Vanilla 3.5 Dungeon Crawl

[Caesar]

The blackness swims thick in your skull, and through the pain, you hear a strange, gutteral chanting. A rancid, burning odor rakes your lungs, and waves of naseau shake your weakened frame. You feel as if you are falling backwards, but the vertigo reverts itself every few seconds, and the cold hard truth of the stone below your back makes itself painfully known. You try to move your hand to your face, but it is restrained, perhaps with chains, or perhaps with only the weight of your own clothes, you cannot tell.

Memories begin to seep thru the waste that is currently your mind; a solitary meeting with a stranger, a secret job, some sense of urgency. It begins to come back to you, the rumor, the reward, the man in the tavern. You drank over the contract, too good to be true you remember thinking, already suspicious as you held your cup..the wine.. You can taste it in your mouth now, black and bile, poison..

Groaning, you open your eyes. The dim light of candles illuminates the room, there is a thick haze about.. You are lying on your back, on a stone slab. Looking to your right, another slab.. another body, fully clothed, hands and feet extended out over the edges, bound with some twine from which small, black rocks hang suspended. Strange. Summoning a little more strength, you lift your arm; the stone is heavy, but it moves. The effort tears a hole in your brain, and you vomit in your mouth a little.

The chanting continues, murmurred, quiet, alien, but with a sense of urgency. The tone seems to be increasing, the frequency picking up. Fighting blinding pain, you manage to lift your head. You are dressed exactly as you were yesterday. Beyond your feet, in the center of the room enshrouded in smoke, is a robed figure surrounded by candles, five stone slabs adorned with still breathing bodies spaced evenly in a circle around him. Your movement does not seem to break the mesmerizing trance of the ritual.

All:You go in the order to which you return to this thread. Ask questions in the OOC thread, to keep our story clean. You are fatigued and sickened. You are fully geared, but your weapons are sheathed and your bags do not seem to be on hand. If you are a spellcaster, you have a full contingent of spells, having luckily not cast any the day before.

[Sallera]

Uergh... that was pretty strong stuff, to take me down. Should have listened to my blood and scanned the wine... Finally managing to look around, Tailyn is unenthused by the presented sight. What kind of ritual is this? Sounds like it's almost done, and I doubt I'll like the results... but moving hurts too much. Dropping his head back down, he tries again to lift his arms, but can't yet summon the strength to arise. Candles... circles are always important. Wonder what will happen... if you leave it?

Lifting his head once more, he stares at the robed figure, summoning his remaining power to the one outlet left unbound - his voice. The first words resound with the crash of a wave against the shore, demanding obedience by sole virtue of inexorable pressure. "Come here, you miserable cretin."

Command to approach, Will DC15 negates.

[StandardBC]

What's going on? Where am I? Thought Ferald. He looked around, seeing the multiple people strapped to stone tables. He notices himself tied to one as well. When did this happen. Who's the guy chanting in the circle? He struggles against his restraints. After hearing one of the other victims talk, he tried even harder.

Strength Check against chains/ropes: [roll0]

[Caesar]

R'yeldh'a gaarndha'l kleptuk n'hiiikt'u.. The creature's chanting continues unabated, and it drowns out the sudden voice of Tailyn as he rises somewhat shaken from his drug induced slumber, but the being does take notice of him. It does not seem compelled in the slightest by the cleric's intonation, and instead turns its head and casts a quick, eyeless gaze at the halfling, who is suddenly wracked with pain and falls back to his slab.

Meanwhile, the half-giant struggles with the cords bound to his wrists, and is somewhat bemused to find that he cannot break them, tho the stones do not seem to impede him much as it were. The being either does not notice, or cares not, continuing with its chanting instead.

allthe stones are not of any great size or weight, being about the size of an orange. they appear to be more part of the ritual than a method of actual restrainment. The heaviness is more an effect of your own weakness at the moment (sorry I will be more precise in the future). Tailyn, you are stunned next round, having failed your own will save.

[Nixed]

Rolls off the slab cursing quietly under his breath as he does. He looks around trying to figure out where he is, what happened, and who the offending party is so they can be lit on fire.


Knowledge checks to see if he can figure anything out through the haze.
Arcane: [roll0]
Religion: [roll1]
Spellcraft: [roll2]

Also is the language something recognizable? I know elvish, orcish, draconic and goblin.

[Tortoise262]

Krank slowly awakens... That drink must have been drugged! No human-made beverage could knock me out. Especially not wine. Trying to remember anything more causes too much pain, so Krank tries to remove his bonds by force. "When I get offa this table, I'll make sure you regret this!"

[Zen Master]

Stanislav had a reversal of intent. First, dragging his mind up to wakefulness - then, feeling the throbbing pain behind his eyes, a feeble but intenste desire to drag it back down into sleep.

Oh mercy, Mother Bitchia, goddess of angry head aches. What did I do this time? Actually, never mind what I did - what did I drink?

Gingerly, he raised his hand to his head - or tried to. Twine? What is this? Oh swell - the constabulary has me. Again. I bet it's that ... Fara-something-something, that two-bit little ... Stanislav lapsed into a longish string of internal swearing.

Oh so slowly, Stanislav realises the chanting. The candles. The slabs with human bodies. Clearly, Faradane is up to far more serious shenanigans than he ever expected.


Mental inventory: Am I all in one piece? Other than a fractured mind, it seems so. I have my gear. And heavy rocks are bound to me - that stuff has to go.

My plan, such as it is, goes thusly: Get out of the ropes (use rope and/or escape artist), get my sword out, and cleverly wait for that huge guy over there to make the first move.

Use rope: [roll0]
Escape artist: [roll1]

Slight of hand (to avoid the rocks falling to the ground and make noise I don't need - never mind the enemies, it's my head I'm worried about): [roll2]
Bluff (to seem to be doing something innocous like vomiting and struggling feebly against the ropes): [roll3]

In case all this succeeds, I will be ready to leap and fight on a moments notice. Juuuust waiting for someone else to move and draw their fire.

Oh, hey, hang on just one second! Am I being observed? Could I sneak off to some dark corner, undetected?

