically a DC 20 Knowledge (arcana) check to "Identify the spells cast using a specific material component," so I want to see if Dolgrin can pull that off.

Knowledge (arcana), powdered silver: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Knowledge (arcana), incense: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
Knowledge (arcana), diamond dust: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26

Hot damn yes.

He also offers a gentle correction...no, it's just information. No reason for her to know these things as an alchemist. "These are spell components, Ms. Brushbender, typically used in divine practices. Powdered silver is typically used in the creation of holy water, but can also be used in more powerful rituals against fiends and undead, which can be performed by both arcane and divine practitioners." He shifts his attention next to the incense as his mind shifts blessedly away from morose reminiscence to helpful academic knowledge. "Incense is also frequently used in divinations such as augury. But there are many other magical uses." Then the diamond dust. He chuckles. "Take it from a dwarf, as well: beautiful as diamonds are, most people prefer cut gems to raw. There is extensive cast-off from even the best lapidarist, and such dust is used in all manner of healing and other useful spells. Why, for my gold, I would rather have diamond dust than diamonds. You might even find some use for some abjurative spells that I hear alchemists have learned to mimic with their chemicals. It's even possible to make certain spells permanent with large enough quantities of the stuff."

His chattiness having returned, Dolgrin smiles. "All that to say that this house could have very well been Silas's. Una Hendrake is another possibility, since most of these components could be used in arcane spells as well. Either way, whoever ransacked the house may have been looking for these items. Whether to destroy them or to use them, I do not know."

In spite of her quiet, private faith, Olenna was no expert in divine magic. For her, faith was more a set of guiding principles: the empyreal lords she clung to were strong beings who cared about the same things she did and whose written advice and material influence helped her make decisions time to time. So the idea of requesting particular spells of Laori flummoxed her. She was no "expert adventurer" either. This was all new to her. So she follows the others' lead.

(I.e., I was otherwise occupied over the last week with a bunch of stuff, so moving on works for me!)

When Yazi brings up "The Tall Knife," a chill runs down Olenna's spine. "The children were singing about that a few hours ago," she mentions.

She also concurs with the plan to sneak in. This Blood Pig game sounds awful. Cruel, like Pilts.

As they are preparing to move in and Yazi asks about ways to make Marcus quieter, she looks thoughtful. "There are probably spells that could help, but as far as chemicals...well..."

Olenna retrieves a piece of paper from her back and scribbles some notes on it. "Depending on how long we're willing to take and what ingredients we can find, there are a few things I can make to lubricate armor joints, quiet Marcus' footsteps, deaden the sound entirely, or even slow Marcus' heartrate. But they take time to brew."

Of those, I'd recommend that Laori casts Lighten Object on Marcus' armor and that we look for a dose of armor ointment and a dose of stalker's oil. That will grant a cumulative +4 to Marcus' stealth check by reducing ACP by 2 and granting a +2 circumstance bonus. The silence dust is too short-acting, and the prowler's palliative has nasty side effects. Effortless Armor is unfortunately personal only, so no go there.

w̵̦̃H̵̱̞͑͠ä̶̝͎̅T̷͍̱̀'̴̻̉s̶̡̜͌ ̷̜͓̂T̸̛̗̅ͅȟ̴̯A̷̯̟͛t̷̠̝͑̓ ̷̥̲́A̸̪̼͂̅b̷̩̍͜O̶͙̹̎͌ų̷͐T̵̖̒͜ ̸̮̣̌l̸̫̤̈́̋I̴͜͠m̵̭̟̿͝Ĭ̴̝n̴̠̥̉A̵̫͑͑l̴̨̀̂ ̶͉̲̈́S̸͖̍͘p̸̼̚A̴͇͌č̸̖̹̃Ȩ̸̍̋s̷̬̫̑̏?̷̬̦̇

And because I always enjoy doing this, here's a rundown of who we have so far!

Complete (more or less)

Thank you, Oceanshieldwolf. Yes, I would definitely encourage taking a deep breath and assuming helpfulness and grace.

Udaya (and Oceanshieldwolf and Parvin) are correct on all points. Our most recent level-ups can be found starting here if anyone is looking for a template:

With Perri Purrun serving as an advance guard, the remaining seven living gather up the four dead of Kassen and leave the Crypt of the Everflame. Having retrieved the Everflame as they had been charged, they had discovered something darker and more dangerous. But for now, the sun shines brightly in the sky, and the hill that had been treacherous a couple of days before is now caked over to the point of being easy to traverse. Perri seems to have even left a couple of flags on his own upward climb to point out stable from unstable footfalls. It remains a challenging task, but Serpent Gorge no longer seems like something to be overcome, especially not after the last couple of days.

