DrK Slumbering Tsar IC

[DrK]

The Slumbering Tsar Adventure Path

https://guildberkeley.files.wordpress.com/2016/05/slumbering-tsar.jpg

Perched on the verge of the war-torn wasteland known as the Desolation stands a settlement of dire reputation. Known only as The Camp, this wretched collection of criminals and scoundrels, the desperate and the hopeless, all eking out an existence on the far fringes of civilization make this truly a place of new beginnings and horrific endings. Now things stir within the Desolation and call to heroes seeking secrets and treasures lost to the knowledge of men. The promises of reward dare the brave and the foolish both to seek their fortune in The Camp—out on the very edge of oblivion.


The caravans that Isabella ha brought with her rumbled along the gravel of the road. You had all set off from Bard's some 9 days hence. The autumn weather had been harsh and unpleasant, grey skies, scurrying clouds and cold drizzle and rainy squalls. Each night you had paused, rounding the wagons into a rough circle to ward off either the local denizens of the wastes or whatever vile creature had crawled from the desolation.

The weather and the terrain had changed that morning as you approached the edges of the desolation. The trees and plants grew sparse and twisted. Blackened branches and sharp thorns abounded and the grass faded into fields of grey ash and dead gravel scattered around everywhere. You know that from the maps and the strange savage barbarian Timoshko who had appeared as a guide to "The Camp".

Conversation is desultory and mixed amongst the disparate group....



OOC Thread (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?644905-DrK-Slumbering-Tsar-OOC)

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir might be the only person to enter The Desolation with a sense of profound relief. Returning to Bard’s Gate for the first time in 8 years created an unsettling mix of unease and excitement in the half-elf, and the idea of seeing his family left him both jittery and nostalgic. Ultimately seeing his parents was… just about what he should have expected. His father, Lord Braithwaite, had seemed to have aged more than was reasonable since he was last in town. The now elderly human had moved from one scheme to another to advance the family’s interests, each seemed more pointless than it’s predecessor. While they didn’t seem to do much to advance the Elkhart’s across Bard’s Gate society, Lord Braithwaite seemed to take wholehearted pleasure from explaining them each to his visiting son.

His mother, Vidame Emylir, was, in her noble elven superior way, complete entrenched in the same fixations she had when Skynir had left: endlessly trading properties among the other elven elite of the city, and breeding her prized lineage of horses. She was almost unchanged since he’d seen her last, as if she was locked in stasis. His two parents couldn’t have passed through time more differently, and yet they were united in smiling pleasantly at Skynir, and being utterly uninterested in what their son had been doing on his travels, the connection he felt to the world, and the advancement of his magical powers. Booking with the caravan and heading out into a land of near certain death felt infinitely less perilous than trying to connect with his parents.

And what a motley crew he found himself caravanning with! Warriors and magicians, men and women of action from all across Akados. Skynir spends the 9 days on the road talking to the other members of the caravan, trying to get a handle on each of their character’s without being too invasive. He prefers to walk, rather than ride on the wagons, and pitches in to help with evening chores. While he doesn’t turn his nose up at the trail rations (although he does cast Purify Food and Water over everything he consumes) , he jumps at the opportunity to eat or drink anything of higher quality.

As the group marches closer to the lands surrounding The Slumbering City, he pulls his jacket closer around him. Even as he can feel the disruption to the natural spirits of the land, he can’t help but let a sense of titillation ripple over him. He was going to explore an abandoned city unseen by civilized eyes in 300 years! He was going to have a walkabout in the forbidden! This adventure was gonna make the last 8 years of travel feel like a day at the park.

The stronger the pale dust whips through the air, the closer Skynir knows they are to The Camp. Anyone have a spare bandana?

[u-b]

Roger is in no real position to chat. As usual, he rides some 100 feet ahead of the carts, two large dogs behind and to the sides of the horse. The big bird flies even further ahead (and up), making detours and circles because of its greater speed. All five look for anything noticeable, but do that in the "business as usual" way, not really expecting some trouble to happen right now.

Roger will take 10 on Perception (the animals can do the same or have it rolled as they see fit). Some guys have Scent, though it's not particularly long-ranged.

[RCgothic]

Chevalier Isabella Moreno.

That's what they'd called her as they'd given her a minor title and a packet of land up North. But the subtext had been clear: Izzy had outstayed her welcome in Bard's gate and if she were to decline then the next attempt to get rid of her would be more direct and, well... To the point. The point of pointiness.

Still, Izzy believes in making her own luck. Though effectively run out of the town she'd called home all her life, it turned out there were plenty of people willing to accept a free trip north once she'd started putting the caravan together, though they all had their own reasons for making the trip.

Azvigo she finds charming, and makes for pleasant company.
Hastur seems bemused to coming along, but determined, and she hopes he'll stick around.
Dr Constantine she's come to think of as weird and a bit morbid, though she does find him amusing when he decides to be funny. That suture vine though... Creepy as heck!
Of Skynir and Roger, she's found it hard to get a good read on either of them. But they both seem like they can handle themselves.
Timoshenko though she still views with suspicion despite his aid, the mysterious guide having suddenly appeared after they'd already left the city and frankly more than a little scary!

Izzy looks out the window of the carriage at the dusty landscape and frowns. Is not exactly pretty it there. How is she going to get an estate going in a place like this? And even if she can, what could she possibly find to make her want to stay?

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko is a brooding presence near the rear of the caravan; the gleaming blade of his scythe (which he uses as a walking stick) hangs overhead as a constant reminder of the mortality of all. He manages to rebuff almost all attempts at interaction, though the combination of distance and his companion's persistence eventually wears at the veneer. "I'm here because I must be," he grunts, at what feels like the thousandth time that question has been presented. "My father is a seer, and his visions never fail. He says if I don't assist this company, you will fail, and with it the fate of the world will crumble. Yes, it seems implausible and fantastic, but I don't see anyone else to fight off those who might want to prey on you." His expression takes on an edge of ferality, and the ensuing grin is more than a little off.

"Might well be my own kin, if not for my father. We occasionally hunt on this road." He eyes the rest of the caravan in such a way that you can't quite be sure if he's joking or completely serious. At the glances of unease, Timoshko chuckles in genuine mirth. Somehow, it still doesn't inspire confidence or relief.

He prowls along the road, his feet falling surprisingly quietly for such a large man. From his vantage near the rear he scans the field, watching over the whole caravan and the road ahead. If he wasn't so... immensely off-putting, he might easily be mistaken for an alpha wolf protecting his pack. "But fear not, I'm the strongest and fiercest of my cousins. If they prove foolish enough to attack, I will slay them and take their meager power for my own. And we are far too strong for other predators. They have been driven from this area for some time." He returns his gaze to the fields surrounding the road with the lazy confidence of the largest lion on the savannah.

[3SecondCultist]

"And they all came riding back…" hums a gravelly voice from the middle of one of the wagons. The travelling song is not at all what one would call polished; the figure singing it is out of both tune and practice, yet there is something to be said for the earnestness of the performance.

Azvigo lets the last note dissipate into the wan distance, glancing about at his new companions with sunlit eyes. The journey from Bard's Gate has been illuminating for someone unaccustomed to sticking with anyone for longer than a week. There are unspoken codes, amongst hard people like these. For one, it is polite not to ask personal questions, even if there are women aboard in interesting outfits or scary types with intimidating arms and armour. He has thus far managed to refrain from being the one asking, which is probably for the best. In a more mundane company, his ensemble of wide-brimmed hat, long coat, and coiled whip at his belt might invite its own scrutiny, but their more outlandish members draw some of the attention away.

From Timoshko in particular, Azvigo has made a point of keeping a wide berth during the trip. There are monsters out in the wilderness, and then there are the other kinds. Though he has not seen the man use it, the dungeoneer suspects that the scythe-wielding warrior will prove a terror when it comes time for bloodshed. His countenance and turns of phrase are more than a little unnerving as well.

The other code of the adventurer is simple: when someone asks for help, you help them. There's no telling when the favour might need to be returned. So when Skynir - who in Azvigo's opinion has been the most open of their group, save perhaps Isabella - asks for a bandana, he is all too happy to help. The half-orc flashes him a bit of fang before reaching into his rucksack and producing a length of cloth. With a pocket knife, he begins to cut off a piece large enough to be comfortably tied around his companion's face.

"Just a moment, dear!" Azvigo calls in obvious falsetto. The grin that follows is to show the half-elf that it's all in the name of good fun and no insult is meant by it. "I can't say I blame you for wanting to cover your nose and mouth. If half the stories I've heard about the Desolation are true - and they usually are - you're likely to get some kind of airborne disease just by breathing in the fumes." A perceptive type may notice that Azvigo never includes himself when speaking of awful fates or turns of misfortune, and this time is no exception.

"Well I for one can't wait to see this Camp!" He declares to the group. "I have no doubt that it has no equal among civilized societies. And we have such fierce protectors, after all."

[BelGareth]

Constantine, as he liked to be called by his peers, only his patients called him Dr., but to be fair, his friends often became patients, whether they volunteered, or not, was having some trouble with the uneven terrain on the wagon wheels, his latest experiment was failing dreadfully, and so he gave up, there was no scientific method while his solutions couldn't be measured properly, damnable road!

Why no one had maintained it, was beyond him. Sighing, and listening to the strange man Acevigo, Acvi....Azvigo? He shook his head, the name made him angry just trying to pronounce the twice damned thing, Vigo it was, he watched as the man offered some assistance to the moron who didn't bring something to put over their face. Constantine watched with a frown, This was going to be interesting he thought to himself.

The others were interesting, he very much liked the grim man with the scythe, like really? who actually brings a scythe of all things to a fight? The guy was clearly mad, or insane, but there was a glimmer of wildness to the man that Constantine couldn't ignore, he would be a great test subject when the time came. He could barely hold in his delight at the thought, the others seemed....normal enough, which kind of bored him to be honest, but time would tell, just pure observation wasn't enough to get to the meat of the bone.

At stopping, he saw the bone white dust and his eyes went large, "Oh my!" he declared, somehow he had forgotten about the Bone Storms, he quickly jumped down, and walked a little way off into the Desolation, finding a good undisturbed patch, and gathered a small sample, he wasn't very far, and could feel the crazy man's eyes on him, once he had collected enough for a single vial, he walked back humming a tune, and small smile on his face. This would surely be a good trip, he had already found something that would take weeks testing!

[SanguinePenguin]

With every rest of the caravan, Hastur trained. He wasn’t sure what others thought of his frequent martial displays, and, frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t do it for their benefit; he didn’t even do it to benefit his body, only his mind. The exercises were some last vestige of sanity to cling to as they encroached on this desolate wasteland.

In more civilized lands, the dwarf was pretty sure some of this lot he was travelling with would have been the very monsters he’d end up hunting. To say the "doctor" seemed touched by madness was perhaps an overly generous characterization. Timoshko, like himself, seemed forced to this land by fate. What dark designs sent him here, he cannot fathom, but if Strym wills it, then he will wage this pyrrhic war with that man by his side.

Then there were the naive. The three that to him seemed oblivious of what mess they were heading toward. Azvigo seemed harmless enough. He may have enough bravado to fill a cistern, and enough panache to fill a latrine, but Hastur was confident the man would at least die on the right side of a battle if nothing more. Izzy would be a pleasant enough person anywhere else, here she just seemed out of place, like a dandelion in the cracks of a castle parapet. Garments with her midriff exposed? Did she think herself lollygagging about a market? Skynir seemed less foolhardy than these two, but only by the barest amount. He actually seemed to be getting more excited as they headed to their deaths. He hoped to be proven wrong in his initial assessments, but he had yet to see any evidence to the contrary.

Lastly, there was Roger. Roger seemed aloof, but, at least to Hastur’s eyes, he seemed a little more aware of what horrors await than the naive. Unlike the scythe-wielder and the doctor, the man did not put him on edge, he seemed to want to tend to his animals, and keep a distance. Hastur was okay with that and quickly settled into a mutually congenial indifference with the man.

Contrary to his initial expectations, Timoshko was the one he ended up feeling most at ease with. While they certainly didn't get along, they had common ground in being sent here. Furthermore, the man's overt scoffs and dismissal of his travelling companions often put to voice the thoughts in his own mind. He was also the only one that Hastur was not positive he could best if it came to blows, that he also seemed the most likely to have things head in that direction was disconcerting. As the caravan strided bravely toward the edge of reason, Timoshko’s martially-competent presence, perhaps only in contrast with the laissez-faire attitude of the others, was somehow a comfort.

Any who asked why he heads to the Camp receive the response, "it is my holy charge as a Giantsbane Templar of Strym to make the city of Tsar and lands surrounding safe for civilization to thrive." He states this practiced line with a matter-of-factness that seems oblivious to the sheer gravity of that task. With those he feels slightly more comfortable joking around - any of the naive and Timoshko - he would add, "and then I’m to convert Ades and Grox to the light, after that I shall cleanse the Abyss, layer-by-layer, and after that… well, my charge starts to get a bit difficult."

[DrK]

With Roger riding some 100ft ahead of the caravan and carriage his dogs by his side its the bird aloft that gives the greatest alarm early! A sudden cawing from high above as the bird shrieks twice, the signal for danger, and circles the low rise some 270ft to the right of the caravan, a low barrow it looks lie covered in shifting dust. As he looks to the right a pair of figures emerge from the other side of the barrow, dust from where they had been lying falling from them like snow, only now does he realise the scale is wrong, and those figures must be towering up close.

To the others its a shriek from Roger's pet that alerts you as a pair of massive creatures leap up from the shadows of a long dust covered barrow some 270ft to the east of the road. They resemble hill giants covered in dust and blood. Massive great spiked club swing in their hands. Their faces and bodies are a mass of recent wounds and horrible burns, perhaps caused by acid. One thing is evident, though; the look in their eyes as they focus on you is one of pure insanity!

https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/forgottenrealms/images/a/a1/Giant%26Rhino-TLCoT.jpg/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/250?cb=20201215185827

OOC

Roger and his dogs are 100ft ahead
The rest of you are in a rough grouping around the carriage and the wagons

THere are 2 giants 270 ft to the right of the carriage (so ~290 from Roger)

Know (Local) (with a +4 if you've been in the Camp before) can give you some information

Initiative:
Group 1 Izzy/ Roger/Hastur/Azvigo
Group 2 Giants
Group 3 Constantine/Skynir/Timoshko

[Farmerbink]

"What in the white sands!? They dare!?"

The fury suddenly flooding Timoshko's face suggests that he is personally offended by the presence of other threats along this particular stretch of road.

[u-b]

Roger thinks he would know a giant when he sees it, the qualifications are, indeed, quite simple. What he had not quite bothered to learn were the kinds of those guys. He knows there is "a lot", but for his purposes they are mostly the same. Roger preliminarily judges the two as hostile and gets the bow ready, but does not start shooting until they show some effort, instead casting a spell. The animals, meanwhile, stay defensive awaiting commands from their owner.

Swift: judgment
Move: draw the longbow
Standard: cast divine favor

Justice in effect for +2/+0 until the end of combat
Divine Favor in effect for +2/+2 for 10/10

[SanguinePenguin]

"Well... those are big ones," despite the extensive monster lore classes at the temple, Hastur missed part of the course "Giants and their Ilk," on account of it coinciding with his father's demise (at the club of a giant no less). Not exactly sure what was before him, but pretty sure it was a giant, he cracked his neck and said, "guess we should get to it then."

Hastur held the small iron gauntlet of his faith that dangled on a chain around his neck up to his helmet, "Strym protect us from evil." The blessing washed himself and the other five nearby. "You drop one, I'll buy you an ale when we get to the Camp." He then drew his guisarme, and began to walk toward the giants as quickly as his legs could carry him, which proved obnoxiously slow.

Standard: Protection from Evil, communal for 1 minute each (everyone but Roger who is too far away)
Move: 20 ft toward the giants (only 250' more to go!)
If giants are evil and large (huge+) AC is 24 (25)

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 51/51, Speed 20
AC 21, Touch 11, Flat-footed 20, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, +2 vs evil)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Prot evil (10/10 rnds remaining) +2 AC/saves vs evil
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 1/1
2: Ironskin 1/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 1/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 1/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day

[RCgothic]

Izzy nearly starts as the giants emerge from the barrow she'd been idly observing! "Bandits to the right!" she cries, jumping from the carriage and slamming back an infusion that causes her to double in stature to nearly the size of the hill-giants themselves!

She draws her spear and forms up with Hastur as he advances, smart enough not to rush out ahead by herself. "I'd settle for us all getting through this in one piece," she replies to the dwarfs bounty. "But I'll take that offer all the same!"

[3SecondCultist]

"Well then," murmurs Azvigo with a more than slightly affected drawl as he watches the scene unfold, "I guess it's high time for a scrap."

Feeling the holy power emanating from the dwarf, the archaeologist-adventurer lets himself be carried by the current of faith. Though not a leal man, he knows better than to pass up free blessings from those more pious. Seeing the distant giants, he thinks it's probably a good thing to have as many people above looking out for you as possible. The girl Isabella appears to have doubled in size - with a weapon to match - and Azvigo knows he'll definitely never hear the end of it if he doesn't join the others on the front line.

Standing to his full height, the half-orc flicks his left wrist. A faint whirring sound can be heard from the inside of his bracer, and suddenly a length of pale wood is in his hand. With a few gestures, a shimmering golden tower shield of force appears at his side, hovering over his side as though he were truly holding it. In the other palm his whip comes uncoiled, snapping hungrily at the air. Azvigo then strides towards the giants, giving himself some space from the others while whistling a jaunty tune.

Azvigo will pop out his Wand of Shield and activate it. UMD: [roll0] vs. DC 20.

He'll also move out towards the giants, giving himself a bit of room from the others and drawing his whip.
Azvigo Douglass (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2507128)
Male Lawful Good Half-Orc Bard (Archeologist) // Paladin (Virtuous Bravo), Level 6, Init 6, HP 54/54, Speed 30 ft
AC 25, Touch 16, Flat-footed 21, CMD 20, Fort 11, Ref 14, Will 10, CMB +5, Base Attack Bonus 5
+1 Whip +11 (1d4+5, x2)
Rapier +9 (1d6, 18-20x2)
+1 Mithral Chain Shirt (+5 Armor, +4 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 11, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None
Active Effects Shield (+4 shield AC), Protection from Evil (+2 deflection AC)
Bard Spells Known 0th level (∞) -- dancing lights, detect magic, ghost sound, mage hand, message, prestidigitation
1st level (5/5) -- heightened awareness, saving finale, tamer's lash, silent image
2nd level (4/4) -- gallant inspiration, invisibility, mirror image, trapfinder's focus

[DrK]

As the roc circles the massive maddened creatures heroes spill from the carriages and the wagons. Hastur and the now giant Izzy striding towards them kicking up bone white dust. The bard moves out to the right, whip and a magical shield in hand. Roger out in front draws his bow, feeling the weight of his God's power settling on his shoulders.

For their part the pair of hill giants howl insanely stride forwards, bounding over the dusty bone white earth, clouds of dust leaving a trail behind them swirling in the sky as their insane berserker howls get louder and louder and the thunder of the boots causes pebbles to shudder and shake nearby and the horses to stir and whicker.

OOC

Giants run forward, both hill giants running 200ft forwards!

Giants --50ft -- Hastur/Izzy --- 20ft -- Rest of the party
\
\
130ft
\
\
Roger


Constantine/Skynir/Timoshko to go next to complete round 1. After 24 hours then Roger/Hastur/Izzy and Azvigo can start posting their round 2 as well as it gets easier with "heroes" "baddies" taking turns

[u-b]

Now that we could be totally sure we are not murdering some random walkers-by, Roger starts shooting at the nearest giant. He aims at the heart, because that's how it's done, and uses Goddess' powers in full against these affronts to nature. Meanwhile, he shouts at Jumbo: "Careful, bird! You get them from the back!"

Swift action bane humanoid (giant)
Free action to handle the companion
Full attack with longbow
The horse is not guided to move and the dogs left to fend for themselves, Jumbo will spend a round repositioning

Longbow (durable cold iron arrow) [roll0] for [roll1] and [roll2] extra (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +2/+0 justice, +2/+2 divine favor, +2/+2d6+2 bane, -2/-0 range)
Longbow (durable cold iron arrow) [roll3] for [roll4] and [roll5] extra (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +2/+0 justice, +2/+2 divine favor, +2/+2d6+2 bane, -2/-0 range)

Justice in effect for +2/+0 until the end of combat
Divine Favor in effect for +2/+2 for 9/10
Bane in effect for +2/+2d6+2 for 6/6

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko's indignation rapidly proves to be but the tip of the metaphorical iceberg. With a roar, he springs forward- rapidly overtaking the ranks of his companions and apparently intent upon meeting the giant's charge head-on with one of his own. With each step, he grows in size, sending faint but increasing tremors through the earth as he storms forward. "YOUR DEATH COMES THIS DAY!" he bellows, almost more a feral roar than speech.

As he closes the distance, now fully on par with the hill giant's height, his scythe arcs through the nearer portion of the heavens. With madness that rivals his foes, the First Fang of the Duskprowlers tears into his enemies. As the blade plunges into the Giant, the hulking man actually begins to froth slightly at the mouth, a manic grin of glee and contentment on his face.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 51/51 63/63 ((25 temporary HP)), Speed 40
AC 15, BR: -2, -1 size, -1 dex (+2 protection from evil?) Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10 12, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4) BR: +13/+8 (2d6+10, x4)
Claws (during BR only) +12/+12 (1d8+6, x2)
Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor, +1 luck bonus to saves )
Abilities Str 19 25, Dex 10 8, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 15/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
Hunger: 1/2

Free action, BLOOODRAAAAAGE:
Charge the nearer giant:
POWER ATTACK
[roll0] Scythe (+2 charge, -2 power attack)
[roll1] CC (33) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus (OMG this will be so good if it ever hits :smallbiggrin::smallbiggrin::smallbiggrin:)
edit: I'm fairly confident a 28 will hit, so I'll go ahead and use my first shot of the Hunger to gain 25 temporary HP :smallbiggrin:

If, for some reason, they close to true melee, he'll get an attack of opportunity as his size imparts reach:
[roll4] Scythe (-2 power attack)
[roll5] CC (31) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[BelGareth]

Constantine raised an eyebrow as the call to bandits was raised, he had been looking at a bugs guts he had found, and just got to the good part! Damn bandits!

He sighed, knowing full well they would need his administrations, jumping down off the cart, he raises an eyebrow as he see's two very large bandits running towards them!

"Fine" he says to himself, resigning to what will obviously become a brawl, "but oh, this will be a great opportunity to observe his fellows efficiency" he says with a smile, he starts to move forward, pulling out a vial and drinking it.


Move action: Move 30 ft closer
Standard action: drink Shield Extract

Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (9/10)

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir ties the banana across his face and begins to thank Azvigo for the gift, just as the two behemoths burst from the dunes and tear off towards the caravan. Hill Giants, I think these two are actually camp locals.


Oi, are either of you Gorg or Gurg? Is there something dangerous with acid out here?

As he calls out to the gargantuan pair, he looks the closer of the two up and down, evaluating not only its physical appearance but also the ripples their presence makes within the flow of magic through the world. He raises right his hand in a choking gesture toward the giant and commands it to Stop!


Move action use Studied Target on the nearer giant
Standard Action to cast Hold Person on said giant DC 18 Will or Paralyzed for 6 rounds

[SanguinePenguin]

One moment there were two lumbering giants on the horizon, the next moment there were four in his midst. Now with multiple thighs at eye level, the dwarf steeled himself and advanced. One thing Hastur knew for sure about giants is that they hit hard - best not to be hit. “Strym, my flesh as iron,” he entreated his god as he approached the giants preparing to strike if an opportunity arose.

Standard: cast iron skin
Move: advance, ideally threaten both giants with reach weapon, but definitely the one not engaged with Timoshko
If giants are evil and large (huge+) AC is 28 (29)

if AoO (vs giant): [roll0] Damage: [roll1] (PA, FF, and furious strike)
CC: [roll2] Crit Damage: [roll3]

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 51/51, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, +2 vs evil)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Prot evil (9/10 rnds remaining) +2 AC/saves vs evil
Ironskin (60/60) +4 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 1/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 1/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 1/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day

[RCgothic]

With the giants now within reach, Izzy commences with the stabbing against the giant not targeted by the hold spell, using her enormous reach to her advantage.


Power Attack [roll0] +9 normally, -2PA
Damage: [roll1] (STR+4*1.5 +6PA)


And AoOs if they move forward:
Power Attack [roll2] +9 normally, -2PA
Damage: [roll3] (STR+4*1.5 +6PA)

Power Attack [roll4] +9 normally, -2PA
Damage: [roll5] (STR+4*1.5 +6PA)

[3SecondCultist]

Azvigo watches with admiration as the other members of his new team transform for battle. Skynir's call and obvious use of magic elicit a smile from the half-orc, but it's the paired charge of Timoshko and Izzy that have him whooping gleefully. There are such fine warriors in this group! He would call it providence to have found himself in such formidable company, but he knows it's no such thing. There is another power looking out for him, after all.

As his gaze settles on his target, Azvigo's stride lengthens. His long coat billows out behind him as he begins to close on the same giant as Izzy. Magical shield raised to protect his flank, he comes in with his whip low to the ground. He is not, after all, looking to really do any damage with this strike. Instead, he lashes out at the giant's calves, hoping to tangle his foe and send him crashing down to earth.

Let's go for a trip! Azvigo will spend a swift action to activate his Archeologist's Luck for a +3 to attack, damage, skills, and saves. He'll then move in 30 ft towards the non-targeted giant by Skynir and attempt a trip with his whip.

Trip Whip: [roll0] vs. Giant CMD.
Azvigo Douglass (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2507128)
Male Lawful Good Half-Orc Bard (Archeologist) // Paladin (Virtuous Bravo), Level 6, Init 6, HP 54/54, Speed 30 ft
AC 25, Touch 16, Flat-footed 21, CMD 20, Fort 12, Ref 15, Will 11, CMB +5, Base Attack Bonus 5
+1 Whip +14 (1d4+8, x2)
Rapier +12 (1d6+3, 18-20x2)
+1 Mithral Chain Shirt (+5 Armor, +4 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 11, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None
Active Effects Shield (+4 shield AC), Protection from Evil (+2 deflection AC), Archeologist's Luck (+3 luck attack, damage, skills, saves)
Bard Spells Known 0th level (∞) -- dancing lights, detect magic, ghost sound, mage hand, message, prestidigitation
1st level (5/5) -- heightened awareness, saving finale, tamer's lash, silent image
2nd level (4/4) -- gallant inspiration, invisibility, mirror image, trapfinder's focus

[DrK]

The pair of hulking hill giants thunders in towards the carriages, eyes red with acid burns and rage. They are met by Izzy and Timishko, who both grow to similar proportions and meet the giants with spear and scythe both of which bite and taste giant flesh, the young bard, whip in hand leaps in lashing at Timishko’s giant but it’s like pulling on a tree trunk.