Spot (to find if I'm under direct scrutiny): [roll4]
Hide in shadows (should I find I can get away with it): [roll5]

That's rather a lot of rolls for one round. Lemme know how much - if any - of that works out.

[Caesar]

The chanting continues, as a half-elf in robes sturdies himself with his quarterstaff, and swings off the table. The stones hit the ground with a deafening and yet muffled cracking sound, as if a giant stone had struck the rocky bottom of the sea. The room reverberates with the noise, and the candles seem to flicker and dim momentarily.

At the same time, the human captive struggles on his table with his bonds. The knots are patterned, if not intricate, but not at all of the kind he is used to using to bind a prisoner thouroughly. He is surprised when they resist his fingers. Perhaps it is just the drugs, but he is certain they were undone, only to find them neatly bound again.

Not given to such niceties, the water-orc lets out an angry grunt and tears the bonds from his arms and legs before sitting up on the table. The stones fall to the floor with the hollow clack of pebbles.

With all this commotion, the creature in the center of the room begins to jerk his head back and forth, obviously startled at the sudden awakening of each and every one of his captive subjects. His chanting picks up in frequency, his voice sounding haste and hurried.

allTailyn is laid out on his back on the table, stunned. Ferald is up next, followed by creature, followed by the rest of you. Its a full-round action to attempt to escape the ritual stone bindings, DC 20 str or escape artist check, or freedom of movement if you got it of course.

[StandardBC]

The Half-Giant continues to try to snap the ropes, noticing the creature has quickened his pace.

[roll0]

[Zen Master]

As the ropes resist his otherwise nimble fingers, Stanislav mumbles under his breath. Others may or may not hear a string of sweltering curses, including but not limited to

Original language: 'Vat? Stupid rope is not untie? Die, stupid rope. Bloody [incomprehensible] magics. Bloody south ... peoples.'
Subtitles: 'What manner of foul sorcery is this? Bloody, gods damned southern devilry. Just you bloody wait until I ...'


Change of tactics - eat swordblade, you twine you. Or is that terribly impractical? If I can get my blade free, it should all become so much easier once the first bond has been cut. Or that's the plan, anyways.

Maybe an easier escape artist check to quick draw the sword, standard action to cut the twine?

Escape artist: [roll0]
Attack roll (if you want it): [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]
Initiative (in case you want one at some point): [roll3]

[Caesar]

Ferald pulls heavily at first one lashing on his wrist, then another, and growls in disgust as the cords strrretch and spring back into place, the black stones still attached and dangling over the sides of the table.

The eyeless man twists around on his knees, his hands still tracing the floor, his mouth still mumbling the dark words of the ritual. He grimaces, and a blast of fire erupts from his forehead, leaping across the room at the newly awakened waterorc. The arc of flames splashes across Krank's chest, caught partially offguard as he slaps the pieces of cordage from his ankles, and knocks him back over the table and on his head in a heap on the floor. You can almost smell the stink of sulphur and singe of hair over the rancid odor of the candles.

Acrimos looks panicked and pulls his blade from its sheath. He slides it in under the cords on his left wrist, and gives a pull that should have severed a hemp moorage line. Astonishingly, the blade merely knicks the cords, which begin to retwine themselves before his very eyes.

The halfling cleric begins to groan, and shows signs of stirring.

All: If it really bothers you guys that I am rolling your saves, you can by all means roll them yourself. I am just doing it to save time (rest assured, I do roll them and add your appropriate bonuses etc).

Krank, you failed both ref saves horribly and take 9 points fire damage and 4 points falling damage. You are now under cover, lying prone at the head or far end of your table. You find your pack lying back there. The ritual creature is 30 feet from you.

Acrimos, once again the cords are merely ritualistic and do not do much to impede you physically (the half elf is standing for example, cords attached), so the many rolls were not needed. That said, you dont even come close to cutting it.

As for initiative, we are rolling with the original response order for the duration of this fight. Feel free to interject your actions if you are online to post (you can even post future actions in spoilers if wanted), I will fit things in accordingly and will gladly move init order around slightly if it saves time and doesnt affect battle greatly. Tailyn, your next action (start of round 3) will be placed after krank and the pryoman have moved.

[Nixed]

A quick look around shows people struggling with the bonds, Pelandor takes a different approach. Pointing his hand out towards the robed figure he sends two blasts of energy in an effort to disrupt whatever the ritual is. Plus you know, revenge.


Magic missile at Robed figure:
Missile 1:[roll0]
Missile 2:[roll1]

[Caesar]

As the wizard finishes his incantation, the stones hanging from his wrists glow "dark", and a surge of gravity jerks his outstretched hands downwards. The magic missiles flash from his fingertips and launch directly at the floor. They nearly impact, only to zip along the floor tiles at lightning fast speed before flinging themselves upwards to explode in the creature's face! It screeches, and the room darkens and seems to lurch momentarily, before it begins chanting still more, now at a definite hurried pace.

[Sallera]

That didn't go so well. Processing the information he'd picked up out of the corner of his eye, he takes note of the ropes' strange properties. Magic string and magic rocks. Good thing I went with my instincts and used a vocal spell; less good that it didn't affect him.

Struggling to his knees, Tailyn braces the hanging rocks against the sides of the altar, holding the cords taut to keep his hands steady. A second layer of darkness briefly covers the ritual circle; it shrinks in on itself, coalescing to a point directly under the eyeless man as Tailyn's murmur builds to a shout, and then explodes outward with the deafening crash of a wave against the cliffs of the Sword Coast.

Attempting to take a few precautions against the rocks, then using a Sound Burst centred on the ritualist for [roll0] sonic damage, and a DC16 Fort save to avoid being stunned for one round.

[StandardBC]

I hate these strings. Ferald curses the ropes as he still continues to strain against them.

It really shouldn't be this hard to snap a rope :smallbiggrin:...

