The Primeval Dark (IC)

[Toptomcat]

Walt Kincaid
The Hanging Men

"kh kh kh khhht"

Wait a minute. I'm not graying out. That's-

Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Smoke?

The hunter doesn't even have an instant to be relieved as one source of mortal terror is abruptly replaced by another.

"rrr. rrrrkrh."

Filled with a renewed sense of urgency, Walt gathers his strength and exerts an enormous effort of will to move something, anything.

It accomplishes absolutely nothing.

"khhht"

Why can't I smell it? ...oh. Of course. Because I can't breathe.

"Anyone out there!?"

An inkling of hope is kindled within Walt...before he minutely frowns, disliking the idea of having to be rescued.

Can't count on someone else to get me out if I can't even cry out to them. Come on, breathe, damn it! Or at least cough properly!

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

A sound in the dark. No, not just any sound. That's right, a voice. And not just one, but two. Yes, it would seem that he was not alone, there was someone alive out there. But friend or foe? He supposed it didn't matter in this circumstance, or it shouldn't, at any rate, but this place was a prison. If they had seen fit to throw his self here, then doubtless there could be those out there more bloodthirsty than he. That would certainly be fun, wouldn't it? He certainly couldn't disagree with that. Seems like it would be fine either way. He opened his mouth to call out, but, alas, even his larynx refused to cooperate. A single rattling breath wouldn't get anyone's attention, he supposed. Well, perhaps his finger was working now. He looked up. Alas, still nothing.

[Mornings]

[Willowbrook Sanitarium]
The mysterious man seemed to take note of the whisper from one of the cells off to the side, "Ah, it seems the others are in-fact, not dead. How pleasantly surprising." The lithe figured gestured while he talked with his hands, or rather, with his hand. His other limb hung unmoving at his side as if it were somehow broken or mangled. As Regina spoke the man immediately snapped out a response to his compatriot, almost cutting the woman short. "-Wonderful! You see Matik, we've found your niece after all." The massive blazing knight seemed less convinced, "Good sir, that is not what she said." The thin man gestured with a 'sword-singing-motion' at the bars, "Come now, you cut down the bars, and I'll carry your niece." The great mound of a man, visibly shook and fire belched forth from behind the metal of his helm as his words bit back to chastise the man with literal blistering heat. "You intrepid cur! I will not have some unrusticated rogue lay their filthy hands on my blood! Oh no, not today!"

It wasn't difficult to tell the man was trying to smother his laughter with his one good arm, though it was impossible to see his face while crippled upon the ground. The Thin-Man seemed to give a foreign curtsy, accepting the fiery invective graciously, while piloting their interaction, and the knight, Matik appeared to have bought in to the stranger's roundabout persuasions; or at the very least become too personally invested from the insult to say otherwise. "Apologizes, my lord. I meant no offense, but in your current.... state, I'm afraid you won't be capable of carrying anyone yourself. Least you light them aflame by your touch." Matik looked down at his massive steaming gauntleted hand, seeming to briefly take into account his own condition, and that he'd never hold another again. "....A minor inconvenience!" His bellowing voice threw cinders out in a puff of smoke. "Yes, of course. Now these bars? It's practical what you do, right? With your 'reality-bending-morning-light-saber' -or whatever the name was." Matik's flaming eyes seemed to grow brighter, like stoked coals. "Don't patronize me, Iman. The 'Light-Curving Saber' is a time-honored technique of the Dawnlight Blade, and my house. You have already seen it's terrible power." The Thin-Man, Iman, shrugged, "Actually, all I 'saw' was you throw us through a rift and nearly get us killed. That aside, the whole ordeal was rather plain-and-subtle compared to what the name implies." The giant flaming knight puffed up his chest and stamped left, then right, barely able to contain himself, "Aroden's beard!", he cursed. "I've heard it called many things, but I have never heard a man call the Dawnlight Blade, 'plain-and-subtle'!"

Iman took a step to his right to scoot away as Matik grasped the hilt of the equally massive bastard sword at his side. The metal hissed under his grasp. "Allow me then... To provide a minor, demonstration!" The knight seemed to strain to unsheathe his own weapon. The metal begun to glow red from the heat, and with a rasping-grating whine the blade slowly freed itself from its scabbard. Ash and hard carbon deposits broke free from the mouth of the container as the molten blade came into view shedding an eerie light through the smoke and dim illumination provided by some unseen fires. With a sharp motion the knight ripped the blade free of its place at his side and plunged the weapon through the metal of the doors lock. It passed through the solid steel without resistance, as if the wrought metal were nothing more than warm butter. The foreign man, Iman, looked at the sword, then at Matik, seemingly unimpressed. "....A hot-knife. Is that it?" Matik snorted a gout of fire, "Hardly!" Grasping the blade with both hands, he twisted it horizontal and slashed the sword through the door. It wasn't flames which ruptured out, but a brilliant and blinding flash of golden light that clove through the door, the bars, across the wall and slashing across the entrance of Machari's cell. The loud dull repetitive thuds of solid metal falling to the stone to ring upon the floor sounded all about them like some two dozen steel drums. Already caught up in his own display, Matik spun away with a marvelously executed, and well-rehearsed, flourish that brought hurtling through the air like a nimble-footed dancer, chasing after the light. A second blow place the tip of the blade into the wall and cut outwards, like a golfer's pitch, hurling another blade of cleaving light across Mirkys' cell bars.

The Thin-Man hadn't been watching, as Regina's cell became accessible, the man climbed inside, kneeling next to her and pointing a finger in her face; his voice no more than a whisper. "You will do exactly as I say, or I'll leave you to die with the idiot." Iman slipped out the the cell as the last bars of the aasimar's cell fell. Matik sheathed his sword slowly, throwing back his head with a booming laughter filled of sparks and ash. He turned back around as the Thin-Man begun to clap with one hand to his collar, as if he had been watching the whole time. "How did you like that!" Iman tried to sound vaguely surprised, "Yes, yes, most impressive, my lord. The power... The finesse... So that is the Dawnlight Blade." The large man seemed to strike a pose, putting a fist to his waist with his chest out, "Or at least one, of the many techniques. I hope you can now appreciate some small measure of it's power." Iman stopped clapping, quite done with the charade, or simply loosing patience with himself. "Right then. Lets go."

Matik looked down at the other cells he had just opened. "...What about the others? You can't carry them all with one good arm." The Thin-Man paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Are you mad? Of course we're not taking them all with us. It's already a mistake to take this one, but in light of your splendid battle-prowess, I'll make an exception." The knight looked at the man, then back at the cells again, "Then we leave them to die?" The Thin-Man cracked his neck with a tilt of his chin, he was loosing patience. "It's called a 'fighting chance', my lord. If I was locked in a cell in some tainted land, I would pray some kind-hearted soul would think well-enough of me, to at least free me from my imprisonment. Yes, they will likely perish, but such is the way of these places. You must know, that even in well-explored, well-documented regions that less than forty-percent of those who enter on an expedition actually come back out again. Those that do, are usually the same hardened veterans as the trip prior, with a handful of newly-blooded youths. Being assisted from confinement is one thing, but to expect to be brought along... that's asking far too much. Even alone, our chances are not the best. Trying to complete an expedition within an unexplored region puts the odds against us, and those odds grow more dire as we add further... factors, into the mix." Matik seemed to contemplate the words, evidently finding something about the whole proposition quite disagreeable. Iman looked back at Regina, to address her last question "Ah, yes. That's quite the story-" His words were interrupted by the knight, "-Then why allow my company, Iman?"

Iman was quiet for a moment, the gear could almost be heard turning in his head. "Quite frankly speaking, Matik. You're something of an exception, wrapped in an enigma. Or possibly one of the most courteous Veilbeasts I've ever met." The colossal knight reeled back, "I am no beast, I am a gentlemen!" The Thin-Man threw the ends of one of his scarves over his shoulder, "You're something more than that now. As a general rule-of-thumb, magical creatures and conventional extraplanar entities from outside cannot stabilize within tainted regions, and simply collapse in on themselves here. The fact that you can merely... exist, means that whatever you are now, is not drawn from something to this place... In that regard, we're alike, you and I. At the very least, I can say our engagement came with... less risks, and more assurances. In either case, taking the others puts your niece at great risk. You simply cannot save everyone, they'll have to work to save themselves. You'll have to make peace with that truth if you hope to stop those things most precious to you from slipping out from between your fingers. Now... Let's go."

It took some time, but eventually the knight seemed to begrudgingly accept his predicament. Iman once again turned his attention back to Regina, "Apologizes, you'll have to accept the abridged version of this tale... According to your uncle, he received a revelation while he was on his... quest? -Was it a quest?" The last question was directed at the somber Matik, who was pulled away from his brooding after recalling the thoughts of his journey. "Ho, yes indeed! A divine quest delivered down to my by the herald of the gods. The elite knights of the Dawnlight Scripture were charged with the task of defeating the Ember Beast, who dwells somewhere far before!" The name had sparked Miryks' memory, but it was difficult to recall the faces of sheep. Those possessed no knights, or real militant forces to speak of, but were of some relation to the Purifiers; and they needed answers from men, just like anyone else. Iman paused, "A named Veilbeast? Is that what did 'this', to you? -It appears there was more to this story than I thought." The last bit was directed back at Regina, as the foreign man worked to help sit her upright against a wall. It was the first time she had seen either man's face. Iman was as mysterious as he had sounded. A Vudrani-man, wrapped in deep blue heavy worn cloth and scarves. None of his skin was visible, and even his eyes were covered by a thick pair of study goggles that ran flush with the tight turban which cowled the top of his head. While Matik.... was a monster.

At first it was easy to be deceived by the towering suit of plated metal, but it didn't take long to realize; there was nothing inside.Only fire. The knight threw back his head and laughed a bellowing chuckle of ash and smoke which blasted free from cracks in his helm. "Hohoho, yes indeed! He was one wily bastard, of that you can be sure! But I did give him quite the good walloping!" The Thin-Man didn't say anything for a moment, "-But did it not murder your fellow knights and defeat you?" Matik scoffed at his companion's lack of faith, "Heavens no! A few strikes of my blessed sword did end him rightly! Of course, it was only after that we learned the one who landed the felling blow would assume the curse and become the Ember Beast. It was quite the surprise!" His thundering chuckle seemed to contradict the stories bad end. "So... I'm assuming your compatriots somehow found a way to resurrect the original creature, or at least find a method to transfer the curse to another.... and somehow in all that, you were left like that." The blazing man nodded firmly, "Something like that."

Iman looked back at Regina, "Something like that... In either case, my name is Baird Iman. I am a Harrier for the Warren Trading company. Formerly a Surveyor, but well, things didn't work out. I ceased going on Dives some time ago, fortunately, my time in the Corps has still kept me able enough to navigate this nightmare." The documentation and testing of tainted regions was an extremely hazardous job. One that did not fall to Gales or mercenaries, but the Surveyor Corps, who were employed by countries to map and document the changes to their lands and provide detailed accounts of theres areas on a surface-level. Surveyors did not 'dive' into tainted land in the manner like the Gales had become known for. Which is why they tended to stay alive far longer than their counter-parts. Documents and reports from the Corps were available to anyone for purchase, while general hazards and information pertaining to an area was freely available. For mercenary groups, these formed a critical foundation for research to prepare for an expedition, and results were often carefully verified for accuracy. Surveyors were highly trained and had access to a great deal of unique tools which allowed them to navigate and explore tainted regions while gathering an assortment of data. Many companies offered absorbent amounts of money to try and convince Surveyor's to leave the Corps and work as free-agents, known as 'scouts', or more properly, Deep Surveyors. As was common, most didn't last very long, but they at least died as rich men. It was extremely unusual for even an Ex-Surveyor to no longer work in the same field, but instead become a full-fledged mercenary.

"So I'll keep this simple for you. You're in the middle newly created tainted land... and it's large. I'm still not completely sure just how big, but large enough for my employers and myself to get caught up in it. It happens." Matik rested an arm on his sheathed blade, "You mean to say that these places can simply... pop up, without warning?" The Vudrani man nodded, "Not exactly without warning, but most don't have the means to detect rising levels of corruption early. Since increased levels don't necessarily mean that an area will become tainted, or that it'll even happen anytime soon, most choose to ignore it; like in the case of the traders I was accompanying. A mistake they won't make a second time. Now-" Iman paused, considering what he wanted to say, "You're Matik's niece, so i'll make an exception on his behalf... but there's rules. We don't know the environmental conditions of this sector, or any other really. What rough idea we have has been gathered through trial and error, and it's luck alone that's kept us alive through that. So... Here's how this is going to go. You don't use anything you've never used in this sector before. No fancy powers. No magic. No sin runes. No witchcraft, psychic mumbo-jumbo, power words, fey lines, holy stuff, channeled energy, arcane bonds, things with magic creature, magical disguises, scrolls, wands, rings, staves, or any other kind of weird magic tools. No ungrounded magic, or supernatural crap of any kind. If you store things in dimensional spaces, better off leaving them inside to be safe. Matik already blew my arse through damn near three dimensions getting here, and I'm done with any more unplanned planar-foray's, are we clear?" The colossal knight cleared his throat, a sound which was more reminiscent of a rasp upon a heated anvil, "Four..." The Thin-Man looked over his shoulder at the knight, "....What?" Matik paused then took a moment to clarify, "You said 'three'. It was actually four 'planar-forays', as it were. Damn exciting too!"

The Vudrani man wiped the building ash from his goggles with a thumb and pointer finger in silence, before looking back at Regina. "My apologizes. He's thrown me through four dimensional rifts cleaving reality and existence... So if you would like to remain firmly planted here, in the wonderful realm of the prime material. Please, please, listen to my warnings and don't fawk this up. Wonderful." Matik crossed his arms, "It would be much appreciated if you ceased using such base language in front of my niece!" Baird sighed. It was difficult to imagine just what all the man had been through if what he said was true, but evidently tolerating the differences between himself and the great knight, Matik, was at least productive when measured against the alternative. It spoke volumes of the greater dangers which lay in wait beyond.


Regina tried to recall what she knew in the midst of the seemingly never-ending banter exchanged between Iman and Matik. Beneath the mind numbing cloud of the curse, it had been difficult to even process true and meaningful thought in the thick of it, but she remembered. It had been brief. Many Inquisitors had dragged her through the hall by thick adamantine chains, muzzled and wild. 'She's too dangerous to keep here. Put her below.' Were the words, as she remembered them. It had been an insignificant instance in the scope of it all, but still, she remembered. The girl with red hair. [Regina | Knowledge (Local) - Success]

The noble house of Artel was far less commonly heard than it had been in some years past. It was difficult to recall the exact specifics, as much of it remained smothered within the whispers of the House of Lords, but the once-proud Artel family had violently split after a falling out between two brothers. The result of which created the now famous and proud House of D'Alice and House Artel as once-again, separate entities. In some centuries past, the families had joined in wedlock, and came about as the modern Artel House, but after the alleged kidnapping and murder of the Lady Roslen Alery, a bloody feud begun. Rumor had it that Lady Alery was to wed the eldest, which would have upset the balance between the two men who viciously competed amongst themselves for recognition amongst the peerage. Perhaps Lady Alery had simply been a casualty in the in-fighting, or merely a ploy used to pit both brothers at each others throats. The truth remained fleeting even til this day. However, one thing was certain, the power now wielded by House D'Alice was enormous. So much so, that the D'Alice forces won a stunning victory during the civil-war which swept through Magnimar during a time known as 'the upheaval'. Lord-Mayor Grobaras and his loyalist forces were soundly defeated in a mere day, but it was a savage and violent battle which left thousands of civilians dead. The battle which had been fought had been come to be known as the 'Night of Tears'. The girl with red hair. [Regina | Knowledge (Nobility) - Success]

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Mirykys
HP 37/37
AC 17
⭍ [Helpless]

֍ Machari
50/50
AC 18
⭍ [Helpless]

֍ Regina
HP 53/53
AC 19
⭍ [Helpless]
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Mayli Artel +25 (25xp)
⯎ House D'Alice +50 (75xp)
⯎ House Artel +25 (100xp)
⯎ Lady Roslen Alery +100 (200xp)
⯎ The Night of Tears +50 (250xp)

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3B (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot understand.

Common rules which Gales are familiar include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet, that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter than a single magician would often need multiple Grounds as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures, like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3B: Sector 1B - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

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Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

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The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

---

Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1
Long ago the Auspex had spoken of the four years which had come and gone from behind the bars of their cages. It was impossible to know just how long it had been since then, but if there was any lesson to be had in all of it, it was that 'time was meaningless'. Strength had begun to return to them. The future was their own to command if they could just wrest it free from the dead-hands of the hell named 'Willowbrook'. That was what they had to keep telling themselves. They said it over and over again until it became truth, the only truth that mattered. It had to be that way, because if they allowed themselves to slip, they would be faced with the terror of another reality too horrible to defeat. Then the 'nothing' which loomed above them like the executioner's axe, would fall. Then they too would join it; and this time, there would be no return.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 49 Minutes
Primary Objective (1): Flee Sector 1B
Primary Objective (2): Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium

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Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below
Lord Matik recounts his battle with a horrid and powerful creature, a horror known as the Ember Beast. Whatever the secrets of its power, it has transformed the knight into something inhuman and unnatural. Something sleeps far below the asylum, a terror steeped in blood and fire. Perhaps the secrets to the infernal warrior's own cursed disposition lay somewhere buried in the deep, or perhaps there was only death. Only one thing was certain; the creature was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had to be stopped.
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Defeat the Ember Beast

---

[Deadguy]

Regina
Abominable Queen

They prattled on like an old married couple. Still, bits of the conversation were useful in sharpen Regina's mind by recalling various items within their argument. She had a critical decision to make at that very moment.

On the one hand, if she became this Mayli Artel it meant a much easier escape from this situation. While her information about the family was sorely outdated, she was almost certain that they would not have risen very much higher in power with D'Alice so firmly entrenched. Having the support of nobility of any kind would allow her to more quickly establish herself, and the identity would protect her from the Club. Additionally, her Uncle seemed to be a survivor of curse transferal. It wasn't an immediate need, but understanding that process would be vital to true freedom later.

On the other hand, claiming the woman's identity held risk. She could have enemies waiting on the outside that Regina would be completely blind to, not to mention an active internal family feud. Being discovered would no doubt bring Matik's wrath down upon her.

Her eyes looked down the corridor as she nodded in understanding to Iman's instructions. She gave a shuddered breath and pushed herself up. The muscles of her legs twitched and spasmed beneath the unfamiliar strain. She motioned down to her pack laying on the floor, almost sure that she would topple over if she tried to retrieve it herself.

"Is the entire facility ablaze?" Her speech had made a dramatic improvement over her last labored words. "The lower levels held... or hold the most dangerous prisoners and creatures. If they gain freedom, things will go from bad to worse."

[forg99rules]

She held her hands up defensively when the Bista spun around at her. The phrase that it spoke to her made her start to rethink what she was doing. Why did she want to know more about this Hero of theirs, it held no real meaning to her at all. Shaking her head she lowered her hands and sighed again. Hearing Tenebris speak perked her spirits up a bit, till she heard what the woman was saying. It seems that Tenebris as well sided with the Bista and that she thought it would be best to leave this place as it was to dangerous for her and if she was seen by the wrong being then she could get destroyed.