From Serpent Gorge, the group pushes along to Gray Lake, where they're able to make camp for the evening as the sun drifts below the horizon. They had made it nearly half of the 40 miles back and would make it to Kassen by the late afternoon of the next day if the road favored them.

Dimira spends the evening tending to Roldare, who seems to be in a near-fugue state, mumbling to himself and shrieking at things that aren't there. A watch is set as a waning crescent moon rides high through the sky. Whether the seven young Kassenites discuss what they had experienced in the Crypt, postulate about what had happened, or try to distract themselves and each other with different matters, sleep eventually comes.

Kassen's residents may want their town to remain sleepy on the edge of the frontier, but recent events call into question whether they will be able to stay that way.

Home is not far.

But will they be able to defend it from whatever threat looms on the horizon?

And so ends Crypt of the Everflame! The adventure continues in Masks of the Living God.

Feel free to have a fireside conversation, respond, interact amongst yourselves, etc. I am currently out of town for a family wedding, but I will move us back to (just outside of) Kassen when I return on Monday/Tuesday.

What Basil said. The more I learned about the neurological underpinnings of language, both receptive and expressive, the more I was utterly baffled. Obviously the morphosyntactic alignment and word order are part of it, but there's far more going on underneath the hood.

My research was focused on prosody (the so-called "music" of speech, typically expressed in pitch, volume, and duration relative to each other across syllables, words, and phrases). (For example, the difference between record and record or between "I didn't say that" and "I didn't say that".) I was more focused on the neuromotor coordination of the speech apparatus than the psycholinguistic components, but the latter is fascinating to me as well. It was always tricky for me to cite stuff in other languages, because American English prosody has different components from--for instance--Czech, German, and Dutch. Heck, there are even prosodic differences between different dialects of English >_<

More on the way that language influences our thought (and vice versa), I was recently visiting some friends whose dialect has been strongly influenced by Pennsylvania Dutch. When one friend was talking about his cat and say "The cat needs washed," I smiled and made reference to how I forgot about his dialect. I then compared the dropping of the Copula in PDE to the same phenomenon in African American Vernacular English (AAVE), and that was when I think I lost him.

Ah, good to know! I'll retcon it slightly that he tried to attack Noro before abundant stepping away, and move him a little further away so that she can't just grab him again. That's better for him anyway. Noro, note the new position.

---

As for the why flat-footed, that'll be a DC 15 Knowledge (local) check to identify a monk ability that allows them to attack vs flat-footed AC.

Guachen would have yielded after Hitome's second attack. So do with that what you will.

Hitome needs to do another Performance Combat check for healing.

---

Per Ai Lua, the affected opponents will be panicked for 1 round and shaken for 3 rounds.

Chumtooth's Perception should be 5 higher unless he refused Carmelia's spells. The buff summary is back here.

With a steady motion, Dolgrin reaches to the massive pack that has been so far hitched to his back and retrieves a shovel. "I'll get digging," he says, trading out his two-handed implements and walking out the door. He doesn't much expect the others to help with the digging, especially as he only has the one shovel. But he'll take as long as it needs to dig a hole six feet down in soil that will hold well enough.

When he's done, he invites the others to gather around the grave as they lower Silas Weatherbee's remains into the ground.

Knowledge (religion): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14

Dolgrin had been to enough funerals that, even as a layperson, he knew the sorts of things to say. Even if Weatherbee had been an Erastilian and Dolgrin was most familiar with the dwarven pantheon, he knew enough.

Perform (oratory): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

It's not the most inspiring speech, but it does the job enough.

"We are none of us guaranteed long lives, nor good ones. The world we live in is often harsh and unforgiving. The gods do not promise us ease, for they know better than to do so in these Lost Days. But they offer their wisdom that we may listen and hear. Erastil teaches his followers to care for their home and their family. To fulfill their duties. To protect their community. Community is sacred, for it is through the bonds we forge together that we stand against the trials of our world."

"This was Silas Weatherbee's community. We do not know exactly what happened here, but we know tragedy took Father Weatherbee from his community. In his death, we who come after seek to right the wrongs done. Let not the foundation he laid here be in vain, but rather let us build on his cornerstone, honoring the memory of all those gone too soon."