[roll0]

[Caesar]

The creature continues its hurried chanting, even as the halfling clambers down from his stone altar and braces himself as he casts a spell. Curiously enough, the stones do not gain in weight as he intones the sacred words, the strength of his voice gradually rising against the dark language, a tide against the sea it seems. Louder and louder he lifts his prayer, but the cacaphony of gutteral shouts and rancid smoke drown him out, until, just at the height of his spell, a single note rings out crystal clear and pure.

The thing staggers on his knees, his voice caught in his throat, the ritual chanting stops. A single drop of blood trickles out of his nostril. The room seems to hang, and grow dark.

In the background, the half-giant can still be seen struggling with his cords, like a kitten caught in the knitting yarn.

All: Nice shot, smart move, and lucky at that. The thing is stunned, and loses its turn. Ferald, you are starting to realize that the cords are not normal by any means. The rest of you may take actions, it has lost its turn for now.

[Zen Master]

Stanislav (who is this 'Acromos' person - pffsh, what sort of name is that even?!) looks in astonishment at the rope. Forehead creased with frustration, he mumbles 'de hells?!' - and ransacks his mind for other options.

There was that time he did that thing with the magical trap - sorta just eased, gently, that thing to the side and scratched out that rune. Oh but if only he could remember. And if only his head hurt less.


A new approach is required. Peering at the ensorcelled stones and rope, Stanislav tries his hand at something he only reluctantly messes with: Magic.

Decipher script (are there any runes - I thought there were?!): [roll0]
Disable device: [roll1]
Alternatively, should there be anything as simple as a command word to release the twine, Use Magic Device: [roll2]

Stanislavs approach to UMD is to shake the twine, curse at it 'leggo'a me, you [complicated Vaasan curse left out for common decency]!' and shout random, invented command words.

[Sallera]

Better. But it will not last long. Channeling Istishia's waters was starting to clear his head a little, and Tailyn manages to hold his arms out for another spell. "My lord, I seek your blessing, that this fool's ritual may be... washed away." He closes his fist, and every candle flame is suddenly doused in a splash of water. Pulling off his left gauntlet, the halfling reveals a copper ring that burns with heatless blue flame, pushing back the darkness in their place.

Suppose I'll get one more action before he does, so insert this wherever appropriate. Using Create Water, distributed over the circle of candles, and uncovering the Continual Flame on Tailyn's ring.

[Zen Master]

I an moment of uncharacteristic charity, Stanislav observes the clerics actions and thinks 'hm, that's actually rather clever.'

Meanwhile, he hopes fervently for the bloody twine to bloody die!

[Nixed]

Taking a queue from Tailyn, Pel propped the stones up on the slab in front of him in an effort to keep them from going anywhere this time, while also giving him cover. Leaving the strings slack as he aims, he releases his powers at the robed figure once more, taking the opportunity to strike hard while it is not moving.


Scorching Ray
Ranged Touch Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Caesar]

AllAs Krank is effectively out of the "do physical damage action" this round, tho do correct me if I am wrong (you are prone and cant charge), I'm gonna move this forward. Take your actions or what have you and I will fit them in.

Stanislav looks up from his clever if fruitless efforts to decode his magical bindings, just in time to see Pelandor brace himself behind the altar and unleash a fiery storm on the thing in the center of the circle. The stones darken, but remain firmly on their perch; his aim does not falter. It's robes resist at first, then blacken, then burst into flames. Fire licks at its flesh, and the fat begins to bubble beneath its skin. It lets out shreaking gasp of air, somewhat muffled as it seems unable to catch its breath, before it slumps over in a kneeling position, smoke rising from its smouldering ruin, its head hanging nearly in its lap.

With a shout, Tailyn lifts his hand and invokes a rainfall, dousing the blistering black candles aligned around the wreck of the man. They sputter and spit, and let off a thick last gasp of acrid smoke before hissing to their ruin. As he raises his ring, the light stabs thru the haze and lifts the room considerably. Five open stone passageways lead away behind each altar.

[Zen Master]

Faced with a true gordian knot, Stanislav embarks upon a road long abandoned. The weeds overgrowing this path are tangled and toughened with age. Stinging barbs have they, and bitter their sting. It is the path of ..... ask for help.

He looks at the guy next to him, also still struggling with the twine. A greenskin, no less (that's correct, right? Ferald is the ork?). Well desperation makes for strange bedfellows.

Original language: '... um - oi! Tuskface. Wot say us try and work together to snap twine?' intones he.
Subtitles: 'Good sir of the orkish persuation, might I suggest we work together to free ourselves from these bonds?'


Aid another: [roll0]

[Sallera]

Sitting back with a heavy breath, Tailyn pushes himself off the altar and staggers over to the remains of the circle. His spear still seems to be where he left it; drawing it forth, he drives it through the creature's skull for good measure, then sets about attempting to snap the twine while he inspects what's left of the ritual circle - from the outside, of course.

Sounds like we're out of combat time? Not sure, so just two rounds of actions here.
First, approach and stab the guy, just to make sure he stays down.
Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]
Then a strength check to break the rocks off, and Knowledge: Religion for the circle.
Strength: [roll2]
Knowledge: [roll3]

If we've got more time, will just take 20 on that strength check.

[Nixed]

The others don't appear to be hostile, and at least one of the others seemed to be helping him take care of the ritualist, so that is good news. He doesn't exactly regard them as suspicious, but he goes out of his way to keep them in front of him as he works to free himself from the bindings, trying to look for any other threats as he does.


Take 20 to free self, assuming that's possible now.
Listen: [roll0]
Spot: [roll1]

[StandardBC]

Ferald looks towards the man attempting to aid him with the ropes. He's still confused as to what was going on and wasn't quite ready to help or be helped. He took his time, accepting the offer from the man to assist in untying his own ropes, and decided it would only be right to return the favor.

Let's just pretend you never brought up the orc line. Ferald is the half-giant :smallbiggrin:.

(25) on Str to break ropes.

[Tortoise262]

Rubbing his head and rising from his fireball-induced daze, Krank realizes he is no longer bound to the slab (though he might not have been bound to begin with, he thought he was XD). Krank grabs his spiked chain, stands up, and moves in to slice the unfortunate cultist when he lets his guard down!