Holding out her hand to the Bista, "I am sorry I wasn't thinking clearly, the pain from my wounds has been clouding my mind. If you would send me on then I can get out of your way and hopefully nothing bad will happen to you or your people for meeting me." She held her hand waiting to see what the Bista would do, ready to pay whatever price the creature needed to transport her to the Fextin world.

Spoiler: OOC

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Paying the 1 Mana should the Bista try to send me to the Fextin world

[Mornings]

Something was mounting inside them. A familiar tangling sensation. Feeling. Life. For each of them, laying... hanging, where they had been left by the hands of their captors so long ago, life had been filled with grim struggle; yet now here, at this moment, they could feel the dull budding warmed. A spark. It was buried deep and secreted away in the darkness, but their hearts still remembered. Life was a fire now desperately struggling to reignite. It was the shudder of Walt's lungs desperately crying for air. It was the strain and agony of Erik's flesh. It was the dull throbbing of Kazik's wrists, slowly bleeding gently into his consciousness.

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

A surprised gasp sounded from somewhere else, wherever the stranger remained incarcerated. He coughed a few times before he managed to find any words, the smoke was beginning to run thick. "Gods be good! Faux? -Mr. Faux... Damn, it's damn good to hear someone else's voice beside my own. My name's Balin Crofte. I'm a Surveyor, a pretty good one too! I don't know how you're hanging in there, but maybe we could help each other." The smoke pouring in, though there was no clear and evident source of fire visible, despite the lights which filtered in from somewhere else. Strangely enough, there was no significant sensation of heat. Sometimes patches of it seemed to sweep by like gouts of warmth, or pockets of air were being swept aside; but no fire. "So, here's my proposition Mr. Faux. You spring me out, and I'll guide us out of this place. This entire area has been swallowed up by corruption, it's been flooded with the stuff for years. I tried to warn the Inquisition, but apparently this place was supposed to be a secret, so they locked me up for my efforts. Now this whole goddam place is a tainted labyrinth of death. I'm not saying it's impossible for you to manage on your own or anything, but it doesn't hurt to stack the odds in your favor either, right? I'm not much of a fighter, so getting some help works out for me as well. What do you say, Mr. Faux? Do we have a deal?"

As they say, where there's smoke, there's fire. Yet, Erik didn't see any fire. Things were burned, and other things burning... No fire. Occasionally he could feel heat briefly sweep by without a source. The stone of his cell wasn't even warm... The Stone. It was such a subtle difference, he hadn't even noticed it. The cells which they had been held within had been hewed from some ancient quarry of sandstone, who knew how many years ago. It had given the place a very rough but practical look to it, and been complete torture to lay sprawled out upon. It's familiar tanish color was now completely absent. The floor was lightly burned and colored in an eerie unnatural red tarnish, but it wasn't the blood. He hadn't remembered bleeding so profusely. If he had, then he would have lost his mind like the rest. This blood wasn't his. Yet, he had never shared a cell. He had been the space's only occupant for many years, but still the stain was there. Old and mysterious atop the crimson-colored walls and floor. It was was if an entire shade had been washed over the world, or film had been taped over his eyes. No abandoned sanitarium was going to paint itself. Something had changed. It was a bad sign that only further evidenced what this man, Balin, had said to be true. Willowbrook had been tainted, and now they were caught square in the middle of it. What rotten luck. [Erik | Perception & Survival - Partial]

Spoiler: Status

Show

֍ Faux
HP 33/33
AC 19
⭍ [Staggered] [roll0] Rounds

֍ Erik
HP 37/37
AC 23
⭍ [Helpless]
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ The crimson lair +25 (25xp)
⯎ Corruption of Willowbrook +25 (50xp)
⯎ Smoke without fire +50 (100xp)

֍ Kazik
HP 58/58
AC 20
⭍ [Helpless]

֍ Walt
HP 43/43
AC 19
⭍ [Helpless]

Spoiler: Influences

Show

Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3A (About Tainted Lands)

Show

Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot fully understand.

Common Sector 'rules' which Gales are familiar with include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet; that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter that a single magician would often need multiple Grounds, as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures. Like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3A: Sector 1A - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

Show

Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

Show

The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

[Stevesciguy]

Erik
The Hanging Men

"A surveyor. Excellent"

With a grunt, Erik finally stands upright. Wasting no time, he reaches for his belt pouch, reattaching it at his right hip and digging through it to find what would hopefully be his way out - a skeleton key. If the builders of this prison were lazy, the locks would be similar to those in civilian households, allowing Erik to bypass the lock. If they did their job correctly, he'd need another way out.

A moment later, a deep, militant voice booms out from his cell.

"If you value your life, do not use any magical abilities you may possess. As Crofte said, this area is heavily tainted.
Crofte, note the floors and walls, tinted crimson as if seen through a filter. Here in my cell, there are bloodstains that aren't mine. Also note that this smoke doesn't have a source. No heat, no fire, just smoke. Does that give you any clues about the nature of this particular Sector or Point?

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Staggered: only one move or Standard action per round.

I rolled a 1 on the d3 in the OOC thread, so this is my only staggered round.

I rolled a 3 on the d4 for movement speed, so my move speed is currently 15ft

Move action: pick up belt pouch and retrieve skeleton key

I'd also like to roll a sense motive check on Crofte, to see if maybe he's hiding something/a figment of the corruption:
(1d20+7)[24]

[Toptomcat]

Walt Kincaid
The Hanging Men

I've been putting maximum effort and maximum panic into getting up since the moment I awoke. Would relaxing help?

A moment's stillness- and something within his chest seems to catch just so:

"khak khak koff koff koff hhaaAACK HAAAARGLF"- *splatch*

A protracted and deeply unhealthy-sounding bout of coughing racks Walt's body, finally expelling a grotesque and intricately-shaped blood clot- a cast of the air passages in the man's lungs, stained queer colors by whatever gunk accumulated in the years the curse had left him to rot. Slowly, infinitely painfully, he rolls to his stomach and forces himself up on all fours.

"We're all..."

He makes a face like he's swallowed something nasty: his voice is barely audible, and what there is of it sounds like he's been gargling with sandpaper. He braces himself against a wall: more coughing ensues.

"hack hack hurkf. Uurrgh. We're in this together. Every one of you is getting out: no matter why you're here, no one deserves to be left to die in a Tainted Land. I'd help even if you hadn't asked- and I'll put a bullet between his shoulder blades of anyone who tries to leave any one of us behind. Getting out of this with our hides intact will take nothing less: as of- haargh- as of this instant, and until we all escape, we are brothers.

Seems like you've been conscious longest. Seen anything we've missed?"

Walt takes in his immediate surroundings- for now, focused not so much on the specifics of how and why this Land is Tainted, but more on his immediate resources. His things are strewn around his cell: in what condition? What's where? Does anything seem to be missing- or added? In what condition are the door, the bars, the lock? (Is it open? Trying to force an open cell door would be embarrassing.)

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Staggered for this round and the next: spending a move action to stand up.

Perception: (1d20+10)[13]
Survival: (1d20+12)[17]

[flat_footed]

Miryk's eyes were starting to pick up more of the light. As life flowed through him again, his broken body began to respond and he was barely able to muster the will to turn his head. A broken form remained hunched over in each of the cells to his left, and the visiting pair seemed most concerned with the one furthest from him. The chittered back and forth like squirrels, until a blazing sword came into view. Miryks half expected the blade to slice deep into the other, but the lamb sought a matched foe. The clatter of iron bars hitting the ground, almost drowned out the squeaks of indignation. A smile graced Miryk's lips as the blinding light continued it's path down the hall, eventually severing the bars on his own cage. Miryk's eyes widened in surprise as flames, not flesh, filled the suit that broke his bars.

The pair resumed their scolding, but this time there was value to their words. They were in an undocumented tainted region, the scale of which was currently unknown. The fools had thrown logic to the wind and had blown themselves through four planes. The flaming suit of armor was likely the cause of the burning, the way he blustered and paraded around.

As his eyes grew used to the shadows, it was with a small note of displeasure that Miryks saw the broken body in that third cage rise and stagger to its feet. Whatever foul curse was upon them was starting to wane. Miryks allowed himself another small smile, noting that his body was responding more fluidly now. He managed to stagger to his feet, before his head started to swim and he fell to one knee.

Patience, said the voice. Strength will come.

While his body still recovered, Miryks allowed his mind to take in the scene. His vision now almost restored, his gaze cut through the gloom as easily as if they were under a cloudless sky in the midday sun. The key to survival was to recognize the path, see the pitfalls before your feet found them. The lambs continued to bleat while Miryks allowed his eyes to tell a much greater story.

[Triskavanski]

Sheet

"Don't use magic you say? Advisable at the very least, there is a reason..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Excellent, we have more voices in the dark here. In case you have not managed to hear, I am Faux Paw. Perhaps you've heard of me back when I was the talk of the town? I don't know what time it is currently, nor do I know what troubles we may be facing here soon, but as a phantom thief its important to first make a declaration when you're about to steal something difficult. At the very least something to get used to having hands.. I mean functional hands again. "

He takes a moment to stretch, bouncing on his feet for a moment. "At whatever time it is, at this place, I'll steal you all away from this place." He takes a moment to assesses the situation before moving to the door to attempt to unlock it with his picks.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Lets make some skill checks here real quick.
Know Arcana (1d20+7)[9] (Not using Aura for int skill since that is a SU) vs Immediate area within 10 feet of faux paw
Know Engineering (1d20+7)[13] vs Immediate area within 10 feet of faux paw
Spellcraft (1d20+8)[26]vs Immediate area within 10 feet of faux paw
Perception (1d20+12)[21]vs Immediate area within 10 feet of faux paw
Disable Device (1d20+14)[29] vs cell lock

The rolls are to assesses the situation before moving to the door to attempt to unlock

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

No magic? Well, that suited him just fine, he'd never had a head for it. Perhaps that had made him less of an adherent, not to pick up shadowbinding, but as far as the man was concerned the mere seconds it took to make a silly hand gesture were all it took to meet a bloody end. Still, tainted lands were nothing to laugh about, if memory served. Yes,you've been trained for this, haven't you? That's right, it was coming back to him now. He'd been that woman's property for but a year, but even that time was a few months longer than the average Gale survived under her command. He could hear other voices now, had they been her property as well? My my, so this is where she sends her dirty untouchables. Interesting. Yes, interesting.

The man always favored his chances against men, but corruption was another matter entirely. Perhaps he'd have to stoop to a humble alliance to get out of here in one piece. Well, he'd have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

But oh! What was this? The man looked up at his hand. Finally, a response! His fingers were finally twitching, and the numbness in his body replaced itself with pins and needles. Ah, how intoxicating it was to feel again, as the pins gave way to a dull throbbing across the length of his form. But no, time will come for that later. Yes, he must find his way out. He tried pulling his wrist free from the shackles, but alas, such was not an easy feat. Of course, he'd already known that wouldn't work, otherwise he'd have been free long ago, but it didn't hurt to take some exploratory measures. He noticed that his fingernail were rather long. Unsurprising, but maybe if he chipped them enough, they could pierce the skin of his palm, allowing him to use the blood as lubricant.

The man flexed his fingers; still stiff, but they could do, if need be. Except that it's a terrible idea. Yes, perhaps he was just eager to wound himself. Lord only knows what vile corruption could seep into his opened flesh. He looked up again, past his fingers this time to inspect the chains themselves. Even beyond the rust, they still seemed solid, but what of their anchor? Was it a trick of the light, or did the masonry itself seem cracked? It had been supporting his weight all this time, and no one had ever come to maintain his cell, from what he could recall of his waking memories.

Bingo.

[Mornings]

[Willowbrook Sanitarium]
Matik threw back his head and bellowed a thunderous combustion of laughter as he made his way back in front of Regina's cell. "Fear not sweet child, there is no man here that might best my sword!" Iman raised a hand in the knight's direction to shut the smoldering creature up, it was impossible to read his covered face, but his tone was far more serious. "Below, you say? ...Willowbrook is a single-story facility. I checked the floor plans.... unless." DING. The chime of a strange bell's chirp spun off and rebounded off the walls with a sudden and unexpected cry. It was a sound which had not come from anywhere, and the source of its origin remained impossible to guess. Matik looked around, "Ho, yes! The bird again. Does that mean, we're to set off upon another foray? I was beginning to tire of the pleasantries." "Sheit." The Vudrani man cursed under his breath. He sharply glanced about, poking his head out of the cell to look down both sides of the hall. "Change of plans. We need to get out of here now. We'll bring the others."

With an elegant motion he pulled off one of the many scarves from his garb and tossed it to the burning man. Matik caught the garment without giving it a thought before fumbling with it upon realization that it would probably ignite; it didn't. "Oh! Your clothes do not burn?" Iman waved him away, "Not all of them. Wrap that around the others, you'll drag them. The big man nodded in agreement as he turned and marched away, talking aloud as he went, "While I could not be happier with your new-found generosity, I must admit I am quite surprised. You're a shrewd man, Iman. I can't say I've ever seen you accept an unnecessary personal risk for the benefit of another. Why the sudden change of heart?" The great towering man stormed into Machari's cell, grabbing a broken piece of wood which ignited within his grasp like a match. Quickly, using it to roll the girl over unto and end of the scarf as the flame worked its way down the wood, he secured the garment around the girl and dragged her out nonchalantly. "You misunderstand, sir. I always act in my personal interest. This is no different." He nodded at Regina, as he assisted her off the ground, securing her arm over his neck with one hand. "Sorry, girl. We've got to be moving now." Iman was filthy, but in comparison to herself, he might as well have been fresh from the bath. The soles of her shoes pulled out from the muck with a sickening 'pop'; a mixture of dirt, clay and human excrement. The man didn't seem to pay the stench of the place any mind, and it was doubtful that Matik even possessed a physical nose any longer in his current state. With a strained step the thin Vudrani man dragged them both out from the enclosure of the cell; and it was liberating.

Miryks looked around as best he was able, it wasn't the darkness which obscured his vision, but the billowing clouds of choking smoke, growing thicker with each passing moment. It was the first time he noticed the crimson tint to the world about him, the stone had been painted with a shade of red... or perhaps it was the entire world. There were small patches of dried blood which was not his own, or anyone's for that matter. None other save for himself had been locked away in his four-corners of hell. There was fire, he could see it... but those were the same flames he'd seen before. The same roiling, smokeless flames climbing the walls and licking the ceiling as before. They did not move from their place, nor burn away at the surfaces from which they clung. The ground about him had already been charred, despite being absent of fire to leave such damage. Sometimes he could still feel the heat, it passed by like invisible spheres of warmth to remind him of the sense of a burning hall, then pass on and leave him cold once again. It wasn't natural. [Mirykys | Perception & Survival - Partial]

Regina had only heard of the 'dawnlight blade' in passing. It was a somewhat obscure reference which often attributed itself back to the Dawnlight Scripture, an order of Purifiers which were nearly wiped out of existence during the Witch Hunts. Within their order existed a sacred path of swordsmenship passed down from master to apprentice. A weapon capable of striking with the mighty power of heavenly light to banish evil and purge foul magics from the world. The secret of the dawnlight techniques were not inherited by each member. Only a small handful of warriors earned that honor. Before the defeat of the order, those who wielded this weapon were anointed within their order as 'knights' of the Scripture, and were thus powerful members within the community of Purifiers. The last knight of the Dawnlight Scripture perished with nearly the entire order to successfully apprehend the first, and only supposed 'veil-witch' during the Witch Hunt era, the nightmarish and fearsome, Efal of Nine Talons. [Regina | Knowledge (Religion) - Partial]

The term had quite the ring to it, curse transference. Yet, it was the first time she had ever heard of a Veilbeast ever turning someone else into a Veilbeast, even more shocking was the proposition that it perhaps turned others into itself. Sadly, the world simply didn't know what Veilbeasts even were. The truth of them was elusive, and often they didn't leave corpses behind to even examine further; but the results of defeating the things wildly varied from region to region, or apparently, even from beast-to-beast. She had heard of men becoming infected with veilplague upon defeating such creatures, or even the bodies bursting into smoke or light. While she couldn't know for certainty if it was true, she had once even heard of Veilbeast corpses leaving behind so-called 'relics'. Devices of some strange power or influence tied to something related to the creatures. It wasn't something most people were familiar with, simply another mystery in a world full of mysteries. [Regina | Knowledge (Arcana) - Partial]

At first, looking upon the great knight of flame, she had believed that he was, perhaps, some manner of elemental entrapped within a suit of armor. That deduction was perhaps the furthest thing from the truth. He had been a man once, perhaps very long ago by the way he spoke and his mannerisms. At the least he had not seen the world since before the Witch Hunts. No, it might have been closer to say that his physical-self, his body at least, was gone and his soul had been bound to this new form... but even this was not accurate, only a closer comparison. She was no stranger to soul bindings and soul transference, she had research tirelessly towards that end to find an answer for Vanessa. This was none of those things. While she couldn't begin to guess at the intricacies of how the curse had altered the man's physical makeup, it had somehow also changed the signature of what the host might interpret or understand as a 'soul', or some other metaphysical consciousness. Without a doubt, whatever had happened had killed him. Incinerated the flesh, leaving no mortal host for which the soul could return to. The remains had somehow been changed, sealing whatever essence the Ember Beast possessed, creating some manner of artificial simulacrum radically different from anything she'd ever heard of. Whatever the curse had done had not been entirely undone when Matik's companions reversed the transference, and it had changed the host again... somehow. It didn't make any sense, not to any sane mind at least, but perhaps the truth was not a sane answer. Matik, or at least whatever he was, could have been evidence of something else. For as long as she could remember, the components were simply divided into the simply trinity; mind, soul and body. What if they were wrong? What if there was no trinity, but something else far more complex. She could feel it. There was an answer out there, somewhere, a secret to something far greater than the fragments of the mortal animal they had come to know and understand... If only she could reveal it. [Regina | Knowledge (Planes) - Failed]

Spoiler: Status

Show

֍ Mirykys
HP 37/37
AC 17
⭍ [Staggered]
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Red Stones +25 (25xp)
⯎ The Fires of Willowbrook +25 (50xp)

֍ Machari
50/50
AC 18
⭍ [Helpless]

֍ Regina +25 (275xp)
HP 53/53
AC 19
⭍ [Staggered]
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Dawnlight Blade +25 (300xp)
⯎ Dawnlight Scripture +25 (325xp)
⯎ Knight Purifiers +25 (350xp)
⯎ Efal of Nine Talons +200 (550xp)
⯎ Curse Transference +50 (600xp)
⯎ Veilbeast Death +50 (650xp)
⯎ Veilbeast Relics +100 (750xp)
⯎ Changed State +50 (800xp)

Spoiler: Influences

Show

Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3B (About Tainted Lands)

Show

Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot understand.

