Memory Loss is Hell (IC)

[Elaraiah]

It’s an odd feeling, the loss of one’s memories; knowing that there was a life previous lived, deeds previously done. You remember your names and talents; your childhood and lifelong aspirations. The last few years, however, all blur together into an unsortable jumble of people, places and objects. As it stands, you can remember only two things clearly: a bright flash of searing flame, and a small onyx key. Nothing more.

Once your eyes adjust to the low light, you steal a glimpse at your surroundings. Jagged, red rock sprouts up from desolate plains to form steep cliffs and razor-sharp ridges. The sky above you is dark with thick black clouds, and arcs of purple lightning occasionally jump between them. The air in this place is hot and humid, almost strangling, and there is a ferrous hint to its taste, like rust or blood. You suddenly become aware of a gentle rocking sensation, and upon sitting up, realize you are in a longboat of some sort. Several other passengers, previously unnoticed, also begin to stir and straighten. The only prominent person on the small craft is a black-cloaked figure standing near the bow, slowly pushing the boat along in a somewhat rigid, repetitive motion with a long pole.

[Gyrfalcon]

Anton pulls himself upright, leaning against the side of the longboat they are in, his head a whirl of jumbled thoughts and memories. He had a home... hadn't he? A tavern that was his favorite... somewhere. He had traveled, but he could no longer remember the roads. He had begun building an organization, but he could no longer remember the names or faces of his closest lieutenants.

Forcing himself to put aside the mystery, he began to pay more attention to his surroundings. His blue eyes narrowed in concentration as he absently adjusted the fit of his simple brown shirt. The river, the cliffs... the taste in the air. None of it was familiar. But the boat, with it's black-cloaked helmsman stirred childhood memories of lessons. A horrible suspicion begins to form, and Anton begins paying far sharper attention to his surroundings.

((Knowledge (Planes) (1d20+9)[23] : Identify the current Plane))

[Llewelyn]

Jasmine groaned softly as she woke, a slight ache in her head and a strange sky above her. For a few moments she lay there, trying to recall what had happened, but nothing seemed to connect, just vague impressions of buildings, doorways, arches, and battle. A memory of sudden fire came to mind unbidden, crystal clear unlike anything else since she left her old home, and she jerked upright in reaction.

As she did so, she became conscious of a slight ache in her wings, and a quick check of herself showed she was in her natural form, but otherwise unharmed. Almost by reflex, she reached for her scimitars, but her hands closed on only thin air. Noting the other "passengers" also beginning to rise, she used the edge of the boat to lever herself to her feet and turned towards the bow and the one person who seemed to be in control of the whole thing. "Alright," she said, warily eyeing the black-cloaked figure, "Where in th' Hells am I, and what have you done with my stuff?"

[Gyrfalcon]

Anton replies absently, concentrating more on his surroundings then his fellow passengers. "If my suspicions are correct, we're in one of the Lower Planes, somewhere on the River Styx. I could be wrong, of course... I pray that I'm wrong."

[Mahrke]

Godric Graves

He awakens with something half-way between a growl and a groan, pushing himself up against the side of the ship as eyes flicker open. They go wide, and he hisses, leaning forward to plan forehead in a palm as the headache grips him. Dirty blonde locks, oily and unhealthy cascade around his wrist. But soon enough the man has regained his wits. He looks about in a panic, and what he sees does nothing to quell his misgivings. Desolate hellscape. Boat full of monsters. He reaches reflexively for something at his side, and when his grasp greets air he looks down, as if betrayed. He pushes himself to a wary stand. Standing at something near six foot, the human looks like something out of the gutter. Ragged street trash from Whitespray or some other port town. The stereotype of a man that'd gut you for a coin-purse. His attire is ragged and worn, and perhaps the only thing at odds with image of a brigand. Once upon a time, that outfit had frill and billowyness. Color is faded, but it still maintain some of that midnight black with white trim. The clothing of nobility...obviously stolen from some victim. "Styx..." His eyes flick warily from the bi-pedal tigress, to the spider...thing, to the cloaked man. "...I don't -feel- dead." His voice carries a refined, clipped accent, uncommon for the men of the plains. A hand goes to his temple again. Another pain as he seeks for memories that won't come. Spoiler: Knowledge: Nobility (DC 15) Show The clothing the man wears, is the attire of a Irthirian Justiciar in disrepair. An order of knights that serve as law-keepers and mediators.