I listed 3 move actions: Grab weapon, stand up, and move. I'm pretty sure grabbing my weapon can be combined with another move, right? Krank will move adjacent to the creature and make an Attack of Opportunity if he tries to continue channeling the ritual:
[roll0]; [roll1]

[Zen Master]

Seeing Krank leap up and get ready to fight, Stanislav realises that while his own head is still fairly spinning, this other guy may be even more hung over =)

'Enemy is dead, niet? Got spear in head, has made last ritual.'

[Tortoise262]

"After what I've been through here, I don' trust the man enough to believe he's dead!"

[Caesar]

Krank and the halfling cleric advance together on the smouldering heap in the center of the room, with the intention of ending things with the kind of certainty only a crushed skull can give. If they wonder about eachother's similar heritage, they make no notice of it. The halfling raises his spear, and brings it down thru the man's skull, just as the water-orc takes its face off with a length of gleaming chain. The man spasms before he dies, his arms clutch at the floor -he was clearly alive. Just before they do, however, they notice a distinct humming sensation which emmanates from the man and diminishes as it spreads thru the room.

With the death of the ritualist, so dies the magic of the stones. They lose their weight, and the grip slackens in the cords.

All:Sorry for the wait, guests. The cordage is quite mundane now, and isnt even specially well knotted. You are out of initiative..for now

Pelandor:You don't notice anything outright in the room, but your hear some scratching noise somewhere in the distance immediately after the tone

[Sallera]

"Well, he's certainly dead now." Yanking his spear out of the creature's skull, Tailyn flicks it in a wide arc, shedding the blood before slinging it over his back again and snapping the twine holding the stones to his limbs.

"You're looking a bit singed, there, friend. Give me a minute, here." Rolling the smoking corpse over with a boot, he rummages through its remaining pockets with his gauntleted hand, searching for his wand. "Anyone see my pack around here, perchance?"

Spellcraft: [roll0] - Did that chime sound familiar?

Oh, and I assume we're all still fatigued/sickened? Just add 2 to that roll otherwise.

[Nixed]

"No packs over here. Any clue where we are?" After removing the rocks. Waving his hand to get their attention, pointing to his ear than in the direction he heard the scratching as he continues to look around for any clues as to what just happened.

[StandardBC]

Ferald puts his back to the nearest stone wall and readies his sword. He has no reason to fear the other people in the room, but can't help being suspicious. What's going on? Who are you all? Where are we? He asks to no one in particular. His untrusting side getting the best of him.

[Sallera]

"Name's Tailyn d'Lavratein. I've no more idea where we are than you, but I aim to find out." Finishing with the corpse, Tailyn searches through the rest of the room, holding the ring up to illuminate the walls and hallways.

Search: [roll0]

[Zen Master]

'I am Stanislav, of de Ferenc. Am uh ... how you say?! ... noble knight of realm. From Vaasa.'

True Vaasans, of course, don't have much truck with the merchants tongue, and speak their own native language mostly.

'I say we cut bloody swath through anything between us and exit from place, da?'


Are there shadows? If so, Stanislav slinks off to them. This is pre-emptive, mostly - signalling that I intend to be ready to not be seen.
Hide in shadows: [roll0]
Move silently: [roll1]

At the same time, I'd like to watch for the approach of enemies.
Listen: [roll2]
Spot: [roll3]

[Sallera]

The halfling gives a feral grin, brushing back spiky grey-blue hair with his coldfire hand. "Only if they try to stop us, mind."

[Zen Master]

A cold, hard glint shines in Stanislavs eyes as he replies 'da, is nice - but not required.'

[Caesar]

Quickly slipping the cordage, the party looks about. The room is rather spartan, made of a dark black stone finely cut and laid so tightly, no mortar can be seen. Runes of a strange character are lightly engraved in a circle on the floor within the five stone altars; their purpose or make elludes you all as of yet. The foul candles, if you can call them that, are interspersed along this band. The room is lit by crystals inset in the walls which give off light with a reddish tinge.

Tailyn's search of the thing is rather fruitless, what is left of its course robe reveals no pockets and the same material, if a bit thinner and finer, make up its undergarments. It doesn't even have a pouch for spell-components. Spartan, indeed. It appears to be human, but it is hard to be sure as not much remains of its face and head. Its hands are black with the filth of the candles which covers the very center of the room, and inky stains wander up its arms to join runic tattoos of the same nature as those embossed in the stones.

You do quickly notice your packs during the search of the room, tucked up neatly behind each of your respective altars. Shouldering your gear, you continue your inspection.

Stanislav slinks off to the stone doorway behind his own slab, crouching in the shadow and smoke, the latter of which is already dissipating -you can feel your heads beginning to lighten and your stomachs start to settle.

Stanislav: There is a dark stone corridor leading away about ten feet, before it banks sharply to the right. As your eyes grow accustomed to the darker hallway, a figure steps around the corner.

All:You are no longer sickened.

[Zen Master]

I'm basing this on an assumption that I cannot remain hidden for many heartbeats. This then, is my plan: To strike from the shadows, win initiative and do so again - then shout for my new friends.
Assuming surprise, power attack: vs. flat-footed
Initiative: [roll1]
Power attack: [roll2] hopefully still vs. flat-footed

Damage, first attack: [roll]1d10+1d6+8
Damage, second attack: 1d10+1d6+8


Stanislavs voice issues from the corridor 'Oi! Um ... wat is word?! Incoming!'

[Zen Master]

My apologies for double post - editing dice rolls seems to be ... problematic.


Damage rolls - again.
First attack: [roll0] plus sneak attack [roll1]
Second attack: [roll2] plus sneak attack [roll3]

[Caesar]

Surprise round incoming. Stanislav.. yeah ok ill take those. =) (You cant edit dice rolls. OOC thread mentions not to try to delete them, either). Initiative will be shown after resolution. Stay tuned (gotta walk the baby, will have it done in a few hours), I'll edit this post with the results. Was just trying to head Stanislav off at the past, alas, he was quicker than I.

[Nixed]

Recovering his gear he quickly loads his cross bow. While he's not exactly asking them to house sit, he's fairly sure the others in the room aren't about to try and shank him so he focuses on the doorway the Vaasan points out as having someone else that can use a good burning..