Common rules which Gales are familiar include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet, that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter than a single magician would often need multiple Grounds as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures, like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3B: Sector 1B - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

Show

Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

Show

The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

---

Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1
Long ago the Auspex had spoken of the four years which had come and gone from behind the bars of their cages. It was impossible to know just how long it had been since then, but if there was any lesson to be had in all of it, it was that 'time was meaningless'. Strength had begun to return to them. The future was their own to command if they could just wrest it free from the dead-hands of the hell named 'Willowbrook'. That was what they had to keep telling themselves. They said it over and over again until it became truth, the only truth that mattered. It had to be that way, because if they allowed themselves to slip, they would be faced with the terror of another reality too horrible to defeat. Then the 'nothing' which loomed above them like the executioner's axe, would fall. Then they too would join it; and this time, there would be no return.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 49 Minutes
Primary Objective (1): Flee Sector 1B
Primary Objective (2): Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium

---

Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below
Lord Matik recounts his battle with a horrid and powerful creature, a horror known as the Ember Beast. Whatever the secrets of its power, it has transformed the knight into something inhuman and unnatural. Something sleeps far below the asylum, a terror steeped in blood and fire. Perhaps the secrets to the infernal warrior's own cursed disposition lay somewhere buried in the deep, or perhaps there was only death. Only one thing was certain; the creature was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had to be stopped.
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Defeat the Ember Beast

---

[Deadguy]

Regina
Abominable Queen

Regina's contemplation of the fabric of life was interrupted by Iman's sudden change in plans. Her mind snapped back to the present situation just in time to scoop up her bag before being hefted by the mysterious Vudrani. "Unless... what?" While she could perceive how her statement might cause some confusion based on assumed knowledge from studying architectural plans, she failed to see how it could so drastically change his attitude toward the danger of bringing additional people.

That repetitive chiming was also a mystery. In her four years inside that cell, she had never heard such a thing. A bird? She doubted that very much. Freed of the cell, she hefted her head up to better view her surroundings. Being carried like a sack was the very essence of pitiful, but it did give her time to focus on her surroundings instead of making her body cooperate.

Being carried also allowed her to return to Matik's state. Iman had said that he was an anomaly because extraplanar creatures could not maintain their form while inside a tainted region. That would mean that he had assumed the same as she about Matik's composition. Her brow quirked and she tried desperately to turn even slightly to view the bundled man better. In that regard, we're alike, you and I... Those had been his words.

[Mornings]

"Whoa! There's more of you after all. That's reassuring!" As the men spoke out from their cells, a dull ringing sounded again-and-again. The ring of metal. Then it stopped. "Good to have you on board, Mr. Gunman. Though I wish I had a name to go with the voice." The ring sounded again, then a sharp crack. "Smokeman's got good eyes. It's as he says, there's smoke but no fire, and some things are changed. That's because we're on an 'Array'." The term wasn't unfamiliar, it was often quoted in technical reports in new tainted regions documented by the Corps. Reports within their own organization didn't break down the definitions of their own terminology, but often acquiring these reports first was extremely profitable for a mercenary company such as the Club. It might have been a word they had seen before, but what it actually meant still remained elusive. Fortunately, they had an extremely rare opportunity having a Surveyor in their midst to elaborate. "If you've seen preliminary reports from the Corps, you may be familiar with the term. It means that a sector, or perhaps even multiple sectors have not yet the threshold to 'Agglutinate', or merge into a single defined space within region. This happens with all newly forming tainted regions, and regions which are violently chaotic, that never reach the threshold. The smoke, the fire, the strange colors, all of it; it means we're somewhere on a Full Array, which is like having a stack of up to twenty-four iterations of the exact same sector. Every environmental resource, from walls, tables, creatures and even time are randomly distributed across the Array. It's pretty complicated, I'm not gonna lie, but that's the abridged version. The physical fires burning things have been divided up across all these different copies of this area, just like the smoke, when they burned things, and a bunch else."

The man took a moment to gather his thoughts and collect himself, "Standing on Arrays is extremely bad. Honestly, it might be one of the worst scenarios to find yourself in the middle of when it comes to newly forming regions. They're incredibly complex, difficult to navigate... they change frequently... and you run the risk of being caught in 'Collapse'." Crofte's last word's seemed to drag out with some hesitant consideration. Gales didn't dive in regions which hadn't settled, so there was very little consideration for some of the factors the man had presented; except for the last. In a mercenary's vocabulary, the term 'collapse' only meant one thing. Death. Before a Gale dived, they ensured they brought no known factors which negatively influenced all known sector's stability; an arbitrary term they borrowed from the Surveyors, which simply meant some manner of structural health in a sector. When stability dropped too low, you had a 'collapse', and everything died. That might not have been the definition that scouts used, but to a Gale it was black-and-white. Nothing had ever been seen again that had been caught in a collapse, even the entire sector was wiped-out from existence. It left nothing. The word seemed to send a cold chill through the chamber.

"Unlike when men dive into stable regions, Collapse is a naturally occurring phenomenon - that will occur; guaranteed. An Array has to Collapse iterations of the sector to approach the Agglutination-Threshold and eventually merge into a stable state. Within the structure of an Array, corruption builds on an iteration, then Collapses it naturally. This happens faster when artificially destabilized by foreign influences. We identify levels of an Array with a letter to document an Array structure, A for the 'highest' or 'topmost' and Z for the 'bottom' or 'lowest'. Not all Arrays have twenty-four iterations, so the lowest could sometimes be level B or C. The general rule is that Corruption 'rises' up the stack, Collapsing the top iterations down into the lower iterations. Leaving those lower in the Array in a much 'safer' situation than those above, but with large chunks of material and reality being violently plugged into a lower iteration, you can still find yourself in a tough spot..." The squeal of rusted metal being shifted yawned out down the hall. "I've also heard of Veilbeasts that only live in Arrays, and can strike at things across other iterations. Scary stuff..." The thought of some invisible insubstantial creature from another iteration of reality suddenly leering out and clawing off someone's face filtered through their minds. Crofte might have had a remarkable talent for understatements.

Footsteps sounded down the hall and the man came about into Kazik's vision. Startled, he jumped back a step and exclaimed, "Pharasma's ghost! What in the hells...." The man quickly slid back around the corner, until he was out of the masked man's sight. Keeping his back pressed against the wall, he called out down the hall to the others. "Uhh..... Do any of you gentlemen know anything about a creature with an iron-face hanging from the ceiling? Or should I be concerned?"

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

Erik tried to analyze the strangers words, a feat made harder when he couldn't see the man's face. There was a subtle and shaking uncertainty in Crofte's voice; fear. Not fear of them, or even this man with an iron-face, something else, something he wouldn't say. At the least, he was certain the man was omitting something from his detailed explanation. Whatever it was, it shook the Surveyor. With all the talk of collapse, and what was at stake... It was difficult to determine if he even wanted to know. Perhaps it was better to pretend like he couldn't read the man, like he couldn't smell his palpable quivering fear. [Erik | Sense Motive (Crofte) - Success]

He was bleeding. Badly. The sanguine fountain of red spilled out onto the floor in a wild mess, like a stuck pig. He desperately tried to staunch the flow, grasping his own neck as if to strangle himself, but the blood spurt from between his fingers. He could feel the encroaching darkness and the deafening roar of the flames as the heat descended upon him. Black. Walt blinked and quivered as the sudden vision of himself, another self passed. He'd seen through his own eyes, but that Walt Kincaid wasn't the man he was right now. He'd seen it. The inferno. The stones around the great blackened beast were wrought red in a sea of burning black. It's hands were great taloned swords of ebon shade, and it's face was shaped darkened iron wreathed in a halo of fire. With a mere passing of its eyeless leer, his jugular was ripped out as if by some cruel imperceptible force... The great wolf of roots and earth dragged him away from the fires, and into the woods, where the witch waited. He could remember no more. His gaze fell back to the red stone beneath him. It was the same in the Beast's presence. It was coming for him, again. He could feel it. They had to go. They had to go now. [Walt | Survival & Perception - Partial]

Faux took a good look about his cell casually, it had been the first time he'd had the opportunity. Half sunken into the muck and decay, it was in a wretched state as a whole, but still he exercised due-diligence. kicking through the pile of rot what might have once been called a 'bed', something hard nicked his footware. It was crude and long, dripping with filth he had little choice but to attempt to wipe away. The strange device was clear, like glass. It said something long it's length, perhaps a single word, but it was difficult to read as the wild hand which carved the letters had made the text near illegible. It a long dagger made of some manner of translucent material. It wasn't sharp, but it had enough of a point to thrust into someone or something. [Faux | Perception - Success]

Three-inch thick, cold-rolled steel. He wasn't an expert in engineering or construction, but he knew what proper securities looked like. Those were the bars before him. They didn't need to be magical, which they weren't, they were strong enough to be bludgeoned by a battering ram and still remain in place. The rust did little to change that. The cell which held him was bare and held little distinct features aside from random places where the muck sunk to knee-depth. The lock on the grated door was of decent quality, but it had been befouled by this place. Thick gunk had calcified running out from the keyhole and largely paralyzed the internal mechanisms of the thing, but the old steel bolts which held the contraption together were in an even worse state, and could be accessed with some nimble hands and patience. It wouldn't be difficult to simply disassemble the entire thing and remove the door's bolt. Pausing to verify no evidence of tampering or oddities was visible, he set himself to do just that. Sliding his hands through the bars to the other side of the door, he quickly used his tools to retract the retaining pins, revealing the lock's internal mechanisms. Pulling out a few gears then the tempered bar which served to secure the door to its frame, the guts of the things limply fell clattering to the floor with numerous tinging-rings. [Faux | Checks vs (Area/Door/Bars) - Partial]

"....We really need to start moving before we end up on a collapsing iteration. The corruptions' pretty low right now, which is a good sign for us. I feel bad for the guys left hanging on the Array-zones above us, though. Those poor bastards are probably outta luck. It's not the first time scouts have been caught-up in an Array while surveying a new region. Hah."

"Kinda reminds me of when we used to joke about who would draw the short straw and get caught up-top."
"Of course no one wants to be that guy. That's probably any Surveyor's greatest fear, since they know full-well what it means.
Back in the Corps, they'd call that unlucky sod, the 'hanging man'."

DI-DING. DI-DING. The bell-bird's ringing cry echoed again from somewhere far...far above, but it was so far away now. Kazik couldn't hear anything anymore before the deafening cacophony of the chorus. Somewhere, deep in the Pit, swallowed up in a black more grim than night, he lay. He couldn't see, but he knew they still dragged him by the chains which grasped at the stakes still nailed through his ankles. He could feel the thick muddy soil pass across his broken fingers. He wasn't alive, not really. Rather, something simply compelled his mind to remain bound to the corpse. It was distant and cold, and what feeling passed through the gap between his mind and body was clouded and hazy, like the memory of pain and sensation recalled through a dream. They'd surged up through the walls. Countless mindless hands. He'd counted them, or tried. He'd lost track of his number so long ago, perhaps years. Perhaps four-hundred thousand. It was difficult to tell anything anymore. The Pit was deep. The bird had cried out that time too, when he left the cell... Then they were upon them... The countless. They weren't from one world, but from many. The dolls of some sinister evil will. They were bringing his corpse to the master. He could see the shadow of the towering terror far away, breaking the horizon with the distant twinkle of gray flames. A shadow he'd seen long ago, but no closer had he come to being laid before the titan's feet. Those terrible crooked horns, and face of bone. They cried out with one voice to the Black One. [Kazik | Perception & Survival - Success]

He shook himself from the stupor, from the daze. Kazik was back in his cell - his cell. The ground begun to shift, a deep, redder hue most familiar. Something was changing, the world was changing. Changing back to the world that Kazik knew. It wasn't a dream... It wasn't a dream. The memories didn't belong to him, not his current self, but the one who had been broken and dragged into the Pit. He had been here before, seen with these eyes. Crofte knew it too. He knew what lay buried beneath Willowbrook. He knew what was coming. He stood with them in the end, after the black dog had fled, with the faceless man. Somehow... someway, he had come back to this place. This point. Right now. The birds would cry again....

DI-DING. DI-DING.
The bell-bird's song came crashing through the hall from what sounded like everywhere.
The chorus of murmuring voices which had blended into the white-noise in their minds was beginning to slowly raise in volume.

Ah, yes.
They were coming now.
They were coming.

Spoiler: Status

Show

֍ Faux
HP 33/33
AC 19
⭍ [Staggered] [1/2] Rounds
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Freedom Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Clear Dagger]

֍ Erik +50 (150xp)
HP 37/37
AC 23
⭍ [Staggered] [0/1] Rounds
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Crofte's Secret +25 (175xp)
⯎ Array +25 (200xp)
⯎ Stability +25 (225xp)
⯎ Collapse +25 (250xp)
⯎ Agglutination-Threshold +25 (275xp)

֍ Kazik
HP 58/58
AC 20
⭍ [Staggered] [2/3] Rounds
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ The Vision +25 (25xp)
⯎ The Pit +50 (75xp)
⯎ The Dream +25 (100xp)
⯎ The Countless +25 (125xp)
⯎ Crofte's Secret +25 (150xp)
⯎ The 'Black One' +100 (250xp)

֍ Walt
HP 43/43
AC 19
⭍ [Staggered] [1/3] Rounds
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ The Vision +25 (25xp)
⯎ The Wolf +25 (50xp)
⯎ The Witch +50 (100xp)
⯎ The 'Blackened Beast' +25 (125xp)
⯎ Array +25 (150xp)
⯎ Stability +25 (175xp)
⯎ Collapse +25 (200xp)
⯎ Agglutination-Threshold +25 (225xp)

Spoiler: Influences

Show

Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3A (About Tainted Lands)

Show

Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot fully understand.

Common Sector 'rules' which Gales are familiar with include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet; that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter that a single magician would often need multiple Grounds, as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures. Like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3A: Sector 1A - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

Show

Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

Show

The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

---

Main Quest: Dreaming, The Nightmare Beast
Something lingered and twisted their perceptions, their very reality. There was no past and present, only a fractured array of constantly shifting states of existence. All was real. All was now. It darkened the world, as if laid in shade beneath the looming hand of some omniscient mad god. Somewhere, someone elsewhere inside knew. That man could discern reality and see the dream for what it was. They had to escape before it consumed them, before all that was named true in their minds was pried from their broken hands, and devoured by some horrific nightmare. The visions... Everything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 8/8 Rounds
Primary Objective: Survive.

---

[Stevesciguy]

Erik
The Hanging Men

He's hiding something. What, I can't tell, but I'll have to find out. I'll need to get closer, can't have him shouting it down the hallway. These others seem to have kept their heads, I can't have them panicking on me because of what Crofte knows.

Stepping towards the cell door, Erik puts a gauntleted hand through the bars of the cell door, inserting his skeleton key into the lock. The lock being old and rusty, it takes some force, but the key turns, and the door swings open slightly. Erik looks at the result with a satisfied grunt.

Always could rely on lazy engineering.

Turning back into the cell, Erik picks up his sword, examining it closely. Fortunately, the minor enchantments in the blade had protected it from getting rusty and dull during his years of imprisonment. He reattaches his scabbard to his left hip, while calling out into the corridor:

"Erik Ragnok. Been fighting this war since the Long Night. I've seen my fair share of corruption, and I don't intend on losing that war now. What does our escape route look like?"

Here, Erik is interrupted by the clamor coming down the corridor. He shouts over the din:

"Crofte, what in the Nine Hells is that?"

Spoiler: OoC

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Movement speed reduced to 15ft.

Standard Action: Open Lock with skeleton Key

Move Action: pick sword up

Perception and Survival rolls to see if Erik can figure out what's happening:

Perception: (1d20+7)[25]
Survival: (1d20+5)[13]

[flat_footed]

It was like a lucid dream, almost like reality was phasing into another. The flames that moved stayed still; damn it, he could feel their heat! Or could he?

Miryks shook his head to clear his thoughts. The fire faded from his sight, but the red hue remained. Whatever the taint was here, it seemed to have soaked into the very walls around them. Fire flared up in the cell next to his and the flame cursed armor carefully drug the creature within out. Why he bothered, Miryks did not know. It had shown no signs of life and would only hinder progress escaping this place. Rabbits were all too happy to gather together for safety, but once the fox had them cornered, their panic would no longer be enough to save them. It was almost as if-

Wait. He had shook his head just now. The simple motion almost escaped his notice, since it had come so naturally. A reflex without thought. Miryks tested his hands, then his legs. All felt weak, but responded to his commands. The haze in his thoughts was fast fading and sensations came screaming into his mind from his limbs. With a smirk, Miryks saw the other two forms being carried and drug out, having not been able to seize control of their own bodies. With his renewed sight, familiar shapes pop out to him from his cell floor. Whoever had imprisoned him here had obviously not thought to remove anything of value. So much the better, Miryks thinks to himself as he stumbles around his cell and begins to reclaim the tools of his past.

Spoiler: OOC

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Staggered Round 1 of 1
Movement: 10ft
Appraise - (1d20+8)[27] Studying the scarf that Machari is rolled up in.
Knowledge: Local - (1d20+5)[10] Trying to make any connection to the name Iman.
Sense Motive - (1d20+12)[13] Is Iman trustworthy?

[Toptomcat]

Walt Kincaid
The Hanging Men

"Good to have you on board, Mr. Gunman. Though I wish I had a name to go with the voice."

"Walt."

The hunter briefly wonders whether this stranger will take offense at the terse monosyllable. He does seem the loquacious type himself, inclined to value long introductions- but this is a survival situation, and seconds may count.

He examines the floor, frowns, scrabbles through the rotted-out remains of his cot. There, that's all his things.

"In sum, then: we're in a place that can't make up its mind whether to be itself or other versions of itself- some of them Tainted, some not yet. There are fires in some of them, and smoke in some of them, so it's a smokey place, and never mind where it all came from exactly."

The belt first, to bolster his strength to carry the rest? No. Things may go to Hell too soon to gather everything up: the first thing he needs is a loaded gun.

Walt reaches for his bandoleer.

"Some time soon, it will make up its mind about what kind of exotically horrible Tainted Land to be, and if it does that with us in it, we are extremely dead. So instead, we've got to make our way through asylum corridors that will abruptly decide to be dead ends, ceilings, closets..."

Walt trails off for a moment, eyes focusing to the far distance. When he speaks again, he sounds shaken.

"...infernos full of ravening Veilbeasts.

That sound about right?"

As the sound of bells fills the room, Walt reaches for where his rifled musket is laid out on the floor- and curses as another bout of wet, hacking coughs interrupts him.

Spoiler: OOC

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Move action: Pick up bandolier with my ammunition and alchemical throwing weapons.

I rolled 2 rounds of being staggered. This is my second and last staggered round.

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

The beast in the iron mask wanted to laugh, and thought about taunting the man. They'd be the first words out of his mouth in Lord knows how long, so he'd do well to make them count. Ah, but it wouldn't do to taunt a potential ally, would it? So, in the end, he allowed himself a laugh instead. His voice sang a sonorous tenor as he chuckled, vibrating as like the finest-tuned cello and quite belying his ragged appearance. Well, he had work to do. Wrapping his hands up and around just so, he grabbed hold of either chain that kept him suspended, and began to kick. Feebly, at first, but he quickly picked up a rhythm as he did so, putting his whole weight into each swing downwards. He smiled as he felt the masonry strain under his assaults. He was confident that it would only be a matter of time before they buckled.

The rhythm was almost hypnotic, as he put his whole self into each swing, he lost focus on the world around him. He lost himself as his mind swam in his visions, of twilight and towers, of chains and forks and the jeers of the damned. His head reeled from the psychic assault, pounding and throbbing as it tried to piece together the conundrum, though he knew there could be no relief. It felt like a memory, but it couldn't be his, could it? Such sublime torment should only bring him pleasure, but then why was he so afraid? The forms closed in around him, poking, prodding, pulling, devouring. When at last his mind could stomach no more he opened his mouth and screamed.