Behind the two giant adventurers Hastur stomps forward to threaten both giants with his spear as well. Behind the swirling melee Roger sinks a pair of shafts into the lead giant who tears them free in splashes of blood. Skynir gestures at the giant by the savage bloodrager who shrugs off the magics, his mind too addled
At the back Constantine shields himself and watches for an opportunity

The giants are simple, lacking any subtlety as they in their maddened rage just swing and chop at Hastur and Izzy, Izzy stabbing at it again as it pushes through her spear.

Hill giants

Giant 1 (Gurg)
Vs Timoshko [roll0] dam [roll1]
Vs Hastur [roll2] dam [roll3]

Giant 2 (Gorg)
Move 10ft soaking an AoO from Izzy
Vital strike [roll4] dam [roll5]

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir frowns when the giant avoids his magic. Watching the two rampage through his caravan’s frontline, he steps forward and stares intently at the less battered of the two giants, his supernatural glare attempting to rip the consciousness from the maniac’s mind.

Move Action into range for Slumber
Standard Action Slumber on the giant that Roger, Timoshko, and Izzy haven’t been wailing on. DC 18 Will save or Unconscious

[RCgothic]

Gorg brutally bats away Izzy's guard and smashes her into the dust. She doesn't rise.


Constitution check (dying) DC10: [roll0]+1CON, -5 neg hp

[BelGareth]

Constantine's eyes widen as the giants barrel into his new companions, he watches as Izzy drops like a sack of potatoes, he instinctively moves closer and asks Warrick to go tend her while he begins to prepare a bomb, a snake like tendril appears from beneath his clothes handing him the regents and vials to create the bomb, it then slithers back into his clothing as Warrick slithers off to Izzy. He then places the bomb in his thrower, and lines up a shot on the other more wounded giant.


Command Warrick to move to Izzy (15ft) and then try to perform first aid [roll0] DC 15
Move action: Move 30 ft closer (or however far to get within 15ft of izzy)
Standard: Throw Void bomb at the awake giant (range increment is 30ft)
forgot PBS, so +1/+1
[roll1]
[roll2] + Ref save vs DC 18 or be knocked prone and can't get up for 1 round, success means movement is reduced to 5ft.

Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (8/10)
Bombs: 10/11/day

[u-b]

One of the giants falls down - asleep, unconscious or some such, Roger did not care about the details. He directed the horse to move closer a little, and shoots two more arrows at the other giant. The bird, meanwhile, dives in to pick up the club of the sleeping giant...

Jumbo does a flyby attack with grab or something. Not sure if I have to roll. Descending from behind the giants and then leveling out above the allied types. Some care is taken not to get AoO from the other giant.
Roger guides with knees something under 30 feet. No penalty listed to full attack with a bow when the mount only does single move.
The dogs are left for themselves.

Longbow (durable cold iron arrow) [roll0] for [roll1] and [roll2] extra (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +2/+0 justice, +2/+2 divine favor, +2/+2d6+2 bane)
Longbow (durable cold iron arrow) [roll3] for [roll4] and [roll5] extra (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +2/+0 justice, +2/+2 divine favor, +2/+2d6+2 bane)

Justice in effect for +2/+0 until the end of combat
Divine Favor in effect for +2/+2 for 8/10
Bane in effect for +2/+2d6+2 for 5/6

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko's grin only widens when the giant returns his blow in kind. "Your blows are weak! This is Prowler land, begone!" As the giant pushes back to attack Izzy, he lashes out with his scythe again, drawing a new line of read across his enemy's flank.

Perhaps most surprisingly, Timoshko gets angrier at the slight. "FACE ME, you coward!" he shrieks, pouncing on the giant's exposed back.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 48/51 60/63, Speed 40
AC 15, BR: -2, -1 size, -1 dex (+2 protection from evil?) Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10 12, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4) BR: +13/+8 (2d6+10, x4)
Claws (during BR only) +12/+12 (1d8+6, x2)
Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor, +1 luck bonus to saves )
Abilities Str 19 25, Dex 10 8, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 14/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
Hunger: 1/2

If they moved past me, there's got to be an avenue for flanking, right?
full attack action!
[roll0] Scythe (+2 flank, -2 power attack)
[roll1]CC (33 threat) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

Iterative:
[roll4] Scythe (+2 flank, -2 power attack)
[roll5]CC (28 threat) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

If it survives and provokes another aoo:
[roll8] Scythe (+2 flank, -2 power attack)
[roll9]CC (33 threat) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll10] damage
[roll11] crit bonus

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur’s various protections allowed him to deflect the giant’s blow, but he could feel the force behind the swing. Instantly, he understood his father’s death at a different very corporeal level. Grateful for his own defenses, he watched with horror when Isabelle dropped under a single blow. “<By Grox’s balls!>” he cursed in dwarven. Before he had witnessed her spear strike, he wouldn’t have been surprised, but seeing her prowess with the spear, he could tell there was more to the woman than his first impressions - no one with that level of training is delicate. This only confirmed his suspicion - giants hit hard.

He moved about to battlefield to flank with Timoshko, and thrust his guisarme at the inside of the giant’s left leg.

5-ft step for position (threaten and flanking)
Standard attack (vs giant, FF, flank): [roll0] Damage: [roll1] (PA and furious strike)
CC: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

If giants are evil and large (huge+) AC is 28 (29)

if AoO (vs giant): [roll4](+2 if flanking) Damage: [roll5] (PA)
CC: [roll6] Damage: [roll7]

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 51/51, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, +2 vs evil)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Prot evil (8/10 rnds remaining) +2 AC/saves vs evil
Ironskin (59/60) +4 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 1/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 1/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 1/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day (5/7)

[3SecondCultist]

"Grah! Gumption!" One might think that Azvigo is naming the two giants, but in fact, he is simply swearing to himself as he fails twice to bring down his target. The half-orc's face pales as Izzy is torn open. This is going wrong so quickly, he thinks to himself. There must be something he can do!

Praying that luck will find him this time, the archaeologist cracks his whip for the third time.

Free action to renew Archeologist's Luck, move in closer to the conscious giant and go in for a trip!

Trip Whip: [roll0] vs. Giant CMD.
Azvigo Douglass (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2507128)
Male Lawful Good Half-Orc Bard (Archeologist) // Paladin (Virtuous Bravo), Level 6, Init 6, HP 54/54, Speed 30 ft
AC 25, Touch 16, Flat-footed 21, CMD 20, Fort 12, Ref 15, Will 11, CMB +5, Base Attack Bonus 5
+1 Whip +14 (1d4+8, x2)
Rapier +12 (1d6+3, 18-20x2)
+1 Mithral Chain Shirt (+5 Armor, +4 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 11, Dex 18, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 10, Cha 16
Condition None
Active Effects Shield (+4 shield AC), Protection from Evil (+2 deflection AC), Archeologist's Luck (+3 luck attack, damage, skills, saves)
Bard Spells Known 0th level (∞) -- dancing lights, detect magic, ghost sound, mage hand, message, prestidigitation
1st level (5/5) -- heightened awareness, saving finale, tamer's lash, silent image
2nd level (4/4) -- gallant inspiration, invisibility, mirror image, trapfinder's focus

[DrK]

The two giants are savagery in action as Izzy finds out, her broken and bloodied body smashed to the ground in a pulled bloody mess by the heavy spiked club. The group of Bard’s Gate travellers are angered and redouble their efforts

Skynir advances and focuses on Gorg, the giant looking down at Izzy’s body suddenly slumps to the ground as its mind is out to sleep by the shamans magics! Izzy is saved from death as Constantine’s familiar nips tye blood vessel shut and Roger’s bird swoops down trapping the dropped club which results in a slow flapping away

This leaves only Gorg standing… Abomb from Constantine sails in exploding with mysterious energy that tears at Gurg, another pair of arrows slam into from Roger to a bellow of pain and Hastur and Timoshko surround Gurg jabbing and hacking with glaive and scythe.

The giant is a mass of blood and wounds, spraying blood with each heft of its club but with inhuman constitution it’s battles on swinging more at Hastur and Timoshko


Vs Hastur [roll0] dam [roll1]
Vs Timoshko [roll2] dam [roll3]

[u-b]

Jumbo climbs up at the same time turning back to the remaining giant. When it is almost above the giant, the bird then releases the club. Meanwhile Roger shoots two more arrows. The guys seemed too strong and too tough for everyone's good, but Roger was determined to do his part of the job.

Jumbo the Roc (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2627935)

Dropping the club [roll0] touch for some damage (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemastering/environment/environmental-rules/#Falling_Objects) (bombarding from 35 feet above; not sure if reflex 15 half applies to that)
Longbow (durable cold iron arrow) [roll1] for [roll2] and [roll3] extra (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +2/+0 justice, +2/+2 divine favor, +2/+2d6+2 bane)
Longbow (durable cold iron arrow) [roll4] for [roll5] and [roll6] extra (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +2/+0 justice, +2/+2 divine favor, +2/+2d6+2 bane)

Justice in effect for +2/+0 until the end of combat
Divine Favor in effect for +2/+2 for 7/10
Bane in effect for +2/+2d6+2 for 4/6

[SanguinePenguin]

Hit hard? Yes. Had worse? Also, yes. Hastur adjusted his grip to compensate for his injured shoulder, then thrust his guisarme in a brief feint, before drawing the blade back, trying to catch the femoral artery on the return.

Standard attack (vs giant, FF, flank): [roll0] Damage: [roll1] (PA and furious strike)
CC: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

If giants are evil and large (huge+) AC is 28 (29)

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 30/51, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, +2 vs evil)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Prot evil (7/10 rnds remaining) +2 AC/saves vs evil
Ironskin (58/60) +4 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 1/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 1/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 1/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day (4/7)

[BelGareth]

"Well that worked....kind of?" he says to himself, slightly annoyed, these giants were tough, turning back to Warrick he nods in satisfaction at the little plants success, he hurries over to Izzy, now the sleeping giant is no longer a threat, he pulls out a potion and moves towards izzy, hoping the damn thing doesn't wake up.


Move: draws 3rd level potion of cure light wounds
move: move to within 10ft of Izzy

Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (8/10)
Bombs: 10/11/day

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grunts on impact, chuckling like the maniac he most certainly is. "Finally, a real fight!" Continuing to roar, more sounds than words, his scythe flashes in the sun as the blade plunges forward again and again.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 22/51 34/63, Speed 40
AC 15, BR: -2, -1 size, -1 dex (+2 protection from evil?) Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10 12, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4) BR: +13/+8 (2d6+10, x4)
Claws (during BR only) +12/+12 (1d8+6, x2)
Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor, +1 luck bonus to saves )
Abilities Str 19 25, Dex 10 8, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 13/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
Hunger: 1/2

full attack action!
[roll0] Scythe (+2 flank, -2 power attack)
[roll]1d20+14[roll] CC (33 threat) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll1] damage
[roll2] crit bonus

Iterative:
[roll3] Scythe (+2 flank, -2 power attack)
[roll]1d20+9[roll] CC (28 threat) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll4] damage
[roll5] crit bonus

If it survives and provokes another aoo:
[roll6] Scythe (+2 flank, -2 power attack)
[roll]1d20+14[roll] CC (33 threat) (anatomist for +1 to confirm threats)
[roll7] damage
[roll8] crit bonus

[(Un)Inspired]

A look of relief passes across Skynir’s face when the first gargantuan brute collapses face first into an unconscious pile. Way too dangerous to remain conscious. He think to himself. He turns to regard the remaining giant, and observes that despite leaking blood from a dozen wounds like a colander filled with gore, it was still on its feet, swinging away.

He set his gaze on the giant, trying to forcibly send its nervous system on a vacation.

Standard Action to Slumber the standing giant DC 18 Will save or unconscious

[DrK]

As the slumbering giant snores and rasps, an arm draped over the woman it had near crushed it’s friend battles on, blood streaming from it as a club bounces off it leaving a gashed shoulder, Roger launches more arrows leaving the beast with a porcupine like appearance and Hastur drives his spear into its belly. But as it hefts it’s club it’s the giant Timoshko wielding his 10ft long scythe that strikes the killing blow as the razor edge drives into the giants chest tearing into its heart in a great welter of blood and gore killing the mighty Gurg….


In the momentary quiet there is just heavy breathing and the sound of the bone white dust blowing along the ground hissing and whispering….


Gurg died
Gorg sleeps on….

[3SecondCultist]

Azvigo looks askance down at his own hands as the second giant tumbles to the ground and the conflict comes to a close. That normally works, the half-orc muses. His family's 'curse' is usually quite consistent in the boons that it offers, yet he was unable to bring down either of the giants despite repeated efforts. His hands still raw from tugging, he re-gathers the whip back in his hands and lets the golden shield dissipate into nothingness.

Then again, he thinks as he stares down at the supine form of Izzy on the ground, he's not the one who was just pounded into the dirt. The good doctor Constantine seems willing to do his part to bring her back to this waking realm, so he does not step in right away. Instead, he traipses back over to Skynir, clapping the half-elf soundly on the back.

"Well done then, eh? You certainly showed them what-for! The body may be powerful, but true strength lies up in the mind, is that it?" Wide-eyed, Azvigo taps one green finger to his temple in what can only be a gesture of true sagacious understanding. With his other hand, he directs a thumb over at Timoshko and Hastur. "Let's leave it to the butchers to conduct the bloody work, and see if we can't help Dr. Constantine get his patient back to the cart."

"After that," he continues, raising his voice just loud enough for the rest of the party to hear, "I've got a bottle of Oldlaw whiskey in my pack I could be persuaded to share."

I'm adding a few discretionary purchases to Azvigo's sheet (non-combat, non-magical things like cloth, whiskey, knives, etc). I hope that's okay for the narrative.

[Farmerbink]

Without warning, Timoshko lets out a bellow, "DUSKPROWLERS HUNT! DUSKPROWLERS EAT! AROO!" He plunges his muscled, claw-tipped hand into the cavity carved by his scythe and rips out a glob of flesh that most don't recognize. In a gruesome display of primitive superstition, he takes a bite from the raw heart, and casts the rest aside in the dirt. After chewing just enough to swallow, he finally realizes that the giant's brother isn't slain, but sleeping.

Just a moment after Azvigo and Constantine extract Izzy from the collapsed mountain of a main, Timoshko lets out another howl of animalistic fury. Point first, he drives the blade of his scythe through the giant's torso and a few feet into the dirt beyond. With a savage tug, he tears through flesh and soil alike, ravaging the vitals of the sleeping giant, before summarily performing the same grisly ritual.

The CdG will deal: [roll0] damage, which +10 forms the fortitude DC else dead. I'm fairly confident that DC is unattainable by non-godly foes. :smallbiggrin:

Only then does he look around and appear to force himself to realize there are no foes remaining. In a curious few moments, the hulking brute seems to deflate. It takes only a few moments for rippling, demonic muscle to reduce to only merely prodigious strength. Still almost freakishly tall and strong, Timoshko takes several ragged, drawn-out breaths. "Their power is mine now," he growls. "They should never have been so foolish to hunt in Duskprowler lands." He scowls thoughtfully for a moment.

"On second thought, it's strange that they would. Something is wrong here. Two humanoids would know better- a raiding party of a half dozen would have torn them apart. Why risk death for... coin?" Perhaps the most disconcerting sight yet, Timoshko seem genuinely contemplative as he considers the last several minutes.

"I will inspect this barrow. Perhaps answers lie within." He stalks towards the hill behind which the giants were hiding, and begins searching for anything out of place that would explain the giant's unlikely behavior- apparently unaware of the blood trickling down his own flank.

[roll1] perception
He's not going to bother with stealth XD

[BelGareth]

Constantine continues his treatment, opening her mouth and pouring a potion into it, while Warrick continues to suture open wounds, and stall the bleeding that is happening. Annoyingly, it was mostly blunt force trauma, which was much harder to treat, but with a little magic, it would be fine. Once she was awake, he smiled at her "Ms Moreno, I do believe, you are supposed to not be hit by your opponents?" he says glibly, and then pulls out a wand, invoking the command word taps her gently and she instantly feels her wounds knitting and healing.

He turns to watch Timoshko in his ritual, eyes alight with surprise and jubilation, he had never seen an actual cannibal before, this was amazing! he started to commit the scene to memory, and then he did it again! He would have to follow up with some questions, perhaps later. He helped Izzy up to her feet, and walked with her back to the wagons.


3rd level potion of cure light wounds [roll0]
Give how ever many charges of Wand of Infernal healing (most likely 3 or 4), grants fast healing for 1 minute.

Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (8/10)
Bombs: 10/11/day

[SanguinePenguin]

After Timoshko executes Gurg (Gorg?), Hastur breathes a sigh of relief. "Strym, your mercy upon us," the dwarf invokes his god to heal the wounded - including himself.

Channel: [roll0]

"In the Camp, I think I owe you an ale, Timoshko... and Skynir the other one, but some whiskey would be welcome, once back on the road," he nods to Azvigo. His allies displayed more prowess than he had anticipated. It was one of the first lesson he learned at the temple, and one of the easiest to forget: Outside of dwarven lands, capable allies take all forms. Leave your preconceptions behind and let them prove their mettle before you judge their merit. The ones you dismiss can prove the greatest heroes or greatest villians. Watch, listen, and learn. Father Ironjaw's words rang in his head, and he felt some shame, that he quickly bottled up and pushed aside. "an ale on me for you too, Izzy. Surviving that blow was no small feat. It could have been my skull under that club."

Hastur eyes the corpse, pockmarked with acid burns. Allegedly, the giants would guard caravans, although he knew giants were be intelligent, he couldn't imagine hiring one for any reason. These ones seemed animalistic brutes. "Doctor - or anyone - any thoughts on the origins of this acid? It would be good to know what we are getting into. Timoshko, unless you want us to fish your corpse from that barrow in a few minutes... wait - at least until we heal you." At the wild man's flesh consumption, he frowns and adds, "I do hope their madness was not an ailment rooted in the heart."

acid?
[roll1] (huh - putting roll=know(nature) caused this to get wonky, hopefully it is correct)
why they went nuts?
[roll2]
danger?
[roll3]

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko pauses briefly when he feels the healing energy flow through him. When Hastur comments on the Giant's apparent malady, however, he snorts in derision. "You know nothing, small one." Tapping his own temple, he adds, "Madness comes from the brain," as if explaining a color to an infant.

He places a hand over his heart and turns back towards the barrow. "Power comes from the heart."

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 34/51, Speed 40
AC 15, (+2 protection from evil?) Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR only) +12/+12 (1d8+6, x2)
Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor, +1 luck bonus to saves )
Abilities Str 19 , Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 13/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
Hunger: 1/2

[(Un)Inspired]

The infectiousness of Azvigo's jollity crashes upon Skynir and he is rapidly caught in the half-orc's emotional eddies. Hehe well, maybe it was just that the true strength didn't lay in HIS mind. He hooks a thumb at the unconscious giant. Walking with Azvigo to check on Izzy the half-elf continues his line of thought, although, if you think about the sage Spinoza's work on arcane metaphysics, Mind is generated by substance, of which the giant's body would be an extension. Rather than there being an individual giant's mind, there would be the subsection of mind that contemplates the aspect of substance that would be the individual's body. In which case the magic to affect the giant's mind would actually be a spiritual redirect of...

Abruptly, Skynir's burgeoning lecture on the spiritual interplay of magic is shattered by Timoshko's bellow and carnivorous ritual. Ah, uh, waste not want not, right? Maybe whiskey for the rest of us though, he says with a wink to Azvigo.

The shaman from Bard's Gate marveled at the Doctor's ability to heal as the color returned to Izzy's face and her various contusions returned to their natural color. Looks of pride and humility clash fiercely across Skynir's face at the Templar's offer of a beer. We all contributed to shutting them down, how about beers for everyone. Maybe Gurg will pick up the tab... He runs a surreptitious eye over the two corpses, trying to evaluate possible causes for the acid burns, but not neglecting to check out any wealth the two are carrying.

Trained Knowledge Nature: [roll0]
Perception: [roll1]

[SanguinePenguin]

Timoshko’s retort leaves Hastur speechless for a moment, he glances to the doctor momentarily hoping futility for some support, then back at Timoshko. Part of him wants to reply, but he instead breathes deeply, use the tools you have on the jobs they perform best; do not use a chisel to be a saw unless that is the best option.

Then he draws a wand, first pressing it to himself and closing the broken skin on his shoulder, “let me patch you up at least.”

Hastur will *slowly* heal Timoshko, dragging it out as much as reasonable for the others to finish examining the dead. He will heal both of them to within 3HP of full

CLW: [roll0] Hastur is full
CLW: [roll1]
CLW: [roll2]
CLW: [roll3] Timoshko at 49
CLW: [roll4]
CLW: [roll5]
CLW: [roll6]
CLW: [roll7]
CLW: [roll8]
CLW: [roll9]

[u-b]

Roger rides to the site of the melee to provide some healing, but as it seems to be taken care of, instead calls Jumbo and dogs to his side and follows Timoshko, also checking the area in general. He tries to spot anything odd and make sense of the giants' hiding place, how long have they stayed there, whence they came, any camp they might have had nearby, any signs or results aof any previous encounters and similar sort of thing.

Casting Deadeye’s Lore and Bloodhound
Perception 10 + 15 = 25 base, + bird's assist, + dogs' assists, +8 for anything smell-related => 27..35
Survival 10 + 15 = 25 base, +4 sacred, +4 smell-related, + dogs' assists => 33..37

Barry assisting: [roll0] perception, [roll1] survival (including +4 smell-related)
Cherry assisting: [roll2] perception, [roll3] survival (including +4 smell-related)
Jumbo assisting: [roll4] perception and a general view from above

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko frowns thoughtfully at Hastur's offer, but after a moment accepts. He waits impatiently as the Dwarf heals himself and then Timoshko. A few moments later, he nods gratefully. "Ale sounds good," he growls, accepting the previous offer in his own brusque way. Having delayed the task at hand more than he feels is right already, he returns his attention to the barrow - now prowling alongside Roger and his small menagerie of critters.

He glances at the hound appreciatively, perhaps reverently. "For the strength of his scent, I would offer half my inheritance," he comments, surprisingly thoughtfully.

[DrK]

Roger and Timoshko advance whilst the others heal Izzy and search the dead (and now partially eaten) giants. The two advance towards the barrow through the dusty bone white dust and circle the barrow, on the far side of the barrow they can see a hole in the side of the barrow where the giants have pulled open the stones and dragged what appears to be half a dozen ancient bodies out and partially eaten them. The age of the bodies and the state of the ancient uniforms is hard to discern but you'd guess they were on the side of the Army of light.

More tracks head further north east across the dusty bone plains....

By the bodies Azvigo studies the two dead bodies. He would guess the acid has been done by a beast of sorts the acidic burns overlaid with the deep claw marks and gouges consist with an animal of sorts. As he casts a magical eye over the bodies a few different things light up on the corpses. The massive spiked club held by Gurg glows with magical power (+1 Spiked keen greatclub), the filthy hide armour worn by Gorg, who's chest and upper body seem more or less unmarred is also magical (+1 bitter hide armour).

[RCgothic]

After a few moments Izzy shrinks back down to her usual size, allowing her to be pulled out from under the fallen giant and ministered to. With a potion poured down her throat, her body wracks unnaturally as shattered bones knit themselves back into their proper positions.

"Ah!" She gasps as she comes to.

Blinking, she tries to focus on Dr Constantine, Skynir and Hastur as they help her to her feet, mostly futilely trying to wipe the bone-grey dust from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Is that what happened?" she replies to the doctor and Hastur's comments. "I don't remember... It feels like I feel off the coach and then got run over by it!"

She lets herself be guided back to the carriage, where she continues to brush herself off, wordlessly accepting any fluids offered in her direction.

[u-b]

"I think we should bury them..." - starts Roger, but then considers whom he is talking to - "...or something. Not sure we should follows the giants' tracks right away, they might lead far enough offroad. But we have been the first "victims" so far, which is good."

If no objections, Roger rides back to the group to report.

[(Un)Inspired]

I'd have rather been hit by the coach than the club they battered you with Izzy. It's got fewer spikes.

When the Investigator is successful back on her feet and able to move of her own volition, Skynir turns to consider Roger's words while regarding the giant's bodies. Normally I'd agree with you Roger, but that's quite a bit of corpse to bury. Unless we want to let those who came before us do the work for us. We could tuck their bodies into the barrow you two found...

[u-b]

Until Skynir's words, it did not occur to Roger that it might be reasonable to bury the giants too. "I mean... well, I mean I'm not sure about the giants, but there are half-eaten remains of the army of light near the hole in the side of the barrow, I'd say they surely deserve more respect..."

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grunts, unconcerned for issues like burial and instead still deeply interested in the giant's madness. "We should follow the tracks, at least for a distance. They should not have been here, and should not have attacked the caravan. I dislike leaving such questions unanswered." He glowers grimly into the distance, listening to his companion's responses though he doesn't offer them his full attention.

To his companion's surprise, after a moment of brooding, he gently lays his pack on the dusty ground, and retrieves from it a carefully protected map and fine, polished compass. He lays his scythe over an arm, making a makeshift 3-point surface and unrolls the map with his other hand with uncanny gentleness. The brute takes only another few moments to find his bearings before he carefully traces his finger in the direction the tracks lead...

Survival to try and figure out where the giants may have come from in the direction the tracks lead? [roll0] (plus surely 1 or 2 more, depending on whether this counts as "navigation" (+1), "tracking" (+1), or "not getting lost" (+2).)

[BelGareth]

Constantine nods to Ms Moreno, "I think falling off the wagon would have been a little nicer to you." he says grimly "But no use thinking about it, lets move on!" he declares, and strides off to the barrow to inspect the Giants, and then off to the barrow.

Upon seeing the giants, he remarks on how efficient the scythe wielding lad had been, somewhat surprised he moved onto inspecting the giants fully, he pulls out a small leather tube, unrolls it right onto giants chest, metal instruments glint in the sun as he cuts, nips, and pokes the corpses to try and figure out what happened. Once throughly done, he nods to himself, arms covered in blood and viscera, he rolls up his utensils, and strides off to see what everyone is talking about at the barrow.

When he arrives, he see's the madman looking at a map? He honestly didn't think the man could read, let alone plot a course.

Turning his mouth drops. "These....are....oh my" he is obviously excited, "This is a momentous opportunity for me" he mumbles as he kneels down to one and begins to pull out vials and take several samples.


To determine acid wounds and brain malady
[roll0]

Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (8/10)
Bombs: 10/11/day

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir closes his eyes and has a slight chuckle at his own expense. Yes, right the bodies of the people. Not the giant bodies. That makes sense, that makes sense. Perhaps cremation would be better for their bodies rather than burial though; last time they were buried around here it was only a matter of time before giants showed up and started chewing on them.


He watches as the good doctor sets about exploring the interior of the corpses with an approving nod. Nothing nobler than the quest for understanding. Good for you, Doctor, he thinks to himself.