[Tortoise262]

"I'm Krank. I come from a coastal fishing village, don't mistake me fo--Oi! WHAT-coming" The water orc replies to Stanislav's outburst (a little more slowly than he would have liked) and takes a battle stance, spiked chain in hand. Grr! If you would talk like a normal person, I coulda reacted faster!"

Initiative: [roll0]
On his turn, Krank will move as close as he can, and attack if possible:
[roll1]; [roll2]

[Zen Master]

Oh illustrious Master of Ceremonies:

I didn't try to edit the dice rolls. As you can see, I got the syntax wrong in the first post, and made another where I got them right - because they cannot be edited. So from now on, it's weapon damage in one roll, sneak attack in another.

I just didn't know =)

So how is that surprise round coming?

[Caesar]

-Surprise Round-

Stanislav: As the man steps around the corner, you swallow and nearly hesitate. He's big. A full meter bigger than you, big. But he doesn't seem to notice, his stern gaze fixed solely on you 'companions' in the room beyond. He steps forward, and you spring into action, launching forwards and leaping up simultaneously, your bastard sword following and then swinging past your movement, straight threw his sternum. The force of the impact splits his ribcage, and hot blood showers out on your arm and face. He manages a sick gurgle, and slumps over. By the time you get your eyes wiped clean, you are surprised to see he is quite normal in size. Perhaps the drugs are playing tricks on you, still.

Your action brings you to the crook of the hallway, it slopes upwards into darkness, and no immediate threats can be seen. You make the first move in the first round, followed by THEM, followed by the rest of the crew.

Stanislav shouts, and leaps into the hallway, bastard sword drawn. You look up from various pursuits towards the commotion just in time to be nearly bowled over by tremendous shouts that fly from the doorways, reverberating thru the room and ringing terribly in your ears. The noise carries an impact which seems to focus on the two largest of your companions; Feldar and Krank, as well as the heavily armored cleric, who staggers and sways, but wipes his brow and remains with his wits. Three rather large figures charge out into the room branding longswords, to take up places just to the back and side of the altars near their doors.

At the same time, a burst of flame errupts from the door behind Pelandor, blasting thru his hair and clothes and knocking his head against the altar where his pack was stashed. He stands, but looks the worse for wear. His attacker remains unseen, but stands undoubtably in the darkened hallway behind him.


All: I am referring to "their doors" according to the original altar placement you had. Your attacker comes out of the door near your altar. I'd rather play a bit loose with the tactical placement if you dont mind, to save time, but if you really want to, we can work in a grid system in the future.

Stanislav has the first move in the round, followd by the enemy, followed by Feldar, Pyro (next round), Taiyln, Krank.

Tailyn + Krank: You both stand near the center of the room and can clearly see the three that have emerged, but cant really make out whats going on behind Pelandor or in Stanislav's corridor. Krank you take 8 hps of damage and are 35 feet from the nearest enemy. Tailyn you got hit for 13, but avoided being stunned by the sound of it.
Pelandor: You take 6 hps fire damage and are stunned for one round. You are standing at the north end of the north altar, where you just got your pack.
Feldar: You take 8 hps damage. You are standing on the east end of the room, between your table and Stanislav's. You are within easy move+striking distance of the rather large man who just emerged.

[Tortoise262]

Krank Schlagenpfeffer:
On my turn, I'll move 30 ft. and attack the closest enemy, as per my previous post. Apply my Dodge bonus to that creature as well. I have a web-based battle grid system (http://crossproduct.mygamesonline.org/rpg/) that I wrote for use in PbP games. Take a look, and let me know if you want me to set it up for this campaign.

[Zen Master]

If I understand correctly, I killed the guy guarding my alter. I will move along the wall to the next guy, and the the stabby on him.

Splattered with fresh blood, and grinning in a way would be considered 'happy' in different circumstances, Stanislav moves catlike along the wall to the next, hopefully unprepared adversary.


Are we still using the rolls I made already? Up to you, otherwise new ones to follow:
Move silently: [roll0]
Hide in shadows: [roll1]
Attack: [roll2]
Damage: [roll3] sneak attack [roll4]
Furthermore, because god hates a slackard,
Spot: [roll5]
Listen: [roll6]

If everything works out as planned, Stanislav grips his sword halfhander style - one hand on the hilt, one on the lower and unsharpened part of the blade. He leaps forward, plunges the blade upwards into the soft, yielding flesh of his opponent - then shifts his grip down to the hilt, and thrusts if deeper, so a full foot of blade emerges from through the enemy. Twisting and cutting sideways as he draws the blade out, a gout of blood arcs across the room.

All this, assuming the RNG plays ball, and that the plan works.

[Sallera]

Frowning as the swordsman lunges at the half-elf from a seemingly impossible distance, Tailyn steps in between the two, brandishing a morningstar with one hand and grasping his holy symbol with the other. The echo of a flowing stream emanates from his hand as he concentrates, and his touch is ice-cold as he jabs a finger into the half-elf's side. "Water to blood, blood to life. Stay behind someone with a proper weapon, mage." Taking a two-handed grip on the weapon, he spins it threateningly in the swordsman's direction.

Moving in between Pelandor and his attacker, and sacrificing Resist Energy for Cure Moderate Wounds, casting defensively. Rolls in OOC.

[Caesar]

Stanislav emerges from the corridor, absolutely drenched in blood. He notices two more of the men to either direction, but well out of immediate reach. Ferald stands towards the north, so he moves off in that direction, following the wall and hoping to get into a flanking position. He slinks at first, but quickly realizes that without cover or concealment of any kind, everybody can easily see him.

His target, on the other hand, notices him but seems focused on taking the half giant down. The man steps in towards Ferald and brings his longsword down to bear while seeming to scream with insanity.

Ferald: He hits you for 11 damage. He has reach, and stands so that you must step into his range, drawing an AoO, but you can 5-ft step to avoid this.