[Cyclopean]

Panic shot through Tezzanep the moment he sat up. The heat, the stench in the air, the babble of his fellow passengers, the confusion wracking his brain...and worse, the open sky that left him totally exposed. It was all too much. The ettercap sank back down into the boat, pressing himself against its side, anxious to appear as small and non-threatening as possible. He yearned to flee to the back where he could spin a covering to hide under, but couldn't risk that yet.

He whimpers, and resigns himself to watching the others. They didn't seem hostile, at least, but they were upset and therefore unpredictable. Well, the cloaked figure seemed calm enough...who were they?

[Recaiden]

They come to and slowly remember. They are Shaneir, a minor noble of Navan Tiali, a peerless duelist and skilled negotiator - except - that's a lie. They are a faceless pilgrim, and he was just one of many masks. Right now, they're clearly a human woman in an Omek-style outfit suited to horseback riding. She has no idea why she's here, who she was supposed to be. And not alone. On a boat slowly poled along a dark river, beneath a rainless summer storm? Where are they...?

The helmsman is sure to know.
Shaneir opens her inner eye and focuses on the bow. (Detect Thoughts, DC 15 if I can maintain concentration long enough).

And these others. "Dead? Oh, I've never been dead before, how exciting!" After living so close to the edge (for how long?), playing with the reaper, had it caught up? Could she have forgotten her own death? Is that normal? "I guess most people only get to be dead once, huh?" This could be a lot worse. How much does it matter if death interrupts one's plans, if you don't remember what they were?

[Llewelyn]

"Dead? Hah, there's more ways than that to the planes, if that's where we are." Just my luck, stuck with a bunch of sodding Primes, she thought as she looked around at the strange environment, trying to remember what she knew of the various planes. Just like her memories of her recent past though, those half-forgotten lessons from her youth remained stubbornly out of her mind's reach.

Placing her hands on her hips, the humanoid tigress turned to regard the other passengers, dragon-like wings folded and spaded tailtip resting next to her foot. Her clothing was fairly plain - a simple pair of breeches hugged her hips before giving way to thigh-high leather boots, while her top consisted of a low-backed leather bodice that at first glance could have been mistaken for armor.

"All I know is I'm on a boat with a bunch of folk I've never met before," she finally said, though there was some uncertainty in her voice on the latter part, "My gear is missing, and the one who might have the dark of what's going on is that berk over there," she finished, pointing to the cloaked navigator. "Unless any of you have something to add?" She added after a moment, looking back meaningfully towards the man who had first spoken up.

[Elaraiah]

Shaneir opens her inner eye and focuses on the bow. (Detect Thoughts, DC 15 if I can maintain concentration long enough).

Spoiler: Detect Thoughts Will Save

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(1d20+14)[29]

The figure at the head of the small craft does not seem to acknowledge your presences at first; however, upon hearing your murmurings and stirrings, a low, otherworldly voice echoes forth from his direction. "Well, it seems the dead are not all I am ferrying today. I was beginning to wonder if your...associate...had simply paid an exorbitant fee to dispose of corpses. Nonetheless, it is better you are conscious. After all, you will be disembarking soon." The figure seems to emphasize this last part, as though there is no argument to be made.

[Mahrke]

Godric Graves

"Yea, well, I'm of no mind to be taking a dingy to hell." The man says, steadying himself. Hands move to belt-buckle, undoing it and taking the smooth leather in hand. He grips it from either end, winding the leather about one hand. "And if that's where we are...well, not much to lose, is there?" He pushes himself away from the wall, to the center of the boat. He still seems unsteady...unused to sea travel, perhaps, but there is a determined grimace on his sallow features. He winds the other end of his belt around the other fist, making a crude garrote. He looks around. "Well, are you going to just stand there while we're condemned?"

[Gyrfalcon]

Anton curses his way through Celestial, Abyssal and Sylvan as his suspicions are confirmed. "Gods above, stay away from the railing, unless you want to lose your memories. This is the Styx, and we're floating our way merrily through the Hells.

Announcement made, he moves to the center of the boat and begins to concentrate, the air around him beginning to bend and warp as reality begins to distorte as his Eidolon begins to manifest.

[Cyclopean]

"Careful!" hisses Tezzanep, leaning towards Godric. "That is not a man. I saw his hands--no flesh, only bone."