When Timoshko suggests following the tracks a look of pensive consternation zigzags across Skynirs face. He casts creat water, wets his new bandana, wipes as much dust off of himself as he can, rings out the bandana, and reaffixes it across his face. I want to know what was going on with these two, he ***** his head towards the gargantuan corpses, as well. But we should head to camp and establish ourselves first. We could prepare a counter for whatever tried to pickle the giants, and we could unload the wagons and gear. If we try to take the wagons off the trail and they get acid washed it'll be a huge problem.

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur stares at the tracks with concern, looking off into the dusty blur where they eventually fade from sight. He speaks his thoughts aloud, "on the one hand, we are not so far from the Camp, and someone there may have some information about what this beast is; on the other hand, we will likely lose these tracks in the dust if we leave and have to start from scratch to find them again." The dwarf leans onto his guisarme for a long moment, before declaring, "I think Skynir is right. We are in the desolation now, and we are the best escort the caravan has at the moment. We should head to camp and maybe try to pick up this trail later." He then looks to Timoshko, "unless you have cause to think the beast is very close."

[3SecondCultist]

Watching the others converge around the tracks and giant barrow would on any other day arouse Azvigo's curiosity. As it stands now, however, the blood of their group members is not even dry amid the dusty expanse. And the hour grows ever later. He is no expert on the Desolation, but he can imagine that being caught out in these wilds at night is not exactly a great way to keep one's inside on the... well, inside.

"Agreed with this lot," Azvigo chirps into the discussion. "Best we head into some kind of settled area first, get our bearings and the like. If these corpses are still here when we get back, well then we'll sort them out. The barrow isn't going anywhere though, aye?"

There's pressing one's luck, and then there's just being a thrice-damned idiot. Gods know he's been accused of the latter before - and not without cause - but after a fight like that one, he's not too keen to prove Ol' Zerig right.

[DrK]

As Izz is healed to a semblance of mobility the Dr examines the wounds and and can see that the acid was likely and burst or explosion that happened separate to the claws and slashes. Although he can tell the acid was of natural origin he cannot begin to guess the manner of the beast save that it may have been born in the warping magics of the chaos rift (the NE quadrant of the desolation).

After some discussion Gurg and Gorg are left rotting in the white bone dust and the party once more board the carriages and wagons and begin to trundle nothwards up the road once more, the relative safety of the camp only ~3 more hours hence...

The three hours pass peacefully as soon enough you roll over small rise and can see the ramshackle Camp spread out at the base of the slope ahead of you. The road arrives into the wide open "market" square. Really an open expanse of cleared dust with a central gallows, a body dancing in the breeze slightly. The closest buildings flanking the road are a large series of tents that comprise the hopeful name "the Celestial Emporium" on the east side and a ramshackle looking tavern with the ominous name of "The Sip of Blood". On the west side of the road is Izzy's goal, the stout building of well made timber that is recent and is where the Bard's Gate Emissary is housed. Behind that in a large mound of mud and twigs some who have been here know there is the savage hag that is the closest the town has to a wise woman

[roll0]

[BelGareth]

The Doctor was in a good mood, the samples he had collected would hopefully provide months, if not years of research and tests. As they got back to the cart, he gave Ms Moreno a look over, and not seeing any lingering effects, he nodded, and continued to regale anyone who was within earshot, or who would listen, about a the long history of the Ancient Medicine of Drakmor treatise, and how they thought your soul was literally in your heart, and that it contained your very essence, it shaped the whole society, having a bad heart was considered a terrible curse, ones soul was 'bad' and there was nothing you could do. The truly terrible parts, were the offenders of the law being subjected to amazing and incredible procedures, all centered around the heart. They ended up believing that they could ingest ones power by consuming their hearts....the Dr trails off. "Hey, I wonder if your clan are descendants of these people?" he says to Tom.

As the wagons come to a stop, he finally stops talking long enough to pat down his trousers, and wipe the dust from his face. "Ms Moreno, would you like an escort? I would hate for you to fall down again."


Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 Ref: +8 Will: +3
Effects: None
Bombs: 10/11/day

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko frowns deeply as he ultimately fails to put together anything immediately actionable. When the rest of his companions express universal agreement that they should continue to the Camp rather than pursue the tracks, he scoffs openly. "No wonder my father foresaw your failure," he grunts. "No sense for what truly matters." All-but literally throwing his hands up in exasperation, Timoshko delicately rolls his map and replaces it in the intricately-decorated case that protects it.

He returns to the caravan, this time striding purposefully beside Isabella's sturdy carriage. Tall enough that his head is in the window, he waits until the caravan starts moving again before peering at the investigator within with unusually-focused intensity. "We have the same blood," he declares, as if the statement is the most obvious (if surprising) thing in the world. As he speaks, he grows in intensity and focus, though he keeps his voice low enough that the rest of the caravan are unlikely to hear."These fools are fortunate to have two of our ilk among them. I will show you how to stand firm against the blows of the enemy, and we will ravage those who stand against us!"

He turns his attention to Doctor Constantine with a flat expression as the Half-Elf (who would seem tall next to most others) begins to expound on a primitive people with similar beliefs. "If you truly care to hear it, I will recite my lineage for you up to our Chieftain Sendrick Saverin of the Urgathoan priesthood in Tsar, before this land was the Desolation. We prowled these lands before the armies buried their dead in mass barrows. We prowled these lands before the so-called Army of Light scorched the verdant expanse that was fed so many." He raises an eyebrow in obvious irritation- daring the doctor to argue.

[BelGareth]

The doctors eyes light up, “you have such knowledge?? Yes please, I would greatly like to know your heritage, that would be an excellent study of your lineage, oh yes, what a great opportunity!!”

He pulls out a notepad and ink quil, ready to transcribe the mighty warriors words.

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir listens to Dr, Constantine’s lecture with rapt attention. Now Doctor, were the people of the region convinced that their soul’s resided in their hearts, or that all souls resided within hearts?

The Shaman’s eyes twinkle with curiosity at the Bloodrager’s grim certainty. Your people seem to have such an interesting relationship with this land. You make it sound like you’re resentful for what the Army of Light did. Isn’t your tribe thankful that the Army of Light created the Desolation? Surely it’s a crucible for forging strong warriors, warriors stronger than those from more comfortable lands. Do your people wish they too could live comfortable lives in a verdant expanse? Would you rather give up your strength for an easier life?

[u-b]

Roger first goes to help getting the wagons and the animals into Finn's Livery, make sure they are provided good care and, finding a payment in chips is required up front, starts to arrange that one...

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko eyes the doctor with suspicion. After a moment (and slightly more encouragement), he judges the man's intentions legitimate and nods once. "I am Timoshko Saverin: First Fang, son of Oshkarl: our Prime Seer. My grandfather was Grimten, likewise the First Fang in his time. His father was Sern: Chief of Duskprowlers. His father was..." It quickly becomes apparent that oral tradition is a key component of Timoshko's upbringing, and that his clan (if perhaps slightly inbred) takes their heritage extremely seriously. He trivially recalls some 30 generations of warriors, seers, chieftains, and other men, each with a title of some import.

One of the other caravan members passes by the conversation a few times, and on the third pass grunts "Aye, you still goin' lad? Ain't been that long since the war! What are you on, the 40th generation now?" Timoshko silences him with a glare, before grunting at the interruption. "I have seen the passage of 26 seasons, and have begotten 8 heirs. If my eldest proves worthy, he may sire his own as soon as next spring." Clearly, the Duskprowlers don't wait overly long to produce offspring, and raise them to produce their own quickly. "Now, I was speaking of Kordrick: Seer-sorcerer of my 32nd ancestors generation. His father was..." It's a good thing the distance is significant, as it takes about half of the trip for Timoshko to perform the recitation. "As I began, in the age of War, Sendrick Saverin was our High Priest. He oversaw our coven when Tsar fell, and led us into both isolation and rebirth in the caverns south of the Desolation. He personally repelled four parties seeking to impose their way of life on our people..."

For the final three generations, he includes a short litany of their accomplishments in life, justification for their position as near-mythological figures. If they are to be believed (and Timoshko certainly believes them to be true), his people have, if anything, mellowed dramatically in the last few hundred years. Having established a large colony and a wide "hunting" area, they have been less driven to expel existing occupants from farmsteads and their own homelands, preferring instead to raid the villages and leave the occupants living for future raids. Perhaps "tribute" might be a more accurate term.

Finally, as the caravan rolls into view of the Camp, Timoshko is faced with Skynir's questions. He frowns thoughtfully. "Your questions, and the thoughts they beckon are a trap. A game of words intended to confuse. Perhaps I would prefer a life of ease and luxury, who would not? -but such things are folly themselves. The surest way to destroy a people is to remove their struggle. A people without trials is a people with no control over their own lives- much less the land they inhabit. I would surely not relinquish my strength and so doing damn my kin to their own extinction."

[3SecondCultist]

Azvigo, after dutifully sharing a nip of his whiskey with anyone who fought the giants, sits back and watches the Desolation pass their group by. The meandering hills of ash could be considered beautiful, despite the stark and yawning shadows they cast. The half-orc puts on a smile with the others, listening once more to the stories they tell.

Of course, it's the cannibal - honestly, he should probably be more shocked that they have a cannibal in their midst - who is the most open to sharing. It doesn't help much that Doctor Constantine and Skynir seem to hang on Timoshko's every word. Azvigo lets out an audible sigh. There are more tales of blood and emptiness than there are stars in the night sky, but the base recitation of names and deeds of the Duskprowlers seems enough to engage the current audience for a long while.

It is only when the Camp is nearly in sight and Skynir challenges Timoshko that the explorer perks up once more. "I wish I could agree with you, my friend," the half-orc says with expansive jollity. "But control's an illusion no matter what you do. You can struggle and grow strong all you like, but one day fate or the gods or whatever you believe in will throw a trial at you that there's just no walking away from. Whether by blade or time's passing, we've all got an end coming for us. And there's no real way of telling anything that happens 'tween now and then. So why not live the way you want to, on your own terms?" Azvigo shrugs. "Think about it."

The caravan's arrival at the Camp itself does give the half-orc some pause as he surveys their new surroundings. The fellow swinging from the gibbet admittedly isn't a great sign, but then again this is a blasted wasteland so it's not far off from his expectations. Having most everything he needs save some hot food and a comfortable bed, Azvigo cheerfully defers to the rest of the group to see what, if anything, they would like to do.

[BelGareth]

The Doctor is rapt with attention as Tim regales him with his long lineage, he was fascinated by the verbal tradition, and that he was able to memorize such a long and distinguished lineage, truly, it was impressive, and he was scribbling down everything as fast as he could! This would provide a much needed established time line for these parts, not to mention the opportunity to cross reference genetic markers and the like, now....to get the man to provide him some blood....maybe he could just wait for another encounter.

As Tim finished, he nodded with appreciation "Thank you, that was very impressive, do you mind if keep this information for my notes" he asks in earnest.

Turning to Skynir, he frowns "I believe they thought everyone did, as it was the root cause of the fall of their civilization." he said matter of factually, ignoring that Tim was within earshot.

And with that, he follows Roger into the Sip of Blood looking for something strong.

[SanguinePenguin]

Once back with the caravan, Hastur grew increasingly taciturn. As it often does, combat reformulated his opinions of his companions a bit. Overall, they were more adept than his initial impressions. The doctor's proclivities seem to tend toward amoral more than immoral. A scientific mind that just wants to know and damns the consequences may be worse in the long run, but Hastur had grown a little less wary of the man. Timoshko is formidable, as he had gauged, but he is an attack dog - perhaps a rabid attack dog, and would need careful dealings. He could certainly prattle on about his ancestors. Roger provided the quiet competence he expected. The other three fared well, Izzy survivng that blow was no small feat, Azvigo was practically a kyton with that whip (though a giant might not have been the ideal target), and Skynir basically turned the battle with his magic. Azvigo also shared his whiskey, which made for a long stride into the dwarf's heart. All and all, he knew he was better off than he thought himself this morning, but he could not shake that perpetually looming expectation that he was going to die in this wasteland.

Hastur stands in the Camp, a mad cluster of tents and a decrepit tavern to his right, a mud hut to left, and a gallows - occupied - ahead. "How is it possibly worse than I imagined?" he mutters and shakes his head. He burrows deep and tries to place a positive spin on it - maybe the corpse has been there for a long time? Wait... would that be better? Is it better if the corpse is fresh and hangings are routine occurance, or if they simply leave it up until it needs to be replaced and has been swinging for months? In the Camp, maybe frequent hangings are a good thing. Maybe that is the only way to keep the vestiges of civilization ensconced in this place. He stared at the hanged man in silent contemplation for about a minute.

"I need a drink," Hastur scowled as he went to see the trove of decadent luxuries assuredly waiting for him beyond the doors of "The Sip of Blood."

[Farmerbink]

A single nod confirms his consent to the doctor's request. "Of course. I am proud of my heritage," he vastly understates.


"... one day fate or the gods or whatever you believe in will throw a trial at you that there's just no walking away from."

Timoshko snorts in amusement, but manages to keep his peace as the archeologist finishes the thought. His gaze takes in the outskirts of the Camp with detached calculation as he continues. "Of course the trials come. I face one right now." He raises an eyebrow. "How better to face such trials; having grown fat and soft with opulence, or with hard-forged strength to overcome?" Perhaps even more surprising than concerning, it increasingly becomes apparent that despite substantial vestiges of primitive tradition, Timoshko's people are not blind ideologues.

He follows most of his companions through the doorway of the Sip of Blood, inclining his head only slightly to ensure no unnecessary bruises.

[(Un)Inspired]

A smile tugs relentlessly at the corners of Skynir's mouth but he manages to be the master of his own face as he responds to Timoshko. No trap, friend. You just seem to be a fellow with great certainty towards his world and I'm just an outlander on a desperate quest for an interesting conversation and perhaps a chance to increase my knowledge. Perhaps a life of luxury is folly, but perhaps avoiding extinction is folly, perhaps we're all neatly planted turnips dreaming we're warriors. Without considering things what chance do we have to avoid folly, or better yet, live well?

The Speaker for the Past nods along with Azvigo's statement, intrigued by the Archeologist's perspective, even if he's not fully in agreement with it. You speak well, my charismatic friend, but have you considered that rather than being an illusion, control lies else to where you think it? Rather than control being something one has over one's fate, have you considered that control is one's capacity to choose what one wants to think? Even magic that affects one's thoughts can only affect a person if their will submits to it. Our nature as being of mind, of spirit, supervenes on physical reality.

Listening to the Doctor's response to his inquiry a look of equal parts fascination and satisfaction simmers across his face. Thank you, Doctor Constantine, I hope if there's more you know about the history of this region, please don't keep it a secret.

As the caravan arrives at Camp, Skynir casts his eyes across the motley assortment of structures and allows himself an earnest chuckle at Hastur's comment. Perhaps you're just an eternal optimist, my friend, but I'm with you on the hunt for a drink. Azvigo's Whiskey went down smooth but surviving this dust requires lubrication. Let's look for something distilled though, we should trust just fermentation when human hygiene practices are standard. Besides, Seeing some of the ruins here in camp has given me an idea, and I've got a proposal for you. With that, he walks with the Templar into "The Sip of Blood", everready to blast anything served to him with Purify Food and Drink

[DrK]

As you wheel into the "Camp" you certainly garner attention as the misbegotten scum, villainy and adventurers who call the Camp home pauses to look at you. Some peering from their rough looking shanty houses. Others tilling dusty and dry looking straggling vegetables or tending to a few scrawny goats behind some thick wire fencing. The main square is a hard-packed dirt yard and serves as the central focus of the hamlet. Its main feature is a bent, old gallows, crudely constructed and leaning with age. Dangling from this by a frayed rope is a desiccated corpse, its broken neck askew and its leathery face frozen into a rictus grin beneath empty eye sockets. Occasionally crows alight to peck at it. Nailed to its breast is a sign bearing the word “Cheater.”

Nearby a haggard looking man dressed in near rags with a cart laden with debris and sieves and pans looks at you, “Don’t cheat at cards while you’re in the Camp. Leastwise not unless you can whip everyone else whose playing. The last feller who done it is still swinging in the breeze.” He pauses to laugh a hoarse laugh as he see's the caravan of goods. “You can’t use gold or silver in the Camp. You’ve got to go to the moneychanger and trade it in for ‘bits’, coins made out of iron. That’s all that will spend here.”

The words tally with what many of you have heard of the camp. That the blacksmith who's smithy lies just ahead of you on the main square (#7) is the de facto ruler of the city. He takes iron ore from the wastes and makes them into iron bits which are the only currency used in the Camp. None really know much of the urser's past or history and all who are aware seem to think he has always been here... But you can hear him working away, the ting of metal upon metal ringing out from the squat stone-house.

The first order of business though is tending to the wagon and the horses, Finn's Livery being the only place to leave them. An adobe house in very poor repair fronts a fenced paddock. A few
broken down nags munch on the sparse grass within. A large barn of faded planks stands next to the crumbling adobe with a sign painted on its side in large pink letters stating that this is Finn’s Livery. The large paddock is heavily reinforced with stout wood and large nails and three heavy set if haggard looking horses clip the dusty grass looking tired and wary. as you approach the aforementioned Finn (or Finnaeous) staggers out, the scrawny elf clad in heavy working leathers and reeking of cheap rotgut brandy. He looks at Izzy blurrily, "what are ye wanting lass. I only got the 2 nags. The rest went with them fancy looking Bad Gater's and Gurg's crew up north to cut through." He giggles slightly, eyes unfocused, Yep, all them ogres and Bard’s Gaters is surely dead. But the critters out in the Desolation don’t eat horses so much. They prefer to eat what the horses is carryin’. I expect my stock’ll start tricklin’ back in a day or two.” As Izzy waits for some sense one of the half dozen or so tough looking handlers, his one a chubby and weather beaten human woman of middle years with a thick cudgel intervenes. "No point you speaking with him now miss. He's been in the cups since dawn. You be getting yourself to the Urser (she points to the smithy which is only 30ft away) And you get some iron bits and its 1 bit a day per beast, and another 2 scrapes (1/10th of a bit) "Fer the feed."


https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/016/965/358/smaller_square/stasya-morzina-drunkenelf.jpg?1554146788

As Izzy is dealing with the horses most of the others walk towards the Sip of Blood tavern trying to ignore the skeleton dangling in the square nearby. This old structure appears to have been rebuilt several times. The bottom third of the outside walls are of stacked fieldstones and apparently remain from the original building. Above that the walls and roof are a mud-splattered wattle and daub construction with numerous chinks through which tiny plumes of smoke escape. The placard above the door depicts a pointy-fanged fellow about to take a drink of some dark, red liquid in a mug...

Hastur, the Dr and a few of the others head inside the doors to be greeted by a tavern that consists of a large, L-shaped common room with a small kitchen and living quarters in the northern
wing. A menu on the wall sells assorted drinks and meals of roast pigeon, horsemeat, turtle soup, and coyote, along with whatever stale breads and overripe vegetables remain from the last caravan to pass through. The Campies gather here to eat, drink, and smoke their foul local pipeweeds prodigiously. A constant stuffy haze fills the room from dawn until nightfall when the establishment closes.

As you enter the half dozen locals turn to stare at you all. In the corner a tough looking trio of flat eared and orange skinned hobgoblins half rise, hands briefly reaching for swords and axes at their hips before they catch the eye of one of the barely dressed wenches who shakes her head. A large orc hobbles towards you, leaning on a crutch. Never a looker to begin with, his head is now hairless on the left side with a missing eye and ear and massive scarring there also. His right arm ends in a stump above the elbow, and his left hand has only a thumb and two fingers. His left leg ends in a ragged stump just below the knee, long healed, but with exposed bone at the end. His tone is rough and scratchy from the scars. "It’s best to stay inside after dark and not test the spirits. This whole place was a battleground once, and the dead rise at night and take anyone they find wandering around. But... eh, you want drinks you are welcome, you want a smoke I've plenty of good pipeweed. But only the Bender brothers got rooms in the Coach House, for a price mind. You look new in town, you got Iron to trade? If not you better go see the Urser. he always open."

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grunts at the first man to speak, saving his words for someone more deserving. In the haze of the "town's" tavern, he snorts derisively. After summarily dismissing most everyone in the room, he turns to Constantine. "To this 'urser,' then, I suppose," he grumbles, nodding his head toward the door through which they entered.

Other than making sure no one gets close enough to reach his coin purse, he ignores the rest of the room's occupants, and returns to the street, following the tink of labor.

[u-b]

Roger nods and goes to see the Usurer to get some 20 local bits, considering how he has 4 beasts and will need some to care for himself. The protectionism was not a good sign for the market conditions here, but he was inclined to start by abiding the rules.

Just noting here in case it's relevant: Roger still has scent active throughout the evening, complete with bonuses, so will notice how anyone and anything smells here at the camp.

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur frowned at... well, everything. The man was hanged for cheating at cards. Real money is no good here. The meats - well, turtle is okay, but the rest - pigeon, horse, coyote - all basically prison food. The common is basically lousy with monsters - hobgoblins and an orc - in another place...

But this isn't another place. Hastur breathed deeply as he worked again to accept that fact. Having to move to this local unregulated currency stunk, but he knew that there wouldn't be other options. This Urser was probably going to abandon the Camp someday with a cartload of currency that actually mattered and upend this fictitious market he created. Still, what choice did Hastur have? At least the orc, or most of one anyway, was kind enough to lend some useful advice. "Thank you for the tips. Right. To the Urser then." And the dead roam about at night... yes, everything is awful.

[DrK]

Armed with information from the dreary looking Sip of Blood or the Stables most of the weary caravan looks across the square to the north side where the stout looking smithy stands. Approaching some of the locals lingering in the gallows square smirk happily, glancing at their stalls with collections of junk or small and stunted vegetables or dry and stringy meat. One calling out to Hastur “The Sip of Blood Tavern is run by a vampire. His name’s Lucky Bjorc and drinking other people’s blood is how he stays so lucky. I’d stay away from the sangria if I were you.”...

Another nods to the smithy “The Usurer’s in charge of the Camp because he was here first. No one alive was around when he came here. He’s a lot older than he looks. Don't cause trouble or you'll be joining the last one who did...” The last comment is punctuated by a gobbet of brown spittle hawked in the direction of the body rattling in the dusty wind. Beyond the smithy as you approach it is the remains of campfires. Midden pits and tent stakes show that this is a regular campsite that was recently abandoned. An inordinate amount of garbage and stinking wastes show that the inhabitants were giantkind (#5). To the other side is a strange looking building, and one obviously older than much of the camp. This building is unlike any other in town. Of tightly fitted mortared stone, it is obviously ancient but has weathered the years well. It consists of an octagonal building with a conical roof, also of stone. A stout wooden door—not the original—opens towards the Common.

The smithy itself is the only other decently constructed building in town. This simple plank building is nonetheless of the finest construction in town (other than the well house—Area 8). A well-crafted stone chimney rises at the southern end, which boasts a well-fitting door facing the Common. The opposite end sports a pair of sliding double doors that likewise face the Common. During the day, these doors are open revealing a well-equipped blacksmith’s workshop within. The other half of the building consists of the smith’s dwelling. A sign above the double door depicts a gray coin and an anvil.

The smith himself is working the bellows and the anvil as you approach, his back towards you as he bends over the small anvil hammering a glowing bar of black iron into you realise horsehoes. Although for those in the craft (anyone with 3+ rank in Craft) its obvious the smith is well practiced and skilled. Despite the forge the smithy is rather chilly and to Roger smells dessicated and dry.
This man is tall and lean with a great hooked nose and a wide mouth full of seemingly too many teeth fitted tightly together. A shock of pale hair covers his head and watery blue eyes look like two mirrors revealing nothing of what goes on inside the head behind. His face is heavily lined and he looks ancient from his time here in the camp He stops hammering as you approach and nods

https://wow.zamimg.com/uploads/screenshots/small/661504.jpg


"Greetings to the camp. You all come to me in the end. You'll be wanting some iron chips..." he gestures to large stout chest near the door and a pair of scales. "The Camp only accepts Iron Chips, I make the chips. 5 crowns gives you a chip and spends well in the camp." (that is to say 5 gp = 1 ic and in camp 1 ic = 1 gp of Pathfinder prices). "No-one trades anything else here, I make the rules." Nodding he seems happy for you to change the money yourselves, the chest i open and if you have a look you can see Iron chips and shards (1/10th of a chip, i.e a sp) in one half and a smattering of gold and silver from various local nations in the other half. Above the scale on a rafter there is a old and withered looking crow that caws as you approach and seems to watch you intently with its beady eye.

[u-b]

Roger nods and changes 100 gp for 20 ic, some of the later in shards. "Understood. Speaking about the rules, will you introduce us to the rest of the relevant ones and the authority under which you make them?"

[BelGareth]

Having been rerouted already to the 'Urser' a person whom the Doctor was very intrigued to meet, he took everything in stride as they moved towards the money changer. The campsite, and refuse from giants raised an eyebrow, but not much else.

The old Well was interesting, and he hoped to inspect that at a later time, just the fact that it was still standing from before, meant a world of possibilities.

Nodding as the strange old man spoke to them, "And do you perchance have a doctor in this locale?" he says, as he exchanges some money with a raised eyebrow, there was extortion, and then there was extortion.


Will change 5pp for 10ic

[SanguinePenguin]

"And is it one chip for five crowns?" Hastur asks as he begins his exchange all his coins into 41 iron chips. It was smart - he had to admit that - collecting the universally valuable coins so the (mis)fortune seekers would all wind up dead in gods-knows-where with these worthless iron chips. Somehow, this felt like the end of the line - exchanging his mortal coins into those of the land of the dead.

[(Un)Inspired]

Good Gods, Skynir thinks to himself as he hears some of the rumors floating about camp, they serve sangria at the Sip of Blood!? Where the hell do they get the fruit from?

He takes note, and some small comfort, at the quality and construction of the well house, and keeps his eyes peeled around the camp for any stone, not currently in use, that might be shaped by magic. As he walks through the township he keeps his eyes open and doesn't let any potential pickpockets get excessively close. Arriving at the Urser, Skynir listens to the smith's spiel and considers the man's words. Brutal exchange rate, at least he seems pretty laid back for an autocrat.

He trades some coins for iron and, when the party is ready to leave the smithy, presents his stone-shaping plan to Hastur.

100gp for 20ic including 50 shards.

[RCgothic]

Izzy takes a sharp intake of breath when she finds out the exchange rate and the cost for housing horses.

"I'm going to have to find a way to make being here profitable, quickly," she comments to the others after exchanging 150gp for 30 bits and promptly handing 6.6 of them over for a day's food and stabling for the horses. "If everything here's that expensive I'll be out of funds inside a week."

[3SecondCultist]

"Lovely," says Azvigo with a lazy grin while looking around the Camp. The collected spit, blood, and other bodily substances down in the mud do an excellent job rounding out the corpse in the center of these 'civilized' spots. The traveling bard keeps to himself, drawing his long cloak around his shoulders as the group enters the Sip of Blood and stopping only to ask the barman to reserve a few more ales for his party upon their return.