Just waiting on Noro's turn, but I'll at least give the results of the knowledge checks and process what has happened so far. Block Initiative picks up after Hitome's action, so she does not gain the benefits of Ai Lua and Jonovan's actions until her next turn. To represent Jonovan's height, I have added a wing with the number 8, reflecting the number of 5-ft squares he is up in the air.

The kitsune announcer begins narrating the ongoing combat as spells are cast and punches are thrown. "The Red Petal Sharp Against the Moonlight is casting spells and issuing barbs to her opponents, zipping around with preternatural speed, and--oh, what was that? The Clay Mage has conjured a cloud of glittering gold dust in the faces of the Monks of the Enduring Spirit! But undeterred, they fan out to face Team Petal Blade Maiden Mage, and OH look at that! The Blade of Heaven has leapt into the air and struck Dun Guachen (green) with a blistering downward punch! Guachen can't like that one bit! And seeing Shuko Kien (yellow) close in, Jonovan Wick takes flight!"

Hitome's powerful first blow draws a cheer from the crowd.

A success on the Performance Combat check moves the crowd to Friendly.

The crowd is beginning to be swayed toward one side in the fray. Audience members cheer when that side achieves some impressive feat in the combat, and their reaction grants a +1 morale bonus on all attack rolls, combat maneuver checks, ability checks, skill checks, and saving throws for their chosen side. This is a mind-affecting effect.

Unfortunately for you all, this doesn't stack with Good Hope.

The monks seem to more or less track where their opponents move, and when Ai Lua tries to call out Guachen for his color choices, he smiles. "The Red Petal thinks she knows my heart," he counters, using the red flag on his whip to dab at the cut on his lip from Hitome's punch. "We will see whose passion endures."

---

While Hitome isn't familiar with this particular ki technique, she does recognize her opponents' techniques as those utilizing ki. Their weapons are easier to recognize.

Match One: Monks of the Enduring Spirit - Round Two
Hitome: 154/154, Haste, Inspire Courage (+2), Good Hope (+3), Dragon Style, Personal Trial vs Dun Guachen
Jonovan: 88/88, Mage Armor, Echolocation, Haste, Inspire Courage (+2), Good Hope (+3), Fly
Ai Lua: 93/93, Fastidiousness, Raiment of Command, Longstrider, Haste, Inspire Courage (+2), Good Hope (+3)
Noro: 187/187, Haste, Inspire Courage (+2), Good Hope (+3)
Red (kusarigama): blind
Blue (kyoketsu shoge): blind
Dun Guachen (Green, jiujie bian): -20, blind
Shuko Kien (Yellow, Sansetsukon): blind

Map
Crowd: Friendly to Team PBMM, Indifferent to MofES

Noro is up.

I love that trait! It also feels very appropriate for a burgeoning Shelynite.

"I am glad to know that dwarves remain as wise as ever," Ekat breathes with a sigh. "Yes--speak with those yet alive who possess records and know recent history. I truly wish I could answer your questions about the present, young ones, but all I know is of the distant past."

The ghost settles back down towards his open sarcophagus. "I grow...tired. I need to rest."

If Joras wants to get a question in, we can let that happen retroactively. But if people want to explore anymore, piece things together, etc., then feel free. You have probably gotten almost everything that you can out of Ekat, unless you surprise me with another question!

I'm actually not sure I know much about Miron's background! When you have a chance, could you compile some of that in your alias?

I feel for you, Brandark. I feel like my devices keep on having shorter and shorter lifespans as the years go on. (Peep me a year and a half ago preparing a research article for submission to a journal when my laptop bluescreened and I, idiot that I was, hadn't backed up my work in 3 months.)

---

Also, fantastic and consistent RP moment from Roya. OoC, you're absolutely right that the dead Razmiran and the recruitment leaflet are core clues of what to do next. And if no one pieces it together, there's an NPC or two in town who will.

Of all the elen, Albert was probably least familiar with undines. Ifrits and sylphs had been much more common in Light, and he had occasional oread students. But for whatever reason, undines were just...well, less familiar. And he had no colleagues with him to check anything. So what he saw was what he got.