[Recaiden]

Shaneir shrinks back an inch, startled by such a strongly secured mind. "Boatman? Where is our destination?"
She gets to her feet. That man with the belt has the right idea. Well, unless he plans to choke the boatman out - how embarrassing it would be to wrap a garotte around a skeleton's animate vertebrae! - but in the sense of not giving up.

"Actually, my memories seem a little bit...missing. No one saw me fall in the river or anything, did they?" Her eyes glance all around. How far is the shore? Is there really a shore of razor-cliffs and red rock that someone might reach, or is that more of a spiritual impression of hellish cruelty?

[Llewelyn]

The mention of the river water having an effect on memories made a few things click for Jasmine, though she tried to keep the realization from showing. Avoiding any overt hostile action like the others, she simply crossed her arms across her chest instead, shifting her weight slightly as she fell into a wary defensive stance. "I'd like to know the dark of where we're headed as well. As for our 'associate'," she said, her tone implying she believed the unknown person was anything but, "I don't supposed you happen to recall a name, or what they looked like?"

[Elaraiah]

The hooded figure continues pushing the small skiff forward through the sickening waters with his pole, but does respond to your inquiries. "My patron's identity is mine alone to know; though my fee for keeping such information private was enormous, your associate paid it nonetheless, and we of this place honor our contractual obligations. However, your destination is not so closely guarded! The figure laughs audibly, a horrible cackle punctuated by a well-timed crack of lightning from the ominous clouds above. Raising his right arm, the boatman gestures to what appears to be a shallow bank just around the upcoming bend of the river. Your eyes quickly scan the surrounding area for other creatures, civilizations, or any signs of inhabitants, but at least in the immediate vicinity, it appears you are to be stranded on an isolated shore. Further inland, you spot several spires of hellish rock which appear to have almost burst forth from the ground below, and which lead toward a series of mesas several miles away. Your eyes try to follow the river's course further ahead, but an eerie haze seems to hang over the waters and, as you look backwards to confirm, you find you can't even follow the entire distance the boat has traveled since you have awoken.

[Mahrke]

Godric Graves

Dropped off on an island in hell? Presumably to have their entrails feasted on by demons? "I'm afraid that's not on my docket today, friend." growls the justiciar in that dignified accent as he lunges forward with a short hop. Take him down. The silent encouragement is more than just optimism. For Godric, it wields actual power, and optimism turns into a sure thing. He loops the belt over the head of the creature with a broad-armed sweep, and lunges back, pulling with every ounce of his weight. He's not seeking to choke...but topple.

Spoiler: Actions

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Move: Aid Another Self (Grapple, +5)
Free 5' step towards Charon
Standard: Grapple

Spoiler

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Touch Attack: (1d20+13)[22]
CMB Check: (1d20+17)[34] (+2 if belt provides a circumstance bonus)

[Elaraiah]

Spoiler: Initiative

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Character	Initiative
Tezzanep	(1d20+11)[30]
Jasmine	(1d20+6)[22]
Anton	(1d20+5)[11]
Shaneir	(1d20+1)[7]
Boatman	(1d20+7)[13]

Godric will be set to last in the initiative order, as he just acted.

Preoccupied with transporting you to your aforementioned destination, the creature seemed unprepared for an attack from behind, and Godric finds himself able to successfully wrap his belt around the figure's neck, which he finds to be nothing but bone. Dropping his pole, he rotates his head with great difficulty just far enough for you all to get a glimpse of its skeletal visage, evil malevolence glowing from inside its empty eye sockets. "Hmm, it appears this one has some bite left in him after all..."

Spoiler: Godric

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Your grapple attempt is successful.

[Mahrke]

Godric Graves

Godric tightens his grip, pulling the creature back enough that it looks to be some sort of macabre limbo. He shouts to the others. "One chance! Seize it!"

[Gyrfalcon]

As Godric prepares himself to take his chance, Anton finishes his summoning, his Eidolon surging into existence once more around him, replacing the man with a small dragon. They open their eyes, and take in the boat and those standing on it, once more secure in their parternship. They take a moment to survey their companions and begin to share their opinions in their shared mental space.

The winged tigress... defiant, nervous, a strange accent.
The spawn of some red worm's fancy, but any dragon's blood will make her more powerful. A useful ally, perhaps.