The man who entered from Krank's altar door turns his head towards Pelandor and launches himself in a screaming frenzy after him and lunging with his massive longsword. At the same time, a shout comes from the hallway and blasts the half-elf. The man nearly slips in his haste and surprise, but manages to run the half-elf thru in the side of his arm.

Pelandor: He charges and hits you for 8 damage. You take 1 damage sonic. You are free to move next round.

The third man decides to avoid the hulking orc and his deadly looking lengths of chain, and moves across the room doubletime to engage Feldar, taking up a guarded position behind Stanislav's altar.

Tailyn: You can see that Pelandor is in dire straights. Feel free to change your action if you so desire, he is within reach but you will draw an AoO reaching him.

[Caesar]

All: Gonna go out on a limb here and assume Feldar deals with his immediate threat, will post him in when he comes around.

Tailyn grips his morningstar and looks desperately back and forth at the chaos unfolding in the room, trying to make the best decision. To one side, Feldar is busy fighting, and Tailyn notices another attacker moving in for a flank, but he also spots Stanislav moving in for what can only be another massacre of a kill, so he quickly counts that side of the battle as covered. With no immedate threat in his or Krank's vicinity, he turns to the other side of the room, and witnesses a shell-shocked Pelandor, his robes stained with his own blood, an attacker massing above him, longsword raised for the kill.

With such a clear decision, he moves in, running and ducking along the length of the altar. The man sees him and changes his stance, but the angle is all wrong with Pelandor standing under his arm and the altar in the way and.. he stabs at the halfling but misses cleanly. His hand outreached, he grasps the half-elfs side and imbues him with positive energy before wheeling around to brandish his weapon against the attacker.

Tailyn + Pel You heal/got healed for 9 hps. Tailyn, you are crouched down near the end of the altar and have cover from both the longsword wielder (hes dead now tho), and the unseen attacker.

Krank also makes a quick decision, and cuts around the other side of the altar, whipping his chain about his head as he does. He stays well enough back, and lets fly: The chain wraps around the man's head with such force, it simply crushes the skull like an overripe sun-melon. Even the fruity insides look the same. The man falls to his knees, his body and weapon magically shrinking to normal size as he sprawls prone on the floor.

Stanislav: Your turn. You can't flank anybody yet this turn, but you could reach either Feldar's current target, or the one who is working on flanking him next round. Both of them have reach. As well, your keen eyesight and knowledge of general nastiness (I rolled you a twenty for reals) lets you see that the second target's longsword seems to be dripping with a caustic green substance. poison or acid, you arent sure, but it aint good.

[StandardBC]

So if I get you right, this next move will work while still avoiding the reach weapon's AoO.

Ferald steps next to his attacker and draws his sword. He quickly bring the blade down, trying to strike the figure.

Attack: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

5-foot step into attacking range
Move action to draw sword
Standard attack

I believe that's all I have to roll.

[Caesar]

Ferald steps into his attackers range, gingerly avoiding a tentative stab, but fails to connect with his own counterstrike.

[Zen Master]

Since Ferald is the closest, Stanislav goes for his enemy.

Switching fighting style, he adopts a regular grip on his sword, makes a feint then rolls under his opponents attack, coming up into an overhead swing.


Tumble: [roll0]
Power attack: [roll1]
Damage: [roll2]

The gods generally view a lack of attention pretty much as spitting on their altars.
Spot: [roll3]
Listen: [roll4]

[Caesar]

Ferald's attacker turns to face this new onslaught and swings down hard to split him, but misses terribly and grimaces as the nimble human's bastardsword slides deeply up between his ribs. He coughs and staggers, but pulls back and does not fall.

Taking what he knows is his final breath, he swings again at the half-giant, hoping at least to take one of his eyes before he falls, but his vision falters, and his body is not willing. He can barely lift his sword arm, but his ruse worked; Feldar does not see his captain coming in from behind.

The as of yet unharmed man charges in with a ferocious warcry, and brings his sword to bear with all his might. It cuts, and cuts deeply. Ferald shouts in pain as his wounds begin to sear and burn. He shakes and goes pale, then collapses in a heap, his life blood spilling out on the floor in quickly fading spurts.

Ferald: 12 points damage + another 9 from acid.

Krank and Pelandor: You see the man who has been casting at pelandor turn and step around the corner of the corridor.

(Pelandor's turn)

[Nixed]

Burned, bloodied and pissed he watches the attacker flee down the hall, thinks better of pursuing, shifts and then focus his anger at the man attacking the half giant.


Moves against the wall between two of the doors so there is no line of sight if the guy moves back.
Scorching ray at the remaining attacker
Hit: [roll0]
Damage: [roll1]

[Caesar]

The flames erupt once again from the half-elfs outstretched hand, leaping across the room and completely enveloping the captain and his tainted blade! The conflaguration consumes him completely before he can even let out a cry, and the blade lies resting in a pile of ash and charred bones.

All(You are closer to Feldar's altar than the wall, in order to strike with this spell. But good shot, and a desperately needed one. Also, just to make it clear. There is one attacker left, right next to Feldar. They look to be equally in horrible horrible shape.)

[Sallera]

After a quick look around for the still-unseen spellcaster, Tailyn takes a few steps forward and pulls out a sling with his free hand, whipping a stone toward the remaining attacker. The half-giant looked like he was about to collapse, but he was too far away to heal; better to make sure the other one fell first.

Move 15ft towards them while drawing sling, and attack.
Attack: [roll0] (firing into melee penalty applied)
Damage: [roll1]

Being fatigued is a lot more troublesome than it looks, really. :smalltongue:

[Caesar]

The stone leaves Tailyn's sling, and for just a second, he is sure his aim has failed him, but it flies true and skips across the man's forehead, knocking his head sideways and sending him falling to the ground.

All: Out of initiative, unless somebody chases the final attacker.

[Sallera]

With a satisfied nod, Tailyn puts his weapons away, reloading and twisting the sling and tucking it back into his belt. Taking a slender birch wand from his pack, he proceeds to tap it to the half-giant's wounds, then moves on to the orc and the half-elf. As soon as he's finished, he draws his spear, tapping the butt against the stone decisively. "Come, let's get moving. This room is too vulnerable to attack."