Albert frowns at Luu Sânh's question. "Rough, yes. It was..." Metaphors didn't become him. His eyes droop down. "Five days ago I was working in my lab and then...my most senior student seemed to suddenly have a manic episode. I excused himself from his bench and encouraged him go to his office to try to calm down. After a couple of hours I went to check on him. I just heard mumbling from inside the office. When I got in there, he was..." Albert's hand claps to his mouth. "He was drawing on the walls of the office with his fingers. With...his blood. Formulae, schematics. Every surface was covered."

Albert's hand slides up to his forehead. "It had only been a few hours. Oliver had been prone to fits, but never...self-harm. I figured I'd try to offer him a sedative, clean his wounds, and do a full work-up. When I called his name, he turned around and had this...wide smile on his face. He started laughing. Then he grabbed his pen and stabbed me."

The professor closes his eyes. "I've been stabbed before. You don't get to be tenured faculty in the Order of Blood without getting stuck with a few needles, dealing with an unruly patient, that sort of thing. But...his face." His brow furrows. "I shut him in there and went to clean myself up, ask for a colleague to help. But everywhere I went...there was blood. And mirth."

Poor Brandark didn't pay attention in his classes. Either that or doesn't care much about human history. Roya knows most of the countries of the Lake Encarthan region, but probably couldn't correctly identify them on a map without guessing on two or three.

Ekat shakes his head. "It's been well over 200 years. She could be on the other side of Golarion, for all I know. Elves have wanderlust. She may not even remember me, if she's still alive."

There are several NPCs back in town (Jocyn Elmaran, Holgast, Rantal Prasst, & Moltus Vargidan being the likeliest suspects) who can help to ID any magic items, which we can handwave or play out as you want.

For the most part, I find rolling for magic item identification to be most important when there are time constraints and knowing or not knowing what something does could have an impact on upcoming encounters or a big story beat. So it's still important for someone in the group to have Spellcraft and Appraise, but I'm not going to belabor the point by cluttering things up with rolls that just delay an eventual ID.

So that was a Ring of Swimming.

Are there are any other items that you had yet to ID? Potions, wands, that sort of thing?

---

I also commented in in the document that Ekat Kassen gave you his shield, bag, and gem, but did not give you his sword and armor. If you want those, you'll have to take them.

It's not cheating if it works!

Teloda had taken a moment in the room where Senrin had cleaned his own blood off the floor. It wasn't so much that she doubted her new companion's cleaning capabilities, but she held herself to a high standard, no doubt influenced by her adoptive father. It's during this, down on her hands and knees under the table, that she lifts up a slightly bent-up carpet edge and finds a piece of parchment. On the left side of the parchment is a list of locations in Tamran--neighborhoods, intersections, and prominent buildings. On the right side is a list of times. Several of the times are circled, but there are no other notations.

---

As cleaning comes to an end, about half an hour past the third afternoon bell, the doors to the sanctuary swing open wide to invite in the masked congregation. Every acolyte is present, and at least half of the gray-robed priests are here as well. A black-robed herald, one whose voice you haven't heard before, leads the service. As with the morning service, there are litanies and psalms to the living god, repeated "All hail!" calls, and a few hymns. The sermon is full of pomp and circumstance, or perhaps more pomposity than pomp.

Everyone: Make a DC 5 Charisma check to avoid falling asleep.

Yes! Flavor it as lifting a prayer to Desna to shift that luck from you to someone else.

Olenna turns one of the jars (filled with a pink emulsion) around to look for instructions. Finding them, she reads. "Using a brush (bristle, hair, or fur preferred), apply Malvolio's Marvelous Pigments (TM) to any flat surface, taking care to depict three-dimensional effects as accurately as possible. Once dry, the painter should concentrate on the image until it rises from the surface. Warning: Do not attempt to create living creatures with Malvolio's Pigments (TM)."

Ekat Kassen's ghost's brow creases in concern at Conrad's question. "I'm sorry, lad, but I don't remember much of the Vault itself, nor the way there. But I pray you'll never have to go there. That way lies only death. Seek Iramine instead, and pray that she stayed true. Or try to track the thieves. Do not seek the Golden City."

Also, good news for Brandark (which Joras or Miron will be able to confirm): that satchel is bigger on the inside!

Hi, KC!

Unfortunately, I haven't heard anything from Rackal in almost 3 months. I found an email I thought might be hers a few weeks back and tried to ping her there, but no dice. I also hope that she's okay.

Hope you're doing well, too!

The eyes and the smile are nice, and Slip wants to believe them. But warm kindness often masked malice.