On the other hand, the smithy elicits a low whistle from the adventurer who has been to many a shop like this and knows a bit about trade (if not metalwork in particular). Azvigo makes no attempt to hide his interest in the masonry and the apparent care with which the building was constructed, in such open contrast to the rest of the Camp. The half-orc gives a toothy grin when the Urser explains the hilariously lopsided rate of exchange and he spots some of his new companions' discomfort.

"Well you've got quite the set up here, my friend," he says, "but I wonder, how many crowns do you have in your shop at any time?" Azvigo then reaches into the hidden compartment sewed into the bottom of his backpack and empties it onto the nearest countertop. Between wads of thick cotton balls spills out a veritable stream of white-gold coins, platinum pieces numbering precisely one hundred.

"If we're going to die here, we might as well do it with a bit of comfort. I know I'm not long for this world either way." He chuckles darkly.

Azvigo is going to be a big spender here. I'll spend 1000 gp for 200 iron crowns, assuming there is enough in the smithy.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko raises an eyebrow, but keeps the rest of his thoughts to himself. As his companions empty purse-fulls of actual coin into the open coffer, he reluctantly follows suit with 10 gp. He glares unhappily at the crow, and returns to the street without a word to this "Urser."

[DrK]

The Urser seems calmly disinterested in the exchanges only looking up as Azvigo pours out a huge mound of gold. A dry "You are confident then... or looking to end your life in the wastes? If so merely head out, Someone will bring the chips back I'm sure.." At the query from the doctor he nods through the open door to what looks like a mound of mud built around a fallen tree (#13). An old, artificial mound rises 20 feet into the air here. Its sides are badly eroded from weathering, and a gaping hole opens in one flank beneath a heavy stone lintel. It has the look of an old tomb about it other than the garland of wildflowers and herbs hung around the door frame. "Mama Grim tends to the injured when they arrive. The gravekeeper to those who no longer need help. Although she is..." he pauses to consider his words "Unusual but a native to these lands."

He nods without a smile as you trail out and once more back in the gallows square. Behind you (#9) A collection of crumbling adobe buildings, lean-tos, and tents surround a patch of surprisingly healthy and bountiful garden. The mud-brick adobes are of obviously ancient construction and have many gaps in their walls and roofs covered by stretched animal hides and blankets. A male human and a young femal half elf both dressed in faded leathers roast meat on an low fire as a pair massive heavily muscled dogs roam nearby.

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur was about to leave after participating as a dupe in this scam, but then he thought to ask something of the Urser. “You’ve been here a long time, probably have a sense for what’s out in the wastes. Any where particularly dangerous to avoid? Any where on the relatively safer end to explore?”

[u-b]

Roger pays 4.8 iron bits for stabling and feeding his animals, then proceeds to get a solid first impression about the state of affairs here at The Camp. He enters The Sip of Blood Tavern, orders a good meal and a good drink and asks if nobody minds if he magics himself up after the road. He says he would be willing to share the news from the south after he's done with the meal.

Ears of the City x4. Counts as 24d4 hours of actively gathering info on the following topics (1d4 hours on each of 24 topics, taking 10 each time for a total of 25):
Places and people at 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 on the local map
Places and people 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 on the local map
Gurg and Gorg, Tsar, The Dead Fields, Ashen Waste, Orcs, Goblins
Six most recent trips into The Desolation, whether successful or not, by anyone

[(Un)Inspired]

Time to make a good impression, Skynir thinks to himself. With a shrug and a nod to his compatriots, he strides over to where the human and half-elf are cooking. He looks up and down at the buildings, burgeoning plant life; the dogs, and the people. Good afternoon-hey, cute-looking pooch, we were hoping to introduce ourselves to Mama Grim, do we need to make arrangements or is it alright if we head on in?

Provided no resistance is proffered, the half-elf continues confidently toward the entrance to the most auspicious building amongst the collection and holds open whatever door or flap covers the portal to allow his companions to come with him; with a bow of his head as if to say, after you.

Hello? Mama Grim? It's a pleasure to meet you, I'm Skynir Elkhart, and these are my traveling companions. We just got into town and thought the polite thing to do was introduce ourselves around camp. You've got such a vibrant garden outside, you must have quite the green thumb to nurture it in this climate. We were hoping to hear more about the services you offer locals and wanted to make sure to let you know that if there's anything we can do for you, please don't keep it a secret.

Knowledge Nature to Identify the plantlife: [roll0]
Diplomacy: [roll1]

[Farmerbink]

Uninterested in the locals, but keenly interested in the safety of his companions (if for entirely selfish reasons), Timoshko follows silently alongside Skynir. He doesn't exactly strike the most inviting image, but he knows to assess a situation before acting rashly, despite what some may think. He simply listens and watches, his face a bland mask of inexpression as his more talkative companions take point on the introductions.

If applicable: [roll0] perception
and [roll1] sense motive for any untoward hunches (includes -2 drawback for this woman surely coming from a different culture than he).

[BelGareth]

The good Doctor huffs at the response, it wasn't what he was hoping for, either way though, perhaps there was something that could be done. He followed Skynir, oddly silent, hopefull this Mama Grim wasn't all she was supposed to be....or maybe he could....no, not yet.

[3SecondCultist]

Azvigo offers no final comment to the Urser's jab, choosing to leave his smithy with his iron crowns and a little smile. He falls into place easily right beside Skynir at the front of their band, tipping his hat to any passers-by but keeping a hand at his belt near his whip. The half-orc's golden gaze flits around with something that might look like gaiety, but any experienced adventurer recognizes is actually patient observation. He catches Timoshko doing very much the same before looking away quickly; probably not best to dwell on how he shares his first instinct with the resident cannibal.

Approaching the low mound and the looming entranceway within, Azvigo ducks his head beneath the stone ceiling and pushes aside an errant vine or two in order to see comfortably. His eyes adjust to the darkness instantaneously, the overcast outdoors blending with the black and white vision he's used to when raiding old tombs.

"Thank you for your time," he says after Skynir has finished, pointing to himself by means of introduction. "Azvigo Douglass. I was hoping to purchase a few healing potions for our group to use collectively. The ruined city is a dangerous place, and we need all the help we can get."

[RCgothic]

Izzy didn't see any particular need to go and see the doctor after her earlier ministrations seemed quite effective, so she decides finding employment is more of a priority.

She goes to The Sip of Blood with Roger, and purchases an extortionately priced bottle of common wine. After pouring herself a glass, she asks about the best ways to earn iron in these parts.

[DrK]

As you finish the exchange with the Usurer he shakes his head sadly. "New to the camp eh..." he starts, pausing to shake his head. "There is no safe lands. The ash wastes lie in the SE and are filled with the camps of the dead and the winds of dust. The SW is the dead fields where the dead do not lie easy. Above the crossroads lies the most savage of desolation. the chaos rifts are a rent in the earth and the boiling lands suffered the full effects of the dark magics... None are safe. If you want safe I'd suggest turn your carts about and head back to Bards Gate. Do not approach the city, none who have tried that in the past 30 years have come back, well save Skeribar and he lost half his company..." He smiles and watches them all leave. "Thanks fer the gold Good luck you survive to change the iron back eh..."

--

As Roger and Izzy head to the tavern the others head to the small walled garden on their way to the ugly mound of earth and marsh. Reaching the half elf and human Skynir asks of mama Grim and both shake their heads pointing at the log and mud hump a bit further south. "If you are ill keep on to the lump of trees there my friend. We work for Skeribar, he's the most savvy of the rangers here. We work for him and can guide you in the desolation." As she speaks the dogs nearby lift their heads slightly and growl before the young man motions and they drop back down chewing on strange bones that you cannot recognise.

The woman continues, "The wastes are dangerous for the new. Ask that most recent caravan from Bard's gate. They were foolish hiring Gurg rather than speaking with Skeribar but they liked the look of the big oaf, little did they realise that knowledge is power here." She leans forward, "I can offer some advice for free to you and yours. The worst of the Desolation’s horrors are in the Boiling Lands where Nature has been warped and twisted beyond recognition. We go there the least because of the great dangers involved. However, we have made some progress in the Ashen Waste and have cleared out many of the most dangerous encounters. It has the most potential for successful adventuring and could probably be cleared of dangers with a concerted effort. " Pausing to offer Skynir, Tamishko, Azvigo and the Doctor a drink of water she draws a rough quadrant map. "The camp" she says, gesturing at the south, "Tsar, the City of Darkness, no one goes there and lives" she says pointing at the west, "And the Boiling lands, the chaos rifts, the ash wastes and the dead lands" she adds going clockwise.

https://db4sgowjqfwig.cloudfront.net/campaigns/153952/assets/679099/The_Desolation.jpg?1482662433

Continuing she taps the last two she hasn't described. Most of the fighting occurred in the Dead Fields, so there are a large number of undead and a minimum of treasures. The great encampments of soldiers were in what is now the Ashen Waste. That is where we have discovered many valuable treasures in the past. The soldiers went off to die and left their valuables behind in their camps where they still lie unclaimed. We have established safe havens in the Ashen Waste. If you see a grove of healthy trees growing in the wastelands, it is a sign that our sanctuary is near and can provide respite" As she finishes she shakes her head. "I speak too much, Skeribar would be cross with me. Come back if you have iron to spend and want a guide now. Off you go Mama Grim is there" she gestures to the mound.

Approaching that you head there between a strange pair of towers painted charcol grey with a red skull painted on them (#10) and a large ramshakle wooden structure where a gnome watches you with a sinister smile as he puffs on a pipe (#11). Reaching the Mama Grim's (#13) an old, artificial mound rises 20 feet into the air here. Its sides are badly eroded from weathering, and a gaping hole opens in one flank beneath a heavy stone lintel. It has the look of an old tomb about it other than the garland of wildflowers and herbs hung around the door frame. As you approach there is a large growling from within the barrow and a hulking creature a giant creature resembling a massive wolverine with toothy snouts, long, sharp claws, and reddish-brown pelt appears followed by a tall emaciated women that you realise is enormous as she straightens to some 9ft tall. Mama Grim is a swamp hag with baggy greenish brown skin and sickly, jaundiced-looking eyes. Her hair is a massive tangle of greasy black locks into which she has tangled bits of feather, bone, and assorted detritus. She looks at you as you approach, particularly Skynir and Konstantine as they speak with her.

https://static.wikia.nocookie.net/forgottenrealms/images/3/32/HagNR.png/revision/latest/scale-to-width-down/606?cb=20200910200016

Oh yes, Dearie, the Desolation is dangerous, but it’s just the doorstep. Beyond the threshold lies the truly dangerous. The ruined city is far from abandoned, and those that abandoned it are far from forgetting it. You be careful out there, Dearies. Such pretty young morsels like you would make a fine meal for those that guard secrets not meant to ever see the light of day


---

In the Sip of Blood the one legged, one armed orc greets you again, one of the wenches speaking as he mumbles with his tongueless mouth. "Ah, you got your Iron. Please be seated, have some wine, have some ale. Finest in the camp. better than the swill them Bender Brothers will be selling you." He gestures Roger, Izzy and Hastur to a booth offering a poor stew of stringy chicken (or rat) and stunted root vegetables in a salty watery sauce to go with the drinks. Roger settles in and starts chatting casually, making sure to speak with some of the locals in the bar or the barely clad young wenches that ply their trade around the tables as they explain some of the rambling things the tongueless

“He says, ‘It’s best to stay inside after dark and not test the spirits. This whole place was a battleground once, and the dead rise at night and take anyone they fi nd wandering around.’ That…oh, that was just a scratch.”

“He’s saying that for 50 iron bits he’ll let you rub his lucky rock.”

“Um…I think he’s saying ‘Beware the Black Beast in the Pit.’ Either that or ‘There’s blackened beef on the spit.’"

“There’s something alive at the crossroads. It only appears at the stroke of midnight. It can grant you your every desire, but the price is steep. Don’t bargain with the thing that comes in the night at the crossroads if you value your soul.”

“Don’t camp at the crossroads out in the Desolation. There’s still a lot of restless spirits who haunt that road leading to the Black Gates, and they don’t take kindly to visitors.”

“There’s something out there in the Desolation that hunts in the night. It devours travelers and even comes to the Camp sometimes in its hunts. It looks like a giant wolf, and seeing it means your death!

I’m not surprised Gurg is dead. I think Clantock was trying to do him in. Gurg and his bunch were running Clantock and his mercenaries out of business. I saw Clantock myself consorting with some winged devil outside of town one day. When they were done talking that devil took off and flew out into the Desolation. Clantock didn’t see me and it’s none of my business. I just think it’s strange, that’s all.”

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur found the Urser’s answer completely unhelpful. He follows most of the others toward Mama Grim, but gets sidetracked by the female half elf working under this Skeribar. The young woman is the first person to provide useful intel about the desolation. “This is the exact sort of information I’ve been looking for! A concerted effort to clear it of danger is exactly in line with my own mission - I would love to hear your thoughts and Skeribar’s on this matter. What manners of creatures live out in the ashen wastes? How have you gotten anything to grow here? And how much to contract your services?”

[u-b]

Roger has no problem eating a rat. It certainly could have been cooked better, but we have what we have. He chooses wine over ale. "How much do I owe you?"


Roger settles in and starts chatting casually...
I don't think that's how the spell (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/e/ears-of-the-city/) works.

The target of this spell sees and hears a stream of past scenes and pieces of conversations related to local people and events. The flashes are so brief that it is impossible to identify individual people or places, but when the target concentrates on a particular topic or individual, she can piece together a coherent narrative told in a multitude of changing voices in her mind.
So, Roger just sits, concentrates, and listens to the stuff discussed here and around here some time in the past. I'll spend an extra casting of the spell to hear these rumors (they seem to be helpful). Accounding for the other topics of interest (some could be deemed to reuse the information from some other posts):

Places and people at 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14 on the local map
Gurg and Gorg (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25456062&postcount=89), Tsar (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25456062&postcount=89), The Dead Fields (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25431901&postcount=2), Ashen Waste (https://forums.giantitp.com/showsinglepost.php?p=25431901&postcount=2), Orcs, Goblins
Six most recent trips into The Desolation, whether successful or not, by anyone

I'd target a paragraph each. Hopefully, you can copy-paste them from somewhere. Failing that, Roger is willing to take in the remaining 23 rumors or something.

[DrK]

Hastur found the Urser’s answer completely unhelpful. He follows most of the others toward Mama Grim, but gets sidetracked by the female half elf working under this Skeribar. The young woman is the first person to provide useful intel about the desolation. “This is the exact sort of information I’ve been looking for! A concerted effort to clear it of danger is exactly in line with my own mission - I would love to hear your thoughts and Skeribar’s on this matter. What manners of creatures live out in the ashen wastes? How have you gotten anything to grow here? And how much to contract your services?”

The half elf woman utters a low throaty laugh. "Well you are certainly keen aren't you. The Ash wastes are the tamest of the four areas of the desolation, certainly the northern stretches (chaos rifts and boiling lands) have been afflicted far worse. Though they are were the most valuables are. As for us, Skreibar does the pricing but we are at least 20 iron per day, and thats for one of us rangers and the dogs. The trees, well thats out in the ash wastes, some 40 miles to the NE of the camp in the northern reaches of the ash wastes. The Garden of Teliboar is where Skeribar learned his tricks. THeres some other ruins in the ash wastes, Tark Mound lies 50 miles north almost up by the crossroads, that Tark was a savage warlord and we avoid his barrow. The tranquil garden is a haunted walled cemetery 20 miles north and the Tomb of the sleeping night is only 15 miles from the camp though its swallowed more adventurers than we can count." She shakes her head, "The hermit" and she points to a small well made tent supported by wooden slats near the edge of the camp (#3), "Simon says he he has reached it." "Now away with you unless you mean to hire us. Skeribar would be unhappy with the free guiding."

--

In the sip of blood Roger hands over 4 slivers (each 1/10th of an Iron) and listens to the frontiersmen and adventurers and treasure hunters that make up some of the patrons. He listens intently as they chatter and gossip of news and rumours.

“Don’t trust the mercenaries and guides you can hire in the Camp. I think all of them harbor secrets and agendas that come before those they have been hired to protect. Ironically, I think the giants were the most trustworthy of the lot, though I fear we have probably seen the last of them.”

“Have a care Raef, I’ve seen giant wolf tracks at the outskirts of the Camp. One night there were screams. The next morning I found a shack at the edge of town smashed and splattered with blood. The wolf tracks were there. - No, you say that, I reckon its beasts coming down from the Rifts."

“If you’re looking for a guide to take you out in the wastes, nobody knows it better than Skeribar and his men. They charge steep, but they come home alive so that counts for something.”

“Nobody goes out much at night here in the Camp. People that do tend to disappear. I think it’s the doings of that death church myself, but don’t tell ‘em I said so. I don’t want them coming after me. Funny thing is, anyone who stays inside is usually alright, even if it’s just in a tent or a lean-to.”

“If you travel the roads of the Desolation at night, you’re sure to run into the Lost Caravan…all that’s left of the unluckiest merchants to ever try to cross the wastes. You’ll see and hear strange things that can’t be explained, but that’s okay. Just step aside and let ‘em pass, and more than likely they’ll go on by, though a few people do disappear. Those that bother them, though, are doomed to join their cursed journey forever.”

“Them gnomes that run the boarding house are twins. Most folks can’t tell ‘em apart. Heck I’ve never seen them both at the same time…maybe there’s only one of them just pretending to be two…But whatever, there don't be anywhere else to stay in the camp for guests until they build something of their own."

"A fellow passed through here a few months ago heading out to the Desolation. He looked familiar to me from my days as a bandi…er, I mean merchant. Yeah, that’s it, a merchant. Anyway, this guy was dangerous. He’s wanted in several cities, and I’m sure there’s a nice reward for him.”

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko watches silently as his company splits. Uninterested in the tavern, he finds himself scowling down at a rough-drawn map of the wastes- consistent with his own clan's teachings and his recollections, he nods soberly as the surprisingly helpful Half-Elf describes her party's efforts. Hastur's response draws an amused smirk to his otherwise bland expression. After rolling his eyes, he moves on, joining Skynir and the doctor at the witch's hut.

When it turns out to actually be a witch- or rather a hag witches only wish they were, Timoshko finds himself chuckling in genuine mirth. "Of all the things I expected to find here, I must admit you're a surprise," he grumbles. "Are you the law here, or is everyone else just more subtle about being able to rip unwelcome visitors in half?"

[DrK]

When it turns out to actually be a witch- or rather a hag witches only wish they were, Timoshko finds himself chuckling in genuine mirth. "Of all the things I expected to find here, I must admit you're a surprise," he grumbles. "Are you the law here, or is everyone else just more subtle about being able to rip unwelcome visitors in half?"

The hag cackles at the tribesman's words and shakes her head. Lank hair hanging down her back and shoulders. "There is no law in the camp. Might makes right here. I patch up those who survive and our stinky undertaker takes care of those who don't survive." A harsh cackle, "My sisters in the city would laugh should they see me here. The rule of law as thin as it ishere is the Ursurer. He owns the iron, he makes the rules." As she looks at Timishko and the others, "You watch the roads at night. Shadows and worse will take your souls and the guardian of Tsar will do far worse that that. If you are here seeking gold better the barrows in the Dead fields and the ash wastes. "

[u-b]

Other than listening for the end of the evening for any stray rumors from the past, and maybe taking an eventual bath, Roger feels no pressing need to do anything much. He was here to support Izzy's business and decided he could as well wait to see what exactly the needs of that business will be...

[SanguinePenguin]

"My sincere gratitude for the information. My name is Hastur. I'll likely be back to hire one of you on, but that's a steep price - does that include aid against foes, or just guiding?"

After the discussion with Skeribar's crew, Hastur checks to see if other from his party wants to go see this hermit, Simon, and then heads that way.

[DrK]

In the Sip of Blood

In the tavern as Roger inquires as to a bath he is directed by one of the wenches to the Bender Brother's Boarding house. "We don't have rooms or baths here. Just bad ale and worse food mister.." she offers nodding and pointing vaguely to the other side of camp where he has heard the gnomes run their boarding house.

As Izzy has asked about her writ of land she is directed to the grandly named Bard's Gate Embassy. This is the residence of Bard’s Gate’s new diplomatic envoy to the Camp. Sammar arrived a few weeks ago with the Bard’s Gate caravan intent on reaching the exotic northern lands beyond the Desolation in order to set up an established trade route. This old house was refurbished, and Sammar was left behind as liaison and coordinator for the trade route.

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir's eyes travel upward as the towering hag steps out of her domicile and straighten up; standing almost 3 feet above him.Why grandmother, what sharp teeth you have, he thinks to himself as he appraises the hag. Well she's a healer, and hags know magic, those two facts added together might equal the closest thing we can have to a friend out here in the badlands

Thank you for the warning, and the advice, Mama Grim. I hope we have a more pleasant reason than a need for your healing services, to call upon you again. Our ultimate goal is the city itself, however. No reason to show up to the dance floor if you're scared to waltz, right? You say you've got family still in Tsar? Do you have any message you like us to pass on to them, provided we live long enough to have a chat with them?

After listening to Mama Grim's response politely, he bids her a courteous farewell and returns to listen to the tail end of Hastur's conversation with the ranger guides. I'd like to go with you to speak to the Hermit Simon. Anyone who's got the gumption to make forrays into the desolation and return is worth introducing ourselves to.

[RCgothic]

After receiving directions to the Bard's Gate Embassy, Izzy immediately finished her wind and stands to leave, offering Roger the opportunity to accompany her if he feels like it.

[u-b]

Roger comes with Izzy, thinking it would be for the best to have less re-tellings between him and what stands for the "plan", or the "grant", or the "authorization", or whatever that is...

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grunts at Skynir's request- or comment, or whatever exactly it was. With no more urgent needs, he dutifully follows along, glancing at the ramshackle tavern in passing.

[DrK]

Off to the Hermit

Skynir and Hastur wish a cordial good day to the Hag who grins a feral grin showing her long canines when they mention the city. "Aye, if you did make it to see my sisters then you'd be welcome to gift three feet of good steel in their black hearts. Thats all they deserve after casting me out." ... As they leave her she offers a small friendly wave before pulling out a piece of unknown meat and tossing it to one of the strange goblin bears.

Seeking Simon the hermit is easy and a question to a man standing behind a small cart selling odds and ends like gets you pointed in the right dierction. A simple wickiup of tree bark stands by itself here showing signs of greater care and attention than found elsewhere in town. As you approach you see a tired looking man in simple robes sat cross legged by a small fire over which bubbles a steaming kettle. Slightly tilted eyes and pointed ear suggest at half elven heritage and Skynir notices the faint wisps of fire burning at one end of the staff and ice crystals small flecks of snow at the other suggesting the staff is blessed with powerful enchantments. As you approach the hermit looks up at you and smiles in a guarded if friendly manner. "Welcome to the Camp. I expect it falls far below what you expect or wanted. Have you met the charming Bender brothers who run the boarding house? taht will be a treat for you."

As you sit he offers tea from his kettle and pulls out a small load of twice baked flat bread and a jar of very old chutney. "Would you care for some food? I am curious as to what brings you to the Camp? I saw the carriages, but they do not look like they belong to you? Are you planning on exploring the Desolation? Have a care it is dangerous. I’ve seen giant wolf tracks at the outskirts of the Camp as recent as two days ago. One night there were screams. The next morning I found a shack at the edge of town smashed and splattered with blood. The wolf tracks were there so even here is not safe.".

As he glances towards a section of the camp where you can distantly see a group of heavily armoured mercenaries (a mix of human, half orc and hobgoblin) he nods. "Don’t trust the mercenaries and guides you can hire in the Camp. I think all of them harbour secrets and agendas that come before those they have been hired to protect. Ironically, I think Gurg and his giants were the most trustworthy of the lot, though I fear we have probably seen the last of them.

Bard's gate Emissary

Leaving the Sip of blood Izzy and Roger trot towards the sod house complete with thatched roof and fieldstone chimney. Deeply recessed windows are blocked by heavy wooden shutters. There are signs of recent repair to this structure and a single flag with the golden horn and lute crossed on a field of red and white flutters from a small pole beside the door. Deep ruts nearby suggest recent carts and carriages but not here now and you would guess that was the caravan that was supposed to head north with Gurg and the giants and has clearly been waylaid.

Knocking on the door you are met by a man you assume is Sammar, the factor from Bard's gate. The man before you wears the finely tailored, though travel stained garb, of an official diplomat. The lyre crest on his tunic identifies his allegiance to Bard’s Gate. He is middle-aged with only a touch of gray in his hair. The worry lines on his face seem to have deepened recently. He bids you enter and nods happily.

“I am Sammar of Bard’s Gate, recently installed diplomatic agent to the Camp. I had sent south for more men to help me in my troubles but had not realised you would be here so quickly." Without realising his confusion about your identities he ploughs on regardless.
"My masters have elected to reopen the northern trade route through the Desolation, and I have been instructed to set up an embassy here to oversee the city’s interests in such a venture. I arrived here with a caravan some weeks ago and set up facilities to serve in the interim until a caravan route could be successfully established and lucrative trade opened up. My caravan departed north not a week ago to open that route and seek valuable trade with the exotic lands of the north. They are not expected back for several months, but I fear ill fortune has befallen them. Though the caravan had its own contingent of guardsmen, for added security they hired a band of ogre mercenaries led by a hill giant to safely escort them across the Desolation. As you are aware, the giant leader of that band returned in none-too-good-a-shape and without his ogre warriors. It is too soon for the giant to have escorted the caravan all the way across the Desolation and already returned to the Camp. Therefore, I fear the worst.

“It is my understanding that you are adventurers who seek to enter the Desolation anyway. All I ask is that you search for the lost caravan and return with any survivors or news of its fate if there are none. For this task I can assure you that you will be richly rewarded by my government. Bard’s Gate is a rich and powerful city with vast wealth from its commerce. It knows how to repay those who give it assistance. Please, will you help me?”

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur welcomes Simon's offer of tea and food. While clearly not luxurious fare, he suspects what he'll have to get at the tavern will be worse. "Thank you, Simon. I am planning on exploring. How big was the wolf print? Skeribar's rangers seemed skilled and to know their trade. What has happened that make you claim their not trustworthy? One of them mentioned that you've been to the... what did she call it... the Tomb of the Sleeping Night? We are planning to head out and I'd love to benefit from any wisdom you can impart."

[roll0] (or appropriate) to ID what the wolf is from Simon's description

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko inclines his head gratefully, accepting a small, simple cup that his hand dwarfs. He sips gently, content to accept the offer of hospitality, for what it's worth. Still, he spends more time listening and almost no time talking, his deep brooding eyes taking in the scene with a disconcertingly blank gaze.

[BelGareth]

Constantine stormed off in a huff, damn Ursers, and hags. he was stewing, but he saw Izzy and Roger walking off somewhere, and with nothing else to do, joined them. And he was happy he did, listening to the information, he nodded in understanding.