The man found himself back in his cell, back to safety. Exhausted, he wanted nothing more than to sleep again, but he knew this was no place to rest. He realized he was breathing heavily, and had broken into a cold sweat, had he really been so shaken? He looked up at the other man just outside the door, who was peeking around the corner. He swallowed, and through ragged breaths, the man in cell finally spoke,

"Let me out."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Failed Fort again with a 10 on a DC 17 roll. DC next round should be 16.
He regained 5 feet of move speed, but since he's dazed I'm gonna fluff it as him still being chained.

Need to put some points in K: Planes when I get the chance, but I'll roll Religion and History on the off chance that he recognizes anything from the vision
(1d20+4)[16] K: Religion
(1d20+3)[14] K: History

[Mornings]

[Willowbrook Sanitarium]
He wasn't breathing. His mouth moved, and words came out, but he wasn't breathing. "Unless... A number of things." This close, there was something distinctly offsetting about the man. She couldn't feel any warmth from him, but not in the manner which a corpse laid lifeless upon her autopsy table. No, farm from that. He might not have needed to draw breath, and he might not have produced any bodily heat, but he was alive. At least by some definition of the word. Rather, she could feel her own warmth being drained beneath his touch, as if it were being bled out into some vast void for which it contributed nothing. Looking into Iman's face Regina realized; he couldn't see. Be it self imposed blindness, or something else. The goggles covering the thin slit between his turban and wrapped mask of scarves held no lenses, only finely polished oblong steel disks, firmly held in place. Together, they hobbled out of the cell. She didn't know just what exactly the Vudrani man was - but he certainly wasn't human. Not anymore. He'd become something else.... Something, between. [Regina | Knowledge (Planes) - Failed]

Matik stormed out like a fiery tyrant from the cell, dragging a snared body in tow as he left the cell. "Iman, this one might be beyond help." The Thin-Man seemed to chuckle under his breath, "Wonderful, then they'll not be any complaints from you if we need to use the body to buy us some extra time in a pinch." The knight looked down at the girl's limp form, then back at the foreign man with a shrug, "That's... Not very respectful to the dead, but I suppose if it cannot be helped." Matik gestured at Regina with a nod, "Dear niece, do you know this girl's name? I would prefer if her remains were to be delivered back to her home, rather than left to rot, or used as some manner of macabre bait; as Iman suggests." The Vudrani rolled his head in disbelief at the flaming-man's seemingly never-ending string of poor choices. "Stop wasting time and grab the other one too."

Pausing, Matik turned about to look at the open hole into the cell further down the hall before prancing off to gather the last man with the body dragging behind. The great flaming helm poked around the corner to look into the cell; the only part of the man that Miryks could see. The massive flaming head suddenly appearing to cast dim light into the cell was enough to snap the aasimar to attention. "Iman, this one is alive and about!" The Thin-Man shook his head, as if disappointed, "Oh, leave him then. He can fare for himself." Staggering forward while dragging the girl with him, they made their first steps down the hall. "Are we not helping them all anymore? You really must make up your mind!" Baird scoffed, "Helping? I told you before, sir. I've no mind for charitable causes, I help myself. The girl's corpse will be enough."

Miryks had heard of the Warren Trading company, shrewd, cruel men with a keen mind for industry. After making peace with the major crimelords in Varisia, they established very strong ties with the Rello crime-family, strengthening their hold from Magnimar to the Mushfens. They had begun to employ foreign soldiers and mercenaries which their ships brought into the city. In addition to commissioning numerous Harrier companies from abroad, they had assembled a sizable force of irregular fighters. It wasn't any secret that Warren Trading was feeding fighting men to the Rellos', creating a stronghold in Sandpoint. Their motives remained elusive, but their wealth was plainly evident, as they made absorbent public displays of it. Just recently Caleb Warren held a ceremony in the city for the acquisition of Captain Cayden Paradise's service, a chief-surveyor and expert in analyzing the changes since the Night. In acquiring the captain, they also acquired the only existing Surveyors Frigate; the airship, Bloody Anne. Paradise wasn't a man known for standing upon the moral high-ground. Despite the serious blow to the Surveyor's Corps. him coming under Warren's employ allowed him to do what he pleased, how he pleased. Some rumors had even begun to circulate that he had turned-the-black, and begun gallivanting in his spare time as some manner of sky pirate. The only thing which was known for certain was that Captain Paradise kept very dangerous company. The officers aboard the Bloody Anne were all vicious foreign criminals. A silver-haired Numerian assassin as quartermaster. A one-armed Vudrani mercenary as deck cadet, and goddam Demona Caldern as first-mate. That last fact had caused quite the stir for some time, as the captain made it no secret that the notorious serial-killer now worked for him. She was still wanted by the law of course, and the secret of her escape remained unknown, but there were no men to bring the woman to justice now that she had made such powerful friends. Miryks couldn't be completely sure, but if he was a betting-man, then he'd wager that this Baird Iman was one of Paradise's officers [Miryks | Knowledge (Local) - Partial]

The man had made it no secret where he stood on the moral scale. Iman had no interest in accepting risks to himself, preferring to offload any uncertainties upon others. Even going as far as to drag hapless bodies along for the ride if it served to detract from threats which might otherwise be directed at himself. He wasn't a good man, but that didn't make him an enemy either. He had the decency to set them free, but he wasn't deceptive of his priorities. His own wellbeing came before anything else, and he didn't much care what needed to be done to see his health was assured. The man possessed insights into this place which he did not, and the resources or orchestrate his own escape from this hell. The man had not been deceptive with his actions, simply because he had felt no need to. That didn't mean that Iman wouldn't twist truths or tell lies when it suited him, he'd do anything to put himself in the most advantageous of positions. However, he didn't employ that strategy here. In fact, the man simply had no intention of even speaking to him, and simply leaving him in his cell to find his own way. He could have tried to lie and weave some false truths to win a stranger over to his side, giving him another sword between him and the bad things that wanted to kill them all. Yet, he didn't. Miryks' was no stranger to self-serving men like this Iman. It was not that the Vudrani was morally above such underhanded tactics, but because he believed it to be a clear detriment to his objectives; that being, his safety. He was a liability. The only thing he was looking for was a scapegoat for whatever he thought would be baring down upon them. Iman was confident he could escape with the assets he currently had available. It wasn't difficult to tell where such a man's priorities were. At the least he could trust in that. [Miryks | Sense Motive - Partial]

There were so many cracks. Not just the ones inside her cell, the whole of the long hall was filled with them. Deep fissures running through the walls as if the whole of the place had already collapsed upon itself, then been carefully stacked back together again, like bricks without mortar. Her head ached. The dizzy spell had come on all at once. She felt like there was something she forgot... The blade-scars running along the length of the hall were easy to miss, as was the blood. She'd forgotten. The holding area was a ruin, more-so than it had been when they had been kept here. It was as if invisible threads bound the entire structure together, for there was no actual structural stability to speak of, it shouldn't have even been possible for the ceiling to remain suspended while under the pressure of its own weight. It had collapsed. Maybe... She felt as if it had. Something in the back of her mind prodded her, small glimpses, flashes of faded color. ""The only thing beneath the sanitarium, physically, is a large unused foundational chamber they converted into a waste disposal. Which means, either the Purifiers' had a secret area constructed recently, maybe using a newly uncovered tainted area that pop'ed up.... Or at some point, the sanitarium Diverged, and this is not actually Willowbrook... but something, or somewhere else entirely..."" Maybe he was right, or maybe the truth was something in the middle. [Regina | Knowledge & Perception - Partial]

A chill ran down her back. She might not have recalled what she felt like she was forgetting, but her body had not forgotten. There was something unsettlingly wrong here. Regina didn't know what the strange chime-bird was, but she knew it sounded when something was... changing. Maybe it was like Iman had said, and it was reality diverging from itself, but it was impossible to say for certain. She remembered hearing about some Surveyors who carried strange bells which warned them of changes in a sector, but this was far different than a bell carried in a man's pocket. It was as if the very world were giving them warning, alarming them of something... else. Her vision began to blur. It was growing dark. She could feel herself beginning to sway, then....

Red.

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

Frozen. The leaves which had blown in from the window paused, and remained in their places in the air upon crossing the threshold, as if patiently waiting for permission to enter. They were freshly fallen, and not yet showing the dryness of a withering season; yet they were black of color. The small blades of greenery seemed a stark contrast to the bright expressionless background of their halted scene. There was nothing beyond. Only the bright white of a blank and undefined universe awaited beyond outside the window. Lifeless, seasonless. Without trees nor wind for which the leaves to be carried. The room about her was a twisted reflection, an inverted world of negative-colors held in stasis. Nothing could move, all was still.

The woman closed the window. "I told you to close this." The tall stranger was lithe, but elegant, with a certain disturbing and unnatural grace that seemed to bend and distort the air around her, leaving everything slightly out of focus. She turned about to face someone else. Her eyes were dead and unblinking. A pale mirrored turquoise. The dark rings around her eyes were complimented by the weary bags which hung beneath her eye-lids and gave her a maddened and intense gaze that could split glass. "False. No such command has been received." The curt and dry response to the mad-woman came from somewhere else. Regina's body lay upon an old bed, colorless, held in stasis.. but right now, that wasn't who she was. Formless, she lingered like some manner of vengeful spirit. With a great deal of effort she could mentally command herself to turn, as if slowly panning a camera to the right to see the new speaker. It wasn't human.

She was donned in a cloak of plated dark metal, huge sheets easily three-inches thick. Far thicker than any armor a man could hope to don. The only flesh which could be seen on the creature was a small portion of her head and breast. Her long silver hair tumbled down her sides and back, nearly reaching her knees, but the rest of her... It was some manner of glassy mechanical doll. Her arms were marvels to behold, with intricate pieces of riveted and cycling mechanisms made of some slightly transparent metallic substance. The articulation of those limbs was smooth, and perhaps even more efficient than organic limbs could ever be. Nothing in this plane could create artificial life so, perfect. Despite her cloven hoof-like feet, she was a near-perfect reflection of the human form, though the change made her appear more like a tall and properly proportioned satyr. The wonders of such creations were not beyond her, and she could only conceive one possible maker of such sophisticated and ingenious work; the Axiomites. She was an Inevitable, she had to be.

"Then commit this to memory, and get on with it." The tall woman straightened the simple dark gray coat she wore over her white gown. "Acknowledged. Reporting, objective failure. Awaiting command." The woman, who was evidently the construct's master didn't look surprised. "What happened this time?" The master begun to pace in a circle while listening. "Reporting. Unexpected structural failure. Sector 3, identified as object 'F3A' suffered expected collapse. Sector 4, identified as object 'F3B' inherited undistributed properties from F3A, leading to physical collapse of the complex." The master ran a hand down her face in disbelief. "Uhg, you can't be serious. You're saying the whole damn building came down on top of them? So we addressed the issue on F3A, but caused a completely different problem by trying to isolate that iteration from F4? Was this within our projected margin of error?" She signed, both talking out loud, and towards the mechanical woman. "Negative. Result falls outside of projections. Hypothesis. A foreign influence was introduced. Would you like to revert these changes?" Pausing for a moment, the master finally waved her hand dismissively. "Fine. Reverse it. F4 is a lost cause, so is F3A. Give priority to F3B and relocate any useful F3A hosts to F2. Was J'June already relocated?" The doll paused as if trying to process the commands given to her, "Status. Primary objective has been relocated to object 'F1B'. Please specify condition of 'useful hosts'."

The tall woman ceased her pacing and found a seat on the far end of the room. "Really? I don't know, how about anyone that doesn't get killed within the first forty-seconds of things going wrong, gets to live. Does that sound good to you?" "Calculating.... Correction. 'Useful hosts' defined. Surviving hosts within sixty-percent threshold will be applicable for review. Forty-eight seconds allocated for determination. Confirm." The master crossed her legs and waved dismissively again, "Sure, whatever." She pointed offhandedly at Regina's body, "-And put that one back in. Also, error-check any residual foreign objects. I don't need a repeat of last time. Some of these hosts might actually be useful." The doll blinked and looked back at the body laying still on the bed, "Correction. Hosts have already been tasked by Master, ID 'Rubedo'." A dry rasping laughter that sounded like quarters spinning around the edge of a rusted sink coughed its way out of the nameless master's throat. "I don't care what silly game my sister is playing with the hosts. The sooner we fix J'June, the sooner we fix this disgusting place and get to go home. Both of us. If the hosts can't meaningfully contribute to saving their own universe, than what good are they. Initiate Cycle." [Regina | Knowledge (Nature) - Failure]

"Acknowledged. Cycle initiated."


Consciousness tumbled back into her body, once again being dragged along by Iman.
She was back, but she didn't understand.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Mirykys +25 (75xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⭍ [Staggered] 0/1 Rounds
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Warren Trading Co. +50 (125xp)
⯎ Rello crime-family +100 (225xp)
⯎ Foreign Soldiers +25 (250xp)
⯎ Sandpoint Stronghold +50 (300xp)
⯎ Caleb D. Warren +100 (400xp)
⯎ Capt. Cayden Paradise +150 (550xp)
⯎ S.F. Bloody Anne +50 (600xp)
⯎ Sky Pirate +50 (650xp)
⯎ Numerian assassin +50 (700xp)
⯎ Vudrani mercenary +50 (750xp)
⯎ Demona Caldern +50 (800xp)

֍ Machari
50/50
AC 18
⭍ [Helpless]

֍ Regina +150 (950xp)
HP 53/53
AC 19
⭍ [Staggered] 1/2 Rounds
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Breathless Creature +25 (975xp)
⯎ Drained Warmth +25 (1,000xp)
⯎ Something Between +50 (1,050xp)
⯎ The destroyed hall +50 (1,100xp)
⯎ Divergence +300 (1,400xp)
⯎ Another Willowbrook +100 (1,500xp)
⯎ Axiomites +25 (1,525xp)
⯎ Inevitable +25 (1,550xp)
⯎ The Nameless Master +300 (1,850xp)
⯎ Rubedo +400 (2,250xp)
⯎ J'June +300 (2,550xp)
⯎ Broken Universe +300 (2,850xp)
⯎ The Cycle +300 (3,150xp)

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3B (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot understand.

Common rules which Gales are familiar include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet, that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter than a single magician would often need multiple Grounds as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures, like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3B: Sector 1B - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

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Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

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The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

---

Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1
Long ago the Auspex had spoken of the four years which had come and gone from behind the bars of their cages. It was impossible to know just how long it had been since then, but if there was any lesson to be had in all of it, it was that 'time was meaningless'. Strength had begun to return to them. The future was their own to command if they could just wrest it free from the dead-hands of the hell named 'Willowbrook'. That was what they had to keep telling themselves. They said it over and over again until it became truth, the only truth that mattered. It had to be that way, because if they allowed themselves to slip, they would be faced with the terror of another reality too horrible to defeat. Then the 'nothing' which loomed above them like the executioner's axe, would fall. Then they too would join it; and this time, there would be no return.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 49 Minutes
Primary Objective (1): Flee Sector 1B
Primary Objective (2): Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium

---

Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below
Lord Matik recounts his battle with a horrid and powerful creature, a horror known as the Ember Beast. Whatever the secrets of its power, it has transformed the knight into something inhuman and unnatural. Something sleeps far below the asylum, a terror steeped in blood and fire. Perhaps the secrets to the infernal warrior's own cursed disposition lay somewhere buried in the deep, or perhaps there was only death. Only one thing was certain; the creature was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had to be stopped.
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Defeat the Ember Beast

---

[Triskavanski]

Sheet

Swinging open the door, Faux Paw stepped out into the hall. "Well now, that doesn't in any way sound foreboding at all." He takes a look at the two others in the hall. "But the fact of the matter hasn't changed, we still continues to maintain the same course as before. That is to say that we need to escape this place, and fast." He moves over to the cell with Walt in it, "Crofte, please work on the cell over there please with Erik was it? I'll handle this one." He says as he begins to work on picking the lock for the cell. He was just going to mostly ignore the spooky things going on for the moment, as they didn't change his goal. Only that they made it more pressing than before. "Now just a moment walt the gunman, we'll get you out of here.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge Local: Crofte (1d20+7)[20]
Knowledge Local: Erik (1d20+7)[19]
Knowledge Local: Walt (1d20+7)[24]
Knowledge Local: Iron-Face (1d20+7)[24]


Perception: Walt's Door (1d20+12)[29]
Disable Device: Walt's Door (1d20+14)[16]

Knowledge Planes: Bell (1d20+7)[20]

[In4Dimensions]

“ahhhhh” Machari let out a strained groan. Did I. . . black out?” She found herself being dragged by the flaming knight, but she had no recollection of how it had happened. I must’ve. . . Weakly, she tried to move, to call out to the man that she wasn’t dead. “I’m— I’m alive.” She could barely muster the words. The whole situation— and the snippets of conversation that she heard from the two men— terrified her. She wondered if it was possible to die of fright.

[Mornings]

It was all a blur as she struggled to recall it. Tenebris had returned. She had decided against staying and spoke out to the Bista. Perhaps Fo'el had been hesitant. Perhaps he had even refused her now. She couldn't remember. Words. Alicia had spoken. What did she say? It was a mumbled-muted muffling of voices, but she remembered his face. The look of surprise and shock she couldn't forget. Murmurers. Without any meaning she could deduce beneath the fog of her thoughts. Tenebris said something. Something important, like always. What had it been? She'd strained trying to recall. It was so far out of reach. Static. The running of the reel off its wheel. Static. Words, she couldn't hear. Static. The Hexen smiled. She couldn't hear her voice anymore. Static. The tears wouldn't stop. Static. She took the Bista's hand.

Black.

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The Unsung King - Alicia Kelgore

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421st Day of the 1st Cycle - Time: 9th Bell / LC: 30,303
Jun'athel; ???????? - ????????
????????; ???????

She could feel the wind in her. The pain was gone, but her body still felt heavy. The shock ran through her body with each step. She was running. There was a slight breeze that brought with it a chill. A cold drizzle kissed her face. There was a storm coming. All was quiet. Then, a crack of thunder. The roiling snap echoed with a clamorous wake so powerful it shook the fat in her cheeks and pressed the soft gelatinous spheres in her skull back into their sockets, as the very air quivered from the blow. "RETREAT!"

Sound. Light. Reality. It all came crashing back into her all at once. An explosion to her left ripped the loose soil from the ground with violent fury as bloody fragments of men painted her like a bucket of thrown ink as she was ripped from the ground and hurtled across the air. She hit the ground tumbling into a roll before hitting her feet and sprinting on. Her leg was healed. How long had she been asleep? How long had Alicia been in control. A bolt of buzzing purple energy whizzed by, leaving a path of sparks as it burrowed a hole through a giant bipedal mechanized creature's chest, exploding in a burst of blue flames. The heat from the blast singed her back as a secondary blast followed after it collapsed to the ground. The rattling of automatic weapons choked the air with a chorus of cracking bursts. A second lance of energy streaking out through the mist, directly at her with a near-mechanical level of precision. Alicia snapped the wand out from her side, throwing herself into a side-long spin, she deflected the ray with a sharp CRACK of her wand. The discharged dark shimmer from the perfectly executed Acem'bol reflected the beam back into the mist, followed by a crushing explosion of blue flames.

Screams rang out from every corner. Somewhere in the distance the massive support beams of a ramped freeway buckled, collapsing the massive rising road upon the mechanical creatures below. What was this place? It left like it had been long since she had left the city and taken Fo'el's hand, but she couldn't remember. A collection of broken cement structures rose from the mist around her, she was close, but she couldn't remember which way... She took a right, diving head-long into the mist. A massive metal foot barreled out from the thick smoke, like the foot of some angry god. The massive two-hundred foot tall war-machine came looming down upon her. The foot came hammering back to the earth.