I have no idea how much healing everyone needs, so perhaps you could just tell me how many charges I end up using, Caesar?
[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]
[roll3]
[roll4]
[roll5]
[roll6]
[roll7]
[roll8]
[roll9]

[Caesar]

Depends, do you want to heal them fully, or most of the way? As a healer, you can judge this by eye without skill checks. Feldar was at 1/32, I think you got the half-elf almost fully healed last time (he was at half health), and I think Krank is missing something like 11 or so.. I dont actually keep close track, as I dont want it to influence my decisions too much.

[Nixed]

"Yes, especially since one got away and knows where we are at.. " Nodding his thanks to the halfling as he quickly helps search the dead for anything useful.

[Sallera]

"Let's leave examining the loot for later, once we've found a more defensible position. Which way'd the spellcaster go?"

Eh, let's say we'll stop once they're up to around 7/8ths, to avoid wasting charges.

[Caesar]

Quickly rumaging thru the corpses' studded leather armor coughs up 3 small potions, two rather mundane looking longswords and steel shields, and in the pile of ash, a more ornately inscribed longsword and heavy steel shield.

The first 6 taps of your wand should get Feldar pretty much up and running. The next tap and Krank is looking ok, he might want another. Doubt the half elf needs one, tho.

[StandardBC]

Actually... 8+11+12+9=40... I was at Negative 8 :smallbiggrin:. Pretty close, right? I'll gladly take those six heals if you'd let me. I believe I sit at 20 hp as of now.

Ferald jumps up with a start. Quickly scanning for the man that struck him to the ground. Seeing the familiar faces of his fellow captives, he relaxed. Grabbing his sword, he stood up. Thank you, he says to the healer, then states it again to the group who killed the men. Still feeling ill, he sits on the nearest stone table and thinks about how this whole ordeal happened.

[Zen Master]

Stanislav takes but a moment to wipe his sword on the clothes of a fallen enemy, before slinking off into the shadows again. He cautiously moves to check around the corner of the corridor he first entered - sword ready.


Move silent: [roll0]
Hide in shadows: [roll1]
Spot: [roll2]
Listen: [roll3]
Search (well - there might be traps): [roll4]

In case anything nasty presents itself:
Initiative: [roll5]
Attack (non-power variant): [roll6]
Damage: [roll7] sneak attack [roll8]

[Tortoise262]

"Ah, thank you, brave-short one! Gettin' knocked offa' that stone table hurt more than I thought!"
Krank takes a post by the corridor whither the caster escaped, in case he tries to return with allies.
Krank actually took 21 damage, so if he gets the 7th, 8th, and 9th taps, that will heal him up perfectly!

[Caesar]

An eerie silence fills the room and the party stops momentarily as it all sets in; searching the bodies, tending the wounds of total strangers who moments ago stood back to back in a fight for their lives, the strangeness of the ritual and the architecture. Everything.

Each of the five hallways leads away for ten feet before banking sharply to the right and beginning a curving ascent into the shadows above. The diminishing footsteps of the last attacker can be faintly heard (Krank), before fading away as he hurriedly flees the scene. Afterwards, there is nothing. It is dead silent, something that seems suddenly out of place. The thought of just where in the nine hells you are begins to set in deeply.

[Zen Master]

Stanislav holds his sword blade-out, away from his body, and peers down the edge of the blade - a workman, assesing a tool? Or an artist, chosing the proper brush for his masterpiece?

'You must hate it, da? Wen one of dem gets avay. Runs to tell all others, dey come buzzing back like little flies. Annoying. I'm guessing we have more fighting to do.'

Swiftly replacing the blade in its scabbard, he looks at the others - bright smile, eyes hard.

'Lets go.'

[Nixed]

"He went this way" pointing out the appropriate door as he looks around in an effort to make a guess as to where they might be, or anything else useful.


Few knowledge rolls in case there is some clue as to where they might be.

Local: [roll0]
Architecture: [roll1]
History: [roll2]
Dungeoneering: [roll3]

[Sallera]

Tailyn nods, following Stanislav down the hall. "So the quicker we find them, the easier it goes for us."

[Caesar]

The party makes its way up the north corridor. There are no red crystals insets, so the shadows are thicker after the sharp bend. The corridor curves around and up for quite a few paces, it is soon impossible to see ahead or behind for more than twenty feet in either direction. There are no apparent traps or pitfalls awaiting the adventurers, nor do any attackers spring from the shadows. In fact, there is no sign of the last attacker at all, no sight nor sound after his hasty retreat.

After a lengthy climb, the ceiling of the corridor gives way to open space, as the path emerges from the floor of a new chamber. A red glow fills the space, and the party is hesitant at first to show themselves. Stanislav moves forward carefully and peeks out, waiting some minutes before waiving the party forward.

The new chamber is expansive. A large, circular stone slab is here, slightly raised from the rest of the floor. Runes of a similar nature are engraved and embossed over its entire surface, and there are five paths heading down to the ritual altars below. Beyond the slab, the room extends beyond the pale of sight, and the high rock ceiling is held up by dozens and dozens of randomly placed stone pillars. The rough stone gives the impression that the entire room has been carved out of the inside of a mountain. Red crystals are set in metal fixtures on the pillars, giving an aesthetic appearance of torches, but at the same time looking more permanent and sculpted.

There doesn't seem to be an immediate indication of which direction your attacker has fled.

[Sallera]

"It seems we may be some distance underground," Tailyn says, the cold light of his ring pushing back the red glow as he moves forward to the ritual altar. Tapping it a few times with the butt of his spear, he examines the runes, periodically glancing up in anticipation of ambush. "Although for what purpose we were dragged here I cannot fathom."

Knowledge: Religion: [roll0]
Spellcraft: [roll1]

[Zen Master]

Seeing that we're entering a larger room, Stanislav unpacks, winds and loads a heavy crossbow. He then slips stealthily from pillar to pillar, ready to either fire, fight or flee - like any proud knight, only with that extra bit of survival instinct that keeps the clever guys out of paladin school.