"Of course! Of course! We even encountered a few ogres on our way here!" he declares "My associates were quick and deadly in their response, can you show us the route this caravan took?"


Constantine (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2621877)
HP's: 48/48
AC: 19 (21 vs evil)
T: 13 FF: 16
CMD: 17 FCMD: 14
Init: +3
Fort: +5 (+7 v E) Ref: +8 (+10 v E) Will: +3 (+5 v E)
Effects: Shield (6 minutes), Protection from Evil (8/10)
Bombs: 10/11/day

[RCgothic]

"Er, that wasn't exactly why I'm here," Izzy replies, both to Constantine and the diplomatic agent, handing over her writ. "I was hoping you could help me establish my claim to my estate. But it's clear operating around here is going to be expensive! If it pays then she, I'll keep a look out for your missing caravan. I suspect we're going to be making quite a few trips out into the desolation."

[3SecondCultist]

Seeing the party split up, Azvigo chooses to follow the larger group consisting of Izzy, Roger, and Dr. Constantine. The archeologist has been busily consulting his notes on the region as they walk through the Camp, to the sound of faint rustling and a grumbling assent deep in his belly as he looks over maps of the area. Though he has been somewhat lost in thought since leaving Mama Grim's, the iron currency - his lifeblood here, and shed in volumes - is securely fastened into the bottom portion of his satchel bags, and so Azvigo is constantly on the watch for cutpurses and thieves.

Upon reaching the house of the Bard's Gate emissary, Azvigo starts to put away his accoutrements and take a listen. When it comes time for introductions he of course tips his hat and states his name with aplomb, but doesn't offer initial comments until he's heard this Sammar speak his piece.

"I don't see why we couldn't at least keep an eye out, yeah," the explorer chimes in eventually. "It's not like we'll be hard up for things to look out for in the Desolation, and a reward is in our shared interests. Our fearless leader here has proven her will, and surely she'll be alright with us taking some detours for funding and favour. Though I would be remiss for not asking on the specifics of the arrangement. How much of a reward are we talking?"

[(Un)Inspired]

Hearing the hag's request regarding her sisters, a great peal of laugher spills out from Skynir, perilously dancing across the razor's edge between charmingly melodious and braying. Ah, uh, well, families are difficult. We'll be sure to pass on your sentiment to your sisters should we see them. He returns Mama Grim's friendly wave and resists the urge to pspsps at her pet, as he walks with his Dwarf and human companions to see the hermit.

Skynir is pleasantly surprised to find not only a fellow half-elf at camp, but someone who possesses courteous manners. He politely accepts the food and tea Simon offers, although he still surreptitiously casts Purify food and Water on it as he does with all food in the Desolation. Thank you for your hospitality, Simon. The Bender brothers, no we haven't yet had the pleasure of meeting them yet. Should we expect a good surprise or the other kind?

He listens to the hermit's description of the wolf attacks and nods along with Hastur's question's about the beast and the guides. Gurg was the trustworthy guide? Okay, well that's one hell of a negative review for the remaining mercenary bands.

We appreciate the warming Simon. Is there anything else you can tell us about the Desolation? If we're better off guideless can you recommend a good jumping-off point for exploration without one? Maybe somewhere on the lower end of deadly, we could explore first to get our bearings?

[DrK]

The Bard's gate Emissary

As he is questioned he points at the road. "Well they travelled north. The road goes directly north through the desolation with nothing else bar the crossroads where the road goes to Tsar or the mountains. I know they were going to pass the crossroads at mid day to avoid the rumours of the spectres that haunt it." He pauses and looks to Azvigo, "There is a reward. A hefty one for finding the caravan. I have two and a half thousand crowns (gp) for location of the caravan, and if the stock is recovered there is the same again along with some magical trinkets from the Bard' gate Guild Arcanum."

At Izzy's comments he blinks hard. "Oh me dear lady, I do apologise. Yes of course. Your land is north of the Camp, some 3 miles to the North West, there was once a town house there but its long destroyed however there is the old cemetery still standing there, Gods be praised, though no-one knows how it has survived" Looking at the sun slowly dipping towards the horizon he glances back to the square. "You had best see to getting rooms at the Bender Brothers guesthouse. Little ingrates they are but the only free house within Camp"

Simon the Hermit

Simon looks at Skynr, Timoshko and Hastur and shrugs. "The desolation is lethal. All the quadrants have their risks. The city is lethal, some sort of monster that is said to be akin to death itself prevents approach to the city. If you are new to the desolation I would suggest you start in the Ash wastes (SW). Its close to the Camp, the more exotic beasts are rarer and all you have to do is watch for the weather for the bones storms where the dust can flense your flesh down to the bone. But plenty of keeps and barrows to look into. the druids are friendly of sorts but I'd be wary as travellers have gone into the trees and never come back"

At mention of guides he shrugs, Well Skeribor and his rangers are experienced, if not well you have the hoboglins of Clintock's 14. Violent and thuggish but effectives.

[u-b]

It was not exactly Roger's business, but to some extent it was, so he felt he better clarify some details. "Three miles to the North West should be fine if there's more than the cemetery somewhere in there. Like, any remains of the wood or stone the former buildings were made from? I wonder how one builds something in these barren lands. Maybe the land is good for agriculture? What do you think would be the purpose of holding that land now?"


...Ash wastes (SW)...
I think that should have been SE. But Izzy's land is still to the west, in the Dead Fields, right?

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko frowns. As the minutes turn slowly into hours, it seems no one has a plan nor a goal. For what will surely not be the last time, he finds himself wondering sullenly about his father's warnings. How can such an aimless rabble carry such importance as the fate of the world? Is this whole thing some cruel joke played by the fates for some unknown slight?

He grunts aloud. "If all we seek is death, guides seem a waste of time. Surely she can find us wherever we dare to wander." He offers Simon an appreciative nod. "I will not forget your hospitality, should I live long enough to make memories of this place."

Turning to his allies, he adds "Shall we rejoin the others? 'Strength in numbers' seems a prudent foundation in such a place as this."

[DrK]

At the factor the man looks at Roger and points at the sun, before slapping his forehaead. "Ah my friend you are right, the north east, that way" and he points to the NE into the ash wastes (away from tsar) for Izzy's land. Shaking his head he mutters about the problems in the savage wastes and how he should have never left Bard's Gate.

With the others floating back to rejoin everyone you all notice that the sun is getting lower in the horizon. The factor looks at Izzyu and nods, "You had best get under cover. Strange things roam the amp at night, the bones run wild and the spirits don't rest easy. Where are you staying?"

[DrK]

It was not exactly Roger's business, but to some extent it was, so he felt he better clarify some details. "Three miles to the North West should be fine if there's more than the cemetery somewhere in there. Like, any remains of the wood or stone the former buildings were made from? I wonder how one builds something in these barren lands. Maybe the land is good for agriculture? What do you think would be the purpose of holding that land now?"


Before you leave the man looked at him, "When they built many of the structures this was before the devastation the war ran long with magics beyond the likes of anything we have seen since released. For now...." he gestures at the Stables, "I would guess you could have materials shipped from Bard's gate. If structures better than these ramshackle hovels are built it might be that the camp expands."

At the second question he shakes his head. "I'm not sure on how to grow things. Skreibor'#s rangers manage and there ae druids in the ash wasete with a large orchard or so I've heard. Maybe they would know more of how to grow things in the desolation?"

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur found the interaction with Simon to be the most pleasant in the Camp so far. He dreaded when he would inevitably learn whatever dark secret the man held. “I suppose the Ash Wastes are the place to start then. I thank you for the tea, and the conversation.” He glances to Timmy and Skynir, and says with the downtrodden tone of a man whose sure he’ll be lucky if he only gets bedbugs from the ordeal, “I suppose we should see these Bender Brothers about lodging…”

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir smiles and nods in agreement with Hastur's thanks to the hermit. If there's anything we can do for you, as thanks for the tea and advice, let us know. Hastur, What do you think of conducting a bit of Stone Magic with me, and then the three of us can meet the others at The Bedner Brother's "hotel".

Moving with Hastur is he agrees to join, or alone if he declines; The half-elf magician walks to the stone ruins directly to the Southwest of the Well House. He places both his hands on what's left of the stone building and, casting Stone Shape, reshapes as much of it as possible into a secure, reformed building. (If he and possibly Hastur, don't have enough Square feet of stone manipulation today to get it into ship shape, he'll prepare more castings of it tomorrow and settle the job).

Surveying his handiwork with a shrug as if to say good enough for five seconds of work, he turns with his traveling partners and heads to The Bender Brothers to meet the rest of the group and swallows his dread at the thought of what lodging prices are going to look like in Iron Pieces.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko reluctantly tags along with Skynir as he Elf-blood sets off on yet another detour. Sighing inwardly at the nonsensical waste of time, he crosses his arms to await... whatever it is the shaman is up to in the old ruins. A near-silent snort escapes his nostrils as the spell caster places his hands on fallen stone walls and closes his eyes.

When the stones seems to reform on their own, into something at least strongly resembling the bones of a house, he only blinks in surprise. Once more forced to interact with an unexpected strength, the hulking beast of a man strides forward to inspect the results- now standing alongside Skynir. Without warning, he slams a closed fist into what looks much like a support column, prompting another gasp of air- this one marked by pain and surprise as two of his knuckles split into bleeding welts. He turns to the shaman with appreciation and surprise, rubbing his now-bleeding hand. "That's quite the talent you've got. I can't say I'm eager to live in tunnels again, but it's impossible to deny the quality of the shelter. If you're able to shape out a cellar, it might even be that living in here could be pleasant!"

Smiling at the new development, it's a very different gait marking Timoshko's steps as the trio approaches the Bender Brothers' no-doubt exorbitant lodging.

[DrK]

There a few other looks from the people scurrying about as the stone ruins slowly form into the outline of a structure, one that Hastur certainly thinks he could complete the next day into a usable structure (before some basic carpentry adds doors and windows frames etc…)

Meeting the others they approach the dilapidated looking hostel that is a low spread out ramshackle building of mildewed tarpaulins, wooden planks and sheets of loose metal making the house that stands on some low stilts look less than appealing

By the door you can see a pair of gnomes, not the happy gnomes Bards Gate but hunched little creatures with straggly beards, lumpen noses and ragged clothes. From within the smell of a stew can be sniffed though and that smells good! The gnome looks at you all, ”You are a funny bunch, took you long enough to come our way. Almost closed up for the night. Be 6 iron, 1 fer each of you per night. Another 2 bits (0.2 iron) if you want the stew, real meat aye” he adds

The gnomes look grubby and unkempt and in the boarding house you can all see a central dining area and then rooms off it

People can make s.motive checks

[u-b]

Roger pays 1 iron chip for the night and asks if it is too late to wash himself and/or his clothes. If the service is available, he will pay for that too. He ate at the tavern, so is not hungry. This night he intends to just sleep for a change, not expecting any problems with that.

Sense Motive: [roll0]

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur joined his own stored stone shape to Skynir’s to form their dome-icile. After some discussion on what create, Skynir created a half-dome first, then Hastur joined one to it. While the theatrics of a joint casting would have almost been worth it, they had no way to ensure everything would line up perfectly. After it was done - Hastur making sure to fuse, leave an entry and vent at the top -the dwarf was satisfied with his handiwork.

The structure would probably be better served with a bit more work, so, painful as it was, he decided to pay for lodging this night only. However, these Bender brothers do make him nervous.

[roll0]

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko's awe at Skynir's handiwork leaves just enough room to appreciate Hastur's contribution. Despite his preconceived notions, he's rapidly forming opinions about his companions that don't involve exclusively words like "liability." He spends several moments surveying the formwork, genuinely considering sleeping here tonight.

"This is surely more substantial than any tent- and that seems to be what the locals consider 'indoors'," he offers, not especially eager to meet anyone in the Camp that seems so disliked as these Gnomes.

Still, when the would-be architects dismiss the idea, he is forced to choose between trusting their expertise and not. In the end, he somewhat sullenly follows them to the town's only lodging.

"I've eaten my fill today," he rumbles, sourly parting with one of his few iron bits. "And I know better than to trust any chef that feels the need to advertise 'real meat,'" he adds with an impolite glare.

Hell, Timoshko doesn't even really trust his allies yet. [roll0] sense motive

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir surveilled his handiwork. Not bad for 6 seconds worth of work. watching his Templar companion draw a great deal of the remaining stone into place, he gives a nodding smile of approval to the dwarf. Top notch work, Hastur. A couple more spells and we should have something pretty damn livable. Once we get the shell set I can creat some hardwood floors and frames for the vents. A basement’s a great idea, Timoshko. Until we have proper flooring and thresholds, I think it’s just be a vermin paradise unfortunately. Let see what the gnomes’ hospitality looks like.

Arriving at the Bender Bros “accommodations” the half-elf decides that a neutral face is a fine comprise between positivity and his disappointment at the ramshackle nature of the building. There’s a wolf-monster going around smashing peoples’ dwellings. Can this thing stand up to a real battering? What about whatever undead is doing the rounds through camp?

Digging through his jacket’s inner pockets, Skynir produces iron for both the evening and the chow. Oh f***. What the hell does “real” meat imply? We better not being eating the remains of the last group of idiots who tried staying here. He eats the real meat stew after applying liberal applications of Purify Food and Water to every item the gnomes serve, with zero regard for offending the diminutive hosts.

When bed time rolls around, Skynir deeply inspects the room he’s shown to, once his host walks alway. He looks for weak points, cracks, or entry-points a monster could use to harass the team in the night. If the room proves less than secure he casts Wood Shape and seals and reinforces the sleeping quarters.


Casts Purify Food and Water on any/all food
Sense Motive [roll0]
Perception [roll1]

If the room isn’t architecturally sound he makes it so with a casting of Wood Shape.

[DrK]

Skynir’s suspicions are well founded, try as they might the gnome is clearly a bad one and harbouring I’ll intentions towards his would be guests. He scowls even more as the ranger purifies the food and drink in front of him (which can do nothing to make the taste any worse!). Roger and Timishko are even more abrupt and just drop their bags in the room to sleep

The sleeping quarters are simple rooms with a plain wooden floor and 4 cots to sleep in as the party are split between two rooms. Skynir spots a large crack in three planks that may allow someone to sneak in and quickly seals them with his wood shape. However as he does so he spots a worrying sight, stacked in neat piles underneath the dank boarding house he can see at least 15 pairs of varied boots and shoes of various sizes and styles, and nearer the shoes piles of bloodied clothes and a decaying trio of legs… something is definitely amiss with the way these two gnomes treat guests!

Who ate the food? And how do you split yourself between the two rooms?

[u-b]

"So much for a peaceful sleep..." states Roder observing Skynir's finds "I will keep watch all the night. Would not be problematic with the magic I know. Can make any or all of you do the same. At least someone in the other room, I guess. Opinions?"

While people think what to do for the night, Roger sniffs and looks around in both of the rooms, trying to find more secret passages, hidden body parts and what not...

Bloodhound spell should be still active (ending well before midnight), so Roger has Scent at an extra +8.
Perception 15 + 10 = 25 (extra +8 because scent)

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko makes no effort to impress his hosts, positively or otherwise. He grimly sits beside Skynir, considering the Half-Elf one of his most competent companions, at minimum. He smirks at the man's obvious distrust of their hosts, making no other comment.

When they retire, Timoshko watches silently as Skynir investigates their room. He frowns deeply at the Half-Elf's discovery, before voicing his concerns. "You should inspect the other room as well," he murmurs. "I will volunteer to rest in the less-secured room, and we should make sure whoever is on watches can communicate with each other. I know there is simple magic for this purpose, but my abilities lie in other areas."

He raises his lips in an animalistic snarl. "These Gnomes will not find us easy prey. If they make an attempt, I intend to make sure it's their last."

Whoever is on watch at any given time should be connected to the other with a message spell, if we can arrange it. We might be able to get away with one person on watch at a time, between both rooms, but it would be ambitious.

[SanguinePenguin]

When Skynir points out his various horrific finds, Hastur grimaces. He speaks softly back, “I sure didn’t trust these gnomes… but this is far worse than I could have imagined. If they are planning to try to kill us in our sleep, we need to preempt this, not just implement protections and hope for the best. We either flee back to our domicile or confront them - likely lethally.”

Hastur didn’t eat the soup. Though he could have gone the purify route, he doesn’t think eating purified foulness is better than rations.

[u-b]

Roger is not quite enthusiastic about Hastur's proposal. "I'd rather not be hanged for murder and not go outside in the dark. I mean, they clearly seem not to have been dealt with by the local moneylender and, if confronted, will probably claim not to know and thank you for finding our missing guests sort of thing, and it will look bad both if we just leave at that point or go ahead and kill them. I'd rather set up an ambush here in the rooms and wait for what's incoming."

[DrK]

Roger hunting around finds another secret passage in the ceiling of the other room. As he peeks above into it he can see a ting crawlspace that would allow something the size of a gnome to sneak between the rafters but is able to drop back down onto the simple bed and then block the roof. Its clear to Roger from the other subtle signs (bloodstains on the bed frame, a knife scratch on a headboard etc..) that these gnomes routinely seem to be murdering visitors. A lucrative trade for them and safe in such a place where no-one seems liklely to asks questions

---

Later that evening as Skynir is on watch, he waist, highly alert and listening at the door and linked by a magical communication to all the others. Bo the the likes of Timishko and Roger in his room and Hastur, Azvigo and Izzy in the other. Everyone sleeping in some form of armour and with weapons close, its not a relaxing sleep! In the depths of the night Skynir can hear a faint scratch from the corridor outside and can hear the faintest of metallic clinks as what sounds like a key or lockpicks are slid into the lock....

If you think the people in the rooms are wrong that is fine

[SanguinePenguin]

Hearing the encroaching sounds, Hastur grasped the hilt of his flail. “Strym, shield my body,” he whispered to his god in the dwarven tongue as he awaited the appearance of the gnomes.

Standard: cast shield
Move: draw flail

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 51/51, Speed 20
AC 25, Touch 11, Flat-footed 24, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, +2 vs evil)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition
Shield (60/60) +4 shield bonus
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 0/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 1/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 0/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day

[u-b]

Since everyone in the room is already awake one way or another, Roger just points at the door to make sure they are aware as well, then takes the bow and steps away from the door to have some range against whatever comes.

[RCgothic]

Disgusted by the murderous quality of the hospitality in the inn, Izzy quickly agrees to turning the tables on the Gnomes, waiting in the dark with her spear close to hand. When she gets the signal she uses an alchemical allocation to infuse the qualities of a potion of darkvision without consuming it. She'll wait until the gnomes are properly inside the rooms or battle is joined before striking.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grabs his scythe and grins wickedly in the dark. His breathing (perhaps surprisingly) remains calm as the faint sound of metal continues from the lock.

Timoshko will attack hard when he gets the chance. None of this "what are they actually up to" stuff. If they try to surrender quickly, he may give them a chance.

[DrK]

There is a faint click from the door and it swings open on smoothly oiled hinges revealing not one but two! identical brothers crouched in the hallway with a pair of long daggers out each and a savage look of evil glee on their little bearded faces. As they spy the various members of the party upright, alert and armed there is a moments pause before the lead one snarls a "Just checking you were comfrotable...", the lie obvious to everyone as they stand there with weapons pitted with a dark liquid and clearly meaning to harm you!

http://taxidermicowlbear.weebly.com/uploads/2/3/7/4/23742956/114579_orig.png

Initiative

Timoshko, Izzy, Roger
Gnomes
Skynir and Hastur

[RCgothic]

The lie has only a moment to hang in the air, just looking enough for Issy's expression to convey how utterly unconvinced she is. Then she lunges with her spear.


Power Attack [roll0] Damage [roll1]

[u-b]

Roger contemplates discerning the lies proper way, but only for a moment. It's just too obvious to waste any time on "proper methods" suitable to places with extensive legal system and competent opposition. He starts shooting instead. The gnomes being presumably gnomes, that was supposed to be deadly.

Durable cold iron arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] and [roll2] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll3] for [roll4] and [roll5] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)

[Farmerbink]

"Like hell you are!" Timoshko barks, dashing into the hallway. "We are no easy prey for your puny blades!" His scythe arcs, glinting in the light of flickering candles (for the non-dark-vision-y folks) as he brings the fight to the lead Gnome without hesitation.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 51/51, Speed 40
AC 15, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 16/16
Judgement: 0/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5

Pronounce Judgement of Justice (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/inquisitor/) on the lead Gnome for a +1 profane bonus to-hit.

I assume this building is nowhere near large enough for a large humanoid inside, so we're not bloodraging. I'm assuming I'm within 5 feet and can full-round-attack?

[roll0] scythe power attack (perhaps vs flat-footed? I think he hasn't acted in combat yet)
[roll1] cc (20, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

Can't use the Hunger because it's another swift. I'll save it for later

[roll4] scythe iterative
[roll5] CC (20, x4)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[DrK]

There is a pair of twangs as a pair of arrows thud into the gnome but then he tumbling back spinning and dodging. Just in time as the massive scythe of Timoshko lashes out chipping the wooden door fram twice as he narrowly misses whilst Izzy stumbles forward, her spear jamming in the wall beyond the gnomes. The lead gnome (Jebli) looks at Timoshko and pflicks his weapon trying to distract the bloodrager and drive the dagger into Timishko's side before he 5ft steps away to the left of the door. His little brother (Jashanah) darts to the right of the door out of sight.

The surprise happens when the trapsdoor on the flor rattles, and there is a gnomish curse involving a mole, a goat and a badger as the warped door refuses to budge. A faint "pop" of displaced air then suggests something has "changed" and the trapoddor stops moving.


Gnome 1: Feint and stab Timoshko, 5ft to the left of the door
DC 18 feint [roll0] to feint TImishko, then stab him vs FF [roll1] dam [roll2]+ [roll3] sneak + Disorientated (-2 to attack for 1 round)

Gnome 2: Move to the right of the door vanishing from view and doing "something"

Gnome 3: Rattle the blocked trapdoor, cast a spell

[RCgothic]

As the gnomes move back out of sight, Izzy mentally follows one of their extrapolated positions, and, picking the location on the wall she thinks might hold a gnome, she crashes into it with all her might!


Attempting to kool-aid guy through the wall and crush a gnome behind it.

Charge for +2, combat manoeuvre bonus +8, + spending 1pt of inspiration for+[roll0] [roll1] Total =36!

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grimaces as the sullied dagger strikes deep. Tapping into his demonic heritage, the roar that all-but shakes the walls is only questionably human. His blade lashes out again and again, eagerly seeking the Gnome's flesh.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 25/51 49/75 (+17 temporary HP), Speed 40
AC 15 13, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19 23, Dex 10, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 15/16
Judgement: 0/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 1/2

Pronounce Judgement of Justice (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/classes/base-classes/inquisitor/) on the lead Gnome for a +1 profane bonus to-hit.

Free action to blood rage: my abyssal bloodline lets me choose if I will grow or not- and obviously I won't in a small building.

[roll0] scythe power attack neglected -2 attack from disorient, probably a miss?
[roll1] cc (32, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

If it's a crit, or greater than 19 damage, use the hunger for temporary HP.

[roll4] scythe power attack neglected -2 from disorient, still hopefully a hit?
[roll5] cc (27, x4)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

If I didn't use hunger on the previous hit, and hit here, use hunger for temporary HP going to include this, as I suspect a 24 hits
Fast Healing for +1 HP :smallbiggrin:

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur is a little shocked when the wall gives out. With more room to roam, he entreaties in his native tongue, “<Strym, my skin as the densest bark,>” drops his flail and draws his guisarme as he moves into range of the visible gnome.

Standard: Cast bark skin
Free: drop flail
Move: move to 10’ range of gnome and draw guisarme

AoO attack if arises: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
CC: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 30/51, Speed 20
AC 28, Touch 11, Flat-footed 27, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex, +2 vs evil)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Shield (59/60) +4 shield to AC
Bark skin (lots) +3 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 0/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 0/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 0/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day (4/7)

[(Un)Inspired]

Skynir watches as his front line quite literally smashes into the gnomes and listen to the rattling beneath the floorboards as another intruder attempts to join the fray. He tries to keep his cool and his head on a swivel. First these two little a**holes, then we find out where their magician went.

He nods to himself to steel his resolve, then leans far enough out the door frame to see the gnome Timoshko’s attempting to bifurcate. He concentrates on it for a second, attempting to shut down its nervous system long enough for it to drop unconscious, then steps back behind the doorframe out of the danger zone (while keeping his eyes and ears pealed for signs of the third murderer).

Slumber on Timoshko’s gnome DC 18 Will Save or Unconscious

Move action to move/take cover behind the door frame out of the zone of knives and arrows and blades.

Perception Check for the Spellcaster: [roll0]

[DrK]

Chaos breaks out in the tiny bunkhouse. The gnomes jump out of sight as Timishko follows, his cry of rage echoing in the small thin walled flop house. The scythe lashes out, first blow missing but the second lands a clean hut as the gnome screams in pain, a scream that is cut short as he drops to the floor asleep from Skynir’s slumbering curse. Beside Skynir Hastur gestures and a thick bark coat covers his body in heavy wooden plating

Behind Timishko the other gnome readies to stab him in the back before with a great crash of splintering wood a massive section of the wall collapses on the gnome smashing him to the ground and Izzy, despite her small stature, crashes through the entire wall trampling the gnome prone under the wooden planks!

There is a curse from a veil of shadows further up the corridor from Timishko as the moving shadows reveal a tall dark skinned elf wth white hair, violet eyes and flowing purple robes. The dark elf mutters a curse under her breath (curiously to Skynir in gnomish) before leaping forward and touching the sleeping gnome and with a ripple in the air both vanish with a “pop” of displaced air

The one under Izzy crawls out of the wreckage and flips to its feet before running 20ft down the corridor to the door to the reception


Timishko hits the right hand gnome
It’s then put to sleep but the drow runs forward and dimension doors

The left gnome rises (Izzy gets an AoO) and flees down the corridor to the door
20ft from Izzy, 30ft from Timishko
25ft from Hastur

[u-b]

Not willing to get into the meelee with the gnomes, Roger is a bit slow to leave the room. But when the last one seems to run, Roger makes the final step getting him a line of fire and shoots two arrows at the gnome's back.

Durable cold iron arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] and (2d6)[4] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll2] for [roll3] and (2d6)[7] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)

[(Un)Inspired]

Ahh f*** the mage is a drow, and whatever she said in gnomish didn’t exactly sound like a compliment. Feels like a great time for a bargaining chip…

With these thoughts in his head, Skynir concentrates on the last gnome fleeing the “hotel” and attempts to drop him.

Alive, if possible, guys. I’d like to have a chat with their magician and a hostage exchange is a great way to start a conversation.

Slumber on our host. DC 18 Will save or Unconscious.