The strike stole her breath as she was thrown to the ground. Tackled. The collision of the massive mechanical foot struck like an eruption of earth, throwing them both into a roll from the concussive force that shook the ground and tumbled ruined structures from their precarious perches. Buried in ash and dirt, she felt herself pulled out from the rubble by a strong hand. A thick forest green cowl covered her head, and a beaten dirty respirator covered the lower half of her face, but she knew who it was. The woman shook the dust and debris from herself. The stained black long-coat she adored took on a few more mars, but she didn't seem to mind. The fluted ribbed joints of her exosuit's poly-cuirass showed where she left her coat open. Her armor wasn't just on her chest, but reinforced her limbs too. Alicia had learned the woman was embarrassed by her synthetic arms, and thus why she preferred to never take off her coat. Her hands still looked like flesh, despite their artificial nature; the jacket covered the rest. After a moment she pulled off the respirator with a laugh, "I was convinced I would never be able to cover that distance, but look at me, saving your sorry behind yet again. Still, you did well lasting this long. Let's get the hell out of here."

Her memories were faded, but fastly returning. Chief-Operator Versa-Alpha had saved her more than a few times since she'd come here. It didn't matter that the city had been overrun, Alicia had fulfilled her enlistment to the Ninety-First. They were a unit of forward scouts on the fringes of Jun'athel, fighting to defend the integrity of their realm. Outsiders like her, found in the wastes, could earn the right to gain access into the realm and recognition as a citizen through a period of military service. Versa, as Chief-Operator of the unit, was the acting commander while in the field and many men had been saved under her command and quick-witted decisions. All that was left was their escape. Stella was in control now.

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Main Quest: Bistala Civil War, Part 1: The Witch, The Key & The Song
The Bista Athi'Z'hin people are divided. Clan against clan squabbles with one another, while the children raise up a cursed hero who has returned from the depths of the universe with tales and lessons. Bitterness is sown as the Faxtin influence slowly choking their lives, and new ideas begin to emerge, lighting fires through the rigid and ancient society. A shadow looms behind the flames of discontent and tempers boil and conflict seems inevitable.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Befriend a Bista Athi'Z'hin & learn more of the 'hero', Klee'Re-Po'Pala
- Learn more from the last of the First Weavers
- Journey to the Shadowkind's realm, Jun'athel
- Find the Olath'Uss; Erraba Chel, the Twice Risen
Alternate Objective:
- Tracking the Bista Wanderer - Complete
- Locate The Grim of Jun'athel & break into the World Veil
- Find another way into the World Veil

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Spoiler: Rewards | EXP

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Associated Skill: Spellweaving

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֍ Stella XP +600 (156,200xp)
⯎ Sovereignty Influence Gained
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Liberation Influence Gained
⯎ Community Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Chief-Operator Versa-Alpha +200 (156,400xp)
⯎ Ninety-First Reconnaissance Regiment +200 (156,600xp)
⯎ Outsider +100 (156,700xp)
⯎ Acquired [Strange Item]
✦ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)
⯎ Gem of Telepathy: 3/5 Charges, 3 min duration - Identified use with UMD

[B]Destroyed Limb (Leg): Mended
Piercing Wounds - Bleeding 1: 0/10 rounds | DC 16 Heal Check] - 1 Damage

SpellWeaving:
Successfully casting a Spellweave costs the Witch a number of focus points equal to Spell Level + 1.
The Witch may attempt a number of Spellweaving Checks per day equal to her Aptitude.

Alicia HP: 8 (13) / 22
Mana: 2/10
Reputation: 25
Memory: 3
Spite: 1
Honor: 311
SV. Exp: 2 (Severance)
Weave Exp: 100

Spoiler: Cards

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Spoiler: Nelrin'Fel, The Exiled Son

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Name: Nelrin'Fel, The Exiled Son
Potential: ⯎⯎⯎⯎⯎⯎
Min. Aptitude: -
Value: 0
Cost: Other
Activation: Standard
Duration: Limited
Fate: Soul
Grade: Gold
Detail: Once he was the destroyer. Once he was the savior. Once he was the teller of lies. Once he was the teller of truth. He was the exiled son. He had saved the multiverse twice the mount of times he had destroyed it, and been cursed three times more than he deserved. He had been made to live as an animal, and a devil, and been cast out from his home. Yet, despite all his shortcomings and faults, it was he who had risen above it all. Risen above the Houses. Risen above the Three Worlds and escaped the Garden. An accomplishment which no Child born beneath the Mothers had even done, but he had learned quickly that the world was a large place, and he himself amounted to nothing. Yet, he was not discouraged, for he had always been less than nothing. A blight, a curse. His sisters hated him, his House loathed him, and his Mother enjoyed watching him suffer and struggle. He had returned for his brothers, to leave with them and make their own way. He cared nothing for the threefold universe nor the lives of the insignificant insects which inhabited it. He had killed them all before, and he would do it again it if would aid his cause. He didn't want to be perfect. He wanted to be free.

✥ [Greater] Manifestation: Summon's the shadow of the Exiled Son at no cost. Nelrin'Fel will demand his own price, and if satisfied may assist the Witch, or Spite her. Regardless of the result the card is not expended upon use and returns to the bottom of the deck afterwards.
✥ [Potential] The Exiled Son (Passive): Any of Nelrin'Fel's Passive Potentials may be activated at his discretion when summoned. These abilities may be activated and disabled as a free action even while not his turn. The focus point cost of all the Witch's spells and cards is reduced by 4 (minimum 1). There is a 10% chance a spell or card successfully cast is activated again at no cost.
✥ [Potential] Earthbound Immortal (Passive): The first successful attack of each round effecting the Witch is negated, as long as the damage which would be sustained is less than 10 times her arcane aptitude.
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Spoiler: The Soul Eater's Crucible

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Name: The Soul Eater's Crucible
Potential: ✦✦⯎⯎⯎⯎
Min. Aptitude: 22
Value: 12
Cost: 28
Activation: Standard
Duration: Other
Fate: Support
Grade: Silver
Detail: A device forged in the Third World. It was a tomb. A prison. A gravestone for those who would not be allowed the grace of death. Within it the native fate of a soul would be bound to assume their place, then they would be cast into the Inverse. Forever sealed within that reflected world. That which remained was a horrid farce of those who had once been. In the hands of once who knew how to wield it, it could prove to be a powerful engine of arcane might. Those who originally fashion it, created the device with the intent of manufacturing faux universes and converting the life-energy into power to fuel their most abominable spells. Now, it was simply a ring, seemingly devoid of purpose.

✥ [Lesser] Soul Burial: As a standard action, Force one spirit within 40ft to attempt a Spell Focus check equal to 20 + the Witch's arcane aptitude. Upon failure the soul is sealed inside the Soul Eater's Crucible. The ring possesses no maximum capacity.
✥ [Potential] Create Life: As a full round action, create 1d100 lives within the Soul Eater's Crucible. These may be animals, humanoids, or any intelligent or non-intelligent life randomly determined by the ring. The card is not expended upon use of this ability and returns to the bottom of the deck.
✥ [Potential] Consume Life I: By consuming 10d100 lives within the ring the wielder grants herself a permanent +1 bonus to one ability score. This requires 24 hours of uninterrupted concentration.
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Spoiler: The Master of the Conclave

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Name: The Master of the Conclave, Professor Gerald P. Faust
Potential: ⯎⯎⯎⯎⯎⯎
Min. Aptitude: 22
Value: 12
Cost: Other
Activation: Standard
Duration: Other
Fate: Soul
Grade: Silver
Detail: In his early years, his eccentric and often madly delivered conclusions made many believe him without a shred of sanity. His theories far outpaced the current understandings of The Great Beyond and the cosmic forces which magic manipulated. Many years ago, his studies outlined the intricate functions of Psychic Magic and principles of Vanician design which had yet to become common knowledge during the publication of his ground-breaking book; 'The Anatomy of Magic'. Professor Faust was the pioneer of modern magic as it existed today on Golarion, and was thought to be the herald of a new era with the emergence of Offworlders and other far-flung worlds beyond. However, the man vanished after an experiment, leaving behind only books upon the studies he had previously pursued.

✥ [Lesser] Consult the Master: As a standard action, the Witch may pose a single question to Professor Faust, to which he might reply. Regardless of the result, the Witch spends 15 points of focus. There is a 50% chance the card is not expended upon use of this ability and returned to the bottom of the deck.
✥ [Greater] Fabricate Key: As a full round action, the Witch may randomly generate a Calamity Key in their current world. This ability costs 30 focus points.
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Spoiler: Night For Day - Unidentified

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Spoiler: Tagar, Who Waits - Unidentified

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Spoiler: The Reflected Alter

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Praying at the alter requires a Spell Focus check and 1d8 hours of uninterrupted meditation to establish a connection with the herald. Alicia receives no way of judging the success or failure of her attempt. Cumulative penalties are applies for very 4 hours of meditation taken from loosing focus over a prologed period of time. These penalties stack with conditions accrued from other sources such as starvation or dehydration.

Spoiler: Alicia Kelgore - Conflicted Mind

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Alicia and Stella must maintain a constant state of balance to stay in harmony with one another, however doing this is not a simple task as the Veil evolves. Alicia will progressively shift in alignment as the Veil grows and the two personalities shift further and further apart from one another, prompted by various Spell Focus checks while both performing magic and having new experiences which the Veil attempts to adapt into the persona's fabricated history. Furthermore the Veil is capable of enforcing its own canonical history as if by means of a Divergence. At the beginning and end of each day both persona's must make an opposed spell focus check, granting advantage to the victor for the next 8 hours. The persona with advantage gains a +5 circumstance bonus to all other checks against the other identity. If Stella begins to fail more and more checks her control of Alicia will begin to diminish, introducing new influences or opposing actions which she must succeed an ego check to interrupt. Further effects from the Veil may be acquired from constant failed checks. This Veil may be dismissed by revisiting the mirror and spending 1 minute in meditation.

Spoiler: Potentials

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[Mana Sense I] (Potential, General)
Benefit: The Caster gains a mana point pool with a maximum value equal to her intelligence modifier, and may learn spells which require mana to cast.

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B'Bhai Duucald: Channel Severance (Imbue Darkness)
A forbidden technique preserved by the Nightmare Witches of E'Spdon Valdruk. If used carelessly, a Witch would be lucky to only have her mind destroyed. While Spellweaving or Spell-casting take a Severance check, or Knowledge (Forbidden) - this replaced any Spell Focus checks which might be required, but must be taken even if a Spell Focus check is not required. There is a 5% chance per spell level that Spite is accrued while using Knowledge (Forbidden) during casting. Spells created in this way gain the Darkness descriptor and deal darkness damage. This ability may only be used while casting harmful magic. Upon successfully damaging a creature the Witch suffers one-fourth of the damage inflicted by the spell and any subsequent effects in the form of non-lethal damage, experiencing their enemy's pain and memories. Upon successfully channeling the Witch must succeed a save equal to her spell's DC, upon failure she is overwhelmed by negative energy and is left Grieving for 1d4 rounds. After three failures within a 24 hour period, the Witch begins suffering 1d4 wisdom damage per spell level of the spell cast upon each failure thereafter, as the darkness begins eroding her sanity. Channeled spells always inflict grievous wounds and debilitating effects upon successfully dealing damage. Casting a channeled spell requires twice the amount of focus points, spell slots or applicable resource, however the Spellweaving DC is decreased by 4.

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Spell Training I: Stability
As you have learned from surviving many failed casts, Spellweaving is a complex and difficult system of magic. You have frequently bit off more than you could chew and paid the consequences. There is a reason why structured Spellweaves exist, and why Witches learn them rather than free-casting liberally. The Weave was volatile and performing such a feat was something reserved for geniuses and Savants who understood the functions and quirks of their magic, to avoid being befouled by it. Yet, even knowing that you didn't want to be held back by memorized Weaves, free-casting was the realm of the Gran Hexe, and you dreamed of something far ahead of them. So while you might not have been able to often succeed in your efforts, you developed a method to at least keep yourself alive from those repeated failures so that you could one day master the art in time.

Benefit: Your hit points increase by 6 due to the numerous weave backlashes and failed casts you have survived. The DC of Spellweaves you attempt to cast with a spell level greater than your own character level are reduced by 4. Upon a Spellweaving failure reduce the final Failure Result by 4. Additionally your arcane aptitude increases by 1.

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Spoiler: B'Bhai Duucald: Nl'Gnos In'Flamgra

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B'Bhai Duucald: Nl'Gnos In'Flamgra
The Nl'Gnos In'Flamgra was sometimes referred to as the 'nether flame', a powerful combat talent which fell into disuse after the purge of Havockers and Evocation-focused Witches. While it itself was considered an extremely basic and fundamental combat talent for nobles during the height of Evocation, it has now become little more than a small fragment of informative study while it's practice has gone almost extinct. Due to its destructive power, it cannot be used in a duel. Witches who have reclaimed its practice are often subject to suspicion and mistrust, out of a conditioned fear of the magic's Havocker origins.

Benefit: By spending a move action while wielding her wand the Witch may summon the Nl'Gnos, which appears as a circling crimson halo of fire. As a standard action she may make a ranged touch attack dealing 1d6 points of fire damage against a target within 120ft. The Witch adds half her arcane aptitude as a bonus to her attack and damage rolls. Alternatively, the Witch may choose to create the Nl'Gnos without the wand as a standard action. Using the talent in this way is far less potent and gains no bonuses from her aptitude while dealing 1d4 points of fire damage per two hit die she possesses. While this talent may be used while the Witch's focus pool is depleted, if she possesses focus it is reduced by 1 with each use.

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Spoiler: Spellweaving

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Spoiler: Veilweaver

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Veilwitch Path Advancement: Veilweaver
Darkness. Depravity. The Eternal Black. These were the words of the Veil Witch. Sinister and unrelenting, nothing was sacred, nor would the feeble powers of their kin enough to slake their thirst for true and undiluted power. It was the simple nature of such things to destroy those who pursued it, and indeed, most were. Those who remained stood wholly committed to unearth the abyssal powers of the beyond, fearing no death nor eternity which waited to greet them. For they were damned by an unconquerable desire. Each manifestation of magic slowly corrupted them, changing them and steeping them further into the dark. The further they delved the more their minds were unhinged and removed from the realm of mortals, made mad by the knowing of forbidden secrets. A process known as the Blackening. Veil Witches could bend the Weave, but were far less potent than their kin. Rather, they sowed Veils; constructs of eldritch energies knitted together from countless threads. They could be abhorrent anomalies, physical fabrications, or even Diverged paths of reality. Secrets were precious, and knowledge - sacred, but to those who delved deep into the darkness awaited... Revelation.

Benefit: Returner Path Advances to Veilwitch.

Your intelligence & wisdom increases by 4. The base DC of the Veilwitch's Spellweaves is 15 and her caster level while casting a Spellweave is considered 2 lower (minimum 1). The amount of Spellweaves which a Veilwitch may learn is extremely limited. The maximum amount of Spellweaves she may learn is 1d4 per hit dice she possesses. When learning a new Spellweave, she may choose to replace an existing one. The Veilwitch gains the ability to cast Veilweaves, unique constructs of otherworldly magic. Each Veil possesses unique qualities, however most cannot be directly used by the Witch nor other creatures. A Veil can be sentient, but cannot activate its own abilities without the Witch's command, a swift action. A Veil may be wielded by otherworldly entities such as Greater Spirits, but only with the Veilwitch's consent. Veils persist indefinitely until destroyed or dismissed, but the number which may exist at any given point may not exist her Arcane Aptitude. Veil's which require certain conditions to persist can only be maintained by the Witch who created it, or an entity allowed to wield it. The Witch may learn any number of Veilweaves, in addition each time she casts a spell or Spellweave there is a 15% chance a Veil is created. These spontaneous Veils will hold similar properties to the magic which created, while other features may be randomly determined. Spontaneous Veils cannot be learned as Veilweaves, but are unique constructs formed from her magic.

The Veilwitch begins with the following Veils:
⛤ Domain of Black
⛤ The Black Veil, Renor'vet

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Spoiler: The Deck of Terminating Prescience: Introduction

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The Deck is a powerful weapon designed to combat the corruption of the original cursed book which creation is now bound to. Employing the deck requires careful decision making and strategy to build an effective deck which caters towards the Witch's strengths and weaknesses.

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ACTIVATION

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Activating the Deck is a Standard Action. The Deck remains active for 1d10 rounds before vanishing. The duration the Deck remains active increases by 1 for every 10 points of Arcane Aptitude the Witch possesses.

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CARDS

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Once a card has been identified it's features are revealed. An individual card cannot be used until it has been assigned to a Deck. A minimum of 2 cards are required to create a deck. Each card follows the the format of features below. These features are unique to each card and may change even if multiples of the same card are owned. Unique functions such as Potential, Duration, Activation and Detail may be different between the copies of cards, giving new or unique functions to your familiar favorites.

If a Witch is intentionally granted a card it is received already identified, while other cards are automatically identified if their Value is equal to or below the Witch's Arcane Aptitude. Unidentified cards must be identified via a Knowledge (Forbidden) check while within a Circle of Black; this check has no chance of success outside of such a zone and requires 10 minutes to complete. The information each card provides will vary based on the type of card which has been received. Further information is gained for every 5 points which the Witch's check exceeds the DC. This additional information is only available for cards which she has identified herself. She may choose to re-identify an identified card without any penalty, however she may only attempt this once per card.

Categories marked as 'other' provide exceptions to the standard options and are typically massively powerful fates which should be used with reservation. Each card's effect persists after activation for a period of time listed under 'Duration'. The effect may be instant and then expire, last indefinitely, or last for a finite period. The exact time a limited duration fate stays in effect is usually only discovered within its hidden details.

Each time a card is activated the associated Cost must be paid, which is removed from her Focus Pool (a sum of points equal to her Arcane Aptitude). If the activation of a Card would reduce the Witch's Focus to 0 or lower, the Witch is instantly slain.

Name: Card Name
Potential: Certain fates can be empowered if the Witch meets certain conditions before use.
Min. Aptitude: Minimum AA (Arcane Aptitude) required to use the card
Value: The number of Deck Points the card occupies
Cost: The amount of AA required to activate the card
Activation: Standard, Move, Swift, Immediate, Free, Other
Duration: Instant, Permanent, Limited
Fate: Soul, Support, Event, Other
Grade: Gold, Silver, Bronze, Other
Detail: A summery of identified functions that card will perform. Some functions may be hidden or obscure.

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DECKS

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Managing Decks is a critical role for the Witch, as is building multiple Decks. For every 15 points of Arcane Aptitude the Witch possesses, she may create an additional Deck. Once each day after receiving the benefit of 8 hours of rest the Witch may assign the cards associated with each Deck. A single card may only be assigned to a specific deck once. Each Deck the Witch owns possesses a limited number of Deck Points (DP) which dictate the size of her Deck. The Witch's first Deck is typically her largest and possesses a number of Deck Points equal to 4 + her Arcane Aptitude. Each subsequent Deck has less points than the last, with her second Deck having half the number of points as her first, and her third having half the value of her second, and so on. Each time she expends cards there is a chance she earns additional DP which she may spend between her Decks to increase their individual sizes (eg: If the Witch earns 4 points she may assign 2 points to Deck 1, and 2 points to Deck 2, etc.) The maximum Deck Points which a Witch may invest within a single Deck cannot exceed three times her Arcane Aptitude.