We can call this 'the standard batch':

Hide in shadows (if such are to be found): [roll0]
Move silently: [roll1]
Spot: [roll2]
Listen: [roll3]
Initiative (if that comes up): [roll4]

The overall tactic here is to listen for any threat - then keep hidden behind a pillar, signal the others, and then initiave, hopefully with surprise. For signalling purposes, I have the time-honored wave. Now why didn't I pack a hooded lantern?!

[Tortoise262]

Krank swallows as he realizes he's one of the more appropriate members of the band to be walking out first into an open and vulnerable hallway. He puts on a brave front and steps to the head of the line, saying nothing.

[StandardBC]

Ferald's grip on his weapon becomes tighter. He makes his way into the room. He steps farther, growing nervous. The calm isn't helping. He looks towards each hallway for a moment, not knowing what to expect.

I don't have many decent spot or listen skills, so I'm just going to play meat-shield for a while :smallbiggrin:.

[Caesar]

Tailyn: You aren't sure about the runes, as you do not recognize their origin. There doesn't seem to be any religious symbols, either. Not in the runes or even the architecture. But there are some vauge similarities to a few runic symbols often used in spells of protection, spells of passage, and spells of energy. It could just as easily be a random coincidence tho, for all you know.

The party moves onwards with caution, but nothing moves nor does the air even stir. It is dead in here. After some time, the central slab slips away behind the pillars and their shadows and it almost seems as if the room is endless, when suddenly a wall looms up ahead. A very large doorway is carved into the rock face, and within is a small stone court about 20 paces to a side. A shallow stone cistern dominates the center of the court, it is dry and without any apparent means to fill it. A staircase leads upwards from the court, and to each side are stone doors.

[StandardBC]

Hmm... Ferald begins to think about what he was seeing. The largest door seemed the most important, so he began walking towards it. He tentatively reached for the handle and tried to pull it open.

[Tortoise262]

Krank objects to the half-giant's course: "What are ya doin, muscle-brain? I want outta here, and fastest way out's gotta be up!"

[Zen Master]

Stanislav looks at the stairs - then the doors.

'Da, leave fast. But leave enemies at rear, is ... how you say, not clever. Also, this is temple, niet? Could be treasure. Altar silver is good for treasure.'

[Nixed]

Following along with the group, crossbow ready. Looking around to see if he can find any obvious signs as to which way they aught to go.


Search: [roll0]
Survival: [roll1]

[Sallera]

"I'm not sure this is a temple, in fact. None of the imagery looks familiar. But you're right about leaving foes behind, and there's also no guarantee that up is out." Tailyn moves toward the smaller door on the left, testing the handle.

"Take the path that follows the natural course - and smash anything that tries to bar it."

[Caesar]

Krank stands at the foot of the steps, ready to ascend, but Tailyn seems to doubt the certainty in his choice and steps past the half-giant to inspect the stone door. There is no handle, but there are runes engraved on the solid stone slab. Tracing his fingers over them, he gives the slightest of pushes, and the door shifts back and slides diagonally downwards with a light shower of sand.

The room beyond is slightly smaller than the courtyard and unlit but by the grace of Tailyn's ring. Large stone pots fill the floor, some of them large enough for the halfling to crawl into. There are no readily apparent exits.

[Sallera]

"Hm. Storehouse or pantry, I suppose." Tapping one of the pots with his spear to make sure there's nothing living in it, Tailyn lifts the lid to check, then moves on to the second door, assuming it contains nothing especially interesting.

[Caesar]

Tapping the large pot, nothing unexpected can be heard. Tailyn slides the heavy lid open, and peeks inside. Staring back up at him is a halfling. Or rather, what is left of one.

The unfortunate thing is dessicated almost beyond belief, its taunt face staring upwards in an open mouthed grimace of pain and horror. It sits on its haunches, and its arms are crossed over with its hands resting on its shoulders. Most of the body is wrapped loosely in linen, now so rotted it seems more like spider's silk.

[Sallera]

"Ah... I believe I may have discovered our intended fate. A pity we cannot consign these unfortunates to the sea, but this location is notably lacking in flowing water." Replacing the lid, Tailyn leaves the room, closing the door behind him and touching his holy symbol to the stone with a brief murmur - whether blessing or curse it is hard to tell.

Moving on to the right-hand door, he attempts to open it by the same method, the previous room's contents failing to deter further exploration.

[Zen Master]

'Heh - pickled halfling. If dis is dressing, wat is meal, neh?'

Despite the less than tasteful joke on the halflings un-enviable fate, Stanislav stays well back from the jars. He absently touches the scroll tube on his belt, looking for all the world as if trying to bring something to memory.


Stanislav still thinks of this as a temple. And he follows a simple logic: Priests + corpses = undead. And being very un-adept at fighting undead, he wonders if there is any of his scrolls of any use in such a fight. There isn't.

[Sallera]

"Pickling generally involves brine or vinegar; rather the opposite of this one's state. I believe 'mummified' would be a more appropriate word - although not, we can hope, the animate sort of mummy."

[Caesar]

Stanislav backs hurriedly out of the room, fidgeting nervously with a case on his belt. Tailyn closes the urn respectfully, and backs out as well. He pauses at the doorway, feeling for whatever rune or mechanism he may have activated, but to no avail. The stone remains sunken away, the doorway is open. The halfling corpse does not rise from its eternal slumber, either.

[Sallera]

Tailyn moves on to the second door with a shrug, resigned to leaving evidence of their passage.

[Zen Master]

Being from a culture not known for it's pyramids and mummies - nor for it's bookish scholars - Stanislav is baffled.

'Wat - your mummy not animate ... but how?! Huh, guess your daddy did all the work, neh? Har-har-har.'

[Zen Master]

Being from a culture not known for it's pyramids and mummies - nor for it's bookish scholars - Stanislav is baffled.

'Wat - your mummy not animate ... but how?! Huh, guess your daddy did all the work, neh? Har-har-har.'

[StandardBC]

I agree with Krank, up should be the way out. Ferald states plainly. Looking up the staircase, he takes a few paces towards the steps.