[Farmerbink]

Heedless of the danger, Timoshko barrels down the hallway with his scythe bared.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 25/51 49/75 (+17 temporary HP), Speed 40
AC 15 13, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19 23, Dex 10, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 15/16
Judgement: 0/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 1/2

If the Gnome falls to slumber: Move and attack any other apparent combatant, preferring those he's seen before.
If the Gnome does not fall to slumber: Move and attack him, charging if applicable

[roll0] scythe power attack (+2 more if charging)
[roll1] crit bonus (31, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

[RCgothic]

As the gnome attempts to run away Izzy makes a sweep at his legs with the haft of her spear, but she chooses not to pursue for now if he gets away.



AoO:

Trip. No possibility of gnome AoO because of reach. Trip Vs CMD [roll0]

[SanguinePenguin]

Ugh, a drow... For what is definitely not the first time and only the last if he meets his end in this battle, Hastur reflects on how he hates EVERYTHING about the Camp. He then moves toward the gnome, ready to strike!


If gnome falls unconscious, move closer to downed gnome and ready attack for drow or other gnome.
If gnome does not fall unconscious, charge gnome.

Readied attack or charge: [roll0] (+2 if charge) Damage: [roll1]
CC: [roll2] (+2 if charge) Damage: [roll3]

AoO attack if arises: [roll4] Damage: [roll5]
CC: [roll6] Damage: [roll7]

Add +1 to attacks if vs the drow due to Deep Tradition

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 30/51, Speed 20
AC 28, Touch 11, Flat-footed 27, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Shield (59/60) +4 shield to AC
Bark skin (lots) +3 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 0/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 0/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 0/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day (4/7)

[DrK]

As the other two gnomes flee magically Izzy sweeps the legs from the fleeing one she crushed with her spear knocking him to the ground. There he screams as a pair of arrows thud into him, the pain sharpening his mind to resist the slumber

But they don’t help him avoid the pike and scythe of Hastur and Timoshko. Bleeding heavily the gnome looks worried before flipping to his feet (using the stand up truck I had missed last round), he then squints at Timishko, back against the door and little face snarling twirls the dagger to distract the barbarian and stabs at him, seeking to use Timishko’s bulk against Hastur and Izzy with their longer reach weapons


Free: stand up truck, no AoO
Move: feint Timoshko (DC18) [roll0]
Std: stab Timoshko [roll1] dam [roll2] + [roll3] sneak and -2 to his attacks for 1 round

[(Un)Inspired]

Look, man, Skynir calls out to the remaining Bender Brother, you’re extremely outnumbered, and we’ve got no interest in your brother and your drow trying to revenge kill us for turning you into a red smear.

Surrender, and there’s a good chance we’ll trade you alive to your crew, keep fighting and you’re 100% gonna end up as cube steak. And, honestly? If you make us kill you I’ll probably use my magic to raise your corpse as a zombie and make it lick the streets of camp clean to teach you a lesson for being such a pain in the ass.

The half-elf magician raises his hands wide and tilts his head imploringly as if to say make the obviously right choice here.


Standard Action to light this dude up with Diplomacy. If the roll fails, he uses his Inspired trait for a free Reroll.

Diplomacy: [roll0]
Potential Reroll:[roll1]

[RCgothic]

"What he said!" Izzy echoes Skynir, except she backs it up by attempting to knock him off his feet again for Timo.


Trip Vs CMD [roll0]

[u-b]

Roger holds his bow ready, not does not loose an arrow until the gnome somehow reacts to the offer...

Ready an action to shoot one arrow. No Bane, but the gnome wouldn't know that.

Readied durable cold iron arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] (incl. +1/+1 point-blank shot)

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur was pretty sure where this was going. Still, allowing the opportunity for sentient creatures that weren't raw manifestations of evil or direct enemies of his god to surrender was a noble act. He readies his guisarme to strike if the gnome does anything other than submit (or takes too long about it). "Drop your weapon! On the ground, now!"

Readied attack (trigger, basically anything other dropping the weapon and laying down): [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
CC: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

AoO attack if arises: [roll4] Damage: [roll5]
CC: [roll6] Damage: [roll7]

Add +1 to attacks if vs the drow due to Deep Tradition

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 30/51, Speed 20
AC 28, Touch 11, Flat-footed 27, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Shield (59/60) +4 shield to AC
Bark skin (lots) +3 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 1/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 0/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 0/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 0/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day (4/7)

[DrK]

The gnome stares up the crowded passageway where Timoshko barges beside him and Izzy and Hastur form a long line of spiky pole arms behind the savage and Skynir and Roger are further up the corridor behind them. The gnome spits blood onto Timishko's boots "They'll come fer you... you be dead men walking" he snarls as he slips between them, blade lashing out at Izzy as he jumps her spear and avoids hastur's thrust and Roger's arrows


Free: 5ft to close with Izzy
Move: feint Izzy (DC ?)
Std: stab Izzy [roll1] vs flat footed dam [roll2] + [roll3] sneak and -2 to his attacks for 1 round


At the far end of the corridor Skynir and Roger both hear a pop of air in the room and appearing in a puff of dark smoke at the back the queue 10ft away from Roger (who is at the back) appears the drow warrior and the other gnome, who is now awake! The drow poises for battle as the gnome scuttles up to Roger and tries to shiv him

Drow dimension door to the other end of the corridor
Gnome move and stab Roger [roll4] dam [roll1d4+6

[u-b]

Berely avoiding a hit, Roger pretends to be pragmatic, hoping the melee people would be back to save him if only "their" gnome is dead. "Pardon my priorities, but I will get that one first!" He says to the reappearing guys making a step away from them and trying to finish the wounded gnome.

Durable cold iron arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] and [roll2] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll3] for [roll4] and [roll5] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)

[RCgothic]

Izzy narrows her eyes appraisingly at the gnome who misdirected and then stabbed her.

"We paid you for safe lodgings and you were going to murder us in our sleep! You're not going to get away with this!" She hisses, stepping back into space and then stabbing him right back.

5ft step back.

Move: Study Target +3 attack/damage
Power Attack -2 [roll0] Damage [roll1]

[(Un)Inspired]

Oh f***! Skynir yelps, startled by the sudden reappearance of the magician and the other gnome. How about a break from the teleporting? he calls out to the drow as he attempts to force her mind unconscious.

Slumber on the drow DC 18 Will save or unconscious

[SanguinePenguin]

"Kill. The. Drow." Hastur bellows to the gnome with a voice laced with the power of his god. He moves in range of the new enemies, to make sure to capitalize on his reach weapon.

Standard: Cast murderous command on the gnome. Will DC 15 or attack nearest ally (the drow).

Move: into reach range of the drow (and to flank with the gnome if the spell works)

AoO attack if arises: [roll0] Damage: [roll1]
CC: [roll2] Damage: [roll3]

Add +1 to attacks if vs the drow due to Deep Tradition

Hastur Stonemoor (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622570)
Male NG Dwarf Cleric / Disciple of the Pike Cavalier, Level 6//2, Init 1, HP 30/51, Speed 20
AC 28, Touch 11, Flat-footed 27, CMD 19, Fort 7, Ref 3, Will 9, CMB +8, Base Attack Bonus 5
Guisarme +1 (reach, trip) +10 (2d4+5, x3)
Flail, heavy (disarm, trip) +8 (1d10+4, 19-20/x2)
Full plate +1, (+10 Armor, +1 Dex)
Abilities Str 16, Dex 12, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 18, Cha 10
Condition Shield (59/60) +4 shield to AC
Bark skin (lots) +3 enhancement to natural armor
+1 AC vs large, +2 AC vs huge+

Spells:
0: Detect Magic, Guidance, Create Water, Stabilize
1: Barbed Chains 1/1
Bless 1/1
Murderous Command 0/1
Shield of Faith 1/1
1D: Shield 0/1
2: Ironskin 0/1
Prot Evil, Communal 0/1
Sound burst 1/1
Summon Monster II 1/1
2D: Barkskin 0/1
3: Dispel Magic 1/1
Stone Shape 0/1
Summon Monster III 1/1
3D: Protection from Energy 1/1

Race/Class:
Dwarf:
Stability: +4 racial to CMD vs bull rush or trip
Deep Tradition: +1 melee attack / +1 AC vs AoO for drow, duergar, aberration, giant, orc
Hardy: +2 saves racial for poison, spells, spell-like abilities
Stonecunning: +2 on Perception checks to notice unusual stonework, such as traps and hidden doors located in stone walls or floors. They receive a check to notice such features whenever they pass within 10 feet of them, whether or not they are actively looking
Darkvision: 60 feet
Cavalier:
Bigger They Are :+1(2) dodge to AC against large (huge+)
Order of the Hero (+1 know to ID monster)
Challenge 1/day : +2 damage (+3 if larger) -2 AC
Cleric:
Deflection Aura (1/day, lvl rnds, 20-ft, +2 defl AC + CMD)
Ferocious strike +lvl/2 damage 7/day (4/7)

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko continues to lash about with savage violence. He wastes no effort on speech, apparently content to solve the immediate problem presented by their murderous hosts with his scythe, and work out the legalities later. He brutally shoulders his way back towards the Gnome with death in his eyes.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 12/51 36/75, Speed 40
AC 15 13, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19 23, Dex 10, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 14/16
Judgement: 0/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 1/2

[roll0] scythe power attack
[roll1] crit confirm (31, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

[roll4] scythe power attack
[roll5] crit confirm (26, x4)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

Not sure how to address missing last round. If I'm allowed to just take two rounds, I'll largely do the same thing.

Move if I have to to close distance (charge if possible)
[roll8] scythe power attack (+2 if charging)
[roll9] crit confirm (31, x4)
[roll10] damage
[roll11] crit bonus

We will *definitely* use the hunger for temporary 68 HPs.

Obviously, ignore this attack if Tim has to move
[roll12] scythe power attack
[roll13] crit confirm (26, x4)
[roll14] damage
[roll15] crit bonus

[DrK]

At the far end of the corridor where the wounded gnome snarls and spits at Timisko and Izzy it manages to dodge around Izzy's spear before the savage barbarian leaps in, one scythe blow lands cutting a deep gash before the second lands with amazing force. The gnome barely has time to scream as the tip of the hooked blade shears through its skull and picks it off the ground, dangling by its impaled skull like a macabre decoration from the "First Fang's" weapon

At the other end of the corridor the drow and second gnome are assailed by Skynir, Roger and Hastur. She throws off Skynir's slumber whilst the arrows appear to go wide as Roger fires them down the gloomy corridor. Hastur though offers a different route, tapping into the gnome's naturally murderous talent he bewitches it and flanks the drow as the gome goes to stab its dagger into the drow.

stab its friend with sneak due to flanking [roll0] dam [roll1] + [roll2] sneak

The drow screams in a strange voice, its screams in high pitched gnomish (odd for a dark elf) as its ally stabs it in the back. Eyes ablaze she steps back away from Hastur and points at him, a thing of nightmare leaps out and flow towards him, a writing mass of shadows and terror that seeks to tear free his soul!


5ft step back, combat casting (which passes) Phantsmal killer at hastur
Will DC 18 to disbelieve, if fail then Fort DC 18 for DEATH or 3d6 damage

[Farmerbink]

Profanely bolstered by the dark hunger of the goddess of his people, Timoshko lets out a feral roar of challenge to anything that dare go bump in the night. His ferocious glare falls upon the dark priestess, and he barrels down the hallway, out for blood.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 68 temp HP! 12/51 36/75, Speed 40
AC 15 13, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19 23, Dex 10, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 13/16
Judgement: 0/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 0/2

Presumably 40' movement speed will cut it indoors? Move to melee with either of the enemies- preference for the Drow.

[roll0] scythe power attack
[roll1] crit confirm (31, x4)
[roll2] damage 19 dunno where I got +16
[roll3] crit bonus

[SanguinePenguin]

Hastur smiles as the gnome stabs the drow in the back. The drow then begins to cast a spell and the world… slows… down. Everything grinds to a halt, and the room darkens. A loud thrum at the edge of his hearing grows in intensity into a deafening pounding. The floor cracks into tessellations emitting a putrid violet light from the fissures. POUND the ground shakes with each thud, POUND kicking shards of stone up, BOOM until the whole ground gives way. A demonic maw bursts out with a half-dozen violet eyes gazing about. Hundreds of teeth the height of Hastur spread, and then the neck of the monstrosity contorts and snaps down. He can feel the serrated teeth rip through his body, unbearable pain courses through him. He can tell this is the end.

Hastur grunts, and collapses to the ground, motionless. Zero breaths, zero beats of his heart, one bowel movement.

[u-b]

As the "drow" definitely sounds strange, Roger makes a mental note of whether she also smells strange. Meanwhile, he steps back to make more space for melee types, shouts "Oh damned bitch... you'll die here and now!", and shoots two arrows at the "drow".

Passive: Perception (sniff the air with Bloodhound (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/b/bloodhound/))
Swift: Judgment (Destruction)
Full: Attack the "drow"
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +0/+3 judgment)
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll2] for [roll3] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +0/+3 judgment)

[(Un)Inspired]

Aghh! Hastur?! Skynir, calls out as he sees the Templar hit the floor. So, it’s to the death then. He pulls a black metal and wood cross-hilted sword handle from his jacket pocket, concentrates on it for a second, and three foot long blade of brilliant yellow fire erupts from it. The half-elf advances, with Timoshko, on the magician, maneuvering around to help flank if at all possible.

Standard Action: Cast Flame Blade

Move Action: move adjacent to the drow (flanking if possible, the extra movement and acrobatics from Flame Blade Dervish should allow this, let me know if not possible.)

Swift Action: Activate Blood of Heroes for +1 to attack and damage

[DrK]

Hastur falls, to the others a faint shadow reaches out to him, then with a soundless scream the dwarf topples to the ground, the light fading from his eyes as his chest falls still. Timoshko roars leaping over the falling dwarf scythe swinging at the drow who stands firm as the blade dings like a gong from a magical shield hanging in front of it. An arrow meets the same fate before the second one hits home to illicit a distinctly gnomish scream. Moments later, a blade of pure fire igniting in his hand Skynir arrives beside the savage barabrian.

The drow falls back a step, now that the murderous light has left the gnome's eyes and points at the ground beneath Timoshko and Skynir's feet as a pit suddenly opens like a spiked maw!

Drow 5ft away and casts spiked pit under Timoshko and Skynir DC 17 Reflex or fall 40ft ft, plus spikes [roll0] damage and trapped in the 40ft deep pit

The little gnome shakes his head and stares daggers at Skynir and Roger before snarling and hurling a dagger at Roger as he waits to see if anyone dare jump across the pit

[roll1] dam [roll2]

[u-b]

To Roger's surprise, the dagger wound felt trivial, so he ignored it. Instead, he shoots two more arrows at the "drow" and makes a step behind a doorpost to have some cover.

Full: Attack the "drow"
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +0/+3 judgment)
Durable cold iron arrow: [roll2] for [roll3] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +0/+3 judgment)

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko flows like a grand giant made of sand, easily sidestepping the gaping opening. He steps away from the pit, putting the arcanist between him and it. With a wicked smirk, he drives into the spellcaster, blade first, eager to put an end to her arcane assault. "Enough of your games!" he roars, as his scythe gleams in the meager torchlight.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 68 temp HP! 12/51 36/75, Speed 40
AC 15 13, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19 23, Dex 10, Con 14 18, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Anatomist: +1 to confirm crits
Spell Eating

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 12/16
Judgement: 0/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 0/2


Full-round attack!
[roll0] scythe attack
[roll1] crit confirm? (31, x2)
[roll2] damage (+9 for 23 str x1.5, +6 for power attack)
[roll3] crit bonus

[roll4] scythe attack
[roll5] crit confirm? (26, x2)
[roll6] damage (+9 for 23 str x1.5, +6 for power attack)
[roll7] crit bonus

[RCgothic]

Seeing a potential route behind her opponents, Izzy ducks back through the hole she made earlier, and then attempts to crash through into the next bedroom along through the lodge's flimsy walls!

CMB +8, inspiration day [roll0] [roll1]

[RCgothic]

Appearing back out in the corridor behind her foes, Izzy goes to stab the drow with her spear!

Power attack -2, +2 flanking: [roll0] [roll1]

[(Un)Inspired]

No, S***! Skynir cries out as he tumbled headlong into the pit conjured by the drow woman. Unable to catch the lip of the crevasse, he spills bodily onto the spikes, and gets skewered across his right lateral and thigh.

He clenched his fist and swallows back the pain from his impalement. He pounds his fist against the side of the pit, calling out almost wordlessly and his body begins to change. His eyes become catlike and his half-eleven ears elongate as to long wings, with autumnal leaves for feathers, extend from his back.

With a flap of his great wings be bursts forth from the pit, flying above the drow to triangulate with Izzy and Timoshko, surrounding the magician.

Skynir casts Fey Form and transforms into an Erlking, then flies out of the pit and above the drow.

[DrK]

Despite the most powerful attacks of the spell casters with pits and deadly phantasmal slaying its too much for the gnome and drow. THere is a splintering of wood as Izzy darts into the room and smashes through the wall before tumbling out into the corridor. With a warcry she and Timishko both attack the drow and sadly for the drow both strikes hit home, spear and scythe penetrating the drow who screams in gnomish before staggering and collapsing to the floor before lying still in a spreading pool of blood. As she dies her body quivers and shifts and trasnforms back into that of a small gnomish woman in dark silks, one with a passing resemblance to the two brothers.

The other gnome, knife in hand, bleeding from arrows and other injuries gasps and screams in horror as his sister is slain, and even as is mouth opens in a wail of rage he arrow from Roger thuds into his open mouth and slams out of its brain killing it! The gnome collapsing as Skynir soars out of the spiked pit to the roof of the corridor to witness the carnage

[RCgothic]

As the Gnomes go down, Izzy slumps against a wall as the adrenal energy that powered her through two others leaves her.

"Damn them!" she sighs. "Poor Hastur! What a wretched murderous little hellshole this camp is! I swear there are going to be some changes around here! At least now they won't object to our asking for our bits back. In fact I figure we now own this place. Not sure I want to live here though."

[u-b]

Roger checks Hastur for signs of life. Finding none, he proceeds to check the other deceased and the whole building, ins, outs, and stuff. "I'll have a look around. Hm. Did Hastur leave a will? Or maybe some of you know his relatives?"

First take 10 on perception for a total of 25. Eventually take 20 on perception for a total of 35.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko nods stoically. "Such is the way. They died as they lived- savagely. It is only fitting for us to claim the spoils."

With surprising tenderness, he bends down over the fallen Dwarf. He removes the helmet gently, before closing his slain companions eyes gently. "May you wake in the sun in a garden of rest," he sing-whispers, revealing for the first time a stunningly profound, mellifluous voice. After a few moments of quiet, gentle humming he rises. "I suppose you might prefer a cavern," he grumbles. Looking around the room he frowns deeply.

"It's unusual to have already brought vengeance upon a companion's killers. Saves us some time, at least." He shrugs, turning back to Hastur's still form. With gentle motions, he begins releasing the clasps that held the Dwarf's armor together, setting the pieces aside in a neat stack as he removes them. This done, he retrieves a blanket from a nearby bed and uses it to form a makeshift pallet and lies Hastur atop it. Finally, he retrieves a curved, gleaming blade and bows respectfully over the Dwarf. "Your power will live on," Timoshko utters, a solemn promise, before raising the blade overhead to begin cutting out his heart.

I'm going to assume you guys interrupt Timoshko at some point. If not, He will ceremonially consume (sharing with anyone foolish enough that wants to partake) Hastur's heart; a genuine ritual of honor to the fallen.

[RCgothic]

Seeing that Hastur is being cared for, Izzy helps to move the gnomes into another room and cover their bodies, and then goes about searching the rest of the inn, in particular for keys to rooms and valuables.

[DrK]

Spreading out the party realise they are the only one staying here and can easily bar the doors and close down the inn/ boarding house for the night. Stacking the dead gnomes in a corner to be dealt with in the morning. Its from not knowing the tribes or being accepting but Timoshko honours the fallen hastur, feeling a surge of power and strength flow him as he east the now dead dwarf's raw heart! Before the others can place hastur in a room and cover him up.

The night itself passes, wind whipping past the boarding house leaving it creaking and swaying slightly in the gusts as the dust from the field of bones whispers and scraps against the wooden shutters. Once during the night Roger thinks he hears the creak of chains outside but in the wind its hard to hear. But after a resteless and troubling night you awake refreshed ready to face the day once more....


@Sanguine Penguin: Your new PC can arrive today in the morning if you so wish

[SanguinePenguin]

Kavos the peddler finally saw the Camp on the horizon. He had been making this dangerous journey for almost a year, bringing goods for the tavern and requested supplies for other groups in the Camp. The guards were absolutely necessary, but paying folk enough to make this journey took a hefty cut out of his profits. A few times now, he had been fortunate enough to “escort” some poor sod destined to die up the road to the Camp. They were generally as competent in combat as the guards - often more so - if a little villainous or perhaps mad. Still, it reduced what he had to pay out for guards and made the trip more profitable, so he was always eager to take them on.

This journey, there were two escorted - a she-devil named Darsalla and a tall masked man named Tsythus. Kavos managed to weather the succubus’s charms somehow, and avoid succumbing to the temptations of the flesh. Granted she never seemed to make any advances at all, though he kept expecting them. He was pretty sure she was working her magic somehow and he was able to resist. Or maybe she could sense that he was too good of a man. Yeah, that must be it!

The other one, Tsythus, always wore a doctor’s mask, but he did not seem to do much healing. He talked constantly, but not a word of sense ever left his mouth. He had a different smell every time Kavos saw him, but it always strange. He never seemed a fighter, but Kavos was sure he saw the lanky man rip a bugbear’s arm off with his bare hands. Then there were the explosions - everything he touched seemed liable to explode. The man seemed cursed and the Camp was a perfect grave for one such as he.

Tsythus approaches Kavos as they enter the camp. “I had plenty more time to reflect of your insightful point about Ferason’s Treatise on the Elementary Mixtures - you are correct about the Maxim of Divisibility. That utter hogwash will mislead a generation I fear. Farewell, Kavos.”

“Not one word of sense,” Kavos mutters at the strange Tsythus journeys past the hanged man and into the Camp.

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla sighed as she stepped off the wagon, rubbing her back as she stretched. Glancing back at the driver staring at her, she rolled her eyes and walked. ”Hey friend, glad you appreciate the hard work it takes to keep a body in this good of shape. But I didn’t notice a lot of looks anyone else’s way … so thanks oodles for the ride, but you and your pervey self can head on back. Take care … safe travels … buh bye!” Her dismissal was punctuated by three pokes in the man’s chest with her tail.

Blowing the man a kiss, she went to the wagon to grab her gear before pulling her hood down. Hurrying after the other rider, a big half-orc who was more focused on his vials and books than anything else, she called out, ”Wait up big guy … these kind of places are cautionary tales about NOT splitting up. So whaddya say we practice the old add-age of strength in numbers?”

Darsalla paused long enough for Tsythus to answer, if he so chose. Otherwise, she’ll head into the camp herself.
OOC - Heyo hang, looks like I’m back in it … let’s do this!

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC HP Move Initiative
Saves
Skills
Spells

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus turns around, looking at Darsalla down the beak of his doctor’s mask. Despite the journey’s length, he had not spoken much with the woman on the way up. He hadn’t even realized she was planning to stay in the camp. His deep voice comes out a hint muffled through the mask, “why an excellent idea, Darsalla! Additional eyes will make it more likely to find what I’m seek - especially since I haven’t any idea what I’m even looking for! I didn’t realize you’d be staying. The first step is obviously a new laboratory - a room in the boardinghouse, perhaps? It will be good to have an ally here,” he extends a leather gloved hand. “Do you know what it is you seek here?”

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla ahrugged at the question of where to start. ”I’m good with almost anywhere … as long as the accommodations are better than our friend up there. ” She nodded in the direction of the swinging body. ”As for my purpose, let’s just say I had some family in the area … ”

Her eyes turned distant for a moment, then back to normal as she smiled wanly and motioned for the half orc to lead the way.
OOC - chit-chat!

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Skills:
Spells:

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus nods, “if the Camp’s reputation is to be believed, that gentleman,” he nods to corpse swinging in the breeze, “may have the best lodging - at least no one is trying to kill him now.”

He leads Darsalla towards the Bender Brothers Boardinghouse and enters the establishment, hoping to set up a work space.

[DrK]

In the Boarding house

During the night a thorough search of the boarding house revealed a small trove of loot and stolen items from a small store room hidden under the floor boards. Inside the store room was the gnome's stolen loot from you assume, previous victims that have been accumulated from their years of murder and larceny. This hoard is the party’s for the taking and includes: 880 iron bits, 1,200 gp, a +1 dagger, two silver urns (20 gp each), 6 assorted gems (2,800 gp total), and tapestry depicting a griffon rampant on a field of clouds made by Filini of Bard’s Gate (5, 000 gp). In addition upon the body of the dead brothers each has a +1 small shotsword, +1 chain shirt and a selection of potions [Invisibility, Oil Knock, Shield of Faith, CLW (3), CMW and a pair of matched rigns with a strange twin cog logo that you guess may be a family crest. (Each is a Ring of Protection +2) On the sister she has a small spell book written in clear and concise gnomish, a fine Cload of resistance +2, a thin narrow bamboo wand (Wand of Shocking grasp CL 3rd, 33 charges)



0–all; 1st—grease, mage armor, sleep, shocking grasp, ventriloquism*
2nd—acid arrow, bear’s endurance, cat’s grace, darkvision, locate object, alter self,
3rd—daylight, fly, haste, invisibility sphere*, lightning bolt, blink, displacement, deep slumber
4th—confusion, greater invisibility*, illusory wall*, shout, phantasmal killer



As you gather your thoughts in the morning and glance at the room where Hastur's body has been stored you all hear a creak and the door being banged upon by the heavy hand of a half orc

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko rises quickly at the pounding sound. Having trusted no one else more, he slept on a pallet in the common room, after fairly well barricading the door with a few tables. "Patience!" he bellows, as the knocks increase slightly in intensity. "This will take a moment!"

True to his word, he carefully moves the tables enough that he can open the door- some. Without quite a bit of force, or additional clean-up, it'll be a tight squeeze to fit through before the door knocks into the piles of furniture behind them. Timoshko makes no effort to hide this fact, as he opens the door, eliciting a loud bang as the door collides with the makeshift doorstops.

"You're not from the Camp." The scowling man doesn't ask. "What do you want?" He appears, for the moment, entirely unaware or unconcerned that he's standing in a boarding house, and the two newcomers are not.

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus replies through his doctor’s mask, “your assessment is correct - we have only just arrived. You are one of the Bender Brothers, I presume? I and my fellow traveler seek lodging and a workspace. I have business in the wastes. May we enter to discuss terms?”

FYI - Tsythus sounds exactly like Bane in Dark Knight Rises

[Farmerbink]

The laughter that follows is an ugly thing, despite the well-formed features of the wide man who produces it. "Hey, everyone! They're looking for the Bender Brothers! Hahaha!" With a cruel grin, he turns back to the strangely-masked fellow.