Additionally, the Witch may swap decks as a full round action, but may not do so again for 1d8 hours.

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DRAWING

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Once the Witch has activated her Deck, a maximum of 4 hidden cards are randomly pulled from her Deck. The Witch may choose to draw one as a swift action, discarding the rest. Discarded cards are returned to her Deck, but any cards revealed among them are suspended for 1 round. Each round a new spread of cards is generated as a free action. The Witch may choose to reveal a hidden card by paying a cost associated with its grade; 1 point for bronze, 2 for silver, 3 for gold, and 5 for Other Rarity. This choice is a non-action which may be performed any number of times.

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THE HAND

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The Witch's Hand represents the maximum amount of power which she can maintain at once. The cards within her Hand may be paid for and activated at the Witch's discretion. There is no limitation to how many cards may be activated each round, as long as she has enough actions to complete each card's activation. Activating a card functions similarly to casting a spell, and provokes attack, however the card is not wasted should the Witch fail her concentration check. The Witch's initial maximum hand size is 3 cards. The number of cards she may add to her hand increases by 1 for every 10 points of Arcane Aptitude she possesses. If she ends a round with a number of cards in her hand in excess of her limit, she must discard cards until she has reached her maximum hand size.

Spoiler: Dueling Wand Training I

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Dueling Wand Training I
One truth stood above all others; the weak were ruled by the strong. The Witches of the Three Worlds established their superiority via an ancient tradition known as 'B'Bhai Dol'fhaal', a form of ritual combat. Overseen by supreme beings and bound by an age-old system of honor, it formed the corner stone of magical society. Claims were laid, power taken, great wagers were placed and political wheels turned with each battle fought. Wands were passed down from mother to daughter, containing the acquired honor of generations past and greater heights achieved - while others were thrown down into crushing defeat.

Benefit: The Witch gains proficiency with Dueling Wands, and her intelligence and wisdom ability scores increase by 6. Additionally, the Witch is considered to have one additional HD more than they possess for all effects other than determining their hit points, while gaining the following abilities which may only be used while in Ritual Combat.


⛤ B'Bhai Dol'fhaal, Ritual Combat (Dueling Circle)
The Witch may challenge and receive challenges from other Witches with this ability. Upon a challenge being issued, both Witches must cross wands, thereby creating a 'Dueling Circle' whose size is determined by the challenger. The Circle is created at a size equal to 25ft/HD the challenger possesses. A Witch may attempt to resist crossing wands with a challenger by succeeding a DC 20 will save, but may be penalized. While a B'Bhai Dol'fhaal is initiated, neither Witch may be influenced by conventional outside influences, and will cease taking damage or even drowning depending on their environmental circumstances. Once the Circle has manifest the Witness, who servers as mediator and referee, will oversee the match and establish any rules and wagers. Regardless of additional wagers placed, the victor will take a pre-determined amount of Honor from the loser. Both participants may demand a wager, which both must agree to, and may be anything which the participant can provide or relinquish - with or without aid. Additional rules may be added by the Witness or requested by either participant. Rules requested must be agreed upon by both participants. Participants may request a ruling or ask questions of the Witness at any time, before, during or after the Duel. Upon conclusion of the duel wagers and honor are awarded. A Witch may not decline a challenge unless she possesses 100 points or more Honor than her challenger, in which case she may provide her justification to the Witness who will determine if the Duel will be voided. Any challenger who wishes to issue a duel to a Witch who possesses 200 points of Honor or higher must bring with her a number of endorsing Witches whose total combined Honor is within 50 points of her desired combatant. Damage dealt within the Circle is nonlethal, however a participant may still be slain from excess nonlethal damage as normal. Non-magical attacks are always prohibited unless ruled otherwise by the Witness. All forms of attack, other than spells and similar abilities, are considered a special form of attack known as a 'Dueling Thrust' and require a minimum of a standard action to complete. A duel is won when the Witch performs an 'Alaffa'elvriel', a special disarm, or when the combatant is no longer conscious.

⛤ Acem'bol (Dueling parry)
The standard and iconic parry performed by dueling Witches. A Witch may perform the Acem'bol against a Dueling Thrust or any qualifying offensive action by succeeding a Spell Focus check. The opposed check must meet or exceed the Dueling Thrust's attack roll. Upon success the attack is negated. A Witch may perform this action once per round, and any number of additional times by spending a number of focus points equal to the HD of her opponent as a free action, even if it is not her turn. A parry only defends against a single damage source, but must be performed multiple times if a single thrust produces multiple missiles or similar harmful effects.

⛤ Tsaaf'bol (Dueling thrust I)
The classic and most rudimentary of Dueling Thrusts, used to soften up an enemy and prepare to deliver the finishing blow. As a standard action the Witch delivers a blast from their wand, a ranged touch attack. This small magical blast holds a range of 10ft/HD the Witch possesses and uses her highest mental stat when determining its attack and damage bonus. Upon striking an enemy the missile deals 1d4 points of damage in addition to the ability modifier of her primary mental ability score. The target suffers a cumulative -1 penalty to attack rolls, skill checks and saves which persist until the duel concludes.

⛤ Alaffa'elvriel (Arcane disarm)
Victory with peerless grace. The Alaffa'elvriel is the ultimate and unquestionable mode of victory within an arcane duel. Any spell, supernatural ability, Spell-like ability, hex or form of non-Vancian manner of casting (to include maneuvers, spheres, spellweaving, veils, veilweaving, ascension abilities or similar) regardless of target or effect may prompt an Alaffa'elvriel. Any ability or effect which is not classified as a 'Dueling thrust' will typically be a valid action which may prompt an Arcane Disarm. A disarm may be attempted once per round, and any number of additional times by spending a number of focus points equal to the HD of her opponent as a free action, even if it is not her turn. The Witch must succeed a Spell Focus check versus the effect equal to the DC or attack roll of the effect; if the triggering effect has neither than the check is equal to the opponents arcane aptitude. Upon success the duel immediately ends.

⛤ Quatekal'baalta (Mystic Ward)
Duels between Witches were far from arcane slugfests and brutish mystic blasts. Spells and formal magic were dangerous things, only to be employed at the perfect time. It was a battle of wits and preparation, and no preparation was more vital than the Quatekal'baalta. Hovering shields of energy, they served to block attempts at disarming an opponent - but tended to leave one vulnerable to direct attack in the process. Mystic Wards are the primary defense required to attempt to cast a spell or similar effect in relative safety from an Arcane Disarm attempt. To create and employ a Ward a number of prerequisites must exist. The Witch must succeed a Spell Focus check equal to 10 + her aptitude to form a shield. Furthermore, the witch must possess an individual servitor or similar for each individual shield, and she may not possess a number of created Wards in excess of her own HD. Once a shield has been created the opposing Witch must succeed a Spell Focus check with a DC equal to that which was made to create it. Regardless of success or failure the Ward is expended after use. Regardless of the number, standard Wards do not stack against an individual disarm attempt (ie; only a single Ward can be used against a single disarm attempt). This ability functions as a Veil.

---

[flat_footed]

Miryks frowned to himself as he collected his things in the muck. It was appalling how they had treated his things, as though they were rubbish that didn't warrant a second thought. But... he was far from the first occupant of this cell. If his captors had been so careless with his things, in all likelihood they had done the same with every prisoner. He took a few moments to poke deeper through the sludge to see what else may lie hidden over the years.

As he searched, Miryks's focus was broken by a bright light pouring into his cell. Not a light at all apparently, but a suit of armor housing some sort of flaming monstrosity. How words were formed and the armor moved was undoubtedly some foul sorcery. At the revelation that he was able to move under his own power, Miryks was surprised to hear that the pair found more worth in a comatose body than an able one. Well, perhaps not quite both. The suit of armor seemed much more prone to outbursts of emotion; this was something Miryks could use. The other was cut from different cloth, and from the Jolly Roger more likely than not. Iman would sacrifice what and whomever was needed to get free, which made him predictable, if not altogether trustworthy. While the wolf was content to track the sheep's path if need be, it would be more advantageous to appear as one of the flock. It would be imperative to join the pair if for nothing else than to travel with someone who understood what was going on and the ever changing path out of here.

"Are you so willing to abandon an able body, Sir Knight? I have strength in my legs and can hold a blade. Surely you can see that I'm no charity case, but one who is earning his right to stand up in this world once more. Allow me a moment to collect my things and you will have another by your side."

Spoiler: OOC

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10ft move speed, no negative conditions.
Perception - (1d20+14)[20] Looking around his cell for items that may have been forgotten from previous occupants.
Sense Motive - (1d20+12)[26] Read into why Iman's preference for carrying around a dead/dying body may be helpful.
Diplomacy - (1d20+13)[23] Appealing to Matik to delay a bit longer.
Knowledge: Local - (1d20+5)[21] Who was this flaming knight?

[Deadguy]

Regina
Abominable Queen

Regina's head spun at the sudden return to her physical presence. It made sense on some level that beings such as Inevitables would attempt to stabilize tainted zones. What being could command such constructs that were said to be pure law. A god? The mad-woman's isolated realm in the white void might support that conclusion. The mention of sections and resetting led her to believe that the prison had diverged, as Iman had said. "Iman, to escape a divergence, must you return through the same entrance? I ask because upon entering, you had no choice but to comb through the cells one by one. Now that you have found me, can we not use your knowledge of the layout to find the nearest exterior wall and use Uncle's martial prowess to cut us a new exit? Also... I am quite capable of walking now, thank you." She looked down the hall again, searching for the same blood and markings that had been there right before her 'red out'.

The conversation that she had been privy to had given her a few other nuggets of knowledge. Names. J'June and Rubedo. Apparently this other Master had claimed her but it hadn't stopped the mad-woman from making her decision. In fact, it seemed to spur her on. Her level of concern over the location of J'June seemed important. What kind of name was that? Regina wondered if the the foreign influence that had been introduced was her rescuers. Names. She realized that her would-be uncle had asked her a question. She shook her head in response. "We were all nameless prisoners to them."

Spoiler: OOC

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Fortitude vs dc 19 staggered (1d20+6)[19]
Knowledge [Religion] vs recognizing mad-woman as god (1d20+12)[15]
Knowledge [Planes] vs understanding sectors (1d20+15)[32]
Perception vs noticing differences now compared to before 'reset' (1d20+21)[26]
Linguistics vs J'June (1d20+25)[28]

[Mornings]

He twisted. Nothing. He twisted harder. Faux could feel the rusted bolt budge, if only slightly. The thick layers of rust which encased the door's panel nearly sealed the locking mechanism of the device, and the contraptions which would allow him to disassemble the thing. A few good bashes brought large flakes of the oxidation off from the metal, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't open. [Faux | Disable Device - Failed] / [Faux | Perception - Partial]

Scratching his brain for an answer as to who his new companions were seemed like a futile effort. 'Walt', if that was even his name, could have been anyone. This, Erik Ragnok, was evidently some flavor of mercenary. Not a Harrier, maybe a Gale briefly, but he wouldn't have been in this rotting cell if he could still be called that. No, he was a free-agent, a nobody. He'd never heard the man's name before, but he didn't pay too close attention to the enterprises of sellswords anyways. The nameless man with the supposed 'iron-face' was a mystery without any any clues to suggest an answer. He couldn't remember seeing or hearing anything about a prisoner in a mask, but then again, there was little to be recalled during the numbing stint in hell. Crofte on the other-hand, was a name at least somewhat familiar. A skilled Surveyor, but his love for turning a profit was somewhat notorious. He was in the business for all the right reasons. Scouts that became too invested in their work were eventually consumed by their own curiosity and took their first steps into the tainted regions as a Deep Surveyor. Crofte cared about knowledge and his work, simply because of how rich it could make him, and he was skilled in his profession.

That skill didn't earn him the respect of his peers however. The Corps valued the naive ideology of their curious well-meaning agents, and offered their service as if it were a charity. Balin made it a point to do his work well, but he always kept more information that what was designated to be provided within reports to sell on his own time and reel in the profit. He didn't particularly care about what became of of his peers and wasn't afraid to take advantage of their stupidity if it helped him get ahead. For many mercenary companies, Balin was 'the guy'. Their fence, their backdoor. A point to access into the Surveyor Corps inside knowledge, and get a reliable contact to tip-off rabble-rousers when the Corps had decided who still held their favor. Misinformation intentionally provided by the Corps was just as good as a death-sentence to those who came at the guild in the wrong manner. Crofte had saved lives, probably the wrong lives, but he didn't care - they paid, so they were 'OK' in his book. Amongst devious Gales and other swords-for-hire, the man was something of a legend, providing a certain kind of service no other Surveyor would, or could. His side-business was the best worst-kept secret amongst just about any merc with a coin to his name. It looked like that had finally caught up to him, by his current situation. [Faux | Knowledge (Local) - Partial]

It was painfully familiar. His mind replayed through the vision again and again. It felt as if... something were missing. Not something he had forgotten, but as if something had been omitted, edited out. There was wild splattered lines of ink scribbled across something. Something else he couldn't grasp. A familiar sensation. The mad-god's hand. The giant titan which broke the horizon with its grim form was something no man could name. It rose up over the land and valley, dwarfed the hills and mountains; thousands of feet in height at least. Some foreign malignant creature not from this realm, not from any realm men knew. There was a voice. Old and gnarled, with a dry mirthless tone. He knew that voice. He'd heard it before.. but where? He couldn't make out the words anymore, they were like old smudges across the stained-glass windows of his mind. There. Yes, there. Somewhere in the dark between the lines, he could see it for a fraction of a second. There was a door. A door in the blackness. It was dark. The crimson haze of the numbing silence didn't exist in that place... only a night, deeper than any night. He remembered it now. The door to the dark. It was small and insignificant, so small he had forgotten. Yet it lessened the weight of that terrible barren world. Beyond it, he would be free. [Kazik | Knowledge - Partial]

Crofte shrugged at Walt's summery, "It'd be more accurate to just imagine that one fire is divided or disperse across multiple iterations, it's not necessarily picking-and-choosing where has smoke and where has fire. Lucky thing too, I stumbled into a flooded array before, and boy. That was a nightmare." DI-DING. DI-DING. The strange chiming of the birds rang through the hall, and the mummer of the voices from somewhere far away grew in volume. The Surveyor froze, eyes wide in alarm. The sound perhaps had no origin, nothing to glean a sense of meaning from it all, it was no better than the mindless babbling of the chorus, or so Faux had thought. Until he spoke. "...Down twenty?" Crofte's eyes darted about, looking all around the hall. There was something he was seeking, but he didn't find it. "Sheit, sheit, sheit." As Eric called out over the rising cries, the man gave up his search, "That's the sound of: 'get-the-fawk-out'. We must be too close to the top. This iteration is degrading too rapidly, once it starts, it's like standing on cracking ice. The whole thing can collapse at any moment." [Faux | Knowledge (Planes) - Failed]

Black. It wasn't the kind of darkness cast by night, nor the kind which bled light from the air like some magic spell. No. This was not that. This was the black. The color of deathless void. There was no sound here, yet there was no silence. No feeling. No self. There was nothing. An absolute and perfect nothing. In that fraction of a second, they were part of that nothing. Just like the world. Just like the gods. They ceased to be. A broken, blotted black-frame without substance. Then...

DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. They were. "No... Oh, no. No-no-no. Something broke... Something broke! We Diverged!" Crofte begun to visibly precipitate as beads of sweat begun to build on his wrinkled brow. It was true. They could feel it. The nameless... something. The ineffable secret that that seemed to strike and shatter the essence of their void and dissolve the very concept of their being. It was like a tear. A tear, not in reality, not a physical rip. Rather, a tear in their perception of what was, of what could be. It was like the white page of existence had some piece of it ripped out by some blighted hand. The it the something that had no name, had changed everything. It was the displaced daze, like a feeling of vertigo while having a past thought in the wrong place. It was the twisted sense of consciousness that was theirs, somewhere it didn't belong. Their page, their space, was befouled. Perhaps it wasn't so simple, perhaps something had not been torn out, but replaced. The words remained written, but carefully the sheet was cut and pasted to another. It was all wrong. Erik could feel it as the small glimpse of vision through the eyes of another him, ended abruptly. Maybe it wasn't just the fires dispersed over multiple iterations of this place, but not anymore... The last self had perished in this failing world. It was the hand. The falling. There was so much pain in that place. The bodies rained down from a broken world. He could still hear him. The old man. He had called him self 'a Speaker.' [Erik | Perception & Survival - Success]

DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. Crofte covered his face with a hand. He was shaking, and his voice barely a whisper. The chime of the mechanical birds grew louder with the chorus of wailing damned. "It's us... Goddamit. It's us..." DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. DI-DING. It was deafening now, the chimes above. "We're the hanging men..." With a sudden and sharp gesture the man snapped out two pistols and fired them both to either side. The weapons unleashed a whirling bolt of narrow sapphire flame with a thunderous CRACK that shattered through the hall. The cacophonous blast from cracked the stone behind the scout and deafened them, sending a trail of blood from the man's ears as he was thrown back. The doors of Kazik's and Erik's cells exploded open throwing the seasoned mercenary back clear across his room to the floor.

The blinding flash and deafening sound made the nature of the strike plainly evident. Sundershot. He'd never seen it before, but everyone heard stories. Some manner of rare Offworlder munition. Worth a small fortune for a single round. Could snap a man's arm in half if he were careless. Most weapons exploded trying to discharge it. The oppressive ringing and white haze that rocked Walt's world back and forth from the double-barreled dose of the blast, gave him ample time to reflect on that. A fancy bullet for men with too much money. He could buy ten-thousand bullets, and kill a whole-lot, or just one. Someone was screaming. Maybe someone was dead. He could feel the ground shake beneath his feet when the far end of the hall collapsed in explosive fashion. His ears begun to clear as the ringing died down, replaced with roaring murmuring choir and the ear-piercing resonance of crying bells. "RUN! RUUUN! RUUU-"

The screams were abruptly cut short by waves of drowning black inkor.
Silent. Weightless. Lightless.
Black.

She wheezed a slow hissing gasp. Laying broken upon the rocks, she stared up blankly into the darkness. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of feet. That was how far she had fallen. The great calcified pillars which had stood from ages before the stars had fallen impeded her path. She couldn't let Mey and Katheryn die here, nor Scratches, the bastard. Even he wasn't completely beyond redemption. Her body sundered stone and split the great structures which had risen up about them as they plunged deep into the earth. She was left broken and scattered upon one of the shattered stone columns which she had collided with. It had fallen into the massive lake, and she atop it. Only the gleam of her magical golden flame dancing upon her sword cast a light about the chamber. Her armor was bent. Pieces missing. A great jagged laceration cut open the side of her breastplate and left a view of a gory wound where the stone had bit into her left breast. No doubt a wound which would have killed her if not for the fabulous construction and enchantment imbued upon her arcane armor. Her eyes rolled back into her head as her body convulsed. It took all the grit she could muster to wrestle back her sense of consciousness and will her body to recover from the traumatic damage to her shattered skull. The old man was still speaking when she shakily and unsteadily reaching over, grasping at the stone to roll herself over like a corpse. Clawing at the stone, she dragged herself across the fractured blood-slick surface. One eye was half closed, drifting up to the side of its socket and her whole body trembled as her lungs convulsed in her broken chest.