A spider creature, small and it seems afraid.
Wise of it, where you've brought us. Still, it may be a ruse, to lower the guard of those around it. Best be wary of it.

The man... ragged, feral. We've seen enough of his type, desperate refuse.
Don't be too dismissive, mortal. This one draws strength from his desperation, not despair.

A woman, dressed in an Omek riding outfit. Who knows why she is here, or what she can do?
Hrrrrnnnn.... something is off. The others are obvious, but she is not. Be watchful of this one.

Their mental discourse is interrupted by Godric's attack on Charon, and the dragon growls, a subsonic rumble as the two struggle at the bow of the boat. "You fool! If we are to fight this battle for you, then you will owe us!"

The ferryman will not tolerate this. For whatever reason, we are all grouped together, and standing back will do us no good.
Yes, Vessel, I am aware. We are in the realm of devils now, and need all the allies we can gather... however foolish they may be.

Dahaki's wings snap open and begin to beat, the gusting air ruffling clothing, fur and hair as the dragon prepares to take to the air.

[Cyclopean]

Tezzanep hadn't expected the ragged man to be so successful. The cloaked thing terrified him, but with their numbers they just might be able to subdue him. He springs forward, but comes to a halt several feet away from the melee. He shoots a thick strand of sticky webbing at the ferryman, hoping he'll be too occupied with Godric to free himself.

Spoiler: Actions

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Tezzanep moves within 10 feet of the ferryman and makes a web attack. This resolves against the ferryman's touch AC--and since he hasn't acted yet, I assume he's flat-footed as well. Tez does suffer a -4 penalty for firing into melee.

Web Attack: (1d20+13)[20]

If successful, the target is entangled--it's a standard action to make a DC 17 Strength or Escape Artist check to get free.

[Llewelyn]

"Are ye barmy!?" Jasmine cried out as the man leapt at the boat's operator. "Who's going to run the boat if we take him down?" Still, the die had been cast, and any other choice had been taken out of her hands for the moment. Dashing forward, she ducked into a roll, taking her under the strands of web that shot out from the spider-like ettercap, and struck out with a clawswipe before coming back to her feet , hopefully with the skeleton creature squarely between her and the reckless Prime who had started the fracas.

Spoiler: Actions

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Using Maneuver: Offensive Roll
Rolling past him to try to get in a good flanking position if able - No AOOs from him due to grapple
Acrobatics vs AC check: (1d20+11)[28]
Using Inspiration if roll is between 8 and 14: (1d6)[6]
Damage if successful: (1d4+6)[10] claws + (1d6)[5] from the manuever + (1d6)[2] sneak attack if not immune to precision damage(due to the maneuver and/or flanking)

[Elaraiah]

Though somewhat impressed by Godric's gall, the ferryman's mood quickly turns sour as he finds himself coated in restraining webs from Tezzanep before Jasmine took advantage of his newly-reduced mobility, her claws slashing along his exposed side beneath Godric's arm. Her strike tears away part of the figure's robe, showing that much of her effort was wasted on empty space as naught but bones are revealed beneath the garment. Still, Jasmine is certain she made at least some contact.

With his head now turned partially to face the group, it is apparent from the horns and malevolent glow within its eye sockets that this is no mere skeletal servant. The ferryman's gaze meets each of your own, and your minds are briefly overwhelmed with a thousand visions of your own deaths, each more gruesome than the last. His hands (or claws, as is now apparent) flail out at Godric in an attempt to eviscerate the unexpected assailant. "Off with you, insect! Do not test my patience; coin will only buy it for so long!"

Spoiler: Will Saves (All)

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DC 21 or cower in fear for (1d6)[5] rounds (mind-affecting, fear)
Anton: (1d20+9)[17]
Godric: (1d20+6)[19]
Shaneir: (1d20+9)[29]
Jasmine: (1d20+5)[24]
Tezzanep: (1d20+9)[22]

Spoiler: Claw Attacks (Godric)

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2 claw attacks at -4 (-2 from grappled, -2 from entangled)
(1d20+16)[17] = (1d4+5)[6] + 1 negative level
(1d20+16)[31] = (1d4+5)[9] + 1 negative level

[Gyrfalcon]

The images flashing through Anton's mind were unpleasant and disturbing, but for Dahaki, the attack was even worse. Having already died in a horrific manner, all that happened was that his death was played out, over and over again, the indescribable feeling of having his soul ripped from his ruined body and torn to shreds. The draconic mind behind the Eidolon simply... shut down, and their form became locked in place, trapping Anton from doing anything to help.