"Those murderers are dead. We slew them in self defense, and by right of victory in battle have claimed what was their boardinghouse for our own. If you are a man of honor, you and your... companion are welcome to enter. As your host, I will guarantee your safety with my life until such time as you prove yourself undeserving." He scowls, this time appraisingly.

I would normally roll sense motive, but that seems like jumping the shark in this context.

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla snorted at the man's description of events. If they had killed them all, who was to say they were any safer under new ownership? Of course, he could have lied and just invited them in, too. Either way, Darsalla wondered if going in was a great idea ...

”Well we could go inside, and hope this one's legal claims are the way things work around here. Of course, if those Brother's were well liked or respected around these parts, we might be signing up for guilt by association.

Either way, make the call ... I hate standing out here, exposed like a raw nerve.”
OOC - chit-chat!

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[Farmerbink]

The man mostly behind the door snorts. "I don't think anyone is well-liked around here," he grumbles, not quite to himself. He slams the door, and you can hear the shuffling of.... wood on wood? coming through the heavy door.

After a short time, the door opens again, this time wide enough to allow entry. "Come on in, if you want to." A mess of tables and chairs lies a few feet away, and the large man disappears into the relative darkness of the interior.

"All you lot still asleep?" he calls out, gruffly.

[RCgothic]

Izzy stretches and forces herself awake, having slept badly in the unfamiliar beds. "Coming!" she calls from upstairs as she hurriedly re-equips, before descending the stairs towards the front hall.

"Oh! We have newcomers?" she exclaims as she catches sight of the tiefling and the other masked figure standing in the door. "Er, welcome, I guess? Sorry for the mess, we had a bit of a rough first night. We're new here from Bard's Gate, and The Bender siblings tried to murder us in our sleep, which is something they apparently liked to make a habit of. So this place is ours now, I guess! If you want to stay, no charge, but in return we could use some help getting set up around here. The locals really haven't been too friendly and we may have to bang a few heads together to get this place straightened out."

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla smiled sweetly and motioned to the mask-wearing man to enter. ”Ladies first ..." , then she followed. As they entered, she heard another voice, and saw a spry young warrior come into view. Seeing another female gave Darsalla a small measure of relief. She doesn't seem like the kind of person to be a plaything, so perhaps gang rape won't be one of my worries. Of course, there's always cannibalism ...

Stepping in, she glanced around, nodding in response to the woman's explanation. "I can speak for Mr. Creepy Voice here, but I would prefer a place to sleep that didn't require paying a ton, or worried about murderous innkeepers. Let me know what you need so I can come up with an adequate excuse to avoid helping!"
OOC - moar chit-chat!

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[(Un)Inspired]

Rather unsettled with the murder attempts and the sounds of whatever may be lurking outside in the dark, Skynir decides that sleep is a luxury a bit too pricey for his tastes. Instead he settles in, gets as comfortable as possible, and spends two 4 hour sessions working an enchantment into his own boots. Damned if I’m gonna let myself get killed and these boots end up in some murderer’s hotel hideaway.

As dawn arrives an inescapable yawn nearly bowls him over. He concentrates a moment, rubbing his chest, and banishes the creeping sleepiness with a casting of Lesser Restoration. With domestic thought regarding caves and repurposed hotels in his head he paces around the room to stretch his legs, and begins his morning “meditation” to regain his spells. It’s only when the sounds of his friends conversing with visitors hit his ears that he pulls on his coat and steps out to see what morning has brung.

So… a plague doctor and a dominatrix. I guess it takes all kinds here in the desolation.

Ahoy! Im afraid friends are telling the truth. Room service last night involved less food and more murder than we were hoping for, buuuuuut it’s the desolation and beggars can’t be choosers. I’m Skynir; this is Izzy and Timoshko, Roger is around here somewhere too. If you’re not here for a fight then it’s a pleasure to meet you. If you’re looking for lodging then I guess you can stay here with us? But guys I think we should just heave this whole structure over to the house Hastur and I were building and I’ll staple it onto the structure with magic.


Oh… Hastur. We didn’t uhm… we didn’t all make it through the night. I think I saw there was a church or a temple or something in town. It probably wasn’t Hastur’s faith but I think we should bring his body there today to see if we can get it laid down for a gentle repose. He deserved better than to wake back up as one of the undead here.

[u-b]

Roger did not sleep for the rest of the night either, burning his last spell to keep watch without ill effects. In the morning, while he was still renewing his spells, there are newcomers. Well. In the morning. Newcomers. Well, maybe they find it safer to hike by night, but Roger decides to keep an eye on them, just in case. After he's done with preparing the magics, that is.

Sorry, people, not too much of free time lately, but I am with you.

[SanguinePenguin]

"That is certainly an acceptable arrangement." The man bows and says, "I am Tsythus. If you need demolition for the task," he withdraws a fist sized sphere from his bandolier, "then I can be very helpful. Construction less so."

The man pauses, "... unless I were to join green vitriol with sal petrae in some spirit of box... some verdigris should stabilize it. This would grow... a lot, and it should be sturdy as well... within a month the fumes should subside enough that we could occupy the structure masked for an evening without ill effects. Where we would you like me to start?"

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla nodded as another friendly person introduced themselves - a young male who's eyes traveled the length of her body with a 'knowing' gaze before suggesting they try another place as a shelter. At the announcement of someone's death, she raised an eyebrow. ”I'm Darsalla. So let me get this straight ... you're offering lodging in a place your dead companion was helping build? Why would you give up a working shelter in favor of an unfinished one? Either way, I don't know how to build anything, except perhaps a fire. "

Noticing Roger for the first time, she stepped back with a start. "Whoa, where did you come from? I'm guessing you're Roger ... but can I help you?" His watchful gaze was a little disconcerting, but if they had almost been murdered last night, it made sense.

Turning back to Skynir and Izzy, she asked, "So aside from almost getting murdered, what else are you lot up to? Anything we should know about the town?"
OOC - moar chit-chat!

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[(Un)Inspired]

Weeeeell fume dissipation times aside, I think you might be being a bit too generous in assuming how much rock we’re actually working with. He returns Tsythus’ bow with a nod. I’ve got the magic to put it together, but if either of you have Architectural or engineering skills then you’re welcome to look over the plans our friend wrote yesterday.

He turns to Darsalla and try’s to parse both her words and the judgmental looks she dishes out in seemingly equal measure. I guess you could say I’m offering lodging in the building I’m constructing. Really though, I guess I’m checking if the two of you are interested in joining our company to fight through the desolation. I want to wipe that f***ing stain , he saying gesturing vaguely toward Tsar with his thumb, off the f***ing map. Roger, Izzy, and Timoshko have equally important reasons to be here. If you’re here you two must either have your own reasons for taking on the desolation, or you’re here to prey on the people that are. If you’re the latter than you picked literally the worst four people to start with and frankly you both look smarter than that. That means you’re probably the former and we all benefit by working together and shredding whoever ends up being the latter.

If you want to know more about the town then we can tell you on the way to the chapel to make sure my friend’s corpse is treated right. The money changer is on the way so you’ll want to come with us at either rate.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko openly laughs as the conversation takes a harsher turn. "That's the spirit! More talk like that and you might actually survive out here!" He chuckles, remembers Hastur, and suddenly frowns. "For a time, at least. None of us will live forever."

He grabs a chair, faces the newcomers, and sits over it backwards. "Put simply, I don't trust either of you. I don't trust anyone in this gods-forsaken 'town', except maybe the folks I rode in with. Cross me and you'd best be sure you do it right. If you're honorable, well.... you're out of place." He grins again, as much animal as human. "Just like the rest of us."

Without transition, he begins talking to the group as a whole, letting them worry about catching up.

"I want to speak with the Hag again. She will know as much as anyone how deep o' sh** we're in. Might even be willing to tell us, rather than show us..."

[u-b]

Roger nods, then shakes his head, then continues his prayers. Evantually he is done. "Roger Makarrow. Sort of a scout for this group, not not local like Timoshko is, so here he leads on." Roger does not know **** about the hag, but does not object the idea that she's to be consulted. As good plan as any.

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla shrugged at Howell’s response. ”I'm just thinking why build something if you have something … but mebbe you feel sad because your friend died here, so no worries.

And yeah, I figure nobody comes this way to just pass through. Not sure I’m up for wiping a city off the map, but who knows what tomorrow’ll bring, yeah?”

Timoshko’s response brought a grin to Darsalla’s face. "Good - trust ain’t something you hand out like biscuits around the fire … hell, I don’t trust myself half the time, let alone anyone else. But maybe we’ll learn to sleep as a group with only one eye open.

As for honor, that’s a weight around the neck I don’t need … and this place feels like the deep end of the lake. Nah, I prefer to play nice … until it’s time to not play nice. " leaning against the wall, she raised an eyebrow at one comment.

"So what’s this about a hag? "
OOC - extra chit-chat, with Moar RO!

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[DrK]

With Hastur's body in tow you are able to trudge through the morning layer of dust that coats everything with heavy white powder coating. The crunch of the bone dust as unpleasant as the bitter taste in your mouth as you walk across towards the swampy tree where the hag had made her lair with her weird badger/wolf/bear beasts. As you approach the door swings open as the lumbering Mama Grim steps out, a swamp hag with baggy greenish brown skin and sickly, jaundiced-looking eyes. Her hair is a massive tangle of greasy black locks into which she has tangled bits of feather, bone, and assorted detritus. She is accompanied by one of her 2 goblin bear pets, giant creature resembling massive wolverines with toothy snouts, long, sharp claws, and reddish-brown pelts.
She pauses, yellow eyes staring hard at you all and finally the cloth covered body of Hastur. She shakes a head "Not much I can do for that one. Can't drink potions if you be dead. He'll be one for Griswald." she adds pointing to a hut away from the rest of the Camp sits a long, low structure with a rounded roof composed of poorly cured hides lashed to
sticks.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grunts- acknowledgement. "We came to you first for another reason," he begins. "The Bender Brothers killed him. Err... maybe the sister? The one looked like a Dark Elf when she cast her death magic, but she looked like a Gnome after I returned the favor." He shrugs- the details aren't important.

"Point is this: they tried to kill us in our sleep, but lost. One of ours paid for their games with 'is life. How deep o' sh*t are we in, here? I figure we won- the boarding house is ours now. I'd like to know if we can expect the urser or someone else to come try and finish what the Brothers began, yeah?"

[DrK]

The hag looks at Timishko then cackles, a truly unnerving sound. "Griswald will want their bodies then. The Bender family have met their match. The fates have snipped their threads and the nine hells tackle them and torment their pathetic souls." Still chuckling with amusement she then looks down at you all. "You had best get comfortable in the boarding house. Our benevolent leader..." at that she glances at the smith where you had met the strange smith who seems to make the rules. "He won't care they are dead. Got what was coming, mightt makes right... and you did it quietly without disrupting the town. But he will expect the boarding house to operate, and a place for visitors to stay. If the murder is low, again not his concern. But you running the boarding house will be. If you have no taste for it, plenty of jaded folk here who will take it from you and turn from prospecting to landlord."

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko nods soberly. "This is good. We will deliver their corpses as you suggest." He eyes the smithy unhappily. "I am not here to run an inn," he grumbles. After a moment, he adds, "-nor a murder house, though that would be more amusing."

Bowing deeply to the hag, he asks leave. "We will see to it now. Thank you for your candor."

He prowls away, still glancing towards the sound of hammer on anvil with an unhappy glare. "Don't like that man at all," he mutters, leading the way to the indicated hut.

"Guess we'll have to go back for the bastards' corpses." He spits in the dirt. "Whatever."

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla watched the situation play out, silent as she listened to the dynamic between the group and the hag. She saw the trust they put into the hag, and understood it on a certain level. Monster's tend to be true to themselves, more oft than not ... and there was an honesty in that. However, she also heard about the smith, or leader as the hag put it. As the group moved away from the hag's home, she murmured to the others, ”So which one of you lucky souls is going to take us to the blacksmith? Or should we just go on our own, while you lot figure out your merchant's license?”
OOC - newbs could head to the smith for money exchange ...

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[u-b]

Roger checks for any fresh (tonight's) tracks around inn and the camp in general, helps transport the corpses, guides people to the blacksmith, opines on the layout of the new building and generally does nothing much. He does not care if people want to head out today, especially since some have just came, but remains ready for that opportunity. In any case, once the plans become clear, he goes to Finn's to check his gang.

[RCgothic]

"I think we should hire someone to run the boarding house for us and mind it whilst we're not here. Perhaps we could send for staff from Bard's Gate, I'm not sure ai trust anyone here," Izzy says. "But we're going to need more than the cash we have on hand. I'd like to go out into the wastes and see what we can recover."

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus’s mind continues to stew on the formula for these alchemical bricks. As he works through it, his body operates by a mental subsystem of basic actions while he progresses through the world. He follows along to see the hag. If prodded, his responses are terse and mechanical, crudely optimized to put an end to the distraction with minimal consequences. Finally, after he completes the alchemical construction process in theory, this subsystem is disengaged, he processes the buffer of all he has been hearing and doing, and reengages by speaking, ”it seems bringing the bodies to this smith is in order. If maintaining the boarding house is to be thrust into our charge, we should get this from the bulette’s mouth directly.”

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko only grunts. "They deserve less than whatever he plans to give 'em. Still, at least the bastards don't weight much."

[DrK]

Heading to the grave keeper with the bodies Timoshko is surprised as he approaches the hard wooden shack surrounded by bumpy ground at the stench, the stench of rotting and death. Atop the shack a half dozen ravens sit cawing, each clutching a bone in one of their claws. The undertaker as he approaches is robed heavily but as Griswald raises his head Timishko smells the grave stench emanating from the creature. It’s grey skin, yellow eyes and ragged decayed teeth belonging to an undead ghast.
It looks at Timoshko, perhaps feeling a kinship to the barbaric cannibal. “ah. The gnomes.” He says in a thin raspy voice. “They assailed the wrong character I feel. Very well. A small pit is all they’ll require.” he adds with a satisfied nod as he surveys the bumpy field next to his shack.

——-

Approaching the smithy some of the others can hear the ringing of metal upon metal and see the smith hammering a barrel stave. He looks up, still that prenatural cool in the forge despite the raging furnace. His crisp cultured tones ask “Ah, a change in management of the boarding house. You seek assurance that there will be no reprisal. I assure you that family will not be missed and you may rest east. But… you must run the house. Whether you run it or pay someone on your behalf the continued good will in the camp requires a boarding house”

———

For Izzy as she gazes out into the wastes she can look to the east or west onto the barrows or the bone white dusty plains. Both offer options and you’ve learnt of the Druid grove in the bone waste or the manor that you now own in the battle fields to the North east

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla raised an eyebrow at Tsythus’s comment, wondering why he had presumed they would all be running the boarding house. She had no intentions of spending her days hosting the saltiest of folk seeking their fortunes in the Wastes. However, she kept quiet, following the group that headed to the smithy. There she learned about the currency of the Camp, and smirked as the smith levied responsibility of the boarding house upon the gnomes killers. Walking over, she dropped 60 gold in the one chest and withdrew ten iron chips and 20 iron shards that she pocketed afterwards.

Done with the exchange, she exited, ready to join the others. To Izzy, she commented, ”You mentioned heading out to the wastes. After you settle up how to deal with the boarding house, I'd like to join whoever is heading out. This camp is lovely, but not so much that I want to spend more time in it than not.”
OOC - Swapping coins and ready to move out.

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[Farmerbink]

Timishko blinks, the only sign of his undeniable surprise. "Nothing should surprise me here," he murmurs. The bodies apparently dealt with, he hurries to the urser, just in time to hear his unexpected reassurances. "It's for good will, is it?" he rumbles, incredulous- announcing both his presence and displeasure with the declaration.

After Darsalla makes her own exchange, he begins prowling back to their unexpected base of operations. "Might as well make the place more suitable," he grumbles. "It is nice to not worry about where we'll sleep when we're here," the brute adds, thoughtfully.

So he said we have to run the place, but nothing really past that. I think we should build out the boarding house into more of a keep, given half the chance. At least fortify the main entrances, and consider digging a private well in the basement.

If anyone wants to take leadership, a cohort expert or rogue that can run the day-to-day would be outrageously ideal. Until something like that takes place, I think we're stuck making day trips, at best, into the wastes.

[DrK]

Part of the morning is spent in the boarding house cleaning out the last of the gnome's effects and burying some of the parts of past victims found stashed in various locations. With that done Izzy looks out towards the north east across the bone white plains that form the ashen waste. The southeastern quadrant of the Desolation is by far the most desolate. It is called the Ashen Waste with good reason. A seemingly continuous wind crosses this region carrying with it a perpetual cloud of a fine, powdery dust. Bone storms occur most frequently in this region. The omnipresent dust gets into everything and covers it with a fine coating of chalky powder. It is not uncommon for travelers here to have coughing fits as a choking coat forms inside an open mouth. It is also often difficult to see. Even when the wind is not blowing, a constant haze hangs in the air creating a feeling as if one is within a fog bank. It is to here that the main camp of the Army of Light was moved after the Chaos Rift was formed. The few wells and springs were jealously guarded, and many were overused until their water supply was exhausted and they went dry. The constant movement of tens of thousands of men and horses trampled the already-dry ground into the fi ne dust that exists today. When rains do come they create clumpy mud and quicksand pits, but these quickly dry and return to their powdery state — other than the occasional quicksand pit that remains nearly undetectable on the field as a hazard to visitors.

https://db4sgowjqfwig.cloudfront.net/campaigns/153952/assets/687360/AshenWastes.JPG?1484619460

From the information Izzy had received she knows the ruins of the manor that she has been sent to reclaim is not too far into the ashen wastes, only a scant 9-10 miles into the waste by the Tomb of the Sleeping Knight (A4). The Tomb built in the grounds had been built by the archmage Zelkor, one of the generals of the light. This lonely monument is all that is left of a contingency plan left behind by the mighty Zelkor to ensure that Tsar and the surrounding plains did not fall back into enemy hands after a passage of time when others might have grown less wary.



To this end the archmage commissioned a war captain and his company to serve as a reserve force. The war captain, a powerful aasimar fighter named Argos, volunteered for the duty and was placed in a magical state of suspended animation. His company of warriors was likewise placed in a similar state. Zelkor placed them in a reinforced bunker with a magical timing device that in fifty years would release Argos from his sleep. He could then wake his comrades, and a battle-ready force, who had not forgotten the terrible battles and grim events. However, something clearly went wrong and they never awoke!

Travelling in the ashen waste
Its like gravelly untracked desert. So a DC20 survival to navigate anywhere - overland travel is at 2/3 speed so its a 4 hour walk if you can navigate successfully
The temperature is cold, all the time and a thin cloud of dust hangs in the air limiting visibility to ~200ft

Weather and random encounters are a thing

[u-b]

Roger is fairly confident he can get Izzy there by night without hitting any natural hazards, assuming nothing untoward has happened with his lot that would require to delay the mission, and he declares as much. He is less confident about camping his lot in the dust, but can do something about it in less then one hour total.

The plan is...
1. To have a lunch, not taking undue time while at it.
2. To make everyone of his (one man, two dogs, one horse, one bird) some breathing protection from some bedsheet(s) we now have.
3. To take 10 on survival for a total of 22.
4. To take 10 on perception for a total of 30 with the animals making their own checks, to assist or otherwise.

The usual arrangement of the dogs sniffing on the sides, Roger looking ahead and the bird circling overhead, but maybe a bit tighter than in normal visibility conditions.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko retrieves his hooded-and-masked cloak in preparation for travel in the ashen wastes. "It's not perfect, but no part of this hell hole is likely to be that," he grumbles, fastening it tightly over his mouth and nose. With his map and compass, jealously guarded against the harsh and sandy winds, the brute prepares to trudge at the group's rear, using his height and speed to watch over the rest of their company.

"Are we planning to camp in the estate when we arrive? Travel back to the boarding house will be impossible during day light, starting now."

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus stares into the wastes through his doctor’s mask, the eager grin on his face unseen by all, “a bivouac at this manor will likely be needed. While I wonder how lethal ‘out after dark’ could really be, testing this should be avoided until we have a sure fire exit strategy. This really is an inhospitable land,” Tsythus squats to collect a vial of the bone dust, “bone and silt definitely… but something more? It largely exceeds the rumors, surely there are better places to set up a homestead, Miss Isabelle. You have quite the menagerie, Roger - lead on.”

Survival aid to Roger: [roll0]

Edit: Oh good, Tsythus is as lucky as Hastur…although RAW, he still succeeds at aid another since it only requires a roll of 10 and skills don’t automatically fail on a 1.

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla stood with the others as they peered out into the wastes, apparently all of them seeing something she didn't see. Or perhaps they were posing for the moment, in hopes that someone would walk by and be struck by inspiration to paint the tableau. She crossed her arms for a moment, staring determinedly ahead, then dropped them with a snort. However a glance at Tsythus and Timoshko struck a cord. ”I see you all have masks, and I'm guessing we're not headed to a masquerade ball ... anyone know if they sell things like that around here?”

Aside from wanting any items that could help mitigate the natural (or unnatural) hazards and risks of the Wastes, Darsalla is ready to go.
OOC - Are there masks for sale to help combat the dust? Or would masks from torn sheets/fabric do the tricK? Anything else of interest to Waste travelers?

Effects: Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages: Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[DrK]

After a basic but filling lunch using the boarding house supplies to create an edible sort of bean stew with flat bread you make ready to head into the waste. The flat sullen eyes of the Camp's inhabitants watch you, the ghoulish undertaker pausing from digging the graves for the Bender brothers to offer you a wry wave and point to a clear patch of dirt as if to suggest there is plenty more room for you. Following Roger's tracks you start winding out into the ash wastes, within a half mile of leaving the camp and the road to the north your legs caked with fine white powder up to the thighs and gusts of wind sending zephyrs of bone dust swirling amongst you and setting people coughing despite the scarfs wrapped around their faces.

The constant wind gives everything a shimmering haze and cuts down the visbility. The attack when it comes is without warning! As you are trotting along on you horses or on foot behind Roger there is a sudden hiss of displaced air and a shroud of darkness settles over Roger, Timoshko and Tsythus as the lead the party and three large lither red skinned shapes are visible in the shadows. The three creatures looking like flayed humaoids each armed with long barbed spears!

https://angrygolem-games.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/11/Babau.jpg

As they crash around you Tsythus, Izzy and Darsalla are the first to react....

OOC

Three babau demons have teleported into attack you. With their impressive stealth modifier (+22 before weather and distance) they were able to ambush but sadly had to use their surprise actions to teleport in
They appear 15ft directly in front of Roger, and 15ft to the left and right of the party but nearest to Tysthus and Timoshko

After the surprise round Tysthus, Izzy and Darsalla beat the Babau's initiative

[RCgothic]

"Woah, watch out!" Izzy calls, quickly pulling out an extract. As she drinks it, she doubles in size and reach, moving to threaten several of the babau demons with her spear!


Standard: drink extract
Move: To threaten at least two with her enlarged reach.

[SanguinePenguin]

When the demons appear, Tsythus reacts quickly by grabbing a vial from his bandolier, seeing Izzy grab her own he adds, ”prosit!”, raises the vial for an instant in a toast, and downs the contents. He emits a low, long grunt, as if pained, draws his blade and moves next to the embiggened Izzy.

Standard: Drink bull’s strength + strength mutagen: +8 str -2 int
Move: draw falchion, move next to Izzy, and not adjacent to any of the Babaus.

Tsythus Oren (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2682747)
Male TN Half-Orc Alchemist (semi-Concocter)//Barbarian, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 39/39, Speed 40
AC 19, Touch 14, Flat-footed 16, CMD 21, Fort 7, Ref 9, Will 5, CMB +7, Base Attack Bonus 5
Falchion +1 +12 (2d4+10, 18-20/x2)
Splash (10 Dam, DC 17 for half) Bombs (ranged touch) (10/day) +7 (3d6+7, -)
Dagger +11 (1d4+6, 19-20/x2)
Chainshirt +1 (+5 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 22 (14), Dex 14, Con 11, Int 16 (18), Wis 10, Cha 10
Condition Bulls strength - +4 strength
Strength mutagen - +4 strength, -2 int

Extracts:

Level1:
- Shield
- Shield
- Open
- Open
- Open

Level 2:
X - Bull's Strength + Str Mutagen
- Alchemical Allocation
- Open
- Open

Mutagenic Mixology - 1/2 remaining
Boro Bead (1st) - 1/1 remaining

Race/Class:
Traits:
Accelerated Drinker: Move action to drink potions
Carefully Hidden: +1 will, +2 vs divinations

Half-orc:
Tenacious: 1/day reroll failed fort or will save, or con check
Darkvision: 120 feet

Alchemist:
Poison Resistance +4
Swift Poison
Swift Alchemy

Barbarian:
Fast movement: +10 ft
Uncanny dodge: no flat-footed, never lose dex bonus
Rage: 6 rounds/day
Knockdown: 1/rage, trip with no AoO, and deal str damage on success

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla hissed as the demons appeared from the dust, shaking her head in disgust at missing them. ”Hullo, cousins ...” she muttered as she cast a spell and stepped forward with her chain spinning rapidly.
Round 1 - Casting mage armor and stepping forward to join the line. Current reach is 10'

Effects: mage armor (+4 AC, 6 hours); canny defense (+3 AC [dodge]); Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 (22) HP 46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/6 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic,
1 (4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[DrK]

THree of the pary move up forming a wall to support the rest of them, Darsalla summoning an armour of force as she steps beside Izzy and Tsythus feeling his muscles surge and swell from his mutagen. Izzy in the centre suddenly ripples and expands, her small frame now a towering 10ft tall with a 15ft long barbed spear clutched in her hand! The demons skid to a halt, all snarling abysaal, all of you hearing a low growling Blood for the Lord of skulls, blood for the prince of the abyss and blood, for... me in the cackling babau's voices in your heads.

Then with teamwork and synchronicity the three demons strike forward, Izzy able to to take strike at them as close rapidly... Lunging spears lashing at Izzy, Timoshko and Darsalla

OOC
Babau all move to 10ft and attack. If she has enough AoO Izzy can get an AoO on all 3

bab1: vs Izzy [roll0] dam [roll1]
bab2: vs Darsalla [roll2] dam [roll3]
bab3: vs Timishko [roll4] dam [roll5]+ [roll6] sneak

[u-b]

Since Roger was some distance ahead and the demons teleported at the core of the party, Roger is now somewhere behind their backs. He turns the horse around and guides it a bit closer to have a clearer shot and is presented with his choice of targets. The demons being obviously demons, Roger knows well how to get them hurt. That leaves choosing which one he'll hurt and when he will do it...

Delay until everyone else.
Full attack the demon that seems to be hurt the most.

Arrow: [roll0] for (1d8+5)[9] + [roll1] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)
Arrow: [roll2] for *scrubbed* + [roll3] (incl. -2/-0 rapid shot, +1/+1 point-blank shot, +2/+2+2d6 bane)

I think durable cold iron arrows won't survive the contact with the babau, but that's the only cold iron option Roger now has, so he instead uses normal arrows utilizing a +3 effective enhancement bonus (bow + bane) to overcome the DR.

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko smiles, recognizing a strange familiarity in the creature's apparent thirst for blood. "Let it be spilled!" he roars, as he swells alongside Izzy. As his own blood flow with demeaning taint, he suddenly stands well taller than the demons, and lashes out with his scythe in a mirror to their assault.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 35/51, Speed 40
AC 15, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating
Shinigami Technique, Step Up, Blind Fighting
Power attack: -2 to-hit, +4 damage (+6, two-handed)

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 15/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 2/2

RAGE!
[roll0] scythe power attack (now 10' reach)
[roll1] CC (31, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus

[roll4] scythe power attack
[roll5] CC (26,x4)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[RCgothic]

With her enlarged size Izzy is able to attack one of the demons as it closes, but her normally quick reflexes have been dulled by additional bulk and she's too slow to attack another.

Combat reflexes gives extra AoOs equal to myDEX modifier... Which in this case is zero.

AoO with greatspear: [roll0] (-2PA) damage [roll1] (+6TH PA)

Fortunately the attack against her just scrapes off her armour, so she steps back and makes another strike at the demon attacking her.

5ft step back.
Attack with greatspear: [roll2] (-2PA) damage [roll3] (+6TH PA)

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus grunts, anyone watching closely who ups note his thick coat sitting tightly on him. He sprints to the nearest Babau and swings his blade with an animalistic howl.

Free: rage
Move: encroach on Babau
Standard: attack [roll0] damage [roll1] on crit (32+) [roll2] damage [roll3]

Tsythus Oren (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2682747)
Male TN Half-Orc Alchemist (semi-Concocter)//Barbarian, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 51/39, Speed 40
AC 17, Touch 14, Flat-footed 16, CMD 21, Fort 7, Ref 9, Will 5, CMB +7, Base Attack Bonus 5
Falchion +1 +14 (2d4+13, 18-20/x2)
Splash (10 Dam, DC 17 for half) Bombs (ranged touch) (10/day) +7 (3d6+7, -)
Dagger +11 (1d4+6, 19-20/x2)
Chainshirt +1 (+5 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 26 (14), Dex 14, Con 11, Int 16 (18), Wis 10, Cha 10
Condition Bulls strength - +4 strength
Strength mutagen - +4 strength, -2 int
Rage 5/6

Extracts:

Level1:
- Shield
- Shield
- Open
- Open
- Open

Level 2:
X - Bull's Strength + Str Mutagen
- Alchemical Allocation
- Open
- Open

Mutagenic Mixology - 1/2 remaining
Boro Bead (1st) - 1/1 remaining

Race/Class:
Traits:
Accelerated Drinker: Move action to drink potions
Carefully Hidden: +1 will, +2 vs divinations

Half-orc:
Tenacious: 1/day reroll failed fort or will save, or con check
Darkvision: 120 feet

Alchemist:
Poison Resistance +4
Swift Poison
Swift Alchemy

Barbarian:
Fast movement: +10 ft
Uncanny dodge: no flat-footed, never lose dex bonus
Rage: 5/6 rounds/day
Knockdown: 1/rage, trip with no AoO, and deal str damage on success

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla grunted at the strike before smiling at the demon before her. ”Ah, so you like it rough … I can work with that.” One hand getured and she lashed out with the chain twice, one leaving a strange character in abyssal if it made contact. After, she stepped back to keep in line with her companions.
Round 2 - Full attack w/spell strike. Casting arcane mark
[roll0], [roll1]
[roll2], [roll3]

Effects: mage armor (+4 AC, 6 hours); canny defense (+3 AC [dodge]); Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 (22) HP 31/46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 7/7 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic, arcane mark
1 (3/4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[DrK]

The three demons launch their attacks on the line of adventurers into the desolation. Spears clash and Timishoko and Tsythus both lose themselves to their rage. The pair of ragers swing and hack at the ichor covered blood demons but in their frezy the blades go wide. Izzy jabs forward with controlled thrusts but they are brushed aside by the demons' own spears. Darsalla and Roger are more fortunate, the spiked chain catching one in the knee although some of the damage is ablated, the demon then grunts as the arrow thuds into from Roger fired from where the ranger is standing further up the dust covered plain.

Seeing the lone ranger one of the babaus turns and charges Roger atop his horse seeking an easy target, his back exposed leaving Izzy and Darsalla the chance to thrust at his exposed back as he turns and runs at the ranger, it proves to be his undoing as Izzy jabs forward and with a brutal thrust of her spear impales it through the neck causing it pop out of existence in a wet splatter of dried acidic blood.
The other two continue battling the party infused by hatred for all things living. One jabbing at Timoshko with its spear, the other matching Tsythus's rage dropping its spear and stepping in close to tear apart the alchemist with bite and claw, its body stinking with the acidic ichor that it exudes.

OOC

Demon 1 turns and charges Roger. Izzy and Darsalla get AoO
[roll0] dam [roll1]
EDIT: he does not do this as the AoO critical killed him

Demon 2 vs Timoshko and Izzye
Timishko [roll2] dam [roll3]
Izzy [roll4] dam [roll5]

Demon 3: Drop spear, 5ft to Tsythus
bite [roll6] dam [roll7]
claw [roll8] dam [roll9]
claw [roll10] dam [roll11]

[DrK]

claw [roll0] Extra damage [roll1]

[u-b]

When the demon starts towards him, Roger gets ready to duck behind the horse. But then the demon does not survive beyond a pair of steps. Meanwhile, Jumbo starts to dive in. "Not now, Jumbo! Keep safe, we are winning!" The bird makes a pass over the scene while the dogs approach it from both sides and from a "safe" distance, barking vigorously. Roger observes how it goes and then condemns the remaining demon(s) to hell, both in word and in action. "This fate will befall the lot of you!"

Swift: Judgment (Justice)
Full: attack the most damaged demon, again on the last initiative of all

Dogs: not willing to attack unnatural creatures; they sort of flank at a distance and all-out bark
Jumbo: makes a dive but is commanded to abort the attack
The hores: retaliates in full

Hoof: [roll0] for [roll1] cold iron ref [roll2] or [roll3] acid
Hoof: [roll4] for [roll5] cold iron ref [roll6] or [roll7] acid
Conditional Bite: [roll8] for [roll9] ref [roll10] or [roll11] acid (if not hurt in the attacks above)

Arrow: [roll12] for [roll13] + [roll14] (+1/+1 point-blank shot, -2/+0 rapid shot, +2/+0 inquisition: justice, +2/+2+2d6 bane)
Arrow: (1d20+13)[27] for (1d8+5)[12] + (2d6)[6] (+1/+1 point-blank shot, -2/+0 rapid shot, +2/+0 inquisition: justice, +2/+2+2d6 bane)

Justice: This judgment spurs the inquisitor to seek justice, granting a +1 sacred bonus on all attack rolls. This bonus increases by +1 for every five inquisitor levels she possesses. At 10th level, this bonus is doubled on all attack rolls made to confirm critical hits.

[RCgothic]

Izzy stabs the retreating demon clean through its neck, then steps behind Timoshko and thrusts over his head at the demon attacking them both.

I forgot the +1 enhancement bonus to attack roll last turn. >.<

AoO with -2PA [roll0] damage [roll1] confirmed 66 total

Attack with -2PA [roll2] damage [roll3]

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus moans in pain. Even through the frenzy, he can tell that strike was bad. He swings his blade as controlled as he can, attempting to damage the Babau in kind.


Standard: power attack [roll0] damage [roll1] on crit (32+) [roll2] damage [roll3]

Tsythus Oren (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2682747)
Male TN Half-Orc Alchemist (semi-Concocter)//Barbarian, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 23/39, Speed 40
AC 16, Touch 14, Flat-footed 16, CMD 21, Fort 7, Ref 9, Will 5, CMB +7, Base Attack Bonus 5
Falchion +1 +14 (2d4+13, 18-20/x2)
Splash (10 Dam, DC 17 for half) Bombs (ranged touch) (10/day) +7 (3d6+7, -)
Dagger +11 (1d4+6, 19-20/x2)
Chainshirt +1 (+5 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 26 (14), Dex 14, Con 11, Int 16 (18), Wis 10, Cha 10
Condition Bulls strength - +4 strength
Strength mutagen - +4 strength, -2 int
Rage 4/6

Extracts:

Level1:
- Shield
- Shield
- Open
- Open
- Open

Level 2:
X - Bull's Strength + Str Mutagen
- Alchemical Allocation
- Open
- Open

Mutagenic Mixology - 1/2 remaining
Boro Bead (1st) - 1/1 remaining

Race/Class:
Traits:
Accelerated Drinker: Move action to drink potions
Carefully Hidden: +1 will, +2 vs divinations

Half-orc:
Tenacious: 1/day reroll failed fort or will save, or con check
Darkvision: 120 feet

Alchemist:
Poison Resistance +4
Swift Poison
Swift Alchemy

Barbarian:
Fast movement: +10 ft
Uncanny dodge: no flat-footed, never lose dex bonus
Rage: 4/6 rounds/day
Knockdown: 1/rage, trip with no AoO, and deal str damage on success

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla smirked as one of the demons ran off after Roger and was immediately gutted by Izzy. ”That's what you get for running out on a girl in the middle of a date!” Slipping around, she noticed one of the demon's going full feral on the good doctor. She stepped to flank the beast, attacking twice as she cast another mark of the beast ... on the beast!
Round 3 - Presuming she used an arcane point (for +2 extra to her weapon on round 2) which gives her spiked chain a +3, which should overcome Cold Iron DR. 5' Step and full attack w/spell strike (hopefully flanking). Casting arcane mark
[roll0], [roll1]
[roll2], [roll3]

Effects: arcane bonus (+2 extra to spiked chain, 9 rounds); mage armor (+4 AC, 6 hours); canny defense (+3 AC [dodge]); Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 (22) HP 31/46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/7 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic, arcane mark
1 (3/4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko lets out a triumphant howl. "Well struck, Izzy!" he bellows, unworried for the blood that flows from the demon's most recent spear thrust. Grinning in his manic way, he lashes out with the gleaming scythe once more.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 23/51 temp: 24/24?, Speed 40
AC 15, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating
Shinigami Technique, Step Up, Blind Fighting
Power attack: -2 to-hit, +4 damage (+6, two-handed)

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 14/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 2/2

RAGE!
[roll0] scythe power attack (now 10' reach)
[roll1] CC (31, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus
Will use hunger if it hits

[roll4] scythe power attack (now 10' reach)
[roll5] CC (26, x4)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[DrK]

One of the demons whips round to charge at Roger, it manages three steps before the spear punches through its neck reducing to strange demonic ichor as its form loses cohesion. The other two snarl and how with rage, spears striking the explorers.

The return attacks are not as efficient, Tsythus attacks but wounded his strikes swing wide, Izzy, her spear off balance by the weight of the dying demon is likewise off balance as her thrust is parried. The savage blows from the hulking raging barbaric tribesman are not as easily blocked and the scythe hacks into the demon even as the other demon is assailed by the crackling spiked chain that pulses with magical power from Darsalla as its whipped twice leaving sets of tracks from the chain decorating it chest. The demon grunts further as a pair of arrows punch into into its back.

Despite the damage the demons worship carnage and savagery and lash out, one thrusting at Timoshko and one lashing out at the halfling, both stepping in closer towards their foes seeking to manever round to use their allies for cover against Roger and his demon bane arrows.

OOC
Vs Timishko [roll0] dam [roll1]
Vs Timishko [roll2] dam [roll3]

Vs Darsalla bite [roll4] dam [roll5]
Vs Tsythus claw [roll6] dam [roll7]
Vs Darsalla claw [roll8] dam [roll9]

[DrK]

OOC

Crit threat on Timoshko [roll0] dam [roll1]

[u-b]

This suddenly wasn't looking so good. Roger starts to direct Daisy closer to the action, making two shots on the way.

Full: attack the most wounded demon with the bow (no penalty within single move of the horse)
Horse: move to flank the most wounded surviving demon, then kick it

Arrow: [roll0] for [roll1] + [roll2] (+1/+1 point-blank shot, -2/+0 rapid shot, +2/+0 inquisition: justice, +2/+2+2d6 bane)
Arrow: [roll3] for [roll4] + [roll5] (+1/+1 point-blank shot, -2/+0 rapid shot, +2/+0 inquisition: justice, +2/+2+2d6 bane)

Hoof: [roll6] for [roll7] cold iron ref [roll8] or [roll9] acid (+2/+0 flank)

Uhm, people?

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla smiled again, her eyes flashing red as the creature raked one of its claws across her exposed arm. Twirling her chains, she kept the creature trapped between herself and Tsythus, murmuring aloud, "Awwww, he thinks he likes it rough. How sweet ...”

With dazzling speed, the chains flew out again, another mark upon the demon ... this time, the rune for fool appeared upon it's chest.
Round 4 - Step to flank with the doctor. Using the spiked chain w/cold iron DR equivalency; full attack with spell strike while flanking. Using arcane mark again.

[roll0], [roll1]
[roll2], [roll3]

Effects: arcane bonus (+2 extra to spiked chain, 8 rounds); mage armor (+4 AC, 6 hours); canny defense (+3 AC [dodge]); Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 (22) HP 22/46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/7 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic, arcane mark
1 (3/4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[SanguinePenguin]

Shrugging off the previous attack, Tsythus’s mutated form swings his blade in a powerful overhead chop.


Standard: power attack w/ flank [roll0] damage [roll1] on crit (32+) [roll2] damage [roll3]

Tsythus Oren (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2682747)
Male TN Half-Orc Alchemist (semi-Concocter)//Barbarian, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 17/39, Speed 40
AC 16, Touch 14, Flat-footed 16, CMD 21, Fort 7, Ref 9, Will 5, CMB +7, Base Attack Bonus 5
Falchion +1 +14 (2d4+13, 18-20/x2)
Splash (10 Dam, DC 17 for half) Bombs (ranged touch) (10/day) +7 (3d6+7, -)
Dagger +11 (1d4+6, 19-20/x2)
Chainshirt +1 (+5 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 26 (14), Dex 14, Con 11, Int 16 (18), Wis 10, Cha 10
Condition Bulls strength - +4 strength
Strength mutagen - +4 strength, -2 int
Rage 3/6

Extracts:

Level1:
- Shield
- Shield
- Open
- Open
- Open

Level 2:
X - Bull's Strength + Str Mutagen
- Alchemical Allocation
- Open
- Open

Mutagenic Mixology - 1/2 remaining
Boro Bead (1st) - 1/1 remaining

Race/Class:
Traits:
Accelerated Drinker: Move action to drink potions
Carefully Hidden: +1 will, +2 vs divinations

Half-orc:
Tenacious: 1/day reroll failed fort or will save, or con check
Darkvision: 120 feet

Alchemist:
Poison Resistance +4
Swift Poison
Swift Alchemy

Barbarian:
Fast movement: +10 ft
Uncanny dodge: no flat-footed, never lose dex bonus
Rage: 3/6 rounds/day
Knockdown: 1/rage, trip with no AoO, and deal str damage on success

[RCgothic]

Izzy makes a powerful thrust over the heads of her companions in front at one of the demons still standing.
Power Attack -2 [roll0] Damage +6PA [roll1]

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko grins in manic fury as the demon's thrust runs clean through his abdomen. "I'll see you in the endless deeps!" he roars, delivering another pair of truly savage slices with his own blade.

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 8/51 , Speed 40
AC 15, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating
Shinigami Technique, Step Up, Blind Fighting
Power attack: -2 to-hit, +4 damage (+6, two-handed)

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 13/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 1/2

Judgement of destruction for more damage!

[roll0] scythe power attack (now 10' reach)
[roll1] CC (31, x4)
[roll2] damage
[roll3] crit bonus
Will SOOOOOOO use hunger if it hits

[roll4] scythe power attack (now 10' reach)
[roll5] CC (26, x4)
[roll6] damage
[roll7] crit bonus

[DrK]

Like a well oiled machine the various adventurers into the desolation work as a team, Roger launching an arrow into one of their backs before riding in distracting the demon from the scythe wielding raging madman whilst Tsythus and Darsalla flank the other. All of the heroes strikes land true and as the demon is crushed under the scythe the other falls to the long thrust of Izzy’s (currently very long) spear

As both of the demons melt into the ash white dust, their forms losing cohesion as their “souls” are drawn back into the abyss the sound of the hissing sand is once more all that is left. The desolation’s first encounter a savage one and perhaps a taste of what is to come as you look into the distance where Izzy’s land awaits

[RCgothic]

"I hope there aren't too many more of those on my land," Izzy says, wrinkling her nose at the dissolving demons.

"It's everyone okay? Those things were nasty!" she asks to ascertain the state of the party.

[Farmerbink]

In stark contrast to the blood trickling from his puckering wounds, Timoshko laughs in manic glee! "I've never felt more alive!" he bellows. "This land is full of blood and death! It will prove a grand, and worthy challenge!" He peers over the dry, desolate sands, apparently willing to let himself continue bleeding until his body stymies the flow naturally.

I would greatly appreciate someone healing Timoshko. He's at 9/51 HP, and I'd rather he didn't die immediately next time we find a threat. He is a complete maniac, but I'm only mostly crazy. :smallbiggrin:

[u-b]

Roger provides some heals for the wounded, then examines the demons' spears to see if they are of value.

Timoshko: [roll0] [roll1] [roll2]
Tsythus: [roll3]
Darsalla: [roll4]

Feel free to request more healing, it is available.

Detect magic and a good look at the spears.

[DrK]

Bending down to examine the spears Roger can see that they are very well made, the tips covered in hooked barbs to rend and tear and the shafts made of a light metallic alloy inscribed with a few harsh looking abysaal runes. But sadly for Roger they are also mundane, masterwork in quality but not enchanted. Much of their power coming from the demon's other worldliness. The desolate dust plans continue to stretch out for miles around, small hummocks and other things on the horizon that might be buried ruins or burial cairns or just dunes of bone white dust the only break from the grey ash like plain and smouldering grey skies streaked with red.

Looking about Roger determines the path onwards and points out that direction if you choose to continue

[u-b]

Roger throws the spears* into the wagon and leads on, the same usual way, if much less confident in his ability to spot an ambush.

*Please have them recorded with the rest of the loot.

[Starbin]

Darsalla (https://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622415), Tiefling Magus//Swashbuckler

Darsalla stretched nodding her thanks to the healing as she peered around. To the ragers, she commented, "It is funny how the closer to death one is, the more aware of mortality they are.
Trick is avoiding that last step towards the abyss ... it's a doozy!”

Glancing at the spears, she nodded in appreciation. Perhaps they would fetch a pretty pile of iron back in the camp. Barring that, they were at least of a quality that could be enchanted. Gathering with the others, she was ready to follow once more into the desolation.
OOC - Back from vacation and catching up. good for hps right now.

Effects: mage armor (+4 AC, 6 hours); canny defense (+3 AC [dodge]); Darkvision 60’; ER 5 vs fire
AC 15 (22) HP 40/46 Move 30’ Init +4
Saves: Fort +7 Ref +8 Will +5
Arcane pool 6/7 (swift, +2 enh)
Darkness SLA 1/1
Charmed Life 1/1
Skills: Spellcraft +12, Intimidate +10, KS Planes +10, Sleight of Hand +9, Perception +9, Acrobatics +8, Craft (tattoo) +8, KS Arcana / Local +8, Use Magic Device +8, Fly +8, Perform (Dance) +6, KS Geography / History +5, Linguistics +5, Climb/Swim +4,
0 (4) - prestidigitation, acid splash, detect magic, arcane mark
1 (3/4) - mage armor, chill touch, shocking grasp, silent image
2 (3) - frigid touch, mirror image, pyrotechnics
Magic Items +1 spiked chain, +1 rapier, ring of protection +1, belt of dex +2, vest of resistance +1
Languages Common Abyssal, Infernal, Draconic, Elven,

[Farmerbink]

Timoshko starts a bit when Roger offers healing. "Of course. Thank you," he rumbles, satisfied and relieved by the aid. He smirks at Darsalla's comments. "Shove your enemies over the edge first, at least," he adds with a low peal of rumbling laughter.

He turns in the direction Roger indicated. "Let's find out who's next, shall we?"

Timoshko Savarin, First Fang (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2622366)
M Neutral (Evil?) Human - Duskprowler Clan Bloodrager 6 // Inquisitor 2, Level 6//2, Init 4, HP 46/51 , Speed 40
AC 15, Touch 10, Flat-footed 15, CMD 20, Fort 9, Ref 4, Will 10, CMB +10/+5, Base Attack Bonus 6/1
+1 Scythe +11/+6 (2d4+6, x4)
Claws (during BR) +10/+10 (1d6+4, x2)
+1 luck bonus to saves Calamitous Mail (+5 Armor)
Abilities Str 19, Dex 10, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 14, Cha 11
Condition Dimdweller: +2 intimidate, perception, stealth when in darkness; 60' darkvision
Blood of Life: fast healing 1 during bloodrage
Blood Sanctuary: +2 to saves vs allies' spells
Corpse Cannibal: +2 fortitude saves vs disease
Spell Eating
Shinigami Technique, Step Up, Blind Fighting
Power attack: -2 to-hit, +4 damage (+6, two-handed)

Bloodrage (claws, demonic bulk): 13/16
Judgement: 1/1
Touch of Darkness: 5/5
The Hunger: 1/2

[SanguinePenguin]

Tsythus relaxes once the enemies vanished. With his muscles still swollen, it is hard to think as clearly. The effects will last a few more minutes, but he can not afford to wait. His injuries could wait. More reticent than usual, he removes a vial and proceeds to collect some of the dust that the demons melted into. Arduously, he collects as much of a sample as he can, with as little ground bone as possible.

“Fascinating! Did any essence of demon get in here! I will have to run some tests...” He holds up the powder contentedly. While he investigated, Roger mended many of his wounds. "Thank you, Roger! I should concoct some more for myself... mix yarrow and oil of vitriol here, and bit of gypsum there... cassel yellow and arnica... and some mint for taste." He downs the two potions, then sets about making another potion, following a little more complicated or a recipe this time.

End rage
Collect vial of dust probably containing no demon
Brew 2 CLW extracts and drink them
[roll0]
[roll1]
Make another bull's strength + str mutagen after this one wears off

Tsythus Oren (http://www.myth-weavers.com/sheet.html#id=2682747)
Male TN Half-Orc Alchemist (semi-Concocter)//Barbarian, Level 6//2, Init 2, HP 33/39, Speed 40
AC 16, Touch 14, Flat-footed 16, CMD 21, Fort 7, Ref 9, Will 5, CMB +7, Base Attack Bonus 5
Falchion +1 +14 (2d4+13, 18-20/x2)
Splash (10 Dam, DC 17 for half) Bombs (ranged touch) (10/day) +7 (3d6+7, -)
Dagger +11 (1d4+6, 19-20/x2)
Chainshirt +1 (+5 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Natural)
Abilities Str 26 (14), Dex 14, Con 11, Int 16 (18), Wis 10, Cha 10
Condition Bulls strength - +4 strength
Strength mutagen - +4 strength, -2 int

Extracts:

Level1:
- Shield
- Shield
X - CLW
X - CLW
- Open

Level 2:
X - Bull's Strength + Str Mutagen
- Alchemical Allocation
- Bull's Strength + Str Mutagen
- Open

Mutagenic Mixology - 0/2 remaining
Boro Bead (1st) - 1/1 remaining

Race/Class:
Traits:
Accelerated Drinker: Move action to drink potions
Carefully Hidden: +1 will, +2 vs divinations

Half-orc:
Tenacious: 1/day reroll failed fort or will save, or con check
Darkvision: 120 feet

Alchemist:
Poison Resistance +4
Swift Poison
Swift Alchemy

Barbarian:
Fast movement: +10 ft
Uncanny dodge: no flat-footed, never lose dex bonus
Rage: 3/6 rounds/day
Knockdown: 1/rage, trip with no AoO, and deal str damage on success

[DrK]

The lonely winds blowing their powdery dust are all the company you have in this ashen plain. Not even a small hill breaks the monotony around you. This changes as Roger spies something on the ground ahead. It looks like it may be bodies — recent if the dark stains visible upon them are any indication. Slowly approaching, the ranger trotting some 60ft ahead of the others atop his horse he can get a closer look as he closes to within 30ft, his nose wrinkling at the carrion smell on the breeze.

Approaching, Roger finds two corpses lying on the ground. Both are but a few days dead with the blood on their clothing and armor mostly dry and a light layer of the white ash stuck to the tacky ooze. They are a chainmail-clad dwarf and a leather-clad human. The human bears many thin stab wounds and still clutches a bloody rapier. The dwarf has vicious, deep cuts and gouges and still clutches the broken haft of a battleaxe.

[u-b]

Roger scans the site for magic and sends the dogs to sniff around the dead. He does not yet dismount or move any closer.

Whatever the outcome, if it is not violent, Roger then casts a spell (https://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/s/sift/).

Sift: perception 20 - 5 + 10 = 25 to "search" the bodies

[DrK]

Sifting the bodies and the local area Roger hears a low growling and the dog stands by single set of tracks veering off to the North East. Sifting the dwarf reveals reveals the blade of the axe sunk deep into the
calf of his right leg, seemingly self-inflicted. A careful study identifies that these two combatants were not engaged with any foes that left tracks. They just seemed to be fighting themselves. Searching for magic Roger can pick up a faint magical aura from around the humans leather armour and around the dwarf's broken battle axe. A further glow illuminates around the bandolier that contains 3 potions.


Broken Battle axe +1
MW silver rapier
Broken Leather armour +1
Potions (Protect from Evil, Cure moderate, Resist energy)



Looking further aside from the three tracks leading to the scene of what appears to be a self inflicted battle (from your direction) and a single set heading north east there seems little else there.



The bodies match a band of adventurers that left camp a few days before you arrived. — Farren (the rogue), Gorbit Stonebiter (the dwarf), and Vilgara (an elven sorceress)




They haled from a village southwest of Bard’s Gate called Crimmor, and that they came to the Desolation in search of a magical crown said to be buried with a deceased angel.



They mean the crown of Azarkite, said to be with him in Tranquility's Face a small cemetery in the waste that has resisted the desolation. This graveyard holds a few hundred of the first soldiers of the Army
of Light to fall. Among them was a trumpet archon named Azarkites. The fountain statue serves as a fairly accurate portrayal of him. Several cemeteries were established throughout the battle plains until the attack that formed the Chaos Rift occurred and the attackers realized they would never be able to properly inter the vast numbers of dead

[u-b]

Roger narrates his findings to everyone and, particulatly, Timoshko. He takes the potions. Unless someone is interested in the remainder, it's getting thrown in the wagon*. "Do we also pack bodies themselves to bury at Izzy's?" He also wants everyone's opinions on when and whether we follow the tracks.

*Someone please take a note of that.

[RCgothic]

"I think burying them would be the respectful thing to do," Izzy replies, storing the potions carefully among her extracts.