With an iron resolve, she dragged herself to the edge of the stone dais, one eye desperately darted about looking for Mey and Kat. With a grunt she slid her sword-arm across the stone with a slow rattle. Broken. She ripped her sword from her useless limb, holding up the blade as best she could like a lantern. Eight hours. By the diminished fires of her weapon, she'd been dead or unconscious for eight-hours. It was safe to assume her everyone else was dead, save for Afrri and the rest of the Rello-men outside. She tried to rise. Futile. One of her legs was bent the wrong way, and the other... Her shin was driven up threw her knee. She grunted from the dizzying agony which seemed to tear at her from all sides. With a sharp thrust she drove the blade into the water below. Black. She groaned as the weapon was retracted.

"-Then, finally. It was over. The beginnings and endings they had conceived had become undefinable to even the Swallowfeld Children. Terrors laid to rest. Nightmares tucked away to bed. Calamity finally found peace. A balm to an eternity of suffering. For the last time, the Whispering Witch closed her eyes. The world brought unto peace, but this was not the world she knew any longer. It was... forever changed. The end."

The dame rolled over onto her back, her sword ringing on the stone as her limp arm flopped upon the rocky surface. Rasping her words, she spoke out into the darkness, "Forgive me, sir.... I have no idea what you're talking about, but I am Tellisa of the house Nevens. Lend me your aid, please. On my honor, you will not go unrewarded." The old man sat buried in rags, surrounded by parchments upon his ledge. Perhaps he had been speaking the entire eight-hours she had been unconscious, perhaps he had been speaking long before she had fallen - it was impossible to know for certain. In either case, the old man slowly turned his head to look down at the broken knight, his eyes were lively and keen staring through her from beneath his loosely wound turban. " Yes, of course you are. I know you well, Lady Nevens. That's why I have told you thus." She could feel the nerves and tendons regrow behind her eye dragging it back into place, "I... don't understand. What did you tell me?" The old vagabond was inexpressive and his gaze, distant, as if looking at something else. "The story, Lady Nevens. Your story, but I suppose it may have been a difficult listen. Fear not, lady-knight. While the Mothers forbid my physical intervention, I can share my words at-least. You will not die in Ulbeph, but great struggles await you still."

It was all she could do to simply sigh. She would have to wait and let her body mend. That she was still alive meant that Denil's Triswards had at-least grounded her body enough so that her bodies healing functions could still work. This place, whatever it was, was surely tainted to some degree without question. It would take some time before she would be whole again. "Sir... Who are you?" For the first time, his attention seemed to be drawn to the present and a twinkle lit his eye as he grinned. "It's been a very long time since I've been called a 'who'. I'm afraid I was not blessed with a name like you. I am the Speaker, and sixteen carry my voice." Tellias coughed up a handful of blood into her gauntlet, "Sixteen? Like Memoria?" The Speaker chuckled, "So you were listening!" The woman tried to shrug, but her broken collar bone and shoulder only allowed one arm to rise with the gesture as she looked off into the dark. "Only a few parts." The ancient man pulled a pipe out from his layers of ragged robes and pushed his finger into the ashes, lighting the burned-out dredges laying within. "Well, we can't have that... How about another one then. Something different." The knight nodded as best she could and the gesture was painful, but speaking wasn't much better.

"Ah, then.... Let me tell you a story. Of dark days not long passed. Of times which changed all we knew. I remember it now... There was a door. It closed to me, as this one to you; but then another opened. Beyond that door something new existed. A nightmare which mirrored the night, created by the pains of a child who remembered a time before the door had ever been. Her sorrows built terrors to shake the heavens. Her tears would wash away the world, and so every hand of the Wheel grasped the blade and cut away the door, plunging her into the red sea, to drown in her own abominable fury. Behind the veil which she had placed upon her own face, she was imprisoned. Tormented. Racked with every fear and pain ever known. Sentenced to live and die, as every soul, every man and creature that had ever been; she was all. You. Me. Everyone that could be when the door opened, and her fury bloated until not even the reality which contained her could bare the burden of her suffering anymore. The Council whispered down into the well, banishing all life to slumber...

Yet this was not the end. For they toiled still, maneuvered like frozen idols in the games of the cruel nightmare-witches who stalked all corners of the black. They played, and laughed at her many forms and fates. Relishing in her own self-hatred. Yes... To those who slept. To those who rested. Deeply, in their death-slumber. This prison was their home. Hopelessness caressed them and rocked them gently. The cries of the crippled and the wronged were lulls unto their rest. And when they stirred and wept, she whispered down to them; every curse and blight. They were the mindless. The soulless. The fakes mirroring nothing. Freely she passed them, from hand to hand. The toys of some evil will... and this game, was not their own. Damned are her children, those who rest forever. Their screams shook me from behind the blinding curtain... and their eulogies sang me to sleep."

"...What's the name of this story?"

"It's called-"

The words echoed without sound threw their minds like a memory of text read from the pages of some ancient tome. The brief mental escape was short-lived, as a freezing black sea of sludge-ink hit them like a wall. They weren't standing where they remembered; they were displaced. A minor inconvenience, as the crushing torrential surge ripped them into the air. The walls shook and collapsed as a super-massive set of ebon fingers clove into their reality. The hand of some grim titan, grasping the hall which they occupied. The walls shuddered, then their world flipped completely vertical. The oily deluge swept them away, submerged, as they fell down with the storm of fouled water. What had once been a hall had become a vertical shaft. The spate carried them hurtling into the heavy wood-and-steel set of doors, which exited out into the sanitarium's reception hall. With devastating force, the flood plowed through the entrance, using their bodies as the battering-ram. [Rolling With the Blow: DC 16 Reflex Save Vs 1d8 bludgeoning damage]

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" Crofte was screaming at the top of his lungs, flailing his arms as the violent fountain expunged them out from the shaft, casting them into an eighty-foot free-fall through the reception chamber. A hard smack into the black lake forming below spared them immediate death. The whole of Willowbrook now stood on its side, like some freakish fun-house illusion. The tables and other furniture didn't fall from their place on the wall, which now faced them, but some items had begun to slip and be cast down upon their heads from up high. The door above, their entrance, and potentially their exit, was a mighty faucet expelling hundreds of thousands of gallons down into their chamber with impressive might, flooding it at an alarming rate as if it were some pressurized sluice system. They floated in the rising waters, the front door, the exit by which the sanitorium was left and entered, was now below them, below the lake - the floor. "Fawk! Climb!" The man didn't wait to judge their responses. The pitch-black water carrying them abreast crept into their clothes, sapping away their strength with each passing moment. It wasn't merely water... [Dark Water: 3 Points of Nonlethal Damage]

Spoiler: Enviromental Effect: Surviving the Dark Waters

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Tainted lands are horrendous places filled with strange and exotic new ways to die. The environmental threats in these areas are often far more fatal than the few bouts of combat which may be encountered. The mysterious Dark Water from your vision has been made manifest, and it rapidly drains away the life energy which binds you to existence. Each round in contact with the quickly rising water deals nonlethal damage. The damage suffered is doubled each subsequent round, threatening to consume you.

✦ Consumed: If a character falls unconscious in the Dark Water, they immediately begin to drown (no save). Other characters can attempt to jump in and save you, but will be unlikely to escape themselves.
✦ Crippling Waters: If a character takes an amount of nonlethal damage equal to double his constitution score, he becomes fatigued for 1d4 rounds.
✦ Threatened: You may not take 10 on any check.
⯎ Climbing Out: Character's must succeed a DC10 climb check to move 5ft. Additional distance may be traveled, not to exceed your base movement speed, by succeeding consecutive climb checks for every 5ft. The DC of each check after the first increases by 3. Climbing gear, such as pitons, grapples, and rope can greatly assist in moving faster. If using rope to climb, this movement is performed normally. Creatures with a climb speed may climb as normal. Pitons may be planted and affixed to a safety line at a location to prevent falling from height excess heights. This is a standard action. If a creature fails their climb check by 5 or more, they fall.
⯎ Catching Hold: If there are fixtures adjacent to you when falling, you may attempt a DC10 + amount climb check failed by, to grab hold of an item nearby. This may also be done when falling past a potential handhold, or another player. Similarly, this DC may be attempted by a PC in-line with the creature's fall to attempt a catch. After catching a falling creature in this way, the PC must succeed a DC13 strength check or begin falling as well.
⯎ Swimming: Creatures must succeed a DC10 swim check to stay on the surface of the water each round, or begin sinking at a rate of 10 feet per round. Creatures below the surface of the water must succeed a swim check in the same manner as climbing; attempting subsequent checks every 5ft.
⯎ Aiding Another: Characters may spend a standard action to use the Aid Another action, granting a +4 bonus to another a single skill check another creature attempts.
⯎ Extra Effort: If a creature takes a second move action, the DCs of his climb and swim checks reset for that movement. A creature who performs this action a number of times equal to double his constitution modifier must succeed a DC15 fortitude save. Each additional time this ability is used thereafter, the DC of his save increases by 1.
⯎ Recovered: Characters are no longer suffering from any negative effects of their imprisonment and regain full movement speed. (You normally will not recover from negative effects accrued in tainted regions, even over time; leading to your inevitable demise. Learn from this experience, as small issues such as status conditions can all but assure a failed dive. A number of resources and contingencies exist to better your chances of coming back out again.)

Spoiler: Divergence - Influencing the World

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Divergence is a strange phenomenon most ironically experienced by a brief state of non-existence. The changes experienced thereafter are often incredibly radical. Main-Quests are almost always lost if players Diverge before completing their current tasks. Divergence can be both beneficial or crippling, but can always be reversed in some fashion. However, Divergence can only be reversed in the order in which they occurred; meaning, if a player were to Diverge three-times, the first Divergence could not be changed until all subsequent Divergence were negated. Diverging multiple times can make changes you have experienced, influenced, or created, near-permanent by extension. Meddling in otherworldly affairs greatly increases the likelihood of Diverging, however other forces can cause this as well, including player-actions.

A number of unique, but virtually unknown protections and contingencies exist to combat and control this phenomenon. Many unique realms and universes beyond can only be accessed via Divergence, and some abilities can create powerful desirable-effects to bolster players. However, wild, uncontrolled instances of this spectacle can quickly lead to a tragic fate. Surviving the mysterious threats of the Night and influencing the fabric of reality for your benefit will require careful attention paid to the current state of the world, and detecting early signs of such negative influences before they can spin out of control.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Faux +25 (25xp)
HP 33/33
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
AC 19
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Freedom Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Clear Dagger]

֍ Erik +50 (325xp)
HP 37/37
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
AC 23
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained

֍ Kazik +100 (350xp)
HP 58/58
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
AC 20
[COLOR="#008000"]⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained

֍ Walt +100 (325xp)
HP 43/43
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
AC 19
[COLOR="#008000"]⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3A (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot fully understand.

Common Sector 'rules' which Gales are familiar with include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet; that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter that a single magician would often need multiple Grounds, as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures. Like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3A: Sector 1A - Regional Effects
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????
✦ ???????????????

Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

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Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

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The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

---

Main Quest: Dreaming, The Nightmare Beast
Something lingered and twisted their perceptions, their very reality. There was no past and present, only a fractured array of constantly shifting states of existence. All was real. All was now. It darkened the world, as if laid in shade beneath the looming hand of some omniscient mad god. Somewhere, someone elsewhere inside knew. That man could discern reality and see the dream for what it was. They had to escape before it consumed them, before all that was named true in their minds was pried from their broken hands, and devoured by some horrific nightmare. The visions... Everything. It couldn't be real. It couldn't be real.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 7/8 Rounds
Primary Objective: Survive.

---

[Stevesciguy]

Erik
The Hanging Men

Acting on instinct, Erik grabs his bag and bandolier as the water washes him away. He hastily buckles them on before being thrown down the hallway by the torrent of water. Although he strikes the walls and metal doors, his armor seems to protect him from the worst of the blows.

Crashing into the large pool of water, he is drawn notably deeper than most of the others, no doubt on account of his heavy armor. Feeling the strange water sap his life force, Erik swims to the surface. Although a lesser man might've struggled under the weight of his armor, Erik navigated upwards with ease. Rising to the surface, he grabs hold of parts of the floor-now-wall, pulling himself some ten feet above the water line.

Now Erik is plainly visible to the others for the first time. Covered head to toe in thick metal plates, and nearly a head taller than most men, Erik appears much like a metallic construct. Wasting no time, he digs out a silken rope from his dangling backpack, searching for someway he could use it to heave himself up further above the encroaching water.

"How far do we need to go to make it out of the array?"

Even as he speaks, Erik is turning his head from side to side, searching for an escape route, or any more dangers that might spring themselves upon him.

Spoiler: OoC

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Climb and swim checks: one successful swim check, three successful climb checks.

Standard action: moved twenty feet upward

Move action: retrieve rope from backpack

Swift action: not used

Survival(?) Check to find a place to hook the rope: (1d20+5)[9]

Perception to find escape route: (1d20+7)[17]

Perception to look for danger: (1d20+7)[11]

[Chromascope3D]

Kazik
The Hanging Men

The explosion reverberated through his eardrums as the cell door splintered open, shocking the man out of his vision. He had half a mind to cry out, but he felt, at that moment, a sharp pain him his rear. Yes, it seemed that the blast had sundered his chains as well. Certainly can't complain about that. No, of course not. He stood up and stretched, feeling blood returning to his legs and arms, and massaging his still cuffed wrists. But the man had a grasp of the stakes at hand, there wasn't even time for smug self satisfaction, so he'd have to worry about the rest of the chains later, it would seem. Grabbing his bag, he looped the drawstrings around his shoulders, and began to walk towards the door, until the walls were scraped away, and he found himself falling into black. Another dream so soon?

There was a rush of cold, and wet. No, certainly no dream this time. The man scrambled to grab onto a ledge and pull himself out of the water, which looked sickly and smelled even more foul. He heard someone yell climb, well, no one needed to tell him twice. The man started climbing up, one stone at a time, and certainly felt the weight of his bag as he did so. He wondered, had it always been so heavy? He stopped to collect his breath, and looked over at the man named Crofte. Staring directly into his eyes, the masked man nodded, and muttered:

"Appreciated."

Spoiler

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Swim DC10 (1d20+6)[12]

Climb DC 10 (1d20+6)[20]
Climb DC 13 (1d20+6)[22]
May spend a move action to reset the DC depending on the outcome. I have the CON for it is what it says on his tombstone.
EDIT: Spent another move action to reset the DC and rolled in OOC
Climb DC 10: (1d20+6)[17]
Climb DC 13: (1d20+6)[11]
So a 15 foot climb total. I believe I can spend another move action 5 more times before I need to roll for Fort.

[forg99rules]

Her memories were foggy as she laid in the black, she couldn't figure out what had happened this time but it seems that once again she was stuck somewhere besides her body. This time was different, the Black was not the one she was used to, a bit of fear settled into her as she floated in the black unknowing of how much time was passing. Listening to the voices speak it seemed that they were talking about her. She understood what they were saying but lacked the context to really make much out of the words that were spoke. Apparently some sort of Trade was made and some King had told these beings that she would Play, but what was it that she was going to be playing.

She could feel again, the wind around her, dirt flying through the air and the heaviness in her body. A body that she couldn't control as of yet, it seemed that Alicia was using this body and was fighting something for some reason. She watched through her eyes as her wand was used to counter an attack that was sent her way. She had not known that the skills could be used outside of combat however now that she saw them she felt like a child again. It seemed that Alicia was much better at using her abilities than she herself was. The thought annoyed her to no end and yet she knew that it was really her own fault. She hadn't taken the time to test out her newer abilities and didn't fully comprehend how to use the wand that she had received.

As her body was tackled to the ground she was a bit surprised to see that the person whom saved her had synthetic body parts. She had never met anyone in her life that had arms such as this woman and it made her feel strange just to look at them. Memories started coming to her, they were not hers but Alicia's memories of the time that was spent here without her being in control of their body. She now remembered who this woman was as well as the fact that Alicia had enlisted with the Ninety-First, it seemed that the actions of Alicia would be helpful. A bit of worry filled her though as she realized that those around her would most likely notice the change, she hoped that she could convince them that it was not a problem and that she would still be just as useful.

As she gained control of the body she looked at the woman that had saved her, "Thanks, I agree its best not to linger here much longer. Lead the way I will be right behind you." Standing up she surveys the environment around her, keeping her wand up and ready to try and deflect any attacks like the one that Alicia had deflected. Calling on her magic she begins to Weave a spell that to deflect attacks of the Mundane variety, in her mind she pictures a small shell surrounding her body, one that is strong enough to deflect any ranged physical attacks.

Spoiler: OOC

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Know Abstract: (1d20+28)[30] or (1d20+28)[45] - To see if i can understand what Game i am supposed to be Playing
Know Abstract: (1d20+28)[40] or (1d20+28)[46] - To try and figure out what sort of abilities an "Acem'bol" would be able to reflect back
Know Abstract: (1d20+28)[29] or (1d20+28)[40] - To try and see what sort of things "Quatekal'baalta (Mystic Ward)" might be able to stop outside of a duel
Know Abstract: (1d20+28)[43] or (1d20+28)[37] - for knowledge on those different war machines that were listed
Know Abstract: (1d20+28)[47] or (1d20+28)[29] - to try and gain memories of what Alicia had been doing without me so i dont stick out like a sore thumb
Perception: (1d20+13)[32] - Check of the area around me, looking for threats
Perception: (1d20+13)[17] - To try and figure out who is an ally and who is an enemy, looking for distinct markings so that i can tell if someones an ally or not
SpellWeave: (1d20+14)[26]

Spoiler: Spellweave

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School: abjuration
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: Self
Duration: 1 Minute/lvl
An invisible force surrounds the caster. Arrows, bolts and bullets have a 75% chance to be stopped by the barrier.

[Mornings]

[Willowbrook Sanitarium]
"Oh... Right." The Thin-Man released her somewhat hesitantly to stand on her own. Perhaps the strange mercenary had felt some degree of self-consciousness in not having been paying attention to her physical condition, or had simply adjusted to dragging her along without any thought; but she doubted both possibilities. She'd seen a man make the same gesture before. He was a merchant from Absalom, peddling exotic blades and fineries. He pushed his wares into the hands of his customers, letting them hold it, become acquainted with it - allowed them to gleam some sense of a future in which so fine a thing was theirs. Then, once he was certain they desired it, he would take it away. The man was quite the ingenious salesmen, so it was a shame when they found him with that knife in his back. Still, the exchange between them felt the same. [Optional | Sense Motive - DC 25]

As Mirkys finished speaking Iman lifted a hand to interject as the massive knight spun around predictably, "Shut up." The Vurdrani man wasn't speaking directly to Matik, but all of them. His gaze slowly drifted upward towards the blank surface of the cracked ceiling. He was silent for what felt like a long moment. "Just for the record... All you fools would be dead right now. Usually... not so stable. While shifting..." His hand slowly crept up, before pushing the metal lenses of his goggles up out of the way. There were no eyes, but the sockets were not empty. Like small gateways into the celestial dark, his gaze was filled with the twinkling of stars.

"What is it? What do those eyes see?" Baird didn't answer immediately, staring off into oblivion, as if his sight could pierce the very fabric of this twisted place and see the worlds above. He sharply pulled the goggles down back over his face, his little vision, ended. "...Well, those bastards got sheit on. Crofte just got drowned by damn-near half E'Auldordun. What an idiot." Matik tilted his head as if trying to wrap his head around the words, "...As in, the flooded plane? How is that possible?" The Thin-Man was already walking with a hurried pace, "Why are you still talking? These sectors shift every twelve-seconds, and you're wasting your last moments on trivial banter. That sheit is coming down here any moment. Leave the girl." Iman snatched the scarf out of Matik's hand and rolled Machari off with his foot before he stormed off. He rounded the corner at the far end of the hall without a moment's pause. The knight looked back into Miryks' cell, "Hurry up, lad! Or you'll get left behind." He stepped over the girl at his feet, "I'm glad you're alive strange girl, don't stay here." He turned his attention to Regina, "Iman has a foul personality, but he is right. Of all the foreign realms I've visited, this is by far the tamest - though I cannot say for how much longer that will remain the case. We need to move quickly. I'm not sure if this is still the place you think it is, but before I met Iman, I did try to cut my way out of here... There's nothing out there. Nothing at all." After her recent experience, Regina felt like she understood what Matik was trying to say. The massive flaming man turned away and made his way out of the hall as well. [Miryks | Diplomacy - Partial]

The Aasimar glanced all about the room looking to find what he may buried beneath the filth. He could feel his body freeze in place as he dug up a familiar piece of himself, literally. It was his own hand he retrieved from the thick sludge. Not his hand, now. But perhaps his hand from another time, another him. It still clutched the strap of some unusual leather container. The appendage had been cleanly severed off at the wrist, and a black corruption fractured and split the skin like glass from whatever manner of weapon could deliver such a blow... He pulled up the long oblong leather tube by the strap clutched in his disembodied hand. A quiver. Not his, certainly, but still half full. Taking a quick inspection of the contents revealed the ammunition was highly unusual. The heads were made of some manner of glassy material, most of which seemed different from one another. Though he couldn't be sure at their purpose with an off-handed look, they were certainly valuable. The strange intricate markings which covered them weren't some manner of arcane inscription, but some manner of brazed network of thin metal worked into the bolts - they were 'grounded'. Stabilized ammunition to utilize in tainted land. Weapons to kill Veilbeasts. [Miryks | Perception - Success]

Miryks couldn't begin to guess the purpose of Iman's fascination with the dead, nor what role the corpse would play. Perhaps there was some use for bodies as bait or fodder, but he wasn't familiar with the practice of either in regard to their use in tainted regions. There must have been some specific function specific to this place, but he doubted even the gods knew what that might be. The man appeared capable of seeing beyond the physical, into the folds of this twisted world and knowing what he could not. It was a futile effort trying unravel that mystery. On the other-hand, the nature of the flaming knight seemed far more clear. Having worked with the remnants of the Sunlight Scripture already, and what information he'd already overheard, it wasn't difficult to ascertain the surreal man's identity - as far fetched as it seemed. This man was Baron Matik 'Dawnlight' Fortesque, formerly a prestigious captain of the Knights of Ozem and swordmaster for House Tilernos. His skill in warfare had been legendary during his time, but he had gone missing during the early part of the 39th century following the death of Arazni. Baseless rumors had been thrown about some five-hundred years ago, numerous accounts of the Baron's ghost returning to sow wrathful justice upon the wicked - and the emergence of the modern Dawnlight Scripture, who venerated Fortesque as some manner of 'saint'. The sacred sword-arts of the swordmaster had been said to have been passed down through the women of House Tilernos, just as it had been done long ago when their family had been closely tied to the knightly order. Unlike the closely-guarded swordsmenship of House D'Alice, which was said to dwarf even the prowess of Rostland's famous Aldori Swordlords; a claim which any in Brevoy would adamantly deny - The Dawnlight Blade, was closer to magic. A divine form of combat capable of preforming feats beyond what would be sane or reasonable from a mundane sword-fighter. The man might have been turned into.... whatever he was, but he severely doubted he had spoken with a nine-hundred year old ghost. At the very least, his sword seemed real enough to find its way through thirty-five feet worth of reinforced steel bars... Not a feat possible for a man of the modern era. If this walking-effigy was really 'Dawnlight' Fortesque, then he was in the presence of one of the greatest named swordsmen of all time... and his odds looked far more favorable. [Miryks | Knowledge (Local) - Success] / [Miryks | Sense Motive - Failure]

Through the din, the murmuring chorus of voices begun to slowly rise in volume as the smoke grew in its density. Reflecting back on her vision and the experience of the Nameless woman's words... perhaps she could have been defined as a 'god' to mortals like them. Yet, she couldn't accept that answer, not really. There was something distinctly distant and wrong about it all that threw a metal-wrench named disquiet down the hallways of her mind. Despite their position, in some distant and isolate plane of existence, somewhere far away without life nor essence, without clear definition..... She didn't call it 'their realm', she didn't even call it their 'plane', or 'the mortals' or 'material'. She called them 'hosts'. It wasn't just a term applied to herself. It was broad, like calling all manner of life 'them'. She had said 'their universe', while displaced from Golarion. Displaced from the prime material realm completely. That nameless entity was not referring to their planet, nor the plane... but all of it. From the Boneyard to Elysium. Every realm between the Spheres. Every forgotten and damned corner. The multiverse. Their 'universe'. Be they animals or Demon Lords, she could feel the cold dryness of her chilling words; she didn't care. Like the mystery of Groetus, she, something nameless - held some vastly different, higher purpose and creation heeded her call. Yet, she was stuck, ensnared in this 'disgusting place' by a power greater still. If Iomedae was a 'god', then this figure was not that. Foreign and of an influence unfathomable, begrudgingly tending to the fabrics of reality and knitting the pieces back together again in some duty she would prefer to relinquish. What did you call that which administered the gods? She didn't know. No one did. [Regina | Knowledge (Religion) - Failure]

Looking about, the structure of the hall about her seemed like it were actively being influenced by some unusual magical source. Every stone, though cracked and broken remained suspended, yet every-so-slightly distorted, as if looking at the surface through a foot of water. The light refracted from it in an oddly wrong manner. Small bits of dust were frozen in place from small fractures, as if the walls had begun to fail but then were engulfed by a massive and legendary 'time stop'. If what she had seen was real, then it had been done by the Inevitable - as the Nameless Master ordered. It felt like evidence enough of that. A trace of another reality in which those walls had buried them. They had died here. [Regina | Perception - Success]

Tainted lands weren't understood by people, that was largely why they died here. The disclosure of 'sectors' by the Corps was a relatively new discovery, at least it had been when they were outside. Regina didn't know much of what sectors actually were, but from what she understood, each piece of a tainted region possessed micro-tainted regions within it - which were sectors. In some cases, it was not unheard of for a single hundred-foot wide space to have multiple sectors tightly packed together next to one another. Each sector was physically distinct from one-another, and each possessed their own features and influences which made them uniquely dangerous. Transitioning between sectors could be extremely dangerous, and in some cases even wards created to stabilize mercenaries or equipment for a particular region did not function appropriately in specific sectors. It had been a break-through for the Corps in confirming that just before her imprisonment, and the invention of multi-wards to ground versus a wide degree of possibilities emerged - it was sickeningly expensive, but it proved effective. Before sectors could begin to make sense, men first needed to understand what were tainted lands... A venture in which she couldn't gauge the advancement of the world, at least not within this prison. Every piece of information they learned was significant when people knew close to nothing about these horrific places. [Regina | Knowledge (Planes) - Failure]

The name she had heard was strange, but sounded vaguely familiar to an Offworlder she knew - Blane Arceneaux. It was a distant chance, but perhaps he would have a better idea... Or not. The Club's famous witch, Weiss, had an unreasonably large understanding of Offworlder mysteries, but they weren't friends, or even share words really. It was difficult to know just where that placed each other - enemies? Or perhaps old acquaintances. One way or another, she'd need the insight of such people if she were to ever find answers to questions such as this. There was no answers to be found upon the pages of a library's books when it came to that which had not exist in their world til the recently. It was all an acute reminder of how much she didn't know. [Regina | Linguistics - Failure]

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Mirykys +100 (900xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Matik 'Dawnlight' Fortesque +100 (1,000xp)
⯎ House Tilernos +50 (1,050xp)
⯎ House D'Alice +100 (1,150xp)
⯎ E'Auldordun +300 (1,450xp)
⯎ Recovered [Otherworld Quiver]
⯎ Recovered [Unidentified Arrows] x10


֍ Machari
50/50
AC 18
⭍ [Helpless]
⯎ Fear Influence Gained

֍ Regina +150 (3,300xp)
HP 53/53
AC 19
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Tapestry Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ World In Stasis +100 (3,400xp)
⯎ The Nameless Master +100 (3,500xp)
⯎ The Existence Beyond +300 (3,800xp)
⯎ Blane Arceneaux +100 (3,900xp)
⯎ Weiss +200 (4,100xp)

Spoiler: Influences

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Influences represent current knowledge, pursuits, training, experiences and aspirations which are actively effecting or being utilized by a character. These represent various concepts and begin to outline a character's values and path as they grow. Influences which are not used regularly are lost, but can be gained again once a character begins pursuing an avenue related towards that field or concept. Influences determine a character's growth in many ways, including experience points they earn and which Potentials they can acquire at any given time.

Unlike with limited class levels, Influences are not acquired spontaneously, and are acquired throughout play; creating an active system which enables a character to re-train, gain new powers, or even improve upon old ones actively with their in-character actions. Training with a sword or exercising the use of an existing Potential allows a character to learn new techniques, empower his current abilities, or even grow his tolerance to pain, sustain damage, run faster, sleep less, and more. Influences play a vital role in developing more sophisticated interpersonal skills and ability to deal and establish diplomatic relations with all manner of strange and otherworldly creatures which you may encounter; in addition to learning more about the unnatural forces which no worldly knowledge could shed light upon. All unique skills are only able to be acquired via potentials, which are trained and worked towards acquiring via your pursuits, experiences, and by extension - your Influences.

Spoiler: Point: 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium, F3B (About Tainted Lands)

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Tainted Lands are incredibly complex and foreign realms which are often guised as places once familiar. Each tainted region is individually unique and carries with it its own risks, rules, threats and worldly hazards. Many things cannot function, work differently, or can lead to reality crushing results that make survival for most creatures delving into their reaches an impossibility. Site Investigators often travel with groups of Harriers or Gales for long extended periods conducting a through survey of each corrupted-site, known as a 'Point'. These reports are used by various venturing companies to conduct expeditions, known as 'Dives', into the tainted lands. Points are always geographically divided into many areas known as 'Sectors' by Site Investigators. Sectors within a Point mark areas where the rules of the other areas which have been surveyed dramatically differ, be that the laws of nature or magic, or even stranger changes they cannot understand.

Common rules which Gales are familiar include such things as; violent reactions to non-grounded magics, reactions to supernatural energies and abilities, reactions to specific materials, reactions to unstabilized magical creatures and creatures capable of withholding or generating energy, and items or persons keyed to a particular influence.

Fortunately there were not very many public users of magics due to the general fear and suspicion associated with the practice, and thus even less individuals with such talents that traveled into the tainted regions. Magic was an inherently suicidal thing to employ in such places without a remarkable understanding of the Point and all features of the rules which governed the Sector currently being occupied. Everything in a spell from the time it took to produce, to the school, effect, number of targets and even the manner in which the spell functioned were all individuals factors which could set off a dimensional-explosion and throw an entire team of unwitting mercenaries through a hole into Abadon; or worse. There was always worse, they just hadn't learned what that was yet, that was the first lesson tainted lands had to teach the fools which dared brave its depths. Wizards and magicians were generally less welcome by companies that ventured to such places, than they were by the general public. Unless the magician in question specialized in using his or her magic in such places, and possessed a record to back it, not even a fool would bring one along. There existed unique items called 'Grounds' which restrained and processed a magician's magic making it generally safe to use, but they were immensely expensive and built for each individual mage. Yet, more vexing was the matter than a single magician would often need multiple Grounds as no single device was assured to provide every protection for every circumstance. Nor were they permanent fixtures, like filters, they eventually spoiled and failed. At least the ones commercially available. The device's creator, the genius inventor Denil Demn could produce Grounds which would self-cleanse and restore themselves with time, but acquiring a commission from the man was a nightmare. If not because of the competition attempting to do the same, than because the craftsman was notoriously difficult to reach.

The degree of influence upon supernatural powers varied wildly, but was based on the level of corruption the tainted region possessed. In some of the worst places there were documented cases of Gales detonating in a bloody mess from simply employing internal forces to accelerate their speed and agility. Much like a monastic practitioner of martial arts, many Harriers preferred to learn to hone inner energies to aid themselves in conflict while Diving, but even this was not completely safe. During 'Deep Dives' companies outfitted their members with various equipment to maintain internal stability, but this was not something exclusive to the most foul of places. If the rules of a Sector were particularly twisted, it was possible to experience those same hazards without venturing into the belly of the beast.

Some materials or creatures didn't react well in tainted regions. The places were often so alien and foreign that not even animals could enter. Sometimes it wasn't just animals, it could be steel, or wood. Maybe iron. No one would know what all, if any may have been effected until a Site Investigator ran their exhaustive tests. Some of the most strange of places caused unnatural phenomena from things associated with a particular thing. Perhaps a cleric's symbol, or a deity's favored weapon, maybe the pages of a book. It was as if the world were possessed by some malicious spirit that remembered only the things related to what had wronged it. None of these places were necessarily good to ever venture, many Gales never bothered. Even putting the twisted spaces of reality aside, the Veilbeasts and other horrors were enough to convince any sane man to keep his distance. Veilplague had become nearly non-existent, but the corruption and curses which could be afflicted were a horrendous burden. If a man were blighted, he could not be allowed into a town or city. It was all one could do to simply pray that a green witch or other healing pariah might be able to mend them, as civil men would have no choice but to quarantine or kill the infected. There simply were no known cures for most maladies, at least not in the hands of the peoples at large. For most, death was assured.


Point: 323, F3B: Sector 1B - Regional Effects
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Spoiler: Reclaiming the Flesh

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Your body has been broken and cursed, stealing from you the ability to move or even impart life into those things tied to your existence.

⭍ [Helpless] You are helpless. Your movement speed for all forms of travel is reduced to 0. Autonomous actions which could be performed by sentient/independent creatures and sources cannot be performed. Familiars and bound creatures are considered to be afflicted with the the death-condition until this status is removed. You may speak in a horse-whisper, requiring a DC10 perception check to be heard.

⯎ [Taking Control] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 will save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success you recover 1d4 x 5 feet of movement to your base land speed. Upon regaining 5ft of speed, the helpless-condition is removed and you become dazed.

⯎ [ Recovery] Once per round you may attempt a DC20 fortitude save. Each round you are unsuccessful the DC decreases by 1. Upon success the DC for this save resets to 20 and the dazed-condition is removed. You become staggered for 1d3 rounds. You may continue to attempt fortitude saves each round normally to end this condition early.

⯎ [Taking Up Arms] You are still donned in your armor, but all of your possessions are scattered about your cell. Objects where were stored inside a bag or other container remain in storage, while other objects are loosely strewn about, requiring attention to gather and rearm yourself.

Spoiler: Breaking Free

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The thick bars enclosing you into your 10-ft cell are still stout despite the time and decay which have weathered them. Locks can be picked, and hard blows struck; find any means of escape you are able and release yourself from your cell.

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Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1
Long ago the Auspex had spoken of the four years which had come and gone from behind the bars of their cages. It was impossible to know just how long it had been since then, but if there was any lesson to be had in all of it, it was that 'time was meaningless'. Strength had begun to return to them. The future was their own to command if they could just wrest it free from the dead-hands of the hell named 'Willowbrook'. That was what they had to keep telling themselves. They said it over and over again until it became truth, the only truth that mattered. It had to be that way, because if they allowed themselves to slip, they would be faced with the terror of another reality too horrible to defeat. Then the 'nothing' which loomed above them like the executioner's axe, would fall. Then they too would join it; and this time, there would be no return.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 49 Minutes
Primary Objective (1): Flee Sector 1B
Primary Objective (2): Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium

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Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below
Lord Matik recounts his battle with a horrid and powerful creature, a horror known as the Ember Beast. Whatever the secrets of its power, it has transformed the knight into something inhuman and unnatural. Something sleeps far below the asylum, a terror steeped in blood and fire. Perhaps the secrets to the infernal warrior's own cursed disposition lay somewhere buried in the deep, or perhaps there was only death. Only one thing was certain; the creature was too dangerous to be allowed to live. It had to be stopped.
Difficulty: Challenging | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: Unknown
Primary Objective: Defeat the Ember Beast

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[Toptomcat]

Walt Kincaid
The Hanging Men

Walt fights to keep himself focused, to keep his impression of all this from merging into a kaleidoscopic whirlwind of terror, pain, strange hallucinations, sudden transitions and bizarre happenings.

That- damn it, that was a hand, wasn't it? The hand of some colossal being, plucking us out of one level and into the next.

Bells, collapsing buildings, smoking brick, images of infernos and Veilbeasts- an impersonal collection of weird, hostile miracles of the kind expected of any Tainted Land. But a hand? Hands do not just happen. Hands are attached to a wrist, an arm, a person- a hand belongs to somebody.

What kind of mad god or strange titan can toy with the Array phenomenon like that- and why would they take an interest in us?

He wants to puzzle his way to the heart of this mystery, and a half-dozen others besides- did the others see the same scene he did? Have the black waters somehow been brought on by Crofte's reminiscing about a flooded Array? Why does he suddenly have all his gear in place? But he can afford to focus on nothing but survival. Walt thrashes for the surface- his heavy clothing, the suddenness of his predicament and the inky blackness of the liquid making him wonder, for a moment, if he's really headed in the right direction...

...and then he breaches the surface, gasping like a fish and looking like nothing so much as a sodden, pale drowned rat with an enormous brown snail's shell on its back. The temptation is to scamper up the wall as quickly as humanly possible- but Walt hauls himself up as slowly as he dares, carefully picking out handhold after handhold and planning out his route as best he can. It will do him no good to rush and fall back into the black depths.

"Did- phwui-"

-the taste of the stuff is foul-

"-did we keep everyone? Sound off! I'm Walt."

Spoiler: OOC

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DC 16 Reflex save vs. (1d8)[8] bludgeoning: (1d20+10)[26]
Making Swim checks until I breach the surface (which is ten feet up if I'm reading the map correctly), then making one Climb check, ending the move action, trading my standard for another Extra Effort move, and making another Climb check for max 10' of distance but no risk of falling.
Swim check: (1d20+1)[13]
Swim check: (1d20+0)[16] EDIT: Two successes straight off.
Swim check: (1d20-1)[1]
Swim check: (1d20-2)[17]
Swim check: (1d20-3)[11]
Swim check: (1d20-4)[2] (If I get to this one without breaching the surface, I only make one Climb check)
If I'm not on the surface at this point, Extra Efforting to reset the penalty:
Swim check: (1d20+1)[17]
Swim check: (1d20+0)[11]
Swim check: (1d20-1)[1]
Swim check: (1d20-2)[17]
Swim check: (1d20-3)[11]
Swim check: (1d20-4)[-2]

Climb check: (1d20+5)[19]
Climb check: (1d20+5)[19] EDIT: And two more successes, putting me at M11 at the end of my action.