Evil was one of those...odd words, fraught with shades of meaning. The signs--and Slip knew at least three that roughly translated the same--were rife with the negative connotation. Certainly there was the metaphysical and planar associations with undead and fiends, rife as they often were with raw negative energy. Then there were the philosophical questions of intent versus consequences versus adherence to rules. Most people who casually threw the word around didn't want to summon a linguistic debate when they used it. And the world rarely contained mustache-twirling villains cackling as though unfurling a banner declaring themselves and their plans as evil. Most evil was banal and carried forward with some sort of core justification from the actor. But it was complicated. And it always felt different.

Sometimes there a color. Buzzing red was common, but sometimes evil was sickly yellow, or a hungry, yearning green. There was often a texture. Prickly and oily were both very common. The smells were the most varied: bouquets of intention were so common, almost sick-sweet potpourri to mask an inescapable residue of rotting meat. The astringence of a surgeon's tent, that attempt to wash away the iron tang of blood in the air, was also a usual find. Of course, sometimes people didn't try to hide it.

The point was, evil wasn't always all bad. That was one of the first lessons Slip had had to learn: how to differentiate between the shades. To use this extra sense, this synesthetic bundle of phenomena, to understand a world often consumed by darkness. Darkness wasn't inherently bad either. Darkness was normal. But bad things hid in the dark sometimes. Took advantage of the dark to hurt others.

Slip returns the old man's warm smile and lets his senses expand to take in the essence of his being.

Using my detect evil spell-like ability.

Stench!

Olenna tries not to wrinkle her nose at the name, which she probably wouldn't be able to recognize even if she smelled it again, and accepts the name "Choruk" as what she can grasp. She reaches into her bag, wishing she knew more about otyugh physiology to know whether what she was prepared to offer would even help. "Well, Choruk...it's not food, at least I don't think so, but I have--" she pulls out a little glass vial, glowing slightly blue, and holds it out, "--this little analgesic. A pain-killer."

Laori might find the prospect offensive, but Choruk wasn't a Kuthite.

Albert nods at Luu Sânh. "That's right--my mistake."

When Edmund announces himself right after Luu Sânh had expressed a reservation, Albert chuckles grimly. Well, that was that. He hadn't been sure whether the el with his arm in a sling would have gotten his message at the distance between them, but he had. Good enough.

"Nonsense it was," he confirms to Chezarina (though he doesn't know that name yet), approaching gingerly. "Creeping madness, taking people I've known for decades from curious and helpful to gleefully savage in a matter of flickers." He sits down and gazes into the fire. "I'm glad to know we weren't the only ones to make it out."

Yikes, Drasven--very sorry to hear that! Please do take care of yourself as much as possible. We'll be here when you need a break from the troubles of the real world.

---

For those with Favored Prestige Class, yes: you get +1 hit point, +1 skill point, and a unique FCB. For the Sphere Singer, Lia could also choose to Add +1 to the sphere singer's total number of starsong rounds per day. For the Evangelist, Drasven should treat the the Aligned Class as continuing to progress his racial Cleric FCB.

Definitely take your time thinking through story feats! We're in no rush for that, as I'm just lolling through the river journey to Turtleback Ferry and dropping little story and/or worldbuilding kernels in your paths.

Loving it, y'all! You're playing well with the new goodies!

Take your time, Conrad. We're in no rush.

And when Joras is able to return, hopefully he's pleased with the developments! (And not overwhelmed...)

Yes! You are now rocking Max HP with Conrad!

That means Brandark's HP should be 10 + 2 + 1 + 10 + 2 + 1 = 26, factoring in the expanded FCB and your Con. Not too shabby, dwarf!

Albert rolls his eyes at Zephyr's audacious drama. Well, they had a flair for it after all, so why not?

"It's good to meet you, Thuàng Nê Luu Sânh. Better you by far than Inquisitor Ky La, speaking of madness" He shivers at that memory, still barely days on. He points up. "Don't mind Zephyr; they're fast and probably wanted to catch up with me in case you wanted to do me harm." He smiles, uncertain whether that wasn't still the case, but hoping that they were reaching some understanding. "May I call you Thuàng, or have I chosen the wrong given name?"

A round-up of votes so far! (Just waiting on Brandark's input.)