[Mahrke]

Fear wasn't a stranger to the man...but to call this fear is a mockery. Fear of death, fear for the loss of loved ones and friends, fear of failure. This was nothing so natural, but a mind-killing, all-consuming paralyzation that just leaves the man with grip slack, gasping like a gutted fish aboard the boat, unable to so much as shake.

[Recaiden]

Oh. This is happening.

As the monster meets her gaze, Shaneir smiles wider and wider. When is one more alive than facing their death? More literally than usual, this time.
She races into the fight, taking an interesting route to get there. Bouncing from one side of the boat to the other, whirling around the combatants before showing up next to the boatman, crashing into him with enough force (hopefully) to throw him from the boat and into the river.

Spoiler: Actions

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Using Maneuver: Funhouse Waltz
Charging (100', no need to be in a straight line) into a Bull Rush. If he's no longer grappled because of the fear, this provokes an AoO
CMB: (1d2013+2)[1962]

If anything provokes a saving throw, I'll use the Inner Sense counter to get +2 on it.

[Llewelyn]

The sudden images washed through Jasmine's mind, but with some effort she shook them off. Though her memory was still cloudy, she had a vague sensation of having seen much worse happening to others. Concurrent with it was a slight sense of dismay - this was definitely no normal undead!

As the other woman slammed into the skeletal form, Jasmine suddenly recalled the pole floating nearby. Turning aside, she spread her wings and lifted off into the air, banking alongside the boat to snatch the pole out of the 'water,' before winging back around and landing safely on the deck once more. With weapon firmly in hand, she finally is able to take up a proper defensive stance, wary of what may happen next.

Spoiler: Actions

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Move action:
Turning sideways to take off at a 45 degree angle(uses 10')
Turned 45 degrees twice (+10' = 20' spent)
Down at a 45 degree angle again to get at the right height to retrieve the pole (+10' = 30')
Forward 10' to get the pole at whatever point in that length it is (+10' = 40')
Another double 45 degree turn (+10' = 50')
Flying up 45' and back over the boat again (+10' = 60')

Second move action to land, and if any further flight distance is needed to retrieve the pole and return.
Swift to assume Inner Sphere Stance - +2 DOdge AC and +2 Will

If he is on the boat still, doesn't count as grappled anymore, and tries an AOO on takeoff, using Half-Gone to avoid: (1d20+14)[21]
If he does AOO and the Half-Gone total is below 30, using Inspiration to add to it: (1d6)[5]

[Elaraiah]

Shaneir bobs and weaves between the other passengers, hoping to catch the ghastly figure off-guard and send him crashing into the Styx. However, the boatman motions as though prepared to sidestep the doppleganger at the last moment, causing Shaneir to second-guess herself and impact with far less force than she originally intended.

Spoiler: Shaneir

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Your bull rush attempt fails; your movement ends directly in front of the boatman. He does not take an attack of opportunity on you, having just been freed from the grapple and distracted temporarily.

The creature watches in amusement as Jasmine swoops down to retrieve the pole before landing on the skiff once again, wielding her makeshift weapon rather awkwardly. He then addresses you all."Attacking an unarmed ferrymen? Perhaps your associate didn't need to pay to arrange your transportation here; given time, I'm sure such actions would have condemned your souls to this place naturally! Now, return my pole and cease this foolishness before I forget my obligations and drown you all here and now."

[Gyrfalcon]

Anton's voice emerges from the frozen dragon, muffled and faint. "I think it best if everyone stops bothering the Boatman and we hand him back his pole. Hopefully he forgives us our desperate attempt to avoid our trip into the Hells, an understandable... mortal reaction."

[Cyclopean]

For a moment, it looks as though Tezzanep is going to charge the boatman, but he prostrates himself instead. "Forgive us, mighty one!" he cries, trembling. "We were frightened, confused, and foolish. Spare us, and if you wish I can mend your robes."

[Llewelyn]

As the skeletal being did not press the attack, Jasmine relaxed a bit. "You seem a right blood, and I'd rather not be put in the dead book quite so soon," she said as she switched her grip to toss the overly long pole to the ferryman. "Horrible balance anyways."