Experience: 1 vote for Milestone Leveling and 3 ambivalent
Hit Points: Half + Half Roll has three votes, with two also okay with Max, and one suggestion to default to just Half
Background Skills: A resounding Yes
Favored Class Bonus Expansion: Two yes, one ambivalent, and one concerned about balance
Traits: A resounding yes
Free Story Feat: Two yes, one ambivalent, and one concerned about balance

---

So if you haven't already, start choosing your 4 background skill ranks, your campaign trait, and two other traits. (Unless Brandark has strong opposition.)

We can continue to discuss Experience, HP, FCB, and Story feats, especially once Brandark has weighed in.

---

Good luck with the rest of the move, Joras!

---

Great choices, Roya! It looks like Roya might need to meet a kitty somewhere in her next destination. Can you please link me to the specific animal companion you're likely to choose?

That goes for everyone, by the way. If you have a class feature that you'd like to introduce in roleplay before it comes online, like an animal companion, let me know so that I can help integrate it into the story!

---

Overall, as Roya said, I don't find that these changes unbalance encounters. Her explanations basically read my mind, so I'll refer to her! NPCs (and creatures, where applicable), will get some of these goodies, too, which mostly just lets me say things like, "It's dumb that this NPC doesn't have X skill given their background, so now they do."

Some of the Story feats are stronger than others, but they're mostly for flavor. They can provide extra hooks, raisons d'être, etc. And while I don't like exercising veto, I will raise my eyebrow higher than Spock's if you select something way out of your written background for the apparent purpose of powergaming.

As for Healer's Touch, I think that's a great one to aim for! I'd ask you to keep track of your damage healed versus dealt. For the Achievement Feats, I'd be pretty strict with the prerequisites. I'd be less strict with the Story Feats, though! They're an open conversation!

(And yes, I'd like to roll the expanded FCB out to the other games if I haven't done so already; Runelords and Iron Gods had both been running longer, so I didn't want to upset the apple cart too much. Which I already have. So why not?)

I do love haunts, but they were not explained especially well in 1E. I like the order that you propose, Basil, and...well, who knows if this will come up again?

(It will.)

So, yes, when a haunt is triggered, we'll proceed as follows:

Smoke? And as the adage goes, where there was smoke, there was usually fire. Given the controlled wisps, the fire was likely controlled as well. Were there others out here? And if so, were they friendly?

Albert taps at his ear-bound messenger and hopes that Edmund and Zephyr are close enough to hear without too much static. <"I believe I have found others outside the barrier. I'm moving in to investigate.">

Stealth: 1d20 + 2 - 5 ⇒ (6) + 2 - 5 = 3

Albert isn't even trying to be sneaky; his very presence announces itself easily from far out, the clank of metal plates and the hiss of rudimentary hydraulics allowing the creatures of the forest ample notice to move away if they are afraid. He even calls out in the common tongue. "Whoever has the fire, I'm coming towards you. Hopefully you will wait there."

The figure that emerges from the tree line looks from the neck down like a silver golem glimmering with a yellowish luster where the Sun's rays strike it, abjurative runes carved in the open space. Wires and hoses peak out from between and within the plates in exposed, unprotected casings. A large circular battery encircles the left wrist. From the neck up is the head of a sylph, pearlescent skin giving way to a thick tousle of hair in shades of amethyst, lilac, and lavender. Even from a distance, golden eyes complete the face of a man with light, early-onset wrinkles around the eyes and forehead. The figure waits there at the trees, holding his hands up in a show of not meaning any harm. "Do I have your permission to approach?"

Thawm was correct to roll the Fort save first and the Knowledge check after. While Knowledge checks do not take an action in 1E, they are intended to be done on your turn. Saves come first.

I do generally agree, though, that doing rolls in prompted order is best!

Unless you all are invested in the details of this conversation, I'm wary of overplanning, especially when such conversations can just as easily happen out of character. The invitation regarding Huyanwo won't occur for a couple more days at least. If you're at all familiar with the Blades in the Dark system, I like the way that system just encourages GMs to throw PCs into the action and let players flash back to their prep, sort of like the tropes in heist movies. We're not going to go that far, but there are no prepared spellcasters on the team who will change their preparations based on this information. Vexing over whether to do something that might be offered in a few days does not seem pressing.

When you're ready to turn in and move on to the morning, just let me know.

A few things to start thinking about:

---

Is there anything else that anyone would like to see moving from this module into the next?

Summary: For each of the following, please express your preference or propose an alternative: