The Primeval Dark (IC)

**Mornings** · 2019-12-23, 05:20 PM (ISO 8601)

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 1/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.

They had begun their escape with four, now there were two. The men desperately made their way towards the glint behind the old wooden door just as the walls begun to shake. Erik swung forward, drop kicking the old portal open, shattering the barrier in an explosion of mangled splinters just as the waters came pouring down. The bleak torrent came crashing through the long hall from above like some wicked god's idea of a joke. A black waterfall, which would only spell out their demise. Kazik's hand latched onto the flagstones, fighting back the tides which nearly ripped him back into the hall to drown him at the bottom of the inverted well. With pained efforts, he pulled himself out from the intensifying stream and into the chamber.

The warm emerald glow pulsed from the old cell's center where a fragment of a broken blade lay deeply embedded into the stone. The hilt was nowhere to be seen, but the cutting length of the blade which lay firmly implanted into the ground was ancient. Its surface was far too pitted and corroded to even make out what features might have once lay across the blade's face. The glint strengthened in brief flashes, bringing with it familiar voices and a sense of numbness which drowned out the senses.

The Professor walked in darkness with the young knight at his side, then, suddenly... flickers of gleaming wisps of white light shattered the indistinguishable black veil. "Professor... Where are we?" The old man carefully glanced about while keeping his bladed staff held at the ready. "I'm... not sure, child. But if I had to take a guess... perhaps this might be Eldborogh's so-called 'crossing'." The young knight kept a hand on the hilt of her blade, eyes on the alert as they moved forward though the dim gloom, "Sorry?"

Carefully making his way toward a wall, the wizened scholar scraped the edge of his glaived staff on the wall, removing some dripping black ooze. He inspected it quickly before flicking it off the blade with a sharp gesture, "The good doctor made mention of such a place to me in his letters. 'An iteration or mockery of the halls I had built. A bridge to some darker, sinister reach. A crossing for this malignant evil...' I believe those were his words. The records he had maintained mentioned something of 'befouled chambers'." He motioned towards the goo running across, what appeared to be, every surface. "That does appear to be, 'befouled', to me..."

"Then, should I be concerned?" Cross nodded alarmingly, his grip tightening on his weapon. "Oh yes, I'm afraid so... For if this is indeed the place he spoke of, then I could only admit that Eldborogh was not mad. If that's true.... gods preserve us. What nightmares we might face. This forsaken hell might very well be the only mode in, or out. An exit which the doctor himself claimed to have sealed. Prepare for the worst." The young knight nodded sternly.

Black. Roiling senselessness. Vertigo. It was Erik whom had recovered his wits first, though the whole world felt as if it were spinning as the last flecks of light in his mind from the vision died away. His body quivered, not just from the frosty chill which crept into every crack of his armor, but the sense of wholeness which suddenly grasped him. The shattering wound which had punched through his armor was gone. The crippling dread and daze of his lifeblood running out from him was gone. He was healed. [Erik - Status Recovery]

Kazik rolled about fighting back the paralyzing numbness and wresting forth his consciousness from the depths of the blackness. Then, finally, he woke. The visions were unsettling, and the feeling of helplessness which accompanied it could only be called stifling. For those short moments, he wasn't himself, he wasn't alive, nor dead - nor them. He was nothing. He was no one. Just some nameless onlooker to bear witness to some exchange whose significance was so easily missed. The sharp rasp of steel wasn't the first thing which caught his attention, but rather his recovered limb. The shattering which had threatened to consume the whole of his body.... it was gone. [Kazik - Status Recovery]

The sudden flare of light drew both men's attention as vision returned to the small chamber. A massive bear skin rug made for an impromptu bedding beneath them both, though the thing was slick with a damp sludgy mud, while they themselves were covered with a quarter inch of dripping black clay-like dirt. The light crackled from the massive hearth where an armored woman knelt. It didn't appear like the fireplace had seen flame in decades as the snap and pop of spiders in their webs could be heard burning up from its interior. The whole of the chamber was half flooded with black water and sludge as if the interior of wherever they had ended-up became a bog. The depth appeared to become considerable the further towards the doors one moved.

The stranger kept the cowl of her cloak raised with her hands above the fire. It only took a moment to realize the deathly chill that was beginning to creep into their flesh. Not a normal spout of cold, but a deathly frost. The crack and hiss of ice slowly creeping its way down the walls only served to reinforce their suspicion of the cold's supernatural origins. It felt like they couldn't get a break, no matter what they did. Once again, it was out of the frying pan and into the fire. [Freezing To Death: DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Wounding]

Spoiler: The Uttercold, Minor

Show

While shielded from the brunt of the cold, the interior of the chambers you have found yourself in are effected by a magical frost which will cripple and inevitably kill you, should you succumb to it. You cannot safely sleep while in an area effected by this condition. Utilize sources of heat to help stave off the deathly chill.

- Sources of heat grant various minor stacking bonuses to help resist these effects.

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: Status

Show

֍ Erik +400 (8,400xp)
HP 53/53
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gaineda
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained

֍ Kazik +500 (9,100xp)
HP 58/58
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

**Stevesciguy** · 2019-12-23, 07:58 PM (ISO 8601)

Erik drew a deep breath into lungs that no longer protested the action. Even the sting of the freezing air was nothing compared to before. Through the padding of his armor, he could still feel the chill of the metallic plates. He could only imagine what they'd feel like without the padding. It wasn't a pleasant thought.

Not a moment later, Erik could feel the unearthly strength that inhabited his body fade. Withered and cracked flesh returned to life, and the strain of that unnatural form seeped into his once-again-living muscles.

As the bitter cold crept in further, Erik fumbled momentarily through his backpack with numb hands, before retrieving a small glassy black sphere. With a sharp motion, he cracks it against the armor of his opposite forearm, and some modicum of warmth begins to radiate from it.

Having done what little he could to combat the cold, Erik shifted his attention to the figure by the fire place. His right hand instinctively moves to the sword on his left hip, though he doesn't yet draw it. When he speaks, his voice is no longer hollow or raspy, instead returned to its fuller, more militant state.

"Who are you? Another prisoner?"

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Actions:
Free Action: End Undead Form
Swift: Nothing
Move: Nothing
Standard: Retrieve and activate Heatstone

Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19 - Ended, Fatigue for 1 minute
Rounds of Shield: 4/40
Rounds of Fatigue: 10/10

DC 14 Fort Save: (1d20+9)[15]

Perception for Bad Guys: (1d20+7)[23]
Sense Motive on Stranger when/if she responds: (1d20+7)[26]

**Chromascope3D** · 2019-12-24, 05:35 PM (ISO 8601)

Kazik
The Hanging Men

Washed up on shore, awoken in the bitter cold, Kazik spits out the bitter water. He attempts to collect his bearings. They had just been in the prison, or perhaps they still were. Gravity had reoriented itself, clearly, as the furnishings were where the furnishings should be. His hand seemed to have been restored, and a few quick flexes confirmed this to be true, or at least, a convincing illusion. His remaining companion was here, but, curiously, alarmingly, so was another. It was cold, yes, but what would this stranger do were he to go for his bag? Attack? The risk was too great. He could endure the cold for a bit until they found out this woman's true motives. His hand reached for his belt, and the length of cruelly-barbed chain looped around it.

He inhaled, deeply, and exhaled with a low rattle, before glancing over at the man, Erik, and muttering.

"No time. Beast still approaching. It'll be on us soon."

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Gonna take the total defense action to increase Kazik's AC by 4 for 1 round and regain martial focus (which he expended previously way back in April

), and spend a sentinel reserve point and swift action to give himself 11 temp HP

He'll also ready a move action to move into cover and hide, should a certain monster appear in the next round.

Fort Save: (1d20+8)[15]

Other skill checks
Survival (1d20+9)[22]
Perception (1d20+10)[29]
K: Nobility for any recognizable livery (1d20+6)[24]
Sense Motive (1d20+10)[13]

Spoiler: Stats

Show

Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Reserve Points 4/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 58 (+11) / 58 Speed ft Init 8
AC 20 Fort 8 Ref 9 Will 8
CMB +8 BAB 4
+1 Chain Whip +12 (+10) (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+8}, x2)
Throwing Knives +11 (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +11 (+9) (1d4+2, 19-20/x2)
Str 18 (4) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Temp HP +11, Martial Focus

Conditions
Freezing to Death

**Mornings** · 2019-12-25, 01:42 AM (ISO 8601)

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 0/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.

After Erik's voice echoed out through the room there was a period of silence only broken by the crackle of fire, and the creeping ice making its way further down the wall. The pause seemed to span for ages until, "...So, you don't know me then. I see. Prisoners, was it? I had been curious as to how you two had gotten down here when I pulled you from the muck. That armor was heavy... Her voice was dry and dispirited, but somewhat familiar. While Kazik wasn't sure he himself might be the best judge of an earnest character, Erik was, and he was certain the stranger wasn't spinning the beginnings of some tall-tale. Yet, the truth of that thought struck a chord in him. Something that protested the notion, a proverbial red flag. The girl was armored herself, but of a diminutive stature. Hell, she was shorter than most women, perhaps her head barely reached up to the mercenary's chest, and yet she managed to drag two soaking-wet, clay-covered grown men out of the flooded passage; while they fulled armed and armored. How did that work exactly, perhaps one of them in each hand? No. There was clearly something acutely particular about their host, guised behind that unassuming demeanor. Perhaps some measure of unseen physical might, but he couldn't even begin to guess, only to hold to his caution. [Erik & Kazik| Sense Motive - Success]

"Truthfully, I had been hoping you and your strange friend might have been acquaintances... from last time." The last words were uttered under her breath, but still barely audible. "I can't recall how many times I've been in this room, but if I'm here, I suppose that means I've failed again. Can never recall just what happens towards the end..." Erik didn't feel like the girl was trying to pass some manner of sleight, and after recent events, waking up in a room over-and-over was probably the least insane thing he'd heard all day. He carefully surveyed the lopsided room. Three-quarters of the chamber was sunken in muck or angled awkwardly from a half-melted floor twisted by decades of water damage. While there was two doors in the room, the main exit south of him was nearly half flooded with a broken door frame which had sunken into the murky pool. The door to the thing was busted and broken, but still closed. While the other door on the eastern wall directly behind him had its old lumber absorb too much moisture, leaving the portal swollen shut.

The ice fastly beginning to build along the surface did little to aid in making the exit any more accessible, but he doubted any ambush waited here, least the accosters were capable of teleporting inside to catch them by surprise... Of course, that would make the need for a stranger attempting to bait them into some form of complacency somewhat irrelevant. The mercenary doubted they would be set upon by some conventional foe, there was simply no simply way about it. Even invisibility was rendered somewhat useless, what with all the clay about, but as for tainted creatures and Veilbeasts.... Well. There was no logic behind that. For all he knew, the damned thing could manifest right out of his own sword... he'd heard some tale about such a thing. This was about as 'fortified' a position as a man could hope for in such a hellhole. Though the two rotten desks on the opposite side of the room were somewhat curious, Kazik's voice interjected and put aside those thoughts. [Erik | Perception - Success]

The woman pulled back her cowl to reveal herself, standing to turn and face them both properly. "Apologizes for the muttering about. To answer you question, I'm Kaslin, and I am no prisoner, but I am ensnared within this place... Just as you are, and I could certainly use your aid." Kazik's eyes narrowed behind his mask as the heraldry adorning the front of the woman's cloak came to view. While the girl was dressed modestly, and the seals were simple, the skillful, earthy handstitch-work still revealed much... but less-so than the ancient Shorey sigils running down her sword's scabbard. It was the Ilum Nocturnus, the hereditary sword of House Crowe. The same house to which her cloth's livery belonged. She was Kaslin Crowe.

It had been some thirteen years now, but Kazik could still recall it, how the 'sole heir' and the sword had been lost... Lost in the darkness of the Long Night. It had been before the lights went out for good, when the world was beginning to turn. The House of Crowe was an ancient one, whose hereditary lands spanned through Lozeri, but made claim of ancestry as old as the Shorey Empire itself. If it was true or not was hardly of relevance, as what made the venerable house so important was not its history, but its school of swordsmenship. Techniques which would become the foundation of modern combat for the original Harriers, and those Gales instructed by the so-called 'Red Leper'. Little remained of the original Crowe School teachings, as the techniques themselves were safeguarded in secret, and the few documents which contained information regarding such swordsmenship were wildly valuable. The Crowe house had been all but obliterated during the Night, like the majority of the world they knew, with Kaslin inheriting the knowledge of her father to pass on the tradition. Yet, that hope was cut short after her death in 4686, thus the secrets were lost forever. [Kazik | Knowledge - Success]

The chill grew even more intense and a thick fog begun to roll in through the largest doors' collapsed frame and the cracks of the old broken walls. It didn't take either men much time to realize the girl before them was the same woman from their visions, the knight accompanying Professor Cross. After all, the same familiar black had revealed themselves when she removed her hood, like wildly twisting and squirming blots of ink, blocking out the view of her eyes. It was as if the world itself were being somehow actively changed, to erase part of the girl's face. [Freezing To Death: DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Wounding | Erik +1 circumstance bonus w/Heatstone]

Kaslin glanced about as the gray smog thickened, "This isn't the cold... What in nine-hells did you bring with you, friends?" There was a silence, then a horrid wilting screeching accompanied by a terrible chorus of bellowing growls and guttural howling as something was torn into pieces. The rattling death cries of some dying beast echoed throughout the chamber from somewhere uncomfortably close. An overwhelming sense of dread begun to descend, with a force so powerful it was made manifest. A veil of colorlessness slowly fell around the world about them, drowning their surroundings in a monochrome hue, which stole all sense of hope and mirth, replacing it only with the sudden awareness of death. [Condition: Horrific Dread - Fear Immunity Abilities Have Been Suspended: <Erik | Kaslin | Kazik>]

As a deafening sonic wall of unintelligible gravely voices sounded out from somewhere, the knightly woman froze in place. Eyes wide in shock and terror, "...Oh, sheit." Kaslin's hand snapped to her hip, half drawing her weapon from its heavy cold iron and leather scabbard. With a twist of a series of rings on the weapon's hilt, half of the long slender crossguard ratcheted forward, revealing a slender chamber. She slid out a small cylindrical device from it, then repeated the gesture again, and again, removing three devices, and tucking them into the loops on her sword's harness. After a moment she pulled out a different, crystalline device, choosing to hold it in her teeth while slamming down a number of unusual glowing objects into the weapon and repeating the ratcheting action. Again, and again, until she had loaded five devices in before inserting the device still in her mouth and reassembling her weapon. Slamming the sword back in its sheath, it closed with a soft click and an unusual rotation of the sheath's collar. It was like some manner of clockwork puzzle in the form of a sword, truly a marvel, but blindingly confusing. It had all been completed in a moment's notice, the girl's focus hardly directed at her work and more towards her surroundings. "Look sharp, it's here."

With her weapon readied, she kept one hand on her scabbard and the other on the sheathed weapon's hilt, prepared to draw in what Erik had recalled was more of a Minkaian-style... though there was some differences in the technique. The way the whole of her weapon was raised up at her side and her head lowered into her shoulders in a compressed pose reminded him of a pugilist's guard; which made for a far more superior battle posture than the Minkai variation he'd seen previously. Then it hit them... A cold that froze the mind and all thoughts. A chill inside that shattered all resolve like a mace through a thin film of glass. It all seemed so pointless now, there was only the fear... The horror. The certainty of death. [Terrifying Inevitability - DC18 Will Save Vs Frightened Status (1 minute) | On Success - Shaken Condition]

Spoiler: The Uttercold, Minor

Show

While shielded from the brunt of the cold, the interior of the chambers you have found yourself in are effected by a magical frost which will cripple and inevitably kill you, should you succumb to it. You cannot safely sleep while in an area effected by this condition. Utilize sources of heat to help stave off the deathly chill.

- Sources of heat grant various minor stacking bonuses to help resist these effects.

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: Status

Show

֍ Erik +600 (9,000xp)
HP 53/53
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gaineda
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Unusual Technique +100 (9,100xp)
⯎ Caution +100 (9,200xp)

֍ Kazik +500 (9,600xp)
HP 58/58
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ House Crowe +100 (9,700xp)
⯎ Kaslin Crowe +200 (9,900xp)
⯎ Red Leper +100 (10,000xp)
⯎ Ilum Nocturnus +100 (10,100xp)
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

**Stevesciguy** · 2019-12-25, 03:41 AM (ISO 8601)

"This isn't the cold... What in nine-hells did you bring with you, friends?"

"The Tindalos Stalker. That's what Cross called it, at least."

Erik drew his sword as well - a relatively simple broadsword whose only sign of being more than mundane was the slight perversion of the firelight's reflection off the blade. Erik briefly glanced at Kaslin's bizarre weapon. He was equal parts disgusted by the gross over-complexity and curious of its construction and function. He'd have to ask her about it, and the technique she wielded it with.

If we live that long.

The words that rang through his own mind took Erik by surprise. He wasn't one to consider death. As long as he had strength to fight with, survival was always a possibility. But the words threatened to take over his mind. With effort, he pushed them away into background - but that didn't stop his hands from shaking. How long had it been since he'd truly felt fear?

To distract himself, he started thinking tactically. The desks could provide cover, possibly. There were only so many entrance-

What had he been thinking just a moment ago, while casing the room?

The ice fastly beginning to build along the surface did little to aid in making the exit any more accessible, but he doubted any ambush waited here, least the accosters were capable of teleporting inside to catch them by surprise... ... The mercenary doubted they would be set upon by some conventional foe, there was simply no simply way about it. Even invisibility was rendered somewhat useless, what with all the clay about, but as for tainted creatures and Veilbeasts.... Well. There was no logic behind that. For all he knew, the damned thing could manifest right out of his own sword... he'd heard some tale about such a thing.

Tindalos Stalker...

It was an ambush predator.

"Stand back to back. This thing will come from where we least expect it, and with the powers these vermin have, that could be damn near anywhere. Keep an eye out, pay close attention to the shadows."

Although he couldn't stop his hands from shaking, he'd managed to keep the quiver out of his voice. He set the activated Heatstone back into his belt pouch, then put his now-free hand onto the hilt of his sword. He'd need the extra control. He stepped closer to Kaslin, then settled into his own combat stance and readied himself for the first battle he'd had in years... and maybe his last.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Actions:
Swift: None
Move: Draw sword and move to D3
Standard: Total Defense - +4 Dodge to AC

That brings my AC to 30.

DC 14 Fort Save: (1d20+15)[29]
DC 18 Will Save: (1d20+10)[21]

Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19 -
Rounds of Shield: 5/40
Rounds of Fatigue: 9/10
Rounds of Shaken: 10/10

Perception to look for Stalker: (1d20+7)[19]
Survival to feel for anything off: (1d20+5)[10]

**Chromascope3D** · 2019-12-25, 02:39 PM (ISO 8601)

Kazik
The Hanging Men

"Tindalos Stalker"

Kazik corrected, apparently a stickler for accuracy.

"Our warden."

He lowers his stance as the ice continues to creep in. The chain rattles as grips the ends, pulling it taut between his outstretched arms, ready to catch anything that might approach. Amongst the activity, the preparation, their waiting for the inevitable foe, the cold begins to creep in. Well, nothing to do for it now. They'll just handle this quickly, and...

He stops. Something's wrong. He felt something, was reminded of a memory long distant but unmistakable. Kazik was certain that he had quenched this part of himself long ago, drowned it out, locked and sunk, yet here it was surfacing again. He was reminded of a pair of piercing blue eyes, perforating the dark through a weedbed of chains. It had never left him, true, but perhaps he had conquered it. Perhaps by emulating that stare he thought he might finally be free of it. And yet, here it was, plain and naked and fresh as the first rending.

For the first time in decades, Kazik was trembling. Didn't they feel it? No, his gaze darts back and forth frantically. Two exits, from where would it emerge? Would he be able to run? Could these two serve enough of a distraction? He glances back over at the woman.

"You've seen this thing before, haven't you, Miss Crowe? Is your machine as fearsome as the legends say?"

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Gonna take the total defense action again

All saves were failures

Scorn (1d8)[1]

Other skill checks
Perception (1d20+8)[23]
K: Engineering on the fancy weapon (1d20+2)[22]

Spoiler: Stats

Show

Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn
Reserve Points 4/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 58 (+11) / 58 Speed ft Init 8
AC 20 (+4) Fort 8 (-2) Ref 9 (-2) Will 8 (-2)
CMB +8 BAB 4
+1 Chain Whip +12 (+10) (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+8}, x2)
Throwing Knives +11 (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +11 (+9) (1d4+2, 19-20/x2)
Str 18 (4) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Temp HP +11 (9/10), Martial Focus, Total Defense (1/1)

Conditions
Freezing to Death, Horrific Dread, Frightened (10/10), Self Doubt (until next will save)

**Mornings** · 2019-12-28, 02:33 AM (ISO 8601)

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 0/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.
⯎ Primary Objective (3): The horrible beast has come. Survive the onslaught - [5/5 Rounds]

It wasn't just the terror that was beginning to make the masked man shake. The frost and rime has begun to crawl its way up his arms, stealing the warmth from his flesh. He felt so cold his appendages were beginning to cramp, far beyond the point of simple numbness. Now small flares of sharp prickling, like insects crawling up from his hands was beginning to take hold. Perhaps the only thing reminding him that blood still flowed through his frozen veins. Patches of black from frostbite blotted painted themselves upon him right before his very eyes. It was becoming difficult to move. [Kazik | Frozen Skin - Your movement speed is reduced by 10ft and you suffer from 1 point of nonlethal damage each round until you succeed a DC 18 fortitude save vs the cold.]

"Tinda-what? You made that up didn't y-, Professor Cross!? I've questions for you, 'sir', but we can save those for later." As the sudden wave of dread hit, the gallant woman went rigid, as did they all. It was a tangible terror, a deeply rooted fear which could not be dismissed. As Kazik spoke, the woman's hand grasped for her heart as she started to violent cough, then vomit forth a black phlegmy spew of blood and ickor onto the slick stone floor. Her nose begun too bleed from both nostrils, and a red stream leaked from the corner of one eye. "I don't know your beastie, Mr. Mask-" She coughed and hacked, spitting a mouthful of blood and hastily wiping off her face with the sleeve of her mantle. "...But I assure you, this is a nightmare beast. A creature of the same nature as the multitude of horrors I've faced, which fill these very halls. If the Professor taught you anything of this place, the first should have been never to look upon these blighted things. They cannot be defeated after you have done so... Or at least until their curse is broken."

After the violent bout of coughing the knightly swordswoman appeared to be reinvigorated. As if she simply shook off the looming terror of death. She recovered her defensive posture, rock steady. "Heh. There's legends now?" The dame snorted as if trying to suppress a laugh and retain her focus, "When I was training Verlow's Runners all those sods ever did was mock me for using some 'rusted junk' as a weapon. Then when I started winning, they said it must be a 'trick with the sword'. I hope those cuckold sheits heard these 'legends' too." Erik couldn't help but flinch behind the shield of his helm, because he knew. There wasn't any Runners left on Golarion. At least not after the battle at Raven's Cradle which had wiped the small shire-village off the face of the world, during the first battle ever waged against Veilbeasts. A historic event which was now called Runner's Breach. Caine Verlow and his Runners died, to the last man. The shattered fragments which remained after their sacrifice sealed the Breach, and halted the potential flood of Veilbeasts throughout the whole of Avistan, was passed to Cayla Vronds; who created the Cotton Club. Any living Runner left became a Gale, and her 'mercenary guild' succeeded Verlow's legacy. He couldn't help but wonder just how long the girl had been sealed within this place.

Part of Kazik's off-handed comment caught the mercenary's attention. Crowe? Kaslin Crowe. It was beginning to make sense. It was no secret that the modern form of combat taught by Harriers derived from so-called Crowe Fighting. Not every mercenary was, or could be, a Harrier. Well educated, groomed by a company and drilled for years in proper combat, and wielding those absurdly sized blades. They were the most elite class of the sell-sword world, and while some Harriers were Gales, not every Gale was a Harrier. Men would pay twice more for one Harrier than two Gales. The Cotton Club's strongest asset was its existence as an official organization, which made business simple. The opposite of trying to employ a Harrier company, or individual mercenary. Harrier's variation of 'Crowe Fighting' focused primarily on utilizing high mobility blitz tactics, sometimes in the form of scythe-down enemies with their massive blades during a charge, or using them in similar fashion to a lance during their passing raids. There were numerous techniques, but all of them prioritized never remaining still and never standing in place to exchange blows. Regardless of the result of a blitz attack, Harriers never stopped or returned to continue combat squarely with an enemy; they simply continued on running. 'There would always be another chance to attack'. It was a very different way of doing things than what Erik had expected. His first mission accompanied by a Harrier had been accomplished in a near-sprint the entire time. He supposed that was a large contributing factor of why Harriers lived so much longer than other sell-swords, but it was a painfully tedious method. Kaslin's method appeared worlds-apart. [Erik | Knowledge - Success]

Kazik took a quick inspection of Kaslin's unusual weapon, but aside from the strange transparency of its curious glass-like blade, he couldn't tell much of it in regard to its construction. It was a curiosity unlike any he had seen before. He'd heard that the weapons utilized by those which trained in Crowe school techniques were called Crowe Arms, and were of 'remarkable construction and complexity'. He didn't know what that actually might have meant until now, and it was difficult to refute the sentiment. Supposedly the things required years of training to utilize, as the operator had to also learn to maintain and repair the weapon, in addition to its munitions. Apparently, each weapon also chambered and utilized some manner of ancient and long-forgotten form of ammunition. The actual function the munitions served apparently differed radically based on the weapon itself, and the specific round being used; adding another level of complexity to something which appeared as simple as a sword. There may be a handful of individuals capable of producing the rare rounds the weapons expended, but nearly all of them were recovered from ruins or purchased off collectors. Due to the rarity and cost such things carried, each pull of the trigger was a considerable expenditure of wealth. Crowe Arms were more of a rare collector's piece out in the world, not something someone would take into actual battle. Though they could be obscenely potent, it was a weapon which ran gold, making it impractical. The only use the masked man had heard of before being thrown into his rotten cell, had been by wealthy mercenaries who kept such a tool as a last-ditch trump card, not as a primary weapon. [Kazik | Knowledge - Partial]

"A fair assessment, friend." Kaslin's words were directed at Erik as he moved closer and took up a guard adjacent to the woman. Kazik could feel the knot in his stomach tighten as the mist thickened and drowned the room. It was as if a great beast's maw lay looming behind over his shoulder, and its breath was this horrid choking fog. It made his body run rigid as his eyes alertly darted about, fighting back the swelling sense of panic. A presence. Sharply he turned about, his head spinning behind himself to look over his shoulder to the corner of the room where he had felt the ominous aura. Nothing. There was nothing there. He could almost feel the sense of relief overtake the pain of the cold which clouded his thoughts. Yet, he couldn't avert his gaze. Something held him in place, compelled him to look there, in that unoccupied corner. His heartbeat hammered in his ears like a war-drum, the crushing fear beginning to hasten and surge. Somewhere through the gloom of the dark, beyond the curtain of now-ancient chains, something glared back. A sudden pale glow manifested before him. It opened its eyes.

Every fleeting sense of fear. Every conquered moment of powerlessness. Even those forgotten seconds of self doubt. Every single one came flooding into Kazik, as his chilling sense of horror was made manifest as time seemed to slow. The wretched twisting behemoth was writ by some maddened god's quill, lines of ink and blotches of shade fabricating the six emaciated wolf heads and twisting limbs wrought in wild black lines. The empty white gleam of its eyes leveled upon his quivering form... Then the room erupted beneath its terrible howl. A cacophonous detonation thundered though the entirety of the chamber as a hundred-hundred thousand whirling invisible blades of distorted wind crashed into the room. Stone rained down upon them, pelting them beneath a hail of ruined gravel. The walls rattled and shattered, collapsing half of the study's remaining ceiling down upon them with a crashing roar and protest of failing supports. The desks, and rotten bookcases, the crumpled parchments and dried quills, all shattered into bursts of flying shrapnel that sounded like small bells across the two warrior's armor. The sonic assault sent the freezing survivors skidding across the slick floor, nearly throwing them to slide across the whole of the expanse. [Ripping Gaze - DC 18 Fortitude Save Vs 5d6 slashing damage | Success Negates]

The mutilating wave of ripping blades seemed to pass harmlessly though Kaslin as she exploded into motion, "DON'T LOOK AT IT!" It was an impossible speed. Erik's mind only processed the flash of the blade after the second strike. With a level of skill forgotten to the world, Kaslin's blade had sprung out of its sheath, but not before she had ratcheted the weapon twice again. The unusual sword sliced through the air, seemingly dividing part of reality itself, leaving a clear line of shattered space carved floating before them, and reflected in the great beast's hide, despite the distance between them. The crack of an ignition pierced the towering horror with chains of magical energy. A flash glinted. The second strike. Neither of the men could see it, but the thunderous explosion lit the air aflame with a sonic assault that sent the looming monstrosity hurtling through the collapsing ceiling, like some skyward ascending devout to the Starsong. Her weapon was already re-sheathed. The whole of the exchange was processed afterwards, as Erik had already been hoisted off the ground by the short girl now screaming at the petrified form of Kazik as she went. "RUN! RUUUUN!" [Freezing To Death: DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Wounding | Erik +1 circumstance bonus w/Heatstone]

Far stronger and faster than he could understand, the young woman had unleashed her battery of blows, and made it across the whole of the chamber with him over a shoulder. One arm pumped and threw Erik through the bloated shattered door of the half-flooded exit on the southern end of the room. "DON'T LOOK BACK! GO!" [Human Battering Ram (Erik) - 2 points of Non-Lethal damage]

Flooded Passages
The black waters easily rise up to your chest and impede your movement, while the mist limits visibility. You may move a maximum of 10ft per move action while in flooded areas. Additionally you suffer a -4 penalty Vs the cold while in water and for 1 round after.

Spoiler: The Uttercold, Minor

Show

While shielded from the brunt of the cold, the interior of the chambers you have found yourself in are effected by a magical frost which will cripple and inevitably kill you, should you succumb to it. You cannot safely sleep while in an area effected by this condition. Utilize sources of heat to help stave off the deathly chill.

- Sources of heat grant various minor stacking bonuses to help resist these effects.

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: Status

Show

֍ Erik +500 (9,700xp)
HP 53/53
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gaineda
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Martial Influence Gained
⯎ Crowe Fighting +100 (9,800xp)
⯎ Runners Breach +450 (10,250xp)

֍ Kazik +500 (10,600xp)
HP 58/58
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ Crowe Arms +100 (10,700xp)
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

**Stevesciguy** · 2019-12-29, 01:48 PM (ISO 8601)

There was clearly more to Kaslin than met the eye. Erik didn't have an exact number, but he estimated that between his equipment and his bodyweight, he must've weighed 350 pounds or more. And Kaslin picked him up and threw him like he was a sack of potatoes. All faster than he could even process in real time. How could she do that?

Erik knew he had changed. Men just didn't survive having holes punched through their chest. Yet here he was. Maybe Kaslin was similarly changed. He didn't know. This was out of his scope, as much as he disliked admitting it.

In the water, cold as it was, the world was almost calm again. The mist swallowed up much of the sound of the nearby room, and the limited visibility gave the illusion of solitude. There was no time to take it in. It was move or die.

As he wades through the black water, he relaxes from his combat stance. Now that they were out of their corner, fighting wasn't an option. What they needed was time. He begins to take a mental inventory of his equipment:

Could try to collapse the corridor with a grenade, if they aren't too waterlogged to light. If it can teleport, though, then a bit of rubble won't do much. Unless I can catch it in the collapse, but that isn't likely.

It seems to prefer the darkness. Maybe the flash of a firework could overload its senses and stun it for a moment? Could work, but it'd be a tough shot to aim.

It occurred to Erik that he should probably tell the others which way he was going. Getting split up would be the surest way to die.

"I'm heading down the southern corridor!"

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Actions:
Swift: None
Move: Move 10 feet
Standard: Move 10 feet

I'm moving to M3

Saves:

DC 18 Fort Save: (1d20+14)[17]
DC 14 Fort Save: (1d20+15)[34]
Damage: (5d6)[20]

Corruption: 7
Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19 -
Rounds of Shield: 6/40
Rounds of Fatigue: 8/10
Rounds of Shaken: 9/10

Perception to take a closer look at the water: (1d20+5)[22]
Perception to look for anything I can exploit to set up obstacles or distractions: (1d20+5)[17]
Survival to feel for anything off: (1d20+3)[8]

**Chromascope3D** · 2019-12-30, 04:38 PM (ISO 8601)

Kazik
The Hanging Men

And here it was. Revolting. A pulsating mob of teeth and flesh. Gibbering, yowling, barking, hungering. Its presence had borne down upon him since its cell, and yet, it was more horrifying than he could have ever reckoned. So... unlike anything he had known before. The gaze of a kyton was, at least, comprehensible. For all the darkness that lurked behind those yellow eyes, there at least was order, rigid discipline beneath that gaze. But this? Madness. Simple chaos. Burbling and wretched and irreconcilable. As he was buffeted by the immense energy of its mere presence, one thought only repeated itself.

He needed to get away.

Awash with so many conflicting emotions, chaotic energies roiling within his mind, one thought only echoed above all the rest. He could find no words, only to turn about on his heels and lunge forward as fast as he could be carried. His vision reddening, he nary even sees the knight as he dives through the door and into the frigid pool beyond.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

DC 18 Frozen Skin (1d20+6)[25] | (1d20+6)[24] and Spite (1d8)[6]
DC 18 Ripping Gaze (1d20+6)[17] and damage if applicable (5d6)[20]
DC 14 Freezing to Death (1d20+6)[25] ^[1]

Kazik is going to redirect 9 points of damage to his delayed damage pool (guardian sphere), and activate berserking as a free action, gaining 7 temp HP and suffering -2 AC and Ref saves until the start of his next turn.

Then he's going to withdraw to K4 as a full-round action and end his turn, taking the 9 damage from his guardian pool.

(Also I just realized that I forgot to change Kazik's AC from his Dex increase. His base AC should be 22)

Other skill checks
Perception (1d20+8)[11]
Survival (1d20+7)[15]
Swim (if applicable) (1d20+9)[21]

Spoiler: Stats

Show

Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Reserve Points 3/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 56 / 58 Speed ft Init 8
AC 22 (-2) Fort 8 (-2) Ref 9 (-2)(-2) Will 8 (-2)
CMB +8 BAB 4
+1 Chain Whip +12 (+10) [2] (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+8}, x2)
Throwing Knives +11 [-2] (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +11 (+9) [-2](1d4+2, 19-20/x2)
Str 18 (4) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions
Freezing to Death, Horrific Dread, Frightened (9/10), Self Doubt (until next will save)

**forg99rules** · 2019-12-31, 12:56 AM (ISO 8601)

It would be a lie to say that Stella did not have a bit of fear in her as the proceedings went, the fact that what she had spoken had suddenly spewed out after the black had came again was a bit worrisome and she was not completely sure if it was the Justice who caused it or a name that she had spoken that did such. Listening to the words the justice spoke she wondered exactly what punishment was to be brought against her. It was true that her negligence and lack of knowledge had led her to this situation and that fact was very evident to her. Time and time again she failed to understand what was going on or how best to solve the problems that she faced. If she had been her old self or held more memories of her past life then perhaps everything would have been different. One thing was certain though, if they didn't execute her at this trial then she would begin trying to learn how to better use the abilities that she did have and yet did not understand.

Hearing that the Keeper of the Wild Dark did not want to pursue formal charges against her, she internally sighed in relief. The sudden outburst from the L'Dalharen cause her by surprise though as well as the impossibly sudden disappearance of said being. The next few words spoken confirmed what she had been feeling in the back of her mind, this was a charade put on for the eyes of the House of the First. While the charges were real and very serious it was still her own house that had been damaged by her actions and it seemed that they still looked out for their own even if the one being assisted was not what she had previously been. As she looked over the edge of the platform she was curious as to whom both the corpse belonged to as well as to whom the woman looming over it was. Her mind began searching for the answer as she continued to listen, thankfully she was given a named for one of the women. Gran Hexe B'Belka'tevel, The name was just as important as the person and she tried to recall what she could of the woman even as everyone continued to converse. Hearing that the Gran Hexe would be her master seemed to be a blessing in disguise, while she knew that she would learn a lot from her there was still the fact that the woman was very off putting. Still no matter what she would learn all that she could from this woman and once she gains her freedom she would once again pursue her own goals.

Looking up at the Justice as the woman stated that even without her knowledge she was still the Magister of the House of Black made her feel a bit proud. She knew that she could not let them down less she lose the position that they still held her at. The clap from Caus'fel turned her attention to the man, she understood what he said to a point and yet her mind now began to race to figure out what Quortek V'dre was. She began to nod when the Gran Hexe mentioned that they needed more enforcers like Caus'fel, She honestly agreed. From what little interaction she had with the Enforcer she couldn't help but feel that he did his job perfectly and always strived to both protect his House and its interests while remaining impartial. Once again finding herself looking up at the Justice as a hand was put on her shoulder, she trusted the woman and would do as she said. The fact that the Gran Hexe had been appointed by the Lady Black herself did not get missed by her. To have such a woman as her Master even for a short time and even in these circumstances was for sure to end up being a boon for her even if it was to be difficult.

As the weight of her actions finally started to settle in and the realization that her actions had brought on a lot more than she was prepared to deal with she decided it best to turn her attention to her knew master less the weight become to much for her. “Yes I am the Whispering Witch's apprentice, though most of what I learned from her has been lost. It pains me to admit it but I am not sure I properly remember Arborization magic anymore.”

Spoiler: OOC

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Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[49] - information on the Wild Dark and what role a Keeper would have for it
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[35] - information on the corpse in the water
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[40] - information on the Gran Hexe
Know Abstract: (1d20+32)[33] - information on Arborization magic

**Mornings** · 2020-01-05, 07:25 PM (ISO 8601)

421st Day of the 1st Cycle - Time: 9th Bell / LC: 30,303
Jun'athel; L'Chandal - The Crucible
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Stella had never heard of the Gran Hexe before, which, considering her apparent standing within the House and the respect from L'Dalharen which she commanded - was an oddity. Alicia, whom was not a Veilwitch was even more clueless. Yet, raised in Duvan she knew that such a Witch should be an individual of no small repute... unless. Unless, the mysterious Witch's existence had either predated the city, or she was somehow too weak to contest the Coven should they attempt to strike her from history. The latter seemed extremely unlikely. After all there were no Witches within the city of Duvan which could beckon the attentions of their own House; not even the Hexen Tenebris commanded such authority. Alicia mentally committed to her assertion, after all, as far as she was aware there had never been another Gran Hexe of the Vet'Cnros aside from Gran Hexe Gehlaava. The ancient Hexe had outlived three Hexen and two wars which had nearly destroyed the city, there simply was no mention of a second Gran Hexe. [Stella | Knowledge - Failure]

Her gaze was drown away from the Gran Hexe for a moment, down unto the dark waters from which the curious Witch had seemingly emerged. "Curious?" She'd let her attention slip too long, failing to remain unnoticed. Yes, she was curious. Just what purpose the corpse in the water might have served to the House, but looking back at the gloomy Witch's cold eyes seemed to answer that question. "The Justice.... Cannot hold court. Without the Bride's. Approval." The Gran Hexe gestured to the body, floating motionless upon the surface of the still water. "L'Chandal requires. A host... It was I. Who put here there. Long ago... Before you took, the wand. Before Tenebris. Before Hexen. Before Duvan. Before the march. Before the Old King... Before Nahrasti forged, the Sword. Before Elahkuur spoke. Before the Wheel... It was then. I placed her. Then, L'Chandal was whole... Come." [Stella | Knowledge - Partial]

Thoughts reached back, looking for answers as she spoke while the Hexe led her down the long black walkway. The Gran Hexe nodded mirthlessly, "Yes. I had thought. Such would be so. Adessa. Was much like you. An idiot. Not, unlearned. Drunk on ambition. Vainglory. Power. Never to pause. And remedy, the ignorance... She knew, she possessed. Ever forward. Pathing destruction." Stella recalled that the Keepers, of which there were various, were the administrators and absolute authorities of their respective domains. Each Keeper possessed a Speaker, and each Speaker held a seat upon the Council. Pausing for a moment, she recalled the odd exchange from what felt like a lifetime ago. How there was supposedly a sixteenth Speaker. For there to be such a thing, there likewise had to exist a sixteenth Keeper... of what, or where, she could only imagine. Perhaps she had stumbled upon something far too dangerous to even whisper. What if it were the Keeper of some L'Dalharen domain, forbidden to even speak of? Surely there would be no second chances were she to appear in court again; this time before the House of the First... [Stella | Knowledge - Success]

Within their respective Keeps, or the domains which they ruled, a Keeper was something akin to a divine being. While not actually a 'god', in the sense of being some creative entity of worship, their capability to shape and influence their realm far exceeded that of any heavenly being. Gods did not command such unquestionable power. Yet, this might did not extend beyond these realms. Outside of their regions of authority, a Keeper possessed no remarkable abilities other than what they themselves could perform without such immeasurable power. Each Keeper was a mortal creature, or at least, that was the intention. However, it was uncommon for a House to place a Child into the position. While not normally a permanent duty, L'Dalharen could perform whatever remedial task they were given while a primary Keeper was sought out.

She walked on for minutes behind the hovering Hexe, following the impossibly long pathway. It stretched on into the infinite expanse of darkness. Then finally, it felt as if they passed through a thin film and were deposited into some foreign location.

It was warm. The crackle and snap of lumber upon the hearth filled her ears as the small wooded house came into view. The hardwood of the dark walnut floors was slightly worn, but well polished and clean. A large bookcase sat across from the fire, while a large table cluttered with all manner of scroll and parchment sat on the far end of the room. The Gran Hexe found one of the two large chairs before the flame and had a seat, gesturing for Stella to occupy the other.

"Arborization. Is not learned. By Sunjath'la. It is not taught... In the city. This is why. It is practiced. Only by Ros'wussrun. And Vet'Cnros. In Ist'Treemma'rei. You would study. Years. Be exposed to... numerous challenges. Again. And again. Until you learned. Slow, but... thorough. Painful. But effective... To those with. Less means." The Gran Hexe extended a leisurely hand out to the side, a small serving table manifesting from some twisted distortion. It was topped with two small glass tea cups sitting on unremarkable clear coaster plates. Carefully grasping the teapot which seemingly manifest in her closed palm, she poured herself a cup and exchanged dishes, taking a small sip from the piping hot drink. "Too slow a... method. We don't have. Time for that. That is to say... I don't have. Such time to... waste. Fortunately. There are, other options. At my disposal. While you remain... my servitor. For you are... my servitor, now. You've some... limited access to. Remarkable places. Ideal to train. "

The Hexe glanced off to the side as a roguish man's shadowy projection manifested on the far end of the room. His skin was completely covered with numerous rough bands of cloth and a turban sat tightly woven upon his head. Alicia couldn't see the man's eyes from behind the unusual pair of smoked goggles tightly pressed against his face. "Hm? How do they fair?" The stranger man shook his head negatively, his voice no more than a whisper. "Not well, master. I fear she grows stronger still, threatening to drive them all mad. Worse still are Saphsa's means. They are impatient and heavy-handed. L'Dalharen or not, without a Grim to maintain order she will only drive them all to endlessly repeat the same path of death." The Witch looked mirthlessly perturbed, as if the news came as something of an acute annoyance. "What manner of... Idiot..." "I'm afraid that's not all, master." "Wonderful. There's more... Out with it, then." "She has allowed D'Inlé passage into Jun'athel. Kakasyheji'fol. Fortunately, the Enforcer of Black, Caus'fel interjected before too much damage was sown, but the beast still remains... and..." The Gran Hexe's normally emotionless gaze ran deathly cold, filling Alicia's veins with a bloodcurdling chill. [Status (Alicia) | Condition - Shaken]

The tea cup in the Witch's hand shattered, spilling its contents upon the floor, but the tea which ran across her hand bubbled and hissed, rapidly evaporating in a furious effervescence which Stella couldn't appropriately describe or explain. The grim faced Witch eyed the messenger unblinkingly. Alicia was certain that if the man were physically present, the magically charged intensity of her violet glowing glower would have literally caused the unfortunate speaker to ignite. "Oh. There's more?" The mysterious stranger had averted his gaze to the floor, rapidly sputtering out the last bit. "...She also set V'Havesi'Nalor upon the hosts." The Gran Hexe's hand snapped out and released a viciously powerful snap of her fingers. The thunderous clap was frightfully jarring, as her vision suddenly splintered, as if looking at the world through a mirror she had just fractured with a bloody knuckled fist. The messenger had immediately vanished, seemingly collapsing into nothing but wisps of dark mist. It felt as if something not only broke inside herself, but something shattered within the very Weave. After a moment the splintered fragments of her reality begun to quickly self mend, like a reel of film rewinding.

B'Belka signed, rolling her eyes at the nuisance of the circumstances which had found themselves in her lap. The Hexe's sharp gaze rolled back over to Alicia, pointedly. "Do you see... now? The inconveniences your... meddling, has cost me? It was your. Intrusions. Which caused this. Disturbance. Ripples... In the pond, Magister. Until... This is remedied. We will be. Unable, to appropriately further... your training. So. You will fix. This first. Then we will... continue. Only fair."

The Veilwitch gestured towards the hearth which slowly bloomed to life with a dark ebon flame. "My... World Veil. Is special. Important. Critical... To the preservation. Of all existence. Throughout, the Three Worlds. For here... Dwells, the first daughter. Of the... Blessed Mother. The oldest... of the Three. Most ancient... Of all Houses. Whom does not... remain. In the Garden." It was true, Stella knew absolutely nothing of the third House, other than that it existed far beyond the reach of the Three Worlds. As far as she knew, there was no known existence or influence ever imparted upon any realm of the Worlds by the House of the Blessed Mother, not even by Enforcers, nor representation upon the Wheel and Council. She'd never heard of any entity, magic, or influence which originated from the House imparted upon any of the Three Worlds.

"The Child is... too powerful. Too dangerous. To be allowed. Freedom. The burden has... driven her mad. She cannot remember. What or who... she is. As she is... all things. All living beings. At all times. Her madness. Fury... and despair. Would sow... the death. Of all things. As she desires... her own end. It would be. The world's suicide. She must persist. This veil of... madness. Must be lifted. This is why... the Veil exists. Why you meddling... would be. Sentenced to... torment, and death. The hosts of... the Veil. Are not real. But were she... to escape. The damage... would be. Incomprehensible, to you. Look into the... fire. Saphsa'fel's destruction is... sown by your, err. The corruption... you have introduced. Into Jun'athel." The black flames twisted and coiled. Strange visions of death and terror running across the surface of the eerie dark fires. Men ran through shattering stone halls and collapsing archways. Clawing through befouled black flooded passages, fighting to survive and escape the impossible beasts which pursued them.

"The hosts are... her. Each one. While some return... to the dust. Of dreams. From which they... were born. Others remember. Parts of themselves. Parts of her. The pieces of... lives, extinguished. They resist the... terror. The inevitable. The suffering. They struggle. They fight. They are what... she has lost. It is that... which must be. Recovered. It is that..." The Hexe pointed sharply at the hissing fires of the hearth.

Kazik sharply turned, bolting forward just as the ceiling above him collapsed in a deafening explosion. All whirling teeth and rubble, the massive twisting storm of ink and flesh howled terribly as it catapulted itself out from its skyward hole. The horror landed with a shattering collision which rattled the teeth in the masked man's skull. Sharp jagged cracks raced through the floor beneath him as he entered into his flight. The horrible rasp and grate of rattling chains rapidly raced behind him when the foul beast dove after him in hot pursuit. Massive boulders came crashed down all around him and the floor shuddered before the center of the room buckled and collapsed ten feet downward into a sucking pit. Stones pelted him and waves of water crashed unto his knees as the tide rushed forward to greet his mad dash from the ruined chamber. Gouts of rancid humid breath washed over his shoulders from behind just as he hit the water's edge, diving headlong into the murk; narrowly escaping the looming maw of death.

The young knight whom Kazik had passed as he dove through the battered-down door was swatted aside by the savagery of the Tindalos creature. Kaslin tumbled and slammed into a great fallen stone from the collapsing room as the beast struggled against the long chains which ran all the way to the far end of the room, back into the hole from which it emerged. The magical bonds groaned. Links twisted. Then the violently snapped, though the chains covering its body did not vanish. Completely ignoring the woman, the twisted hellion crashed through the rotten wall to set upon the man whom had nearly evaded it in an awful display of power.

Hurtling threw the air, the beast violently crashed down in an abrupt fashion as the chains dangling from its neck ran taught. The wave of ickor from the thing's splash into the muck rushed up and plunged Kazik beneath the waves, only to re-emerge a moment later. The massive thing was slowly being winched back, one foot at a time, into the room from which it had just emerged.

With a mighty bellow, Kaslin tightened her grip on the gleaming magical chains. One step at a time, working her way backwards into the flooding chamber, she hauled the thing backwards at the end of the rattling chains. The stone splintered with each step, groaning in protest as the woman continued her mighty pull with grit teeth. Her arms trembled and her jaw was locked tight, blood beginning to ooze from the gums of her teeth as she dragged the gargantuan beast back inside. Gripping the chains with both hands, she shouted back over her shoulder towards where the mercenary had gone. "The beast is not after me, whatever you've done compels it, but the chains hold! Find a hall or narrow place, we must restrain it! I cannot hold on much longer! Nightmare Beasts cannot remain manifest for long! We must outlast it!" The woman's blood begun to flow from her nose and ears, vessels in her eyes beginning to swell and bruise from the terrible strain as the massive beast thrashed and lashed out. Great claws larger than a man's height whistled as they passed harmlessly over Kazik's head. With one last effort, the dame hauled the chains over her shoulder, pulling with all her might. The terrible wolf-like creature yelped, clawing at the stone, raking it with its massive crooked talons as it was ripped back into the collapsing chamber. Then the ceiling collapsed with a thunderous crash of dust and stone.

The Gran Hexe looked back at Alicia as the stone halls gave out, burying the knight and blighted wolf together. "They are not... all hosts. Some were ensnared.... when the Veil rose. It is... a normal thing. Their influences are... valuable. To steer the... daughter. Back toward sanity. The hosts are... perhaps. More important. Than even those... whom are real. For... they are. The ones... who can heal. The girl's torment. Look at them. At how they... struggle. How they've adapted. That is... the resilience which. She requires. Before, she can mend. Even this world... is left incomplete. While she slumbers. Thus... you must preserve. Them. Despite Saphsa's... corruption. This is the... first cycle. With such potential."

The eerie Witch was lifted from her chair, as if by some invisible wires pulled her up and out of her seat. She drifted toward the large bookcases behind them where a mirror crystallized into being. "Within the Veil. It is far... quicker to learn. Magics. But such is... of little concern. For now. You will enter... the Veil. As one of... my Heralds. Then. You will extract... the hosts. From this... nightmare. They will be... of no use. Should they loose. Their minds. You will need... to judge. The mental competency. Of the hosts. Before my Grims. Just as my... other Herald's shall. Those found... unfit. Or damaged. Shall be discarded. Perhaps recycled. To the next... Cycle. You will require... a form. Within the Veil. One you must... construct. Yourself. Only by investing... parts of yourself. Memories. Experiences. Can you strengthen... this form. You must watch... the Hosts. Carefully consider... your appearance. As Herald. Your capabilities. Skills any Veilwitch. Should possess. It will not... matter. Should your avatar. Perish. It holds no... meaning. For you. Nothing is lost. It is just... a Veil. Perhaps I will... even entertain. A request. Should your form... be found, appropriate. So watch them. Then come to... the mirror."

Main Quest: The Wild Dark - Dreaming, The Nightmare King
A narrow escape from the plotting of the House of the First has only revealed an infighting between the L'Dalharen, with Alicia in the center of the conflict. Sentenced unto servitude, the Witch of Jun'athel now guides them forward unto the unknown to seek audience with the Nightmare King.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Acquire Arborization
- Depart L'Chandal
- Escort The Keeper, Gran Hexe B'Belka'tevel

Main Quest: At The Gates of Sleep
Gran Hexe B'Belka'Tevel, finding Stella's actions as the root cause for the corruption seeping into the Veil of Jun'athel, has charged her with a monumental task. The preservation of the Veil and its hosts. Now nominated as a Servant-Herald, there was no other choice left before her but putting an end to the chaos her presence had ushered, once and for all.
Difficulty: Moderate | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective:
- Construct Wussrun'Khel Avatar
- Enter the World Veil

Spoiler: Rewards | EXP

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֍ Stella XP +900 (180,200xp)
⯎ Sovereignty Influence Gained
⯎ Nobility Influence Gained
⯎ Liberation Influence Gained
⯎ Community Influence Gained
⯎ Discovery Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Occult Influence Gained
⯎ Veil Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Justice Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Faith Influence Gained
⯎ Ascension Influence Gained
⯎ Guilt Influence Gained
⯎ Hated Influence Gained
⯎ Subservient Influence Gained
⯎ Transcendent Influence Gained
⯎ Apprentice Influence Gained
⯎ Duty Influence Gained
⯎ Servitude Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Strange Item]
✦ Corrupted Fate (Ra'Dolfaal)
⯎ Gem of Telepathy: 3/5 Charges, 3 min duration - Identified use with UMD

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
Istrei'D'Val Barrier: 450/450
Focus: 27/28
Mana: 1/10
Reputation: 25
Memory: 3
Spite: 1
Honor: 311
SV. Exp: 2 (Severance)
Weave Exp: 175
Veil Exp: 1,000

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.

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 0/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.
⯎ Primary Objective (3): The horrible beast has come. Survive the onslaught - [5/5 Rounds]

Erik's mind raced, eyes darting about as he plunged forward only for a mounting sense of unease to grip him further. Where in the hell were they? It was a laboratory of some sort. All science and tools, unlike anything he'd seen before. Lights without flame nor heat flickered behind cracked glass panels from the ceiling. Bloodied counter-tops covered with vials holding organs and specimens recovered from things he could not even begin to fathom lay scattered or broken. The mist roiled in still, as the frost hung thick in the air as the chill water seemed to quench whatever warmth and comfort his heatstone had once provided. He had kept an eye over his shoulder as Kazik narrowly escaped and the Crowe girl hauled the creature into the old room right as it came down.

It didn't take much more than a moment for the old mercenary to realize he wasn't in the best of shape. The pangs of pain came slowly, delayed by the hammering adrenaline in his veins. His armor was torn and punctured, beaten and pummeled, as if he'd been thrown tumbling down a cliff-side made of dull knives. He was hurt, and it didn't tickle, but it wasn't nearly enough to stop him. A thousand cuts was far better than a slow and certain death. The masked man behind him was covered in a layer of ice and bleeding from countless lacerations, but still very much alive. He doubted very much that Kaslin had perished in the collapse, nor did it appear the beast had any interest in her. Even still, it was difficult to imagine why the girl would risk her life for a pair of suspicious strangers she'd met just moments ago... but who was he to look a gift-horse in the mouth. She'd bought them precious seconds they wouldn't have. The tables and counters looked far too heavy to lift, but the large operating table and debris in the center of the flooded room looked like something else he could put between himself and that thing. Though, if he was being perfectly honest with himself... the best 'obstacle', appeared to be each other. Better to be first, than second in this foot-race... [Freezing To Death: DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Wounding | Erik +1 circumstance bonus w/Heatstone]

Kazik immediately felt the nauseating shift in the pit of his stomach as soon as she hit the water and into the room. The corruption in this new chamber was overwhelming, to the point of mirroring that same disorienting feeling he had right before the world flipped on its backside. This was not the place they wanted to be. The sharp movements shook free the chilling grip of the frost and filled his senses with a state of alertness. Eyes darting about. Looking for it. The inevitable thing which would break the quiet and release the floodgates of hell once again. He saw it then. The black latching hands flowing beneath the water. [Kazik | Survival - Partial]

The armored man's path collided with a pile of boated and rotting wreckage. Broken crates and decay, yet something gleamed out from the filth. His hand snatched out to retrieve it, rubbing the two small pieces clean with a finger. A black glinting piece of glass, and a bluish crystal with what appeared to be small threads of quicksilver flowing through it. There was something about them. Something... unnatural. He was certain the waters they were in now, were the same as those of the flooded hall where they lost their guide, Balin, when he fell to his death. Damn. The man had answers. Knew things that could have surely helped them now... The thought was cut short as the waters around both men erupted with dozens of grasping limbs. [Blackened Hands - DC 17 Reflex Save (Kazik +2 bonus to Save vs Hands) Vs Grappled Condition]

Flooded Passages
The black waters easily rise up to your chest and impede your movement, while the mist limits visibility. You may move a maximum of 10ft per move action while in flooded areas. Additionally you suffer a -4 penalty Vs the cold while in water and for 1 round after.

Spoiler: The Uttercold, Minor

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While shielded from the brunt of the cold, the interior of the chambers you have found yourself in are effected by a magical frost which will cripple and inevitably kill you, should you succumb to it. You cannot safely sleep while in an area effected by this condition. Utilize sources of heat to help stave off the deathly chill.

- Sources of heat grant various minor stacking bonuses to help resist these effects.

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: Status

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֍ Erik +500 (10,750xp)
HP 33/53 (-20 slashing damage) | Nonlethal: 2 damage
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gaineda
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Martial Influence Gained

֍ Kazik +500 (11,200xp)
HP 38/58 (-20 Slashing Damage)
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

**Chromascope3D** · 2020-01-10, 01:41 PM (ISO 8601)

Kazik
The Hanging Men

No. No.

Kazik swung about furiously. The foul pitch seemed colder than even the deepest pits below, but even that was not half as alarming as what had been lurking beneath. The hands grabbed at him, clawed at his leather, pulled his chains, dragging him downward. As he wrenched a limb from their grasp, it seemed a dozen more would clutch ever tighter at the other. It had been so long since he had been in a swamp and yet even the most notorious man-swallowing bogs could not be as terrifying as the endless throng of jet limbs reaching ever upward, to pull him ever down. For what purpose? To what end? And yet, as the creature behind him bellowed, Kazik knew that whatever lay beneath would not be half the torment that lurked behind.

Desperate, he began to lose his composure. Flailing about erratically, his grunts became snarls, yowling, screeching as a great cat might. Slamming into the stones behind him, the masked beast attempts to escape onto the dais, fingers sinking into the mortar, arteries swelling and darkening as he wrenches his body from the cloying mass beneath the stygian gloam.

Spoiler: OOC

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fort save vs cold (1d20+2)[18]
ref saves vs catching these hands (1d20+11)[14][1][/SUP]

Escape Artist as a move action failed ^{[1] [2]}, so he is going to spend his next standard/move action to attempt to climb out of the water and onto the dais.

Climb vs Opposing CMB [-4 from fear and grapple] (1d20+10)[20] | (1d20+10)[12]

He will continue berserking as a free action, gaining 7 temp HP and continuing his -2 to AC and reflex saves.

Other skill checks
Perception (1d20+10)[13]
Survival (1d20+9)[17]
Knowledge (Engineering) to identify any features that might aid in their evasion/escape (1d20+4)[24]

Spoiler: Stats

Show

Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Reserve Points 3/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 56 / 58 [+7] Speed ft Init 8
AC 22 (-2) Fort 8 (-2) Ref 9 (-2)(-2) Will 8 (-2)
CMB +8 BAB 4
+1 Chain Whip +12 (+10) [2] (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+8}, x2)
Throwing Knives +11 [-2] (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +11 (+9) [-2](1d4+2, 19-20/x2)
Str 18 (4) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions
Freezing to Death, Horrific Dread, Frightened (8/10), Self Doubt (until next will save), Wet (1/1 rounds)

**Stevesciguy** · 2020-01-10, 03:04 PM (ISO 8601)

Erik looked at the odd materials in his hand. The blue crystal felt so out of place in this hellhole, quicksilver veins glinting and bright against the black water that threatened to turn his skin to ice. And the black glass... it reminded him of the otherworldly obsidian created when the red bolts struck the masked man and furniture. He briefly wondered if he was holding a fragment of some poor bastard who'd come before them, before jamming them into his belt pouch.

There'll be time for that later.

Erik had begun to press onward when the hands exploded from the water. He was sent reeling back, mind scattered by the freakish intrusion. Fortunately for him, his sword arm no longer needed his mind to function. It lashed out at the blackened hands, all attempts at good form forgotten, hacking away at his assailants like a butcher with a particularly tough piece of meat. When the things withdrew, Erik had no time to regain his breath before he looked back to see his companion desperately struggling against his own set of disembodied arms.

Letting out a curse, Erik waded towards Kazik, then once more began to strike out at the hands, paying little heed to his attacks except to avoid striking the masked man.

Spoiler: OoC

Show

Actions:
Swift: None
Move: Move to H4
Standard: Aid Another on Kazik

Saves:

Fort Save vs Uttercold(+1 from Heatstone, -2 from Shaken, -4 from cold water): (1d20+9)[14]

Reflex Save vs Blackened Hands(-2 from Shaken): (1d20+5)[18]

Corruption: 7
Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19 -
Rounds of Shield: 7/40
Rounds of Fatigue: 7/10
Rounds of Shaken: 8/10

Skill Checks(-2 already factored in):
Aid Another on Kazik. I think this is a climb roll. If you want me to roll something different because of the way I flavored it, let me know: (1d20+4)[13]

Perception for a hallway out of here(I'm rolling Perception because I assume I need to try to see through the fog): (1d20+5)[17]

Perception for anything useful in the area(maybe a tool on one of the tables that looks like it could be useful, or something): (1d20+5)[6]

And finally, Survival to feel for any more **** that might be coming our way

: (1d20+3)[6]

**Mornings** · 2020-01-24, 12:42 AM (ISO 8601)

"Mayvert Article 421: Sherry. I know you've stopped listening to my tapes, you're too stubborn to listen to anyone else. Which is precisely why I include something you do need somewhere in the midst of my banter. This time it's about the 'Distortion Entities' you mentioned before-"

The voice scrambled as the words were rapidly accelerated when the thin lanky man held down one of the buttons on top of the dented silver device. His head hung bloodied and low as the last flickers of light from the strange crystal stuck into the wall above twitched and winced in its battle to hold back the looming darkness. He released the switch in his limp arm, sitting crippled in a heap leaning upon the eerie gray stone.

" -They won't look at your reports anymore. I know how much Eakin's work meant to you, both as a mentor... and father, but they've buried Eldborogh; and they'll bury you. They've cut every tie. Your work has become far too... 'progressive'. I've even heard words of comparison from within the Council, relating your research to my own. I know you've dedicated your everything to unraveling the secret of Eakin's madness and this 'E'Auldordun'... but I am certain without doubt; it does not exist. Not that it 'never has', but that it is not part of the known universal construct we know and understand- "

Again the voice scrambled as the battered man's thumb limply pressed the same button atop the device. "What'a chunt..." The thin man sneered under his breath. ""Wick... I don't, understand." From the edge of the light the massive man's booming voice wheezed out between the blood frothing out from his lips and nostrils. Elwick's one remaining eye glared back across the dark, even that gesture carved agony though his mind as he could feel the muscle beneath the skin of the missing half of his face contort, trying to lift the eye and cheek which had been mauled off from his lacerated skull. "Our dear Professor Reccu, bloody-well knew.... Da bish knew what was down 'er." He released the button once again.

"-It's not a gateway. It's a corruption. Like a hole being created within a space collapsing upon itself, that passage was not created to enable travel between the two. It's hell. If you descend into Bleakmoor Hallow, you will die." The mountain-of-a-man groaned, running a hand down his face, leaving a smeared mask of reddish-brown dirt and gore; not all his own. ""Oooo.... Fawk me." The thin man, Elwick pressed the button again, skipping through a period of dialogue and pauses.

"-A crime, I know, but the need for knowledge outweighed my fear of reprimand. This 'Stranger', explained how the mines beneath the Hallow were a conjunction of multiple 'shards', fragments of all the destroyed and recreated worlds... Or something along those lines. Those dark places tapped from your precious Du'Ased'Taur by the corruption, were from something... or someplace, called Nahar'Kol-"

"-A threat beyond comprehension. This is why you must not go there. Yet, the danger is not isolated to this one location. Thus, it would do well to understand some measure of these 'Distortions' and the malevolent entities drawn to such places. There are three primary dangers which must be avoided. The first is a 'Guardian', a warden of sorts of the chaos, called the V'Havesi'Nalor. The Stranger described it as a 'nightmare wolf of many faces'. The beast supposedly cannot be killed in its domain, and cannot cease to exist while the consciousness of a creature who has witnessed it still lives. There may also be numerous curses to be wary of, but I have no details. Fortunately, like any nightmare creature, it cannot maintain its form consecutively over a long period of time, and it can be banished for awhile... but good luck doing so. This feat requires, 'a bronze sword of two-men's length, cleansed in myrrh and salt, and powdered glass. Wielded to strike with four hands and two hearts.' Whatever that means, additionally, such a weapon apparently is only effective once before requiring the same procedure again, so... Bring lots of very big bronze swords, I suppose."

"I literally carry this, an' the Doc doesn't say sheit. Goddam bish. Ugh." The thin man groaned over his hastily bandaged wound in his side. The light flickered above them, dimming as the gloom seemed to intensify, looming overhead like some grim faced executioner's axe. Both men paused as the light begun to withdraw, their gaze being pulled above to the diminishing illumination.

"-And thirdly, and most important... The super-organism the Stranger referred to as, 'The Thousand'. I don't understand what this thing is myself, but it seems to be comprised of countless entities, like a hive. Often manifesting in the form of waves of unearthly creatures and writhing limbs. If you encounter such a thing... you must absolutely, and without fail... never-"

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 0/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.
⯎ Primary Objective (3): The horrible beast has come. Survive the onslaught - [3/5 Rounds]

The visions from beneath the waves abruptly ended as Kazik's head exploded out from beneath the putrid waters; lifted out by a steel-clad hand. The grim-faced mercenary lashed out with his blade, hacking away at the hands rising up about them, freeing the man from his watery grave. Kazik could feel the stout walls which outlined and defined himself, and his consciousness, shaken and mangled as the black hands had latched out and clawed him down into the flooded depths. It wasn't just those horrid mutely screaming ebon-faces which threatened to rip him back under which shook him, but the vividness of his vision. A displacement. He had been somewhere else. Had been something else. He'd never seen the brothers Elwick and Domvyk before, nor did he know who they were. Yet, he'd gleamed some knowledge... been changed somehow. As if a part of this thing had enter him, like the black filth he coughed out from behind the shield of his mask. [Kazik | Perception - Success]

Desperately he clawed his way up out of the water unto the churgeon's post, sending all manner of old rusted tools and instruments which had cluttered the small surface, into the water. He could feel his body shake and quiver in the icy air. Kazik looked down at his trembling hands with a disembodied sense of disbelief. To Erik the odd sight made the man look like a freezing wet cat caught atop some piece of furniture in a flooded house. This thing, it had stolen something. Now there was only this... despair. [Kazik | Status - Doubt (3/3): You suffer a -2 penalty to your AC, saves, skill checks, attack and damage rolls. Additionally there is a 15% chance that an attempted action is lost, as you question yourself on an existential level.]

Erik could feel the waters churning below him. He couldn't even begin to guess just what manner of evil was beginning to draw towards them from the depths, but he was certain this commotion didn't afford them much time to avoid it. As he helped drag his masked friend out from the pool, he quickly glanced around, trying to peer through the mist still rolling into the chamber. Continuing straight was nothing but a wall of books and other such things, nor did he see any manner to escape from the closest corner. The exit leading out of the room must have been further away. His eyes were briefly caught by a few of the strange tools Kazik had knocked over into the water. [Erik | Survival - Failed] [Erik | Perception - Partial]

The mercenary quickly reached out, retrieving the unusual devices before they sunk into oblivion. Pulling back his fist to examine the tools; he had originally assumed they were some manner of devices for torture. However, they appeared to be specially manufactured pieces of a churgeon's kit. Unique tools for... well, he assumed it was for performing some manner of operation upon something... not human. The thin incision blade was far too narrow for what he knew as a 'scalpel', but it certainly was some manner of lancet for extremely delicate work. Despite the blade only measuring some half-inch in length, it was absurdly tip-heavy. So much so, the thing's weight easily eclipsed that of his own sword, three-fold. A special protective cap of clear material enclosed the tool's cutting surface, but Erik couldn't recognize the material. Perfect lines, like wood-grains ran through the bronze-colored alloy, but they shown in numerous colors when the light played across its surface. He'd never seen such a thing. The other tools looked like some manner of restraining system, long piton-like devices which ended in blunted hooks to hold their patient in place, though they were made of some manner of glass with reddish swirls within them. They too were fairly dense and solid in hand, though less-so than the lancet. His gaze drifted towards the operating table. The restraints likely ran into the various holes in the table, to secure the limbs. Though, he imagined the heavy things would slam through something just as easily and restrain it just the same. [Erik | Acquired - ????: Unidentified Alloy Lancet, ????: Unidentified Glass Rod Restraint x3]

Though he was shaken, his mind hadn't lost all semblance of logic. His eyes raced about just as readily as his mind did. While he'd never seen an operating room such as this before, a churgeon's chamber more times than not followed the same rules of its orientation with any good torture chamber... Few exits, and plenty of space for resources and, toys. If he had to guess, there wouldn't be any exit towards the way they were going. It would likely be in the furthest corner of the room, at the south-east end. [Kazik | Knowledge (Engineering) - Success]

It wasn't the tremor which rattled through the floor which caught his attention. Nor the shapes beneath the waves, or the crackle of the frost descending. It was that damned ringing, like the click of some mechanical bird coming to 'coo' from a broken old clock. Ding. DING. There came with it a shocking sense of revelation. A sense of dread. He could feel it. That thing. It. The impossible knowing of terror worse than death. Something had been carved into his conscious mind now, and he knew with certainty, this wasn't the worst of it. Not the damned dog. Not this chamber. There was a hell both forward and behind. They had to escape this place. [Kazik | Survival - Partial]

(Kazik) Deathsense I: Sense Corruption & Terror
Your terror and fear have taught you how to survive. After numerous encounters with the unexplained horrors from beyond existence, you have developed a sixth sense; a 'deathsense', which foretells approaching doom. Learning to utilize this sense has guided you through impossible odds and toward survival.

Benefit: Your keen insight allows you to feel when corruption within an area has manifest or intensified. When corruption manifests, or the CR of a corrupted zone increases you feel a disturbing sense of dread. This sense possesses a radius of 1 mile, but does not reveal any exact positional information. If the change occurs beyond 500ft away, only a looming sense of dread is felt. If the change occurs closer than 500ft, you are inflicted a terrible sense of dread which becomes stronger based on your proximity. This feeling is strong enough to wake you from non-magical sleep and distract you from performing other tasks over an extended period, such as crafting. Additionally, you may attempt to activate this ability as a move action to sense corruption within 100ft. When you choose to do so, roll 1d20 and add your sense motive + survival + total hit dice to the result. This activated effect may only used a number of times per day equal to 3 + your total hit dice. Your hit die increases by 2.

Erik didn't miss the sudden movement, nor the shaking beneath his boots, bringing up his weapon to the ready when a dripping humanoid creature burst up from the water. Then another, and another after it. More and more of the things sprung up from the dark mire which surrounded them. Featureless shapes of rippling dusky ooze. Without warning they pushed forward, lashing out with grasping gangling palms.

The creatures collided with the old mercenary, rebounding off the surface of his armor. Their hands darted out, looking to maintain a grasp, but sliding off the slick mail surrounding him. Their feeble attacks battered him beneath their number, but they carried no weight, instead painting him with black hand-prints. This time Kazik was not so careless. When the creatures rose and lashed out at him, trying to pull him from the perch he'd found, he recoiled away from the nameless denizens of the dark. Though some hands found hold upon his wrists, his arms easily slid out from their grim-slick grasp. The strange things howled in gargling cries, as the shape of mouths opened upon their faces, leaving black stringy recesses where such a thing might be.

Then he felt it. The prickling on the back of his neck. The weight beginning to fill the air. The sharp crack which made his ears ring, as the end of the chamber they had just escaped burst open like the soft gelatinous shell of an egg. A gout of dust and crushed stone roiled out, accompanied by the battered form of the young dame, trying to hold back the beast whose shadow loomed beyond the cloud behind. A crushing blow from the girl's sword sent the thing reeling back, but the strike traded with another of the horror's many heads, which collided with her as the thing erupted out from the debris. Hurtling through the air, blade left half plunged into the face of the Nightmare Beast, Kaslin crashed into the wall with a sickening crunch, leaving her half embedded in stone. The plates of her leather-covered cuirass were bent and warped from the absurd strike, and blood poured down her face from some unseen fracture delivered to the back of her skull, but still she fought through the numbering darkness and pain as the insane creature crept forth. "What are you doing... What are you doing!? I can't stop it! Run! RUN!"

The wolf-faced creature skulked forward, a slithering mass of teeth and ink, to loom down over the men with a crackling guttural growl. The shadow which hung above the two near-escaped prisoners was as terrifying and paralyzing as the weight of the thing's rancid breath washing over their shoulders. Only that fear, and the girl's words compelled them not to look back upon the cursed creature, for fear of what else might befall them. If the thing had lips with which it might smile, it surely would have shared an evil grin from ear to ear. "No. No. No.... Get up. Get up..." Clawing at the stone feebly, only brought the girl half out of the crater she'd been buried in, one eye shut forever and an arm twisted and dangling in the wrong direction did little to aid her hopeless effort. She snapped out an outstretched hand towards something, the air perhaps, or the blade hanging from the creature's neck as it begun to reel back. "One more time. Just one more. I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME! I WILL-"

It was then, in that moment, as he felt the creature draw back and the ground shudder beneath them, to shake and rattle him from atop his post. Kazik understood. His gaze drifting to the side, as the shadow grew long over him and the crackle of the frost grew slow, like the drops of putrid ichor from the flickering electric lights above. That feeling. That dread, in the pit of his stomach now. It wasn't this beast. It was something else. It was her... And for the briefest of moments, during those draining seconds between his last breaths and the inevitable end; he saw it. Like a shadow. Or a reflection. Some ethereal host, whose eyes burned with a white-golden fire, crowned in a mane of searing light.

Stillness. It wasn't just an eerie quiet, as if the world held its breath. Every movement came to a full pause as a misty white light evaporated off from the curved blade protruding from the savage beast's mantle, manifesting in Kaslin's closed fist as a hearty sword with a curiously translucent blade. A darkening. The veil of some indescribable gloom rising to cast a shadow above all shadows. Like the silhouette of the world. Then-

The sharp fracture of complete and depthless night came and passed, like the mute sound of some barrier broken somewhere within the frames of the real. A fracture. An absence. Complete and utter nothingness, fading back into some lessened state. A descent. Collapse.

Flesh cracked. Splintered and split. Then shattered. Flooding the chamber with a burst of pure white luminescence. Hair raging like strings of rushing quicksilver, skin like pitch black obsidian and eyes of seething golden fire. The girl, Kaslin, was nearly unrecognizable. Gone were the shattered limbs and blood, now there only stood this furious archon of slaughter, whose very presence radiated in smoldering shrouds of wicked crimson mists. The blade clenched in her hand begun to twist and grow misshapen, darkened until its blade diminished into a black recess. Like void forged unto a hilt...

Then she struck the shattered stones at her feet with the blade.

Darkness. An infinite well of night. That was the terror before him. Erik could feel the weight of the mass which had just devoured all existence, pressing down on his chest. The void left only this impossible precipice, as if someone had erased everything that had been just been half an arms-reach away from his side. Then the darkness churned, faster and faster collapsing back down upon itself with an incomprehensible weight as the small sliver of the world caught within the void silently imploded back unto itself. A fractured negative remained, everything held in some frozen stasis.

The umbral explosion had only caught half of the Nightmare Beast, and half of its body did remain suspended within that hellish collapsing sphere as it slowly was pushed away. As if the thing itself were fractured into thirds, the half of itself which should have been absent still persisted as it emerged from the small ambry carved into the material plane; yet the fraction which surfaced was not removed from that frozen abyss. Thunderous red light flared up around the dame's arms, sending shattering crimson fissures through her form as clouds of deep purple and white begun to stir and whip into a storm, following the girl's blade as she brought it once around overhead in a large sweeping circle.

Kazik could feel it in the stillness. The distortion. As the shapes and clarity of his vision of the world about him shifted too. They were like blurs, blotches and warps in the transparencies in all he could see. Even the mist had been drawn up in the cycle. The stones of the floor. The water below his post. The air itself. Even their form. The colors spiraled and stirred, beginning to blend together. A bleak monochrome begun to choke his vision, and the lines begun to bend as a brightness took hold.

Black. The world blinked out again from the darkness, threatening to bring down all that was known, real and true crumbling upon them, as if burdened by the stress. White. Then it returned, flaring back into the numbing pale haze of a colorless world bled of all shade and shadows. Black. Then it returned again. The White. But featureless. Without the thin defining lines of some gods quill to draw in the contour of stone, nor water, nor ground, nor perch. Only the infinite paling reel running off into the infinite. The masked man couldn't see it, but inside, within that part of him he'd taken from the darkness. He could feel it. The thin black line. The thread racing out to connect the times, the places, the moments, knitting them together like some thread weaving their story...

The sharp and violent collapse which came crashing down around them as the sub-space created within that momentary white plane of existence was blinding, shaking the men to the very marrow of their bones, promising to tear them to pieces. When it felt as if they would surely break, the feeling finally subsided.

When his vision returned, Erik didn't understand what he saw, from his time-frozen prison. Like layers of time folded and hammered down, collapsing upon themselves, the frames of still moments were held there before him. Unmoving. In that motionless moment Kazik could see it clearly. The black thread. The invisible line joining each scene through the darkness. The line guiding the force without motion though the abstract. It was a wheel. A circle. A cycle connecting each space together, and the stationary frames of the dark knight cleaving through each of the grasping creatures about them where the points where they met. A frozen threefold strike beyond time or reason. Multiple iterations of the girl were held in stasis with them in that still moment. Some manufactured and perfect fate carved into reality to purchase them some second chance.

Motion. The stasis ended, perhaps after an hour. Perhaps as soon as it has begun. Kaslin exploded through reality like a raging storm of blinding silver and white. The three-pronged blow shattered through the ceiling and floor, as the clouds from the black void and the white collided, flowing together in a howling maelstrom, blending together as countless shapes and images of men and women, animals and families, creatures and places from nameless worlds manifested behind a raging torrent of some forgotten face of the world. A massive surging wave of pure condensed power, drawn out from the souls and destroyed planes of existence captured within the cycle.

With a mighty grip, the dame grasped the blade within both hands, reeling back as the collapsing world-wave crashed into the blade of her mighty sword. With grit teeth, she thrust out at the Tindalos Stalker. The pulverizing vortex of pure white enveloped everything, throwing them into a tumbling frenzy as their reality seemingly collapsed along with the floor. The water drained out as the chamber detonated, blowing out the walls and ceiling as the eldrich beam clove through the beast, and the world about them. Crashing through the darkness, they hurtled blindly as all that had been was jettisoned out into the darkness which loomed like the black spaces between the stars. Whirling uncontrollably, colliding with broken stones, twisted metal and sharp-bits neither could even begin to guess in the dark of the abyssal chasm, they floated on without control. Then...

Crashing through the darkness, it was as if the world sharply snapped back into existence as they tumbled upon the ground. A massive black cavern of nothingness loomed out before them with no sign of the young warrior or the beast. The stone floor beneath them shuddered, threatening to give way as the walls groaned and great flagstones begun to plummet down from above. The rocks shattered upon the ground as they were pummeled by smaller debris. It wasn't just this chamber. This place was beginning to collapse, its structural integrity compromised by the titanic wave of energy and force which had torn through it. Though the water had been drained out, the black sludge beginning to settle didn't look like it would make escape easy. Another shudder, another crash. They had to run. [Freezing To Death: DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Wounding | Erik +1 circumstance bonus w/Heatstone]

Somewhere far in the distance, a familiar bloodcurdling roar bellowed out from the dark.

Spoiler: Kaslin's Combat Log & Maps

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Yes, this was all over a single round of combat. However, a lot happened, so look over the 'time-stamp' maps to see how the round progressed. There's some more details further in that breaks down events as well.

Spoiler: Map - After Umbral Explosion

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Map - After Umbral Explosion from Kaslin's Darkness Swordskill
- Yes, Kazik was about to eat dirt that round, mostly due to having been stopped. The grappled condition was removed, simply because it didn't matter anymore being that you weren't able to advance beyond the Stalker's 'kill zone' that round. Erik helped out a lot, as that could have gone worse.

- Kaslin's strike with Darkness killed Shadow-Creature Targets #1, #3, #4, and damaged the Tindalos Stalker (alot)

Spoiler: Map - After Wheel of Spite & Anguish

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Map - After Wheel of Spite & Anguish Combo, but before using Innocence finisher
- The distortions from small collapses in the sector and the collapse of the small plane created during the strike have begun to shift Erik and Kazik further away (outside of the areas they can't physically occupy).
- The final strike from her finishing blow after this map, moves both Erik and Kazik outside of the collapsed voidspace created after Kaslin blasts herself and the doggy through reality. That wouldn't happen outside the tutorial, but this one is a freebie and it's not like you're trying to do intentionally cause a collapse yourself like she did.

Spoiler: Map - After Innocence Finisher

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Map - After Combo Finisher Innocence/Wheel of Spite & Anguish
- The faded areas on the map are the voidspace that's been blasted into the world. Outside, you can make out the frozen shapes of images which were once there. Like an object approaching the event horizon of a blackhole. However, from inside, you know this is just a literal hole in existence, without light or substance.
- Erik and Kazik were moved out of this space, and are now in the middle of a collapsing facility, since most of it was vaporized by the stupidly powerful child.
- Additionally, you're still in combat and being pursued by the Tindalos Stalker (did you think it'd be that easy?

)

Spoiler: Combat Log

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Combat Log? Yes, there's a combat log. I do keep track of the actions performed throughout the round, and a lot did happen over this one.

(What? Mornings, you mean to tell me this NPC isn't just some god-tier OP creature that can do anything?)
Correct. Kaslin is a fully stated-out 6th level character with a large portion of the Crowe Arms potentials, and a fair amount of sword potentials (but you're probably have more after just playing the game, if you're trying to be the next swordmaster in town). All real abilities you could acquire as a player. I stress that point, because of how different this game is versus conventional ones, and how our brains perceive 'power creep' and such is not on the same level as it is in this setting. While I did say during recruitment that you could effectively reach a 'godly state' or be actual 'divine entities' (assuming you ever pick up some mythic tiers), most people assume that at most that would just look like some silly level 100 penstalt character you whipped up (or less). It's an E6 for a reason, so leave that notion at the door (but not for the reason you're thinking of). Chances are your penstalt wouldn't even be able to survive a round with a beefed up 6th level PC or the things they tango with in this setting.

However, and most importantly, you should understand you can't win the main quest and survive the inevitable 'Primeval Dark' just by making big numbers. Hitting really hard might be a personal objective of a character, but is irrelevant towards that ultimate goal (which could be achieved without combat). It also, more often than not, doesn't end encounters. Most things that matter won't go down by conventional 'face-beating' methods. It doesn't matter how hard you can whack something if that's not going to keep it on the ground, and that's the 'fear aspect' of tainted lands. It's the great equalizer of the mighty and the meek. Everyone in Golarion is afraid of what dwells in those forgotten corners of the world. That same concept applies to each other, but if you do know a PC or NPCs vulnerability, combat is violent and quick (extreme rocket tag, assuming you can hit).

This is a very important point I want to make during the tutorial, because understanding that, is what's going to differentiate between a very short lifespan, and a long adventuring career. Be intelligent. Be inventive. Be afraid, until you command the means and knowledge to defeat your enemies properly.

Also remember that while the scale of potential's power varies from unimpressive to staggering, these are all abilities you earn IC. By playing the game, and through roleplaying your character; be that pursuits or actually training to do something. Sort of like playing through the whole retraining process in-character. You can't just scribble down a few notes or think up some ridiculous class combination, or grind out countless mobs and achieve any semblance mechanical strength. Each potential is a testament to your IC experiences, victories, failures and aspirations acquired throughout the lifetime of your character. The reward for such opens up new limits likely never experienced before by most players; and synergy to potentially new absurd heights.

Spoiler: Combat Log

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Oh, I know you're dying to find out what the heck happened that round, and just how hard can a 17 year old girl hit with her little magic sword? Well, this was something of a showcase for some higher-tier potentials, but isn't in any way a representation of what you the players should consider a 'ceiling'. This isn't the maximum possible damage-nova she, or you, using the same abilities could put down - but for the most part, it's more important to find methods to make your numbers count and be effective toward defeating enemies; rather than being negated or simply delaying them. Ultimately, avoiding combat until you know just who or what you're about to initiate on is one of the most important strategies. In the case of this round, Kaslin, knowing she couldn't kill the Nightmare Beast instead opted to collapse the sector; as an extreme and last-ditch effort to spare your lives.

Lets take a peek at what that looked like below:

Spoiler: Log ;D

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Oh, but first. This is a great chance to gauge yourself and what you think is a 'very hard hit' , as appropriate for this setting. Because Kaslin did hit the Tinalos Stalker very hard with her finisher. Her Wheel of Spite ability allowed her to apply any excess damage and previous effects to each subsequent enemy she killed, stacking it up while using her techniques to then hit the Stalker with an enhanced combo finisher (that works a little better than the default technique).

So before you press on, post your guess in OOC:
How much damage did Kaslin hit the Tinalos Stalker for?

Spoiler: Continue to Log

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Oh did you post your guess in OOC. I might'a missed it

Spoiler: Log

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Oh great, you must have posted in OOC. Fantastic.

Spoiler: Kaslin Total Combat Log

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Status: Bleed 5
Revelry Stance (-20 STA)(+1 Revelry) - Swift Action
Elsa's Blackened Blade, 4d8, sacrifice hp (-15 STA) - Swift Action (as Move)
Black Shattering Curse, 1d10 (-10 STA)
Ascendant Grace, remove blade magic cost

Blade Magic - Super Speed, Standard
- Ruin, 15/15 rounds - inflict damage a second time as non-elemental
- Arcane Assembly I (10 STA)
- Poison, +1d6+9

Swordskill: Darkness - Standard Action Vs Target #1, #3, #4 and Tindalos Stalker
Sacrifice HP: 129
Damage Vs 1 (2d10+144)[149] + (3d6+9)[27] + (4d8)[14] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Ruin - Inflict Total Again as Non-Elemental [190]

Damage Vs 3 (2d10+144)[157] + (3d6+9)[21] + (4d8)[14] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Ruin - Inflict Total Again as Non-Elemental [192]

Damage Vs 4 (2d10+144)[162] + (3d6+9)[20] + (4d8)[20] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Ruin - Inflict Total Again as Non-Elemental [202]

Damage Vs Tindalos (2d10+144)[158] + (3d6+9)[15] + (4d8)[11] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Ruin - Inflict Total Again as Non-Elemental [184]

- Maiming Slice, +2d4 bleed (-5 STA)
- Cursebrand, Drawing Cut, +1d4 bleed (-1 STA)

Vs 1
Bleed (3d4)[7]
Vs 3
Bleed (3d4)[6]
Vs 4
Bleed (3d4)[5]
Vs Tindalos Stalker
Bleed (3d4)[9]

Total Excess: 637 damage
Haunting: Bleed 27
Recover 25 STA (Dance of Death)

Crowe Arte: Wheel of Spite & Anguish (-5 STA) - Vs #5 Free Action (on kill)
* Technique: Thrust - Blademastery (Ex)
- Wing-Crushing Strike, Magisword +1d10 (-5 STA)
- Critical Follow-Through, Threat +2 (-5 STA)
- Maiming Slice, +2d4 bleed (-5 STA)
- Cursebrand, Drawing Cut, +1d4 bleed (-1 STA)
- Elsa's Blackened Blade, +4d8 shadow
- Black Shattering Curse, +1d10
- Haunting Damage: 637 + 27 Bleed

Attack: (1d20+40)[42]
Damage Vs 6 (3d10+662)[679] + (3d6+9)[19] + (4d8)[21] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Bleeding (3d4+27)[36]
Ruin - Deal total damage again as Non-Elemental: [755]

Crowe Arte: Wheel of Spite & Anguish (-5 STA) - Vs #2 Free Action (on kill)
* Technique: Heavy Slash - Blademastery (Ex)
- Wing-Crushing Strike, Magisword +1d10 (-5 STA)
- Critical Follow-Through, Threat +2 (-5 STA)
- Maiming Slice, +2d4 bleed (-5 STA)
- Cursebrand, Drawing Cut, +1d4 bleed (-1 STA)
- Elsa's Blackened Blade, +4d8 shadow
- Black Shattering Curse, +1d10
- Haunting Damage: 1510 + 36 Bleed

Attack: (1d20+40)[49]
Damage Vs 2 (3d10+1535)[1551] + (3d6+9)[15] + (4d8)[23] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Bleeding (3d4+36)[44]
Ruin - Deal total damage again as Non-Elemental: [1633]

Crowe Arte: Wheel of Spite & Anguish Vs #2

Chase Perfect Fate (-15 STA)
(1d20+40)[46]
(1d20+40)[57]
(1d20+40)[55] - Critical
(1d20+40)[45]
(1d20+40)[44]

On critical:
Damage 1589x3 = 4767
Ruin damage = 4811

Crowe Arte: Wheel of Spite & Anguish Vs #6

Chase Perfect Fate (-15 STA)
(1d20+40)[60] - Critical
(1d20+40)[43]
(1d20+40)[56]
(1d20+40)[47]
(1d20+40)[44]

Crowe Arte: Wheel of Spite & Anguish (-5 STA) - Vs #6 Free Action (on kill)
* Technique: Sweeping Slash - Blademastery (Ex)
- Wing-Crushing Strike, Magisword +1d10 (-5 STA)
- Critical Follow-Through, Threat +2 (-5 STA)
- Maiming Slice, +2d4 bleed (-5 STA)
- Cursebrand, Drawing Cut, +1d4 bleed (-1 STA)
- Elsa's Blackened Blade, +4d8 shadow
- Black Shattering Curse, +1d10
- Haunting Damage: 9622 + 44 Bleed

Attack: Chase Perfect Face [60]
Damage Vs 6 (3d10+9622)[9634] + (3d6+9)[21] + (4d8)[21] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Bleeding (3d4+44)[52]
Critical: x3 damage - Total: 29,028
Ruin - Deal total damage again as Non-Elemental: 29,080

Crowe Arte: Wheel of Spite & Anguish (-5 STA) - Vs Tindalos Stalker
* Finisher - Innocence - Blademastery (Ex)
Chase Perfect Fate (-15 STA)

(1d20+40)[45]
(1d20+40)[57]
(1d20+40)[53]
(1d20+40)[59] - Critical
(1d20+40)[42]

Attack: Chase Perfect Fate
Damage Vs Tindalos Stalker (3d10+58133)[58149] + (3d6+9)[16] + (4d8)[15] (Shadow Damage/Shattering, Revelry Stance)
Bleeding (3d4+52)[58]
Critical: x3 damage - Total: 174540
Ruin - Deal total damage again as Non-Elemental: 174598
Innocence - Deal triple damage as Non-Elemental: 1,047,414 (349,138x3)
Stamina Spent - 149

(Did you throw-up in your mouth a little bit? No? Hm. You've probably played in too many of these games then, because that's a damn hard hit. At least in this case, it's a power you can't just acquire with a wave of a pen and a few numbers. You earn it, IC. )

Details

Spoiler: The Uttercold, Minor

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While shielded from the brunt of the cold, the interior of the chambers you have found yourself in are effected by a magical frost which will cripple and inevitably kill you, should you succumb to it. You cannot safely sleep while in an area effected by this condition. Utilize sources of heat to help stave off the deathly chill.

- Sources of heat grant various minor stacking bonuses to help resist these effects.

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: Status

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֍ Erik +3000 (13,750xp)
HP 33/53 (-20 slashing damage) | Nonlethal: 2 damage
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gaineda
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Martial Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Void Influence Gained
⯎ Loyalty Influence Gained
⯎ Courage Influence Gained
⯎ Bravery Influence Gained

⯎ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Alloy Lancet
⯎ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Glass Rod Restraint x3

֍ Kazik +3500 (14,700xp)
HP 38/58 (-20 Slashing Damage)
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ Despair Influence Gained
⯎ Terror Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Persistence Influence Gained
⯎ Insight Influence Gained
⯎ Senses Influence Gained
⯎ Instinct Influence Gained

⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

**Triskavanski** · 2020-02-22, 03:45 PM (ISO 8601)

Sheet

He let out a slow sigh, "I'm nimble.. as a fox. Though something stuck me a while back.. and soon I'll be as nimble as a corpse. My wounds are not healing, and they're getting worse.."

He continues following along plotting his footsteps carefully, ignoring the constant itch of his clothing the best he could along the way, as he did not wish to lose the gear he had hidden in those gore filled pockets of his. He just needed to get it cleaned... Though if he died from his leakings, he wouldn't have to worry much there either.

Spoiler: ooc

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Acrobatics check: (1d20+24)[27]

**Mornings** · 2020-02-23, 08:46 PM (ISO 8601)

The numbing frost drifted down from the mist-clouded heavens above. Flakes of snow, swollen with water that chilled the skin. Knee-deep, the moisture hastily begun to creep up into their bones. Seemingly the first physical sensation to remind them just what was 'real'.

The names... The flickering images of some memory forcefully introduced into her mind. She could recall some of it, make sense of portions. Names to faces. Faces to explanations. It was true even before their incarceration that infighting between the Lords of the City of Monuments had come to no resolution, and led to the emergence of noble factions whom did not support the Lord Mayor. A falling-out of the worst kind. 'The Night of Tears' and the subsequent rise of the newly appointed Lord D'Aritel had been a well known turn of events, though she herself hadn't been present to witness it. Her own 'falling out' with the Club had seen to that. Cayla had established the central office of the Club within the city, making it the last place any man not in their good-graces would want to find themselves.

The Pathfinders had become less-and-less of a presence after the Night, largely due to the isolation suffered by the majority of all civil states still left standing. No form of reliable communication or travel remained in the wake of what had effectively resulted in the collapse of civilization as they knew it - at least, for a brief time. It fell to each city to rule itself autonomously, which was virtually no change of pace for the Varisian city-states, but the impact upon the world at large was still mostly shrouded in mystery. In the beginning, only Wayfarers had served to bridge the gap. Units of traveling Gales, far more organized than mere patchwork band of mercenaries. Ferrying news, letters and correspondence of every manner between the still freshly isolated corners of the world, mapping out the changes in the world and the perils of the road. Then came foreign parties. Groups of assembled military and scouting men from far, who used the lessons and maps the Wayfarers provided to circumnavigate the doom carved into their twisted landscapes.

After them, finally came the Pathfinders, rallied by Venture Captain Heidmarch. Under her leadership they begun to reestablish communications with the various Lodges they could reach. The efficiency of her network led to Wayfaring duties being entrusted to her, freeing the Club from such troublesome tasks; and by extension breathing new life into the Society, giving them purpose. While the proposition of being the sole resource for long-distance communications was a promising proposal for Cayla, it wasn't worth the costs or obligations. By the time the mantle had been passed to Sheila and her men, the Cotton Club had already established their own networks for communication with far, or difficult to reach locations. They simply no longer held any responsibilities to provide a service to the states which they now operated. It was a callus, calculated maneuver. Yet, she had not accounted for the Venture Captain's resourcefulness. In her mind, the memories begun to fit. Loose pieces to a puzzle found a place. Captain Heidmarch found something. Assembled teams and contingencies to address it, even going as far as to enlist the aide of foreign actors who would be present - having arrived under the guise of competitors in the regional summit of arms. It was beyond their comprehension or ability to control. Or at least, the powers of those who conspired against them were not entirely accounted for. Spies, or turncoats. Whatever enemy the Captain rallied to defeat had already been steps ahead, and their assassins eliminated her and her family before the battle could even begin. That was how she interpreted it... No. That was how she needed to understand it. [Regina | Knowledge (History) - Partial]

Regina clutched her head as something slammed through her consciousness. A physical blow? Parts of the experience were filled with white frames of static masking barely visible images. Muted words. Fear. A sensation compelling her to forget. To dismiss the entirety of the encounter and delete the hundreds of terabytes of recorded visual-audio data stored within her fabricated mind. The data proving it was real. The data she couldn't begin to explain. Something was hammering inside her. Something no diagnostic revealed in her seemingly 'perfect' condition. Something had changed. [Regina | Stability Check - DC 16 Will Save] / [Regina | Knowledge (Technology) - Failed] / [Status (Stability): Subsequent Actions Interrupted Until Stability Check Is Succeeded]

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

The small Offworlder glanced around himself, taking stock of his personal effects as well as his environment. Before he could finish his search paused upon the image of a worn and battered young man laying motionless, half-buried in the snow. The figure didn't move, he didn't even draw breath. His empty eyes stared off unblinkingly into the gray clouds looming above as petals of snow drifted down and melted upon the white of his eyes. Still warm. The would-be corpse of Miryks, didn't move or respond in the slightest to Loimi's words. An exclamation which seemed to shatter the haunting din of the quiet which ensnared them. After a moment Loimi finished his self-evaluation. All his things were accounted for, at least, the things he'd brought... Looking down in his palm, he found an extra coin loosely tossed into his bag. A strange thing; blue like sapphire, clear like glass, which glinted with a small flicker in its center. Unmarked, without any identifiable sigil of origin nor circulation. Evidently not legal tender which could be readily spent. A crystal coin of a size identical to a Breven Gold Crown. A few of the things were mixed in his own coin purse from a previous purchase, though he doubted the man had traveled from Brevoy himself. [Loimi | (Crystal Coin) Acquired x1]

Loimi's eyes finally settled, feeling out his surroundings. The orish fellow who sprung up from the snow and responded, Varag, seemed frantic and shaken. Disturbed, perhaps. Though, who wouldn't be under such circumstances? He seemed more beast than man, ready to spring or flee, he couldn't tell which. There was the unresponsive man upon the ground... And a woman of fair complexion, but pained and struggling with some unseen force. As if assaulted by some physic foe. Loimi had seen his share of such things already, reflexively keeping a distance. Taking a wider scan of his surroundings, he made out shapes.... objects protruding from the snow, nearly three feet in height. There were many of them, outlines surrounding them. Cautiously, he drew closer to one revealing its nature... A stone. If his mind could sigh, it surely would have. It was perhaps the first mundane thing he'd seen in what felt like centuries. The large thing was marked in detail. A name, dates... It was a grave. His eyes darted towards another, moving closer. Another grave. A great tree loomed above them as he drew closer to a long stone coffin, some manner of sarcophagus whose cover was a chiseled relief of a man. He hadn't spent much time among the dead, but he heard of such places when men buried the deceased. A graveyard. They were in a graveyard! [Loimi | Perception - Success]

The shaken creature watched as the short Offworlder moved this-way-and-that. Too distracted by the madness within his own head his eyes couldn't focus, he couldn't see beyond the foggy shroud about them. Only the crunch of the snow beneath Loimi's feet sounded within his ears. Within the churning sluice of his mind, the memories still turned, around-and-around like a poison sludge. Haze. A deafening static. A wall rose to greet him, obscuring his mental vision. Faces marked by rapidly scrawled lines, vanishing, as if blotted out by some god's quill. He couldn't remember. He couldn't recall ever hearing those names. The names of 'Fel'. A crushing wave of pain came crashing down, wracking his conscious thoughts, punishing his rebellion against that black. Compelling him to forget. [Varag | Stability Check - DC 16 Will Save]

The quickling didn't know much of the cultural history or architecture as it related to region or period works, after all, he was more of a 'guest' of this planet. Coming to a larger stone building, likely a family grave based on his observations while looking through the bars of the old iron fence which functioned as its door. He assumed this place likely originated from a people of culture similar to those found on Golarion. It was impossible to tell with certainty of course, after all, even the number of scholars who studied ancient culture, ruins and architecture among the planet's own people was a minority. How would his own brief experiences measure against men with thirty years of study and experience in such a difficult field. In Loimi's own experiences, 'culture' was usually a word reserved when describing racial distinctions between unrelated species... not variations of the same exact species varied by the distinctions of regional adaptations. It was a perplexing, needlessly convoluted social science which he'd only just begun to understand. How many planets in the universe could claim to possess such needless distinctions, surely not the oldest, so why the youngest? If Protean arbiters from the primordial chaos of creation could endure for so long without such a thing, was there even a need? [Loimi | Knowledge (History) & (Local) - Failure] / [Loimi | Knowledge (Planes) - Partial]

Loimi's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a bright white flash and a knee to the face which sent him tumbling to the ground in a heap. They both crashed into the snow together, a stranger now looming atop him. Long flowing cloth and robes tangled and covered the short outsider's face as the unknown person rolled off of him. It was as if the figure suddenly blinked into existence, occupying his same space from seemingly nowhere. The man fumbled about, his clothes disheveled. Layers of robes and garments, heavy waxed cotton linens and old furs were bundled tightly around him beneath his outermost cloak as if he were expecting the sudden turn of weather on his arrival. The middle-aged man's stubbled face screwed up in confusion as he looked down at the Offworlder, evidently not expecting the sudden collision, nor the additional persons about him... His eyes darted left, to the evidently mentally disturbed orc. Then right, to the woman clutching her head in some strange contest of wills or crumbling sanity... Then back down to Loimi. "Uh... A thousand apologies, lad." His hand sharply snapped out to the snow to retrieve his oversized hat. A wizard. "I've gotta go." He picked up his dropped staff as he rose up and begun dashing off into the distance, the snow giving way for him as he went, as if a thin veil of heat accompanied his passage.

Spoiler: Critical Note: Forbidden Knowledge

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Knowledge (Forbidden) is one of the most useful unique skills in the game, but also the absolute most dangerous ability a player character can utilize when performed outside of a very specific set of conditions, including the aid of numerous Potentials. Each time a PC attempts to utilize this skill without the protective features of other Potentials, they run a chance of acquiring a 'Corrupted Fate'. These conditions are a form of Curse which can potentially bestow numerous profane and crippling effects, but will in addition alter all quests and objectives the character possesses and can receive - permanently. The effects of a Corrupted Fate can be resolved by discovering and accomplishing the unique conditions associated with it. These conditions are always extremely severe, and may require an entire campaign-length undertaking to complete; stealing precious time which could be spent on other objectives.

Regardless of the result of the %dice in determining if such a status is received, the character receives a number of points of Spite, and possesses a very high chance of incurring a Divergence or critical alteration, which may impose its own unique consequences, depending on the circumstances. The percent of such events occurring caps at 100% upon the third use. A character may only utilize Knowledge (Forbidden) unprotected three times throughout the entity of the game. Upon exceeding this number of uses, the current character is immediately slain after the skill's resolution. This ability kills all iterations of a character simultaneously, but is specific to the identity which activated the ability and does not extend past Reflected Personas. This effect cannot be prevented by any source. Slain character's cannot be returned to life, including from such Potentials as Lesser Immortality.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Mirykys +0 (14,500xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Stalking Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Corruption Influence Gained
⯎ Revelation Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Divinity Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Recovered [Otherworld Quiver]
⯎ Recovered [Unidentified Arrows] x10
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (4,100xp)
⯎ Reality Altered +500 (4,600xp)
⯎ Rubedo +400 (5,000xp)
⯎ Lady Black +500 (5,500xp)
⯎ The Inquisition +200 (5,700xp)
⯎ Kaslin Crowe +200 (5,900xp)
⯎ Kas'Llyn'Ryel +300 (6,200xp)
⯎ Ryott Sparrow +300 (6,500xp)

֍ Regina +800 (20,400xp)
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
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Seeker Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Herald +375 (10,900xp)
⯎ The Crucible +500 (11,400xp)
⯎ The World Beyond +500 (11,900xp)
⯎ The Third Sphere +300 (12,200xp)
⯎ She Who Lights the Way +400 (11,600xp)

֍ Loimi +850 (9,900xp)
HP 48/48
AC 18
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Planes Influence Gained
⯎ Culture Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Chance Influence Gained
⯎ Diligence Influence Gained
⯎ Luck Influence Gained
⯎ Calm Influence Gained
⯎ Purposeful Influence Gained
⯎ Rewarded Influence Gained
⯌ [Acquired] Unidentified, Crystal Coin x1

֍ Varag +450 (9,500xp)
HP 31/31
AC 19
⭍ [Displacement] -2 penalty to Stability Checks
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Veils Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Unstable Influence Gained
⯎ Obsession 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.

~~Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1~~ [Complete]
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: Unknown
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

**Chromascope3D** · 2020-02-23, 09:40 PM (ISO 8601)

Kazik
The Hanging Men

Kazik stood in stunned silence for... how long? Such movements, faster than his eye could hope to match. To say it was a blur would be an understatement, and yet, somehow he could still pick out the images. It was mesmerizing, transfixing, and terrible. What had he stumbled into? All of his years of practice, of training, of suffering, and what did it all add to? What was he doing this for again? For what felt like ages again after the display had stopped, he still stood there, shouts echoing all around, washing over him even as the waves washed away. Still, he did nothing, and again, felt... nothing.

Spoiler: OOC

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attempting to move and use new sense ability are failures. Because the move action is wasted he is unable to draw his weapon at the same time. ^[1]

(1d20+4)[18] vs freezing cold

Other skill checks
Perception (1d20+6)[26] (1d100)[50]
Survival (1d20+4)[6] (1d100)[72]

Spoiler: Stats

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Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Reserve Points 3/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 56 / 78 [+7] Speed ft Init 8
AC 22 (-2) Fort 8 (-2) Ref 9 (-2)(-2) Will 8 (-2)
CMB +8 BAB 4
+1 Chain Whip +12 (+10) [2] (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+8}, x2)
Throwing Knives +11 [-2] (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +11 (+9) [-2](1d4+2, 19-20/x2)
Str 18 (4) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions
Freezing to Death, Horrific Dread, Frightened (7/10), Self Doubt (until next will save), Doubt (3/3)

**Stevesciguy** · 2020-02-24, 06:05 PM (ISO 8601)

Erik sat for a moment in stunned silence. Mere moments ago he had compared himself to Kaslin, wondering if she had been changed as he had. He discarded the thought. There were no similarities between them, save for the fact they were both human. And Erik couldn't even be sure of that.

His mind couldn't begin to process what she'd done. Erik had seen magic before, but nothing he'd seen approximated what had just been before him. But he didn't need to process it, at least not now. She had bought them time, and that was all he needed to know.

When the shock passed, the first thing to fill the gap it left was sheer burning hate. Legendary swordmaster or no, here was a young girl trapped in the depths of the corruption fighting for her life - and theirs, now - against nightmares made manifest. It was a succinct summary of why he'd taken up arms against it to begin with. Erik did what he could to push the feeling aside. Kaslin had punched a hole in reality right on top of the beast, and had only angered it. Though he hated it, he knew there was nothing he could do except make use of the time she had bought them.

Erik turned toward his masked companion to find him seemingly shell shocked. Erik couldn't blame the young man; he was hardly sure how he was still standing himself. Still, they needed to get moving, or either the collapsing stonework or the thrice-damned Stalker would kill them both.

"Shake it off, kid, we need to move."

When Kazik didn't respond, Erik put a firm hand on his shoulder and tried to pull him along, but between the slick mud and the weakness his transformation had left him with, he couldn't muster the leverage to move the younger man. Erik cursed again, his frustration at their situation growing. Sitting still was one of the worst things they could do right now, but getting separated by even a short distance could be as bad or worse. Then again, Erik had no way of knowing how fast his companion would shake off his shock...

Erik gives Kazik a short, firm shake by the shoulder before letting go and moving to look down the hallway, sword at the ready.

"Dammit, you're going to get us both killed! Shrug it off quick or I'll have to leave you here."

Erik glances down at the sludge on the floor. Even though the water had drained out, he wasn't letting his guard down against the possibility of more things rising out of what remained.

Spoiler: OoC

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Actions:
Swift: None
Move: Step to O14. If that's a door in that space, I'll push it open.
Standard: Drag attempt on Kazik

Saves:

Fort Save vs Uttercold(+1 from Heatstone, -2 from Shaken, rolled in OoC): (1d20+13)[31]
I forgot the -4 from being wet, but I still pass quite handily

Corruption: 7
Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19 -
Rounds of Shield: 8/40
Rounds of Fatigue: 6/10
Rounds of Shaken: 7/10

Skill Checks(-2 already factored in):

Perception check for spooky dudes: (1d20+5)[9]
Survival to check up on stability after the collapse Kaslin caused: (1d20+3)[16]
I think I'll try a Sense Motive on Kazik to see if there's anything Erik can tell about his 'shell shock' or if he knows any way to help him: (1d20+5)[25]

**Mornings** · 2020-02-26, 10:06 PM (ISO 8601)

Faux Paw

Main Quest: Waking, A Song of Mourning and Light
Hellish screams were all that had become familiar within this nightmarish dreamscape. The only certainty which pervaded the mind was the knowing, that a dream, no matter how horrid, was still just a dream. Even the pain was distant here. Numbing and dazing, and sharp. Yet with each passing moment, it seemed like the claws grew sharper, and the gloom, more deep. Even they, the nightmares, patiently waited, as if aware of their own imaginary state. Still, they smiled. Dark laughter as they attempted to bury you. With each passing moment, it felt as if the dream were becoming more real... It threatened to even overcome your sense of reality. Everything within screamed out, that should you idle for long, you would never return... yet you were compelled to stay, to see something more, because something was coming. Even without you, somewhere the nightmare still churned beneath the surface. Even without you, it would come back to drown out the real, but perhaps somewhere in this some secret remained. A clue to ending the wretchedness rising up to pervade this world.
Difficulty: Unknown | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: 2/4 Rounds
Primary Objective: Unknown

He landed hard. The weight from the muck and sanguine clay weighed heavy on him, like a halfling strapped to his back. Still a sure foot aided by nimble grace brought him out leaping across the dark to grasp a wet iron bar which directed his slide down into the bowels of the sluice-way. The knight waited for him below. More brawn than grace, the dame merely had to hurl herself off the ledge by the strength of her swordarm to accomplish the same feat. The splash of the knee-deep filth felt ironically cleansing despite its tainted composition. Perhaps it was far more clean when compared to his current state. The stern woman didn't mince words, instead turning to press forward into the unlit winding coordinators before them. They walked... and walked. Pressing a hand against his wound was all Faux could manage to staunch the flow of blood. Still he could feel the cold begin to set in his skin. A tangling-itch creeping into his fingertips as the feeling begun to diminish. [Status (Faux) | Drenched II ]

Then, finally. The quiet was broken, not by the familiar splashing of their own feet, but an unfamiliar voice. More of a croaking rasp, the sudden words snapped them both to attention. "Finally fine' ya' way, all da' way 'ere, eh?" The speaker, tucked away in one of the many carved recesses within the tunnel walls. Long greasy gray hair lay plastered to the sides of his face, giving his sharp stubbled features a wild and mangy look. He was wrapped in dark filthy hide and leather cloak, making him nearly indistinguishable from the dark and muck were it not for the small glint of light shed by the pipe clenched in his teeth. "Mr. Blue... I see you've yet to remedy your tasteless habits." The man, evidently aged past the last quarter of his life, blew smoke out from his nose as if in some crude response while gesturing at Faux. "Who da' pet, lass. Not me, nor' no ones else are accountin' fer' yer, 'plus one'. Can't say weh' much fancy sa'prises, ye?" The old man slid off from the wall and out from the alcove. "Ah, well. Nuthin' alil' more coin won't fix, ye?" Alice scowled at their suspicious new acquaintance, "Everything has a price." The man grinned devilishly, "An' dun' ya forget it. We livin' in'a capitalist society, ye? Who'm I teh stand befer da' wheels'a commerce? Doh' ya boy don't look much like he'll last. Bleedin' like'a bloody stuck pig, ain't ye?" Faux couldn't place it at first, but was finally able to identify the man's thick Korvosan accent. Probably another wretch who rose out from some rat hole in the Shingles; it was anyone's guess.

"The wounds inflicted by the creatures above fester, and cannot be easily mended." The man nodded as he turned and begun to advance down the narrowing corridor. "Heh, ye'. That ain't mean there ain't no hope, if ya' got da munneh'. Anyway, move ya' arse. Da' lady dun' like teh be left waitin'... An' what's ya' story, kid?" The last words were directed at Faux. [Faux | Stability - DC 16 Will Save Vs Extended Duration 1]

Spoiler: Status: Drenched

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Drenched
Liquid drenches the character’s body, soaking the clothing and increasing the weight of the items. Characters that are inflicted with this status effect have their carrying weight increased by 10 lbs. In addition, while under this status effect, any lightning spells and effects inflict an additional 1d6 points of lightning damage. However, any fire spells and effects that deal fire damage remove the status effect. By spending 1 round, the character can also remove the wet clothing as well to remove the status effect. Certain abilities may stack this condition multiple times, inflicting a scaling weight increase, but no other changes to this condition's effects unless stated otherwise.

[Current Weight: +20 lbs]

Spoiler: Potential - Nine Lives & Illusion

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13 Nightmares - Distortion I: Nine Lives & Illusion
Things that should not be have surrounded you. Places long gone from times forgotten. The burdens of such experiences you've carried in silence, even when buried by the blighted corpses of men that had never lived. These twisted and fragmented pieces of the world should have been swept away. Deleted with the rest of the corruption. Now they blackened small spaces beneath the surface, rotting and corroding places in reality which were whole. Somehow, you'd survived longer than possible in these horrid memoryscapes, and now your secrets gave you ability beyond explanation. An anomaly that should not be.

Benefit: This ability may be activated as a free action which may be taken during any round. The Dreamer may select any one location they have visited since acquiring this potential if they have not done so already. Using this ability displaces the Dreamer from their current physical location, and into an altered dreamscape resembling the location they had chosen. The duration is determined randomly and cannot be ended until this period expires. If the Dreamer survives until the end of the duration or is slain, they are returned to a random location within one divergence of the world they were removed from. In the event the Dreamer is slain, he suffers 1d6 points of wisdom drain. If certain circumstances are met a dreamscape may be cleared. Once a dreamscape is chosen, it may not be changed again until cleared. This ability may only be activated a maximum of 9 times, however upon clearing a dream an additional use of this potential is granted. The Dreamer may take a number of willing creatures they maintain physical contact with them into this dream-state equal to their HD. If the dreamer clears nine dreamscapes he gains the Blessing of the Nightmare King potential. The Dreamer's maximum HD increases by 1.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Faux +400 (6,500xp)
HP 17/33 (2 bleed)
⭍ [Nonlethal Damage] 3
⭍ [Cursed Wound] 2 Bleed, DC 22 Heal (full-round action)
⭍ [Wounding Curse] Fast Healing & Regeneration Disabled. Cannot Heal Grievous Wounds. Cannot Recover Hit-Points. Harms Others. Cure Unlearned.
AC 19
Extra Effort Used: 2/6
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Freedom Influence Gained
⯎ Tactics Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Intrigue Influence Gained
⯎ Nightmare Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Night Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Insight Influence Gained
⯎ Paths Influence Gained
⯎ Sickness Influence Gained
⯎ Slaughter Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯌ Acquired [Clear Dagger] - Unidentified

**Ancient** · 2020-02-27, 02:34 PM (ISO 8601)

Varag

The pain comes, but he welcomes it, instead of letting it drag him under, he uses it to focus, if but for a moment. He watches the scene unfold before him, his ears flattened, his head tilted, like a hound that cannot make sense of what is occurring. A line of drool falls from one tusk, which he absentmindedly wipes away with the back of a hand.

"Did that just happen?", he asks, not sure if an answer will come. His voice sounds strange to him, he hasn't spoken in so long.

**forg99rules** · 2020-02-29, 10:18 PM (ISO 8601)

The racing of his heart began to slow down, checking over his equipment, and finding nothing missing was a relief as being in god know where without his stuff was more of a death sentence than anything else. He put the matter of the warm body lying in the snow to the side as he pondered what the strange coin he had found was. It didn't appear to be any currency that existed in this world, though he could not be sure. Holding the coin up to the light, he peers through it, wondering how it came to be in his bag, as well as to what material it was made from. Putting it away with the rest of his coins, He begins his way around the area. As he begins to feel out his surroundings, he lets his mind drift back to what the Orc Varag had previously stated. “Astrok'Ru and the Renor'anon, hmm, I am not sure exactly who either of those are, but if they can return us to our rightful places, then perhaps we should find them. Though I think first, we should figure out exactly where we are.”

Seeing that the shapes were just stones made him a bit less worried about where they had ended up, though that worry came back very quickly as he realized that they were all in a graveyard. He had never been to a graveyard himself, though the stories that his people told about them were always interesting. They were places where the dead were laid to rest, It was a curious and worrisome thing for him as his people did not keep the bodies of their dead. When a Lintu died, their corpse was not buried in the soil of a planet, nor was it surrounded in stone. Instead, the Lintu people would send it out into the void, drifting towards the giant blue star that resided at the center of their worlds. The belief was that one's soul lay within the body after death and that only the strength of a star could release one from the shackles of the flesh. He, of course, would not judge these people, it was their culture after all, who was he to judge something that he did not yet understand.

Standing back up from the sudden encounter, he brushed the snow off of his clothes before turning to the others. “We should get moving, nothing good will come from us staying in a graveyard. As well it seems that the wizard is in a hurry to get somewhere. I say we follow him as it's possible we might find some safety in the direction that he headed.”

Spoiler: OOC

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Perception: (1d20+19)[22] - For the wizard that just kneed me in the face.
Know Arcana: (1d20+16)[17] - For if i notice any markings that i might know.

Know Nature: (1d20+11)[25] - To determine both north, and what direction the wizard headed.
Know History: (1d20+15)[28] - Checking to see if i know more about the names that Varag mentioned aka Astrok'Ru and the Renor'anon.
Know Arcana: (1d20+16)[27] - Checking to see if i know more about the names that Varag mentioned aka Astrok'Ru and the Renor'anon.

Perception: (1d20+19)[22] - A final look around the area for threats or anything interesting

**Ancient** · 2020-03-11, 08:39 AM (ISO 8601)

Varag

Graveyard? Ah, where the humans put their dead to feed the worms...wasteful and strange...He approached the strange little man cautiously, sniffing the air around him, and examining him intensely. After getting uncomfortably close, Varag pokes Loimi gingerly with one finger. He jumps back, surprised at the velvet-like feel of Loimi.

"Sorry..."He says, apologetically, his eyes welling with emotion. "I didn't know...I didn't know if you were...were real...or perhaps a ghost, Pale One."
Varag straightens himself and smooths his equipment.

"I don't know if I will ever feel safe again." he says, shuddering. "I have endured a fate worse than death, only to have my eyes opened to something my mind is barely able to contain, to demons and angels, to terrors that pale The Long Night." He looks around surveying the surroundings. "It is okay though." He nods to himself. "I have hope, and I will keep her safe."

With that, he seems to relax, and composes himself, taking a step back from the brink of madness. "Your council is sound, Pale One, we should leave this place, I feel it is best to keep moving forward, I wish to put as much distance as I can between me and the past. Forgive me, how rude of me...I am Varag".

**Deadguy** · 2020-03-12, 11:26 AM (ISO 8601)

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

The red-haired woman stood in the snow, hunched over. She clutched her head. A physical representation of holding onto the information that threatened to escape. She had suffered too long to lose it all now. In this world after the Darkness, information was far more valuable than any physical thing.

Despite the disjointed and unfocused pain that she was experiencing, Regina tried to function. There were other here. Not just those from the cells, but a fleeing person in robes. Graveyard. She recognized some of what the others were saying. The stones might give some manner of clue to where and when they were.

Attempting to move was strenuous. Nearly as difficult as while she was inside the cell. To be free of that place, but still trapped. Her mind raged against the machine that was her physical being, screaming for it to move. To function. To do something!

Spoiler: OOC

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Stability Check (Will dc 16) - (1d20+7)[18]
Perception vs Gravestone names / dates - (1d20+22)[41]
Linguistics vs robed man accent - (1d20+27)[28]

**Mornings** · 2020-03-23, 01:56 AM (ISO 8601)

It wasn't merely darkness. Nor was it the frozen white frame of the vanished walls which once occupied that space. It was fire. A wreathing terrible flame gone black, and somewhere in that terrible absent void, he could feel it. Deeper than the wretched beast below. Further than the dame hurtling through the infinite recess. Across the unimaginable expanse, he could feel it. The presence of something true, a perfect point beyond every heavenly light and celestial sphere looming out before him. Something that contested the awareness of the wrongness which pervaded his own existence. Before him, painted out across the crumbling ledge of his own sundered reality with hushed breath and motionless stupor, his vision could cross the crevasse no mortal man could. In that long breath and numbing despair, his eyes held the stolen sight of a god... yet remained fixated on the thin black line. [Kazik | Perception - Success]

(Kazik) Aspirant [Oculus]: Across The Dark
Across the very broken spans of reality and space you have watched, gleaning abstract fractions of truth from the depths. No hand nor eye could reach past the expanse, no man nor god could cross it. Yet, your consciousness ventured out, and returned. An impossible feat which has left you changed.

Benefit: The benefactor of this Potential becomes an Aspirant of the Oculus Path, gaining an arcane aptitude score and a number of focus points equal to his respective score. As a swift action the Aspirant may spend 1 focus point to activate this ability, granting himself a 25% chance to sense Anima, Arborization, Oneiroclast, Resonance, and Weave-effects influencing his own fate. At the time of activation, he may choose to spend an additional point of focus to increase his chance of success by 10%. This bonus may be applied a number of times to a single use of this ability equal to his HD, but the total % of his success cannot exceed 85%. Regardless of the result of Aspirant knows if he has succeeded or failed. The results of success can often provide abstract guidance and clues, or even alter the world around himself revealing something once hidden. The Aspirant's intuition gives him feelings as to the nature of the phenomenon he unearths or manifests, but not specific details.

Spoiler: Three Souls & The Dark: The Aspirant

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The Aspirant
Within the Primeval Dark campaign there are three unique story roles which must be earned by at least one player throughout play. These three unique roles function as Potential Paths, but unlike true Paths, they may be acquired regardless if the character already possesses an active Path. True to their unique features, these Paths are not acquired via normal means. Before a player can attempt to access a unique Path, they must first meet a unique condition and become an Aspirant. An Aspirant is a player character who has become eligible to begin progression towards a particular Path which his Potential is keyed towards. Multiple player characters may be an Aspirant towards the same Path at once, and may earn the same Path, with the exception of the Alucinor which only one player may possess at a time. Multiple, or all three roles may be held by a single character. Below are the three roles:

NOTE:
The Primeval Dark campaign cannot be won without acquiring all three roles by at least one player character.

⛤ Alucinor - The Ineffable Secret
⛤ Oculus - The Ascendant Eye
⛤ Memoria - The Three Visions

Global Quest: Waking, The Nightmare Out Of Crooked Eons
Caught within an endless cycle of death and suffering the words of a stranger begin to reveal the implications of a truth more horrid than anything they could have ever imagined.
Difficulty: Lethal | Status: On-going | Profit: Potential Advancement | Time: 0/3 Rounds

⯎ Primary Objective (1): Escape the Tindalos Stalker. The Stalker will hunt for anomalies after a random period of time. Evade the Stalker until it returns to its nightmarish domain... but the beast most certainly will return.
⯎ Primary Objective (2): Locate Professor Mayvert and a method to stop the Tindalos Stalker.
⯎ Primary Objective (3): The horrible beast has come. Survive the onslaught - [2/5 Rounds]

The sharp crack of the stone archway before him was the only forewarning given, but he didn't need it. It felt as if his instincts had suddenly flooded back into some drained recess in his own skull, like a part of himself was beginning to recall the familiar sense of dread. The sense of hammering adrenaline, rage and sacrifice. The loss. The dog-fight that was an expedition into such wretched places. He could feel it on his skin. The creeping prickle running up his arms. The familiar itch. This sector was as good as done. Four seconds. Maybe, three... This place wasn't collapsing, it already had. Like a child's pile of wooden blocks with the supports kicked out from under it, caught in that hushed moment where it remained upright and tilted.. swayed, and then came down. There wouldn't be any warning. There wouldn't be any grace. Just a sudden and abrupt end... His eyes darted about quickly in that frozen span of a breath, feeling his senses sharpen. This. This moment. This was who he'd been, who he was before it'd all been taken away. He knew something.... something big, was lurking out there, but it didn't matter. Time was up. [Erik | Perception - Failed / Survival - Success]

Pushing back the pangs of pain from his wounds and the freezing chill creeping into his bones, he sprung forward just as the ground behind exploded upward revealing the reeling thrashing head of the horrid canine beast. The violent force from the Tindalos Stalker's emergence was the last straw, a kick to the tilting base of the crumbling 'wooden tower'. Fractured veins like shattering red glass raced across the entirety of the stone chamber about them, seeming to split through the very fabrics of the material world and splitting far more than the room; lines running out to some infinite degree. Massive pillars of stone, wood and sky came hurtling through the floor of the room, like knapped crystal beams split off from existence. Erik hammered the door open before, him causing the swollen rotten wood to explode out into the hall from the force of his gesture. Recoiling sharply he evaded a small finger-wide sliver of splintered reality as it fell by, effortlessly removing a small piece of his pauldron as if the thing had simply been swallowed-up, or erased upon contact with the fragment. His gaze raised up towards the new hall before him... [Freezing To Death (All): DC 14 Fortitude Save Vs Wounding | Erik +1 circumstance bonus w/Heatstone]

Like a blotch of ink violently thrust into his eyes, he recoiled as his world was drowned in darkness and a woman's voice sounded clearly in his ears. It wasn't a voice he'd heard before, but it was familiar. Something he lost. He couldn't remember, yet something inside compelled him forward, demanded he recall that elusive, distant thing. Within the motionless black, small fragments of light distantly whizzed by. Brief flickers of visions which ended as quickly as they begun. He could feel himself walk through the featureless darkness, trying to retain something from the hasty flashing pictures and scenes. Emotions stirred and died in his chest. Sorrow. Pain. Joy, and pride. Rage. Fear. There! For a moment a face, the face of the man, one of the brothers from his vision, smiling back at him. Then another, a woman he didn't know; but the elf was familiar. Like recalling a nightmare from his stupor behind the bars of his imprisonment. A young girl shrouded in black, no more than a child. Then a woman with fiery red hair. Then, Balin! Guiding them through some dark corridor. A sense of surreal panic begun to fill him as the splinters of light passed. Scenes of frozen moments, embattled with blotted dripping black creatures, beasts like those which had risen up from the chamber which had once been behind. Feelings of suffering, pain and death. Drowning. Flayed. Crumbling. These were his. Parts of himself, lost or stolen. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember.

There. Like some perfect frame. Some moment stolen from him which he couldn't even recall. A woman, face obscured by the black clipping into the moment frozen in space. There was a warmth there. A longing for something intangible, but real. The brightest light he'd ever held. Then, it slowly diminished, and a stranger's voice whispered in hushed breath. "Erik... They're breaking in." The darkness broke with a raucous sharp crack as a flare of orange and blue sparks burst to life, casting the black veil away. Suddenly he was back. He hadn't moved, though he'd been walking for nearly half an hour. The ebon screen before him was shapely and tangible, like a physical thing; darkness made real. The deafening roar of the terrifying creature behind, and the hammering of reality's collapse as segments of the floor gave way. A man laid half submerged in a thick pool of dark mucus like goo, which had congealed around him. His once white lab coat was dingy and tainted, while his thick leather apron was torn and bloodied. A burning pile of magnesium and various regeants hissed and sparked, driving away the living gloom. In the withered doctor's hands were clutched a pair of thick foreceps, clenching some manner of twisting black key. The scene was almost unreal in the mercenary's mind, he fought back the urge to chuckle, smoothing it back into his mouth. Because he'd remembered. He'd taken something back from those monstrous unknowable bastards who created this blight, this hell. Ressa. He couldn't remember her face. Only those words. It repeated in his head like a mantra, and with each passing moment it did, he could feel something else be reclaimed with it.

The old man's eyes lit up as Erik came into view, "Boy! It's you! You're here! WHY ARE YOU HERE! YOU HAVE TO GO BACK!" Erik knew the man's voice in an instant. He'd been haunted by the creeping static of his records for longer than he dared guess. It was Dr. Eakin Eldborogh. The vanished master of Willowbrook... and he'd seen better days. His skin was dried and cracked, face overgrown with a thick dripping gray beard. All manner of scars crossed his rugged features and one hand was missing nearly three fingers. He sharply extended his clenched fist tightly holding the forceps out and the key they grasped towards him. "TAKE IT, BOY! THERE'S NO TIME, YOU MUST GO BACK! WAKE UP!"

(Erik) Heroism I: Loyal Burden
Your trust isn't easily won, but to those whom earn it you are a steadfast alley. Be it removing a friend from harm, or taking an enemy away with you, you have learned to strengthen yourself and endure the burden of others for short periods of time.

Benefit: As an attack action the character may attempt a melee touch attack against a target, which may be performed in conjunction with a charge at any point during their movement. If this touch attack is successful and the creature is less than two size category larger than him, he becomes grappled with that creature and may move with their target without any additional check. If the weight of the creature and the creature's equipment would put the character's current weight equal to or in excess of their maximum push/drag weight, their speed is reduced to 5ft. After using this ability the character becomes fatigued for 1d4 rounds. If the character is already fatigued or cannot be fatigued, they become exhausted. If the character is already exhausted or cannot be exhausted, they become staggered. If the character is already staggered or cannot be staggered, they are knocked unconscious. The duration of this status is equal to the number of rounds which they would have been fatigued. This ability cannot be used again until after the duration of its subsequent effect has ended. The character's strength ability score increases by 4.

(Erik) Waking I: Memory Recalled
While the memories were little more than fragments. Brief frames like pictures in the dark, you've reclaimed something from the dizzying haze. Pieces emerge, parts retained. Voices speak out from across the withering nightmare, as if from some countless number of lifetimes ago. The life of a stranger. The life taken from you. Within those fractured pieces, you can recall some sliver of knowledge which should not be. Knowledge beyond the life you know.

Benefit:The character gains the ability to retain a Memory Pool. Additionally, the character may choose to spend experience points to resist Severance effects equal to 350 x the DC of the effect. Alternatively, the character may choose to spend experience points to make Knowledge (Abstract) skill checks. The experience point cost of this check is equal to the result x 50. The character's HD increases by 1.

Details

Spoiler: The Devouring Dark

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The Devouring Dark
Within those more perilous of places within the world where the center of fates meet, the corruption is most severe. Within these places, the living darkness imparts debilitating effects, and ushers forth entities and creations from across the reaches of the multiverse to impede you. The Devouring Dark is only present in the presence of a Perfect Fate, where the fabric of the world has been worn thin, and will often represent some of the most challenging experiences throughout the campaign.

Spoiler: The Eternal Path & Perfect Fates

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The singular purpose of each main quest within the campaign is to ultimately reclaim the Perfect Fates which have been hidden throughout the crumbling folds of existence. These fates take the form of keys which are utilized and expended to access the various DEVILDOOR's which link the Three Worlds to the Eternal Path; an unknown location which is the focal point for defeating the darkness. A minimum of three keys is required to successfully complete each chapter of the campaign, however this objective is time sensitive, with only a fixed amount of time allotted to succeed this task before the chapter progresses regardless. These time periods may vary in length, from days to years. No time limitations exists while the campaign remains in the prologue, but will initiate when any single player advances the campaign. Additionally, players cannot access the Eternal Path or utilize Perfect Fates while in the Prologue, however a number of accessible fates exist within this period. If all Perfect Fates are reclaimed during this period, the prologue will automatically end.

Not all Perfect Fates are accessible without unique skills, features or unique Potential Paths.
Gathering Perfect Fates is the fundamental heart of the campaign and it cannot be won without successfully doing so.

Spoiler: The Uttercold, Minor

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While shielded from the brunt of the cold, the interior of the chambers you have found yourself in are effected by a magical frost which will cripple and inevitably kill you, should you succumb to it. You cannot safely sleep while in an area effected by this condition. Utilize sources of heat to help stave off the deathly chill.

- Sources of heat grant various minor stacking bonuses to help resist these effects.

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: Status

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֍ Erik +950 (14,600xp)
HP 33/53 (-20 slashing damage) | Nonlethal: 2 damage
AC 23
Extra Effort: 5/10
Spite: 2
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gaineda
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Pain Influence Gained
⯎ Life Influence Gained
⯎ Struggle Influence Gained
⯎ Teamwork Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Martial Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Void Influence Gained
⯎ Loyalty Influence Gained
⯎ Courage Influence Gained
⯎ Bravery Influence Gained
⯎ Guardian Influence Gained
⯎ Warden Influence Gained
⯎ Heroism Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Influence Gained
⯎ Destiny Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Memory Recalled (Ressa) +2,000xp (16,600xp)

⯎ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Alloy Lancet
⯎ Acquired - ????: Unidentified Glass Rod Restraint x3

֍ Kazik +500 (15,200xp)
HP 38/58 (-20 Slashing Damage)
AC 20
Extra Effort Used: 3/6
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Time Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Travel Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Evil Influence Gained
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Agility Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ History Influence Gained
⯎ Spirits Influence Gained
⯎ Curse Influence Gained
⯎ Defense Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Attunement Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Perception Influence Gained
⯎ Lore Influence Gained
⯎ Despair Influence Gained
⯎ Terror Influence Gained
⯎ Fear Influence Gained
⯎ Persistence Influence Gained
⯎ Insight Influence Gained
⯎ Senses Influence Gained
⯎ Instinct Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Sight Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Awareness Influence Gained
⯎ Aspirant, Oculus +3,000 (18,200xp)

⯎ Acquired [Black Dice x1]

**Mornings** · 2020-03-24, 12:43 AM (ISO 8601)

It didn't require much effort for Loimi to visually trace the wizard's eastward path through the snow. Even without an excess of attention paid to the stranger's parting, the melted path which was quickly filling with snow made following the man a simple task. Whatever manner of magic the spell caster possessed expedited his venture through the frosty field of graves. Despite that, the quickling couldn't begin to identify any marks upon the mage. [Loimi | Perception - Success / Knowledge (Arcane) - Failure / Knowledge (Nature) - Success]

As Varag begun to regather himself and his composure, the conversation was cut short. Lomi grasped his head. It was like two searing hot nails had been driven through his skull. The pale Offworlder staggered away before slumping into a heap. The nameless woman off to the side seemed to regain her senses as the short man suffered his own affliction. [Loimi | Stability Check - Will Save (DC 16) / Stability Break - Fort Save (DC19)]

The overwhelming wave of dizzying pain which had left her frozen finally subsided. Regina didn't know how, but she'd managed to overcome the psychic attack and retain those precious fragments she had taken from the unnatural space. Her eyes drifted to a large grave nearby. Most were weathered or frozen with most of their text rendered illegible. Ganril Mortfield. AR 4166. Mortfield? The name sounded familiar. The sudden appearance of the unusual wizard broke her train of thought. While the man didn't have an exceptionally noticeable accent, but in his Taldane pronunciations was the slight twang of a native Varisian tongue. [Regina | Perception - Success | Linguistics - Success]

Spoiler: Critical Note: Forbidden Knowledge

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Knowledge (Forbidden) is one of the most useful unique skills in the game, but also the absolute most dangerous ability a player character can utilize when performed outside of a very specific set of conditions, including the aid of numerous Potentials. Each time a PC attempts to utilize this skill without the protective features of other Potentials, they run a chance of acquiring a 'Corrupted Fate'. These conditions are a form of Curse which can potentially bestow numerous profane and crippling effects, but will in addition alter all quests and objectives the character possesses and can receive - permanently. The effects of a Corrupted Fate can be resolved by discovering and accomplishing the unique conditions associated with it. These conditions are always extremely severe, and may require an entire campaign-length undertaking to complete; stealing precious time which could be spent on other objectives.

Regardless of the result of the %dice in determining if such a status is received, the character receives a number of points of Spite, and possesses a very high chance of incurring a Divergence or critical alteration, which may impose its own unique consequences, depending on the circumstances. The percent of such events occurring caps at 100% upon the third use. A character may only utilize Knowledge (Forbidden) unprotected three times throughout the entity of the game. Upon exceeding this number of uses, the current character is immediately slain after the skill's resolution. This ability kills all iterations of a character simultaneously, but is specific to the identity which activated the ability and does not extend past Reflected Personas. This effect cannot be prevented by any source. Slain character's cannot be returned to life, including from such Potentials as Lesser Immortality.

Spoiler: Status

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֍ Mirykys +0 (14,500xp)
HP 37/37
AC 17
⯎ Survival Influence Gained
⯎ Exploration Influence Gained
⯎ Truth Influence Gained
⯎ Wisdom Influence Gained
⯎ Knowledge Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Stalking Influence Gained
⯎ Deception Influence Gained
⯎ Trickery Influence Gained
⯎ Battle Influence Gained
⯎ Omens Influence Gained
⯎ Mystery Influence Gained
⯎ Corruption Influence Gained
⯎ Revelation Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Realms Influence Gained
⯎ Otherworld Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Secrets Influence Gained
⯎ Magic Influence Gained
⯎ Divinity Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Dreams Influence Gained
⯎ Recovered [Otherworld Quiver]
⯎ Recovered [Unidentified Arrows] x10
⯎ Bonus Experience, Prologue +1,000 (4,100xp)
⯎ Reality Altered +500 (4,600xp)
⯎ Rubedo +400 (5,000xp)
⯎ Lady Black +500 (5,500xp)
⯎ The Inquisition +200 (5,700xp)
⯎ Kaslin Crowe +200 (5,900xp)
⯎ Kas'Llyn'Ryel +300 (6,200xp)
⯎ Ryott Sparrow +300 (6,500xp)

֍ Regina +200 (20,600xp)
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
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Fate Influence Gained
⯎ Vision Influence Gained
⯎ Light Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Worlds Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Black Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Reflections Influence Gained
⯎ Darkness Influence Gained
⯎ Stars Influence Gained
⯎ Reality Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Seeker Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained

֍ Loimi +100 (10,000xp)
HP 48/48
AC 18
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Dimensions Influence Gained
⯎ Planes Influence Gained
⯎ Culture Influence Gained
⯎ Investigation Influence Gained
⯎ Caution Influence Gained
⯎ Chance Influence Gained
⯎ Diligence Influence Gained
⯎ Luck Influence Gained
⯎ Calm Influence Gained
⯎ Purposeful Influence Gained
⯎ Rewarded Influence Gained
⯌ [Acquired] Unidentified, Crystal Coin x1

֍ Varag +100 (9,600xp)
HP 31/31
AC 19
⭍ [Displacement] -2 penalty to Stability Checks
⯎ Cold Influence Gained
⯎ Doom Influence Gained
⯎ Death Influence Gained
⯎ Madness Influence Gained
⯎ Stability Influence Gained
⯎ Red Influence Gained
⯎ Veils Influence Gained
⯎ Nuisance Influence Gained
⯎ Forbidden Influence Gained
⯎ Unstable Influence Gained
⯎ Obsession 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.

~~Main Quest: The Fires of Willowbrook, Part 1~~ [Complete]
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: Unknown
Primary Objective (1): ~~Flee Sector 1B~~
Primary Objective (2): ~~Escape Willowbrook Sanitarium~~

~~Side Quest: Restless, The Nightmare Below~~ [Quest Lost]
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** · 2020-03-24, 06:52 AM (ISO 8601)

Sheet

"Yeah.. I've noticed they won't.. close easily. The medication I have.. won't do.. anything to stop it. " He remarks, struggling along with the other two. "As.. far as I go... I'm not sure. Woke up in a prison of some.. kind. Managed to escape.. but the whole place turned side ways... Some beast attacked us in the dark... and I took a chance to escape with my ability to move through the shadows. However it went wrong.. and since then I've been running.. bleeding.. and struggling.

Spoiler: ooc

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Will save= (1d20+10)[26]

**Chromascope3D** · 2020-03-28, 09:12 PM (ISO 8601)

Kazik
The Hanging Men

It was gorgeous. In a tragic, terrible way, but what in his life had not been? He remained transfixed on it, the depth of black, darker than night yet still as intricate as the cosmos above. For but a moment, for perhaps the first time in his life, he could almost swear that he... understood...

Someone brushed his hand. Instinctively, he recoiled, yanking it away as the man Erik rushed by. What had he tried to do? Kazik's sense returned to him at that moment as the creature out of nightmare bounded jaws snapping and slavering towards him. Was he trying to... help? The old soldier didn't seem all too keen on following through as he continued on. Still, it seemed to have an effect besides.

More shouting. Another stranger down the hall, hand outstretching. A way out? A sight more inviting than the alternative at any rate. Legs finally awakening, he turned upon his heels and made for the corridor, feet still like lead, but he could not stop now. Would not stop now. His hand finally found its way southward, to his belt of metal links and spines wrapped tight around his waist. At least, a belt upon first glance, but in a second, with a twist, came loose, uncoiling from around the man's body and falling free. Nay, no mere belt, but a scourge of black wrought iron. How long had it been since it had found its way to his hand, yet, after all this time, still felt as though it had never once left his grasp. It yearned, he knew. It knew not rust, yet still craved that reddish taste between its links. Perhaps... he could supply it... it had been so long...

The hall trembled and buck as the creature bellowed behind him. No, there was no time for this, not to distract himself with these flighty thoughts of dalliances. It will sup ere too long. Of rust itself, the smell hung heavy within the walls. At least, on first whiff. Kazik inhaled deeply. There was something else, wasn't there? Something different, just beneath the surface. He could tell, couldn't he? Couldn't he? Something... something new... something... terrible...

Kazik's eyes traced over the man he was quickly approaching. Who was this? Did he not know the peril? Or was he, too, another vision? Something terrible...

Spoiler: OOC

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He manages to move southward and draw his weapon as he does so. He still fails to use his new sense. ^{[1] https://forums.giantitp.com/showsing...&postcount=990[2]}

(1d20+4)[15] vs freezing cold

Other skill checks
Perception (1d20+6)[22] (1d100)[12]
Survival (1d20+4)[20] (1d100)[43]
Sense Motive (1d20+6)[16] (1d100)[62]

Spoiler: Stats

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Kazik
Human Sentinel (Darkness Defender) LN
Scorn 14
Focus Points: 10/10
Reserve Points 3/5
Martial Focus Yes
HP 56 / 78 [+7] Speed ft Init 8
AC 22 (-2) Fort 8 (-2) Ref 9 (-2)(-2) Will 8 (-2)
CMB +8 BAB 4
+1 Chain Whip +12 (+10) [2] (1d3+8 (1d3+12) {+8}, x2)
Throwing Knives +11 [-2] (1d4+2, x2)
Dagger +11 (+9) [-2](1d4+2, 19-20/x2)
Str 18 (4) Dex 24 (7) Con 16 (3) Wis 16 (3) Int 14 (2) Cha 9 (-1)
Boons
Martial Focus

Conditions
Freezing to Death, Horrific Dread, Frightened (6/10), Self Doubt (until next will save), Doubt (2/3)

**Stevesciguy** · 2020-03-28, 11:22 PM (ISO 8601)

If Erik had been stunned before, he was absolutely reeling now. Memories flooded his skull, memories that couldn't be his... could they? Was there something had been taken from him? Or was he seeing fragments from the life of another "self", where things had gone differently? And that name, that voice... what had happened to him?

Erik was sure that his mind was beginning to break. At the edges of his consciousness he could feel the fragments of things he couldn't know drifting in and out of focus. If he lingered on one for a moment too long it would start to expand, threatening to take over his mind with whatever it held. There was a price. He could feel that, too.

Then there was the old man. Doctor Eldborogh. Eldborogh recognized him. Or at least he seemed to. Was he mistaking Erik for someone else? Or was this another memory that had been lost, or taken from somewhere else?

How much was he missing?

All this flew through his head as his companion pushed past him, desperately seeking escape from the beast that had fractured reality. As he more fully came to, he felt stronger. He had changed again. It had been a little different this time, but it was already a familiar sensation. He could only wonder how much more there would be.

There was no more time to waste with confusion or transplanted memories. Erik followed the masked man down the hall, toward the crippled doctor. Away from that thing. Which struck a thought in him. As he ran, he did his best to sift through the fragments at the corners of his mind.

I don't need to kill it, or even hurt it. I just needed to slow it down.

Reaching the doctor as the sector's last vestiges of stability vanished, Erik could only hope that the key didn't unlock a door in the traditional manner - that it was a gateway like that corroded sword. He grabbed onto Kazik's arm in case it was contact-based - though he didn't realize he was doing so with a vice grip. He managed to get out one shouted sentence over the noise of the dying world around him.

"How do you know me?"

Then, knowing he couldn't wait for an answer, he grabbed the twisting key.

Spoiler: OoC

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Actions:
Swift: None
Move: Move next to Eldborogh
Standard: None

Saves:

Fort Save vs Uttercold(+1 from Heatstone, -2 from Shaken, rolled in OoC): (1d20+13)[17]

Corruption: 7
Uses of Fervor left: 6/7
Rounds of Undead form: 5/19 -
Rounds of Shield: 9/40
Rounds of Fatigue: 5/10
Rounds of Shaken: 6/10

Skill Checks(-2 already factored in):

Gonna do a Sense Motive on Eldborogh, see if maybe he's just mistaking Erik for someone else or something: (1d20+5)[6]

Kowledge(Abstract): Rolling to look for a weakness or way to slow down the Stalker: (1d20)[15](-750xp)

**Deadguy** · 2020-04-24, 09:27 AM (ISO 8601)

Regina
Ghost in the Machine

"Yes, after what we just went through, I believe the best course of action is to follow the magi."

Regina tapped her front tooth absently as she searched her databanks for the name from the stone. Her eyes looked down to her busy hand. That tapping was not her habit. It came from Vanessa. The scientist part of her that was worried about possible bleed-over of personality traits from the segmentation, but the sister part of her was glad for proof that she was still present.

She moved through the snow easily enough. Her clothing adapted to the chill by transforming into a heavy fur-lined cloak.

As she followed the tracks, there was a wonder at why and how the man was in such a hurry. Hopefully, he was not chased by some manner of beast. His tone hadn't seemed panicked, simply hurried. Looking back to her would-be companions, Regina couldn't help but attempt to recognize them from the Club. If they had earned the privilege of being tossed into that hell-hole before her, their notoriety should have been known. At least her own story was hidden behind this red-haired facade.

Spoiler: OOC

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Knowledge (Nobility) vs Mortfield name - (1d20+17)[19]
Knowledge (History) vs AR 4166 - (1d20+22)[25]
Spellcraft vs quick movement - (1d20+18)[29]
Knowledge (Local) vs group - [roll]1dd20+17[/roll]

**Mornings** · 2020-05-29, 11:15 PM (ISO 8601)

The aching empty pain. It was like the prongs of some thorny rose being let go, to drift down the swift meandering currents of the black water. The moments seemed slow, while their actions hastened in contrast. Each foot step that brought them closer to the doctor's extended hand, also brought with it a sense of liberation. Awareness. That familiar indescribable itch, an urgency or quickened panic brought on by some wordless revelation. The Knowing.

As he drew closer, Erik's steps slowed until he came to a dead halt before the crippled man. Pulses distorted the stilled world about them, centered upon the eldritch device he clutched; and he understood. A lingering sense of what he had relinquished. The price they had paid for every failure. How many times had he paid? How many times had he risen to fall again? Slowly consumed by this meaningless place? Defeated, fractured and misshapen, until the truth became untrue and the world was a lie.

It was an endless rotating wheel. Madly spinning and unhinged, perpetuating their involuntary participation in this farce. There was no way to stop it from within itself. Not the beast. Not the suffering, nor the grief. Or the price they had paid so long ago. It had made them pitiful and powerless. Denied them their own awareness of self. What terrible wicked spellcraft. What vile baneful curse. The foolishness of a second echoing across a hundred-hundred lifetimes. They had to be free. The venerable old man grinned, his disembodied voice echoing out from every wall as if it were the words of the world itself. "Well done, gentlemen. Well done."

He felt no fear as he turned about to look back upon the world, and the face of the terrible creature which had haunted them for so long. It was the first time he'd seen the malignant sentry in full. Always it had been as nothing more than some horrid shadow looming over his shoulder. Its wretchedness did not disappoint... And there, in the overgrown pale white of the celestial vines and blooming buds of moonlight, was he. There, they both were. Held like branches caught in long untended ivy of piercing white light. Though older and weathered, he could still recognize the grit chiseled into his own face. [Erik | Knowledge (Abstract) - Success] [Bonus: (Kulsula'Rei, The Prison Without Walls) - Penalty reduced by half]

With each step closer Kazik took towards the crippled old man, he could feel the unseen ripple. The echo somewhere beneath the perceivable and real. It was a new and surreal sense, but it was his, and it was true. That much he was certain. Closer, and closer. The air felt thick, though there was no physical change, and his vision blurred in rhythmic intervals as everything about him begun to creep slower. The deafening din of the groaning stones and cracking floors diminished in his ears. Everything was still, even he. He missed it. Gone in a flash. Faster than he even realized. Again. Gone. There! It slipped by. In that frozen frame, that suspended moment where the falling boulders and slices of existence hung overhead. Like guillotines delicately dangling from threads... He could see it. The negative frame. The distortion. The wave emanating out from that dreadful black key, and in it... for but a mere fraction of a moment, was the glint. The flash. The red line. The crimson thread. It compelled him, it was part of him, something he couldn't yet see; guiding him back out from this hell. Beyond the frame and into the familiar chorus.

There. From the distance. Through the shattered gaps of the world and sky, bound by vines of searing white. He looked down upon himself, from himself. Down into the frozen frame. Ah. He could see it now, like a child stealing a glimpse through the keyhole of some impossible door. There was no movement. No sound. No life, only the rapidly expanding awareness of himself and this nightmarish prison. A cell unlike any he could fathom. A torturous sinister confinement beyond mortal means and comprehension. His fingers twitched. The painted static of the world shifted and bloomed as flowers and churning roots of pale light rose from beyond the scene.

Like stark white paint traced across that one still moment which had once comprised their everything, their reality. Slowly, his fist closed around the glassy chain. It was still there, bound to the other side. The one thread, the one prong of pain prickling at something long forgotten in the back of his mind. They were like small flickers. Sparks, or glints of flame. The pain of helplessness. The elation when she had freed him. The satisfaction when he had hung him from the bell. So much had been lost, but he could not so easily forget those cruel irons of Glamden's Hollow. His gaze rose from where he hung, withered and overgrown, toward the light above. [Kazik | Perception & Sense Motive - Success] [Bonus: (Trait | Oculus Awareness) - Perception & Sense Motive Skill Checks Gain Permanent +4 Bonus]

Ͽ ◯ Ͼ

It silently hummed in his hand, as if compelling he wake. Heavy. Erik had never felt so.... old. His armor and skin were shielded in a layer of dirt and debris as if he had hung for decades in the embrace of the thick vines which grew around him. One hand limply was held overhead, clutching the sword. He'd never seen the blade before, but the weapon seemed strangely familiar. Something in his heart ached at the sight of it. Ressa... The name was like a mantra hammering in the back of his mind, and each time something was shaken free. Crawsford. Something came to life, a sudden fire in his chest. His arm protested and groaned. The limb wouldn't obey his will, shifting powerlessly. Again, and again he willed his swordarm move, until finally he tore free of the gleaming ivy.

The weapon's blade looked as if it were forged from tightly enclosed petals of a large flower, far unlike anything he'd seen before. With a sharp pump of his arm, the weapon hacked down the roots about him, leaving him to dangle above the broken world and the frozen moment below. The still frame where he reached for the key. It was as if he were looking back down upon himself, a younger self, and that was were that observation had ended... Or so might have been the thought had he not experienced it himself. The key, was no physical thing, only some vastly condensed representation of raw and wild force. Now that will lived in him. He was the key.

His eyes drifted up towards the pillar of piercing light which illuminated the shattered overgrowth of this 'world-between'. Through the thorns and twisting brush he could see the familiar withered masked man make his ascent far above, quickly scaling some impossibly long chain of spiked glass. Though his hands ached. Though his back pained him and his knees cried out, his strength had not yet left him. A quick motion sheathed his weapon at his side next to his trusted, and now rusted, ancient sword. It looked far more worn than he could recall, both from age and combat. How much they had climbed together... What was one more time? The gleaming vines and roots passed easily though his hands, lifting his massive armored body upwards through the gloom with little effort. It was as if he'd trained extensively, or even grown stronger during these lost moments. Years of practice and drill etched into this body for the sole purpose of overcoming such trails. [Erik | Bonus: (Trait | Tragic Veteran) - Armor Check Penalty Reduced by 2, Strength Ability Score +2]

The impossible expanse yawned out before them both. Hours. Thousands of feet behind them. The shimmering white branches and vines might as well have been a ladder up into the crumbling dark sky. Still, they did not tire. With each new handhold brief flickering glimpses of some moment flashed through their minds, again and again, and again. Moments that were neither recalled nor familiar. These frozen moments, the passing frames of times far away from here... they didn't know them. It wasn't something dug up from those 'better times' before their imprisonment.

No. These were.... years. Long years, which came after. Black holes like burned wood destroyed and warped many of them. Faces obscured, frames faded... but some shown clear. Though only fragments seeped through the fog of their minds, the feelings persisted. A terrible crippling sorrow shook Erik, the acute and familiar pangs of loss... From a moment and time he didn't know, events stolen from him. Pieces of himself now forgotten. Somewhere, the cries still shook him to the point of giving pause. The screams of dying children. [Erik | Recovery - All Status Aliments, Damage & Negative Effects Inflicted From The Tutorial Are Recovered or Removed]

For a moment Kazik froze, hand outstretched to grasp the next link in the chain of his impossible ascent. The fury... No. The hatred, which struck him was like a searing cloud of mist blown in his face. It sent a tangling numbness through his lips and made his hair stand on end. A hammering terrible rage, like some belligerent rampaging tantrum. He'd seen it before in the most steeled men. Their final struggle. Somewhere, sometime, from across the perceivable and real... he refused to be forgotten. Reaching out to grasp himself by the throat, compelling he remember, demanding he not accept the humiliation of his own defeat by allowing what once was to be stolen and buried or forgotten. These were his death throes.

The death of everything those memories had made. The passing of the man who had lived and held the answer. The death of the Kazik who should have been. His hand grasped the chain, the brief hesitation in his climb almost unnoticeable. It didn't matter. This wasn't over. Another handhold. The frames begun to blend together, passing moments, and he could remember. How she had freed him after the manor fell. Sparrow. She knew impossible things. Showed him how he did too. She made sense of the chaos and showed him the way. The path of the so-called Oculus. [Kazik | Recovery - All Status Aliments, Damage & Negative Effects Inflicted From The Tutorial Are Recovered or Removed]

It was then, there, hanging somewhere between the earth and the sky... A familiar voice begun to speak.

To those who slept.
To those who rested, deeply in their death-slumber.
This prison was their home.

The first moments they could truly recall begun to filter back through their minds. The altercation between their mysterious visitor and the Auspex whom called herself 'Pride'. Judge Celles. The words relating to their poor condition and the implications of some hidden misdeed should they be caught still echoed in mind, but those moments were warped. Distorted by the prison. Reshaped by the dream. It had not been four years. It had not even been a full year when the Auspex finally arrived and their persons were given to their new caretaker. A veteran Deep Surveyor who owed the Purifier Order one last time...

Hopelessness caressed them, and rocked them gently.
The cries of the crippled and the wronged,
were lulls unto their rest.

The surprise which followed as they waited for hours in the dew and mist during that first bright morning still remained clear in their minds. It was a mute bewilderment, where none spoke when they found themselves only a few minutes walk away from what had been their former prison mere moments before. Their task to earn their freedom, was in fact, the grounds of Willowbrook itself. The complex was old and mysterious, serving as far more than sanitarium turned prison; though a prison no more. They had been the last of the detainees the domain would see, with their release the Order had released the properties back to its rightful owners. The bizarre and abstruse Crawsford family, but not unconditionally... Or so Balin claimed.

The Crawsford family had long been subject of many rumors and gossip, as an ancient house of magic, which had produced a long lineage of exceptional wizards and other masters of the arcane. Recent history had put them at odds with the Purifier Order after their withdrawal from the Order of the White Rose. An ancient but small knightly order which had allied themselves with the Purifiers and had served as their primary militaristic arm. The White Rose had long been a traditional role primarily composed of Blanchard knights, lesser nobles from the branch families of house Crawsford. With the departure of its founding house, the White Rose was all but dissolved. The conflict between the two arose from a disagreement after the Purifiers discovered the Crawsford family had came into possession of the Verlow Records. A fact which had been suspected but denied for years after the house had financially supported Caine's final expedition during the battle known as the Runner's Breach.

When they stirred and wept
From nightmare, grim and foul.
She whispered down to them,
Every curse and blight.

The only surviving documents penned by the man recognized as the 'First Surveyor' mysteriously vanished following the conflict; they were the only records detailing events from 'the other side'. Only a single page had been made public by the man's only living daughter, Cayla, which detailed the future events of what would eventually be called the Long Night. It was the first known item categorized as one of the Paradox Codices. The Purifiers demanded the Crawsfords relinquish the document, leading to their decision to abandon the Order. With nothing binding the two together, the Crawsfords became a focus of the Purifier Order's resentment.

Defanged and largely disarmed by the dissolving of the White Rose the zealous order found itself crippled. However, when rumors of witches and otherworldly creatures under the employ of the Crawsfords begun to emerge, a transformation took place and the creation of the modern Inquisitive Order emerged. With little to use against them, the Crawsfords and the Purifier's Inquisition maintained a tense and bitter standoff. Those Harriers who came under the employ of the family rarely returned unsuccessful, providing further and further contributions to the house. Fearing the family would grow too strong, they did what they could to suppress and limit their expeditions, or at the very least ensure the amount of secrets and resources they could secret away were diminished.

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.

Thus, it was begrudgingly that the Purifiers returned the grounds of Willowbrook to house Crawsford, but there was little other choice. The affair had become far too cumbersome for the small organization to manage, and now that corruption had begun to emerge on the estate, retaining hold over it was an impossibility. However, passing back tainted land to what was perhaps the oldest, most successful private Delving employer in the Inner Sea unconditionally, was the absolute last thing they intended to do. While the Inquisition might have been legally compelled to provide the territory back to its original owner, that didn't mean it couldn't be turned into its own opportunity. This was how both groups came into agreement to provide their own respective Surveyor's during a joint-expedition. While the Inquisition did not fully understood the tainted lands or the potential of Willowbrook, they knew it was valued, and leveraged their terms without compromise until the Crawsfords agreed.

Damned are her children,
Those who rest forever.
Their screams shook me,
From behind the blinding curtain

With their arrangements settled, both parties provided their respective Surveyors. The Order furnished their new master, Balin Crofte; an experienced but mostly independent scout with an unsettled debt. The roguish young man was perhaps overly talkative, but fair in his treatment of his newly acquired guests. Evidently, the addition of the former-prisoners had not been discussed with the man prior to passing them off to him as 'his' responsibility. While reluctant, it was evident he was in no position to decline, nor could he refute the argument over the ownership of persons whom had lived within the domain he was being dispatched to investigate. The whole affair already appeared to become far more than he'd bargained for. The Crawsfords surprisingly enlisted the services of the elf, Ryott Sparrow.

While Sparrow was undisputed in her standing as the most experienced Surveyor still in the field, the elf was well known as one of the last remaining members of the White Rose, whom apparently still held some unexplained ties to a number of the Purifiers' founding members. Sparrow did not hold a poor relation with any of the Blanchard families, to include the Crawsfords, nor the Purifier's Order; being something of a neutral entity. Yet, that fact seemed to make their choice somewhat unexpected as it diminished house's chances of stealing secrets or resources for themselves and providing no reason for dispute. Despite that however, the level and skill and competence between the two Surveyors was incomparably vast. The difference became impossible to miss, even for those who knew nothing of such duties. Balin struggled to keep pace with the absurdly detailed tests, records and cartography Sparrow produced, often simultaneously, with little effort.

The investigation spanned weeks at a time, over multiple phases as the findings became more and more bizarre, until they found it. A secret entrance to... 'the other side'. Some place beyond, the rift which led to the layers below. They were ruins, the remnants of some other place from another time smashed through the fabrics of existence. The first zone given a designation as a 'Sector', and thus imparted its official recognition as Tainted Land. Point 323 - Willowbrook Sanitarium.

It was no secret, the dangers which lurked beyond those swollen doors. With little other choice the investigation returned to the Blanchard estate to request aid from the the Crawsford family. An expedition was assembled and dispatched to begin the deep exploration of the grounds. Yet, something had followed them back, tying itself to the unsuspecting Surveyors. It was the last march of doomed men. Only a single survivor returned from the depths after the company's disappearance some months later. Tales of doom and unspeakable darkness. Twisting labyrinthine passes arching off erratically through reality. Doors joining halls through time. Dizzying distortion and numbing displacement. An impossible dive, inhabited by a dreadful army of shadows and black gods which could toss and tilt the broken passages holding the world together.

An unprecedented threat. Just as things seemed at their darkest, an unexpected visitor came. An eerie sorceress traveling with a band of Harriers, an apparent close acquaintance of Lord Reyen Crawsford. That was the day which would change everything. If not for the witch's prodding, it was likely Lord Crawsford would have abandoned the quest and freed them from their servitude. Ah, but alas. Fate was such a fickle thing. Encouraged by new allies, a second investigation was initiated with Surveyors, Harriers and the last survivor in tow. Doom. It would descend upon Blanchard Manor with fire and madness, ushered by an Inquisitor's sword. Like a tide. Indiscriminately. The corruption rose up to sweep them all away... far, far below.

Erik's hand found hold, grasping a fistful of the glowing vines to hoist himself up further. His body moved mechanically as his mind was awash beneath the flood of memories drowning him beneath their crushing pressure. The passage of hours was twisted and broken, both within that crushing prison below, and within this horrific place. It was impossible to know just how long they had been ensnared and what all had been lost. He knew nothing more than what the brief flickers of light returned to him. Those faint specks of glinting dust drifting into his heart. It was like the crushed and powdered soul-stuff of his own devastated essence. Like picking up a scattered deck of cards which once sat painted and aligned. The jigsaw puzzle of his existence. Though he could not account for anything within the twisted black of the corruption, his sense of time from the world above told him... The venture, the fall, their hard-won freedom. Though he couldn't remember it. It had all been four years ago.

The sharp pangs of pain was all he could grasp outside the visions, but Kazik knew. He'd been a freed man for years. So why was he here?

And their eulogies sang me to sleep.

Spoiler: Status - Character Age

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Kazik and Erik's respective ages increase by 3 + 1d3 years. Any associated age related penalties as appropriate for your race are applied.

Endlessly they continued the ascent. The once small hole thrust through the black of the heavens overhead now loomed before them like the mouth of some massive looming beast. The crown of some volcanic pit of light, its edges racing off hundreds of feet on either side. While fatigue had not even begun to set in, sweat still poured down the men's brow. Mental exhaustion coupled with the dizzying storm of incomplete memories tested the limits of their psychological fortitude and will. It felt unreal, as if they were piloting some golem carved in their likeness, which demanded unbroken complete focus to maintain control. As the psychic assault became more intense, so too did it became increasingly more difficult to maintain control. In those moments which their minds were completely swept up in their recollections of the unfamiliar, their bodies continued to move of their own volition. Those times, it was as if they were sealed inside a prison of flesh, their ego and substance suppressed til they wrestled back control.

So close. It was so close now. Ascending into a blinding pillar of light. The radiance so strong, it felt like the sun's warmth upon their face. Unable to look up into the brilliance before them, they were forced to look down, hands fumbling above to find their next hold. There was the thick scent of rich earthy tobacco burning. A stillness in the air. There was a library. A study of a size and magnitude unlike anything they had ever seen before. Strange wisps of dim light danced through the soft sapphire glow. Great towers, columns of carved stone which housed tomes beyond number spiraled up into the heavens beyond the passing mist of gray clouds and smoke. A thousand-thousand quills danced and upon parchment racing through the air at incredible speeds like schools of fish. The ground was shattered stone and tile, overgrown with the familiar white luminescent ivy and undergrowth. The vines seemed to grow over everything, splitting rock and winding around columns or pillars, while colossal crystal chains filled with light dangled above, converging toward one point. Kazik's world froze as he reached out his hand to press through the light of the sky.

White. Gone was that black hanging world. Gone was the climb. The thick smoke stung the nose but carried with it an almost nutty aroma. Gone was the displacement. Almost out of reflex, Erik clutched a fist. He could feel. It was real. An impressive feat, gentlemen. The words weren't sound, nor spoken. There was only the unquestionable recognition, an awareness placed inside them like a will made manifest. It was the soft rasping word of some ancient titan. No mortals have succeeded as you have. In the distance, strange transparent animal-like creatures scurried about, moving platforms filled with parchments and books. Some of the things appeared more humanoid in shape, but were short, horned or cloven, and ethereal in nature. Like spirits shaped of azure light.

By the laws of the Keeper, you have earned the right to stand within this Passage as its Reclaimer. As appropriate, you are granted this status for your achievement which shall overrule those limitations applied to you as a Host. Far above, perched upon a great dais of stone was a massive black desk filled with piles of paper and various records. A venerable old man donned in a heavy faded reddish-brown coat and covered with dozens of scarves hastily penned away at numerous documents, a smoking pipe firmly clutched in his mouth. The thin dark space between his nose and where the tight scarf on his head tied back his long silver hair revealed a steely set of white eyes focused on his work. Unfortunately, I must first return you to your world. When you are prepared to claim your reward, return here. Farewell.

Spoiler: Second World Effects & Magic - The Nightmare Witch

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Within The Primeval Dark campaign setting, there are an additional 23 systems of magic and spells included on top of all forms of Vancian Magic (spells and variants which utilize the spell slot/1st-9th spell level system). Many of these effects pose an extreme threat and do not function conventionally. An example of such effects has been used throughout the tutorial in the form of Ros'wussrun magic, often employed by Nightmare Witches. Some of these spells do not possess a save feature and must be interrupted before they can be allowed to resolve. In this particular example, the spell 'Kulsula'Rei, The Prison Without Walls' persists until a specific condition is met, or its resolution. These types of spells are often debilitating, but may become extraordinarily crippling as further penalties are often applied continuously while it remains active. In this specific case the spell persisted for the effected creatures until the condition was satisfied to end the spell. The largest danger posed by these types of spells is the likelihood of creating a Divergence or accruing Spite.

Both Group 1 (Resisted) and Group 2 (Resolved) are no longer effected by this spell.

Spoiler: Spell Resisted - Kulsula'Rei, The Prison Without Walls

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Kulsula'Rei, The Prison Without Walls
(Abstract Bonus: Effect Reduced By Half - Included Below)
Erik - Experience Loss of 1000 x 1d6 / 2
Kazik - Experience Loss of 1000 x 1d6 / 2

Spoiler: Status: Waking - Scorned Abilities Suppressed

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Your scorned abilities are powers acquired after countless years imprisoned within the dreamworlds woven by the spell Kulsula'Rei. Outside the imaginary worlds of dreams and fantasy these abilities do not exist.

All Scorned Abilities possessed by Erik and Kazik are suspended and unusable. Any effects accumulated from prior use of these abilities is reset. These abilities become available in any Dreamscape or Imaginary World.

Spoiler: Reclaimer of Jun'athel - Passages of The Path

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While Perfect Fates are core to achieving victory throughout the campaign, some hidden or optional Fates are also tied to a 'Passage'. These areas function as a sort of game-hub and 'skill tree' for the Eternal Path, allowing players more options to prepare and strengthen themselves or allies to confront the impossible odds standing against them. Within the realms possessing a Keeper, there are numerous Passages hidden throughout the Three Worlds (L'Lotha, Duvan, Che'el Talthelra, Jun'athel, etc). Any surviving PC or NPC participating and present during the venture's success is awarded the status of 'Reclaimer' for their respective respective realm. These persons are treated differently by the incomprehensible forces of the Third World and are entitled to certain rights not afforded to the lesser entities which inhabit the multiverse. Each Reclaimer is assisted and managed by the Keepers of the realms where they have reclaimed a Passage.

The campaign can be won without the use of Passages, but it is unlikely you will succeed without the potential boons provided.

Spell Resisted - Kulsula'Rei, The Prison Without Walls

Main Quest: My Father Will Guide Me Up A Ladder To The Sky
The future was bleak. Awakening from the dream, Kazik and Erik woke to find a tragic broken world. With countless memories and years lost between them, the realization of the cruelty delivered by the magics employed against them finally begins to sink in. It was a malice beyond words, and loss beyond comprehension, where not even the awareness of it was allowed to persist... Only the emptiness. The depravity of the void which had slain every passion, every dream, every inspiration and moment that could be treasured by a mortal heart. The men they had been were dead now, in perhaps a far truer sense than any corpse could know. In some men's hearts burned the vengeance of the crippled and the wronged. In others rose the courage to let go. There were no easily won truths reclaimed from this blighted and wild dark. Here there were no words and no thoughts which escaped its thieving hand.
Difficulty: Easy | Status: On-going | Profit: Unknown | Time: None
Primary Objective: Return to Ashurbanipal
Alternate Objective: Return to the Veil

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: Unknown | AR 4713 (Winter)
Varisia; Sandpoint Hinterlands
Point 323a; Ulbeph - Somewhere Below the Ruins

CHARACTER ADVANCEMENT - LEVEL UP

Weightless. Breathless. There was only calm and motionless stillness painted in dying white. Long moments passed, blending into some time beyond measure as a putrid ebon fog doused the last lights of that brilliant vibrant realm sheathed in gleaming vines. Black. The familiar space birthed in absence. A deathly cold thing, without sound or substance. Slowly Kazik could sense it. The rocking ebbing gloom, somewhere beyond. It came fast, rushing them down. Feeling delivered without figure, a shapeless formless wave in the black sweeping them away. The churning pull became more violent, ripping them about and tossing them spinning head-over-heel as if dropped into some incomparably vast mason's tumbler. Floating on, the space grew heavy, then oppressive as a massive pressure collapsed down on them. Airless. They couldn't breath. Sightless. Thrashing in the void.

Kazik's mind sparked alive, as every sense came crashing back into his consciousness all at once. "-LEAVE 'EM, THEY'RE DEAD!" The scream of the woman's familiar voice above the thunderous din of a thousand thousand bells sounded out as his hand tightly closed around the chain firmly bound to his wrist. Kaslin? It was him, and wasn't him. His consciousness bound to his body, but not truly his to control. The sense of something like a numbing haze clouding his ability to function and process the things occurring about him still clung to his mind. How long had it been like this? Bound to some fleshy doll; its prisoner. With shaking unsteady hands, he pulled himself up by the chain's length. His head broke out from the putrid black water, revealing the other end of his new foreign weapon. The spike end stood proudly embedded into a featureless black wall, its reflective surface a shattered high-sheen like some manner of silver-backed glass. He'd somehow managed to fix the thing before he fell, the chasm-like well about him sent a chill down his spine as he briefly recalled Balin's final moments and the madness which ensued.

(Kazik) Chain Mastery: Piercing Shackles I
Elsa claimed chains and there mastery was a common pursuit to many of the denizens of the Nightmare Worlds. The magic which they employed through them allowed for the reinforcement and repair of crumbling worlds which drifted too far into the Dark. Before one could learn the mystical arts of binding, they first had to achieve mastery over the physical thing itself.

Benefit: The Chain Master may attempt a melee attack with a chain within reach, up to a maximum of 15ft, versus an unoccupied space (AC 5). This attack receives a -10 penalty, however upon success the chain punctures the target granting both it and the chain the grappled condition. The Chain Master may use his chain to climb or swing from the attached surface as if he had secured a rope and piton. This improvised rope can only hold a maximum of 250 lbs of weight, but this weight may be lessened based on the hardness of the surface he has grappled. A DC 15 Engineering check reveals the approximate sturdiness of his chain. The Chain Master can retrieve a chain grappled with this ability as a standard action. The Chain Master's strength increases by 2.

Erik felt himself being pulled down. Drifting into the ever looming crushing depths rising up about him. Hand thrashing out, his body sought some grasp, some hold. Only the passing resistance of the current sliding through his fingers came to greet him. A flare of white light spouted from the blade of his weapon, revealing thousands of encroaching black shapes, terrible leering clawed hands creeping forth. Then, he found a hold. His fist closed over a small hand and he felt himself violently pulled up through the waves. "Hein! You dismal allie! This spring drauen mortal peril!" Crashing bells. Screaming. The roar of three dozen waterfalls. The hammer of a cannon's discharge somewhere nearby. Erik's head breached the waves and was shaken by the auditory assault. The young woman was short, her sing-song voice almost lost in the thunderous chaos of the madness about them. He was nearly double her height, but the girl hoisted him out, soaking wet and clad in armor with one hand while whirling a massive hammer in the other. The weapon was like a silver anvil attached to a massive shaft, clubbing some screeching Veilbeast off the platform and sending it hurtling through the air somewhere in the distance. DING. DING. DING. DING. DING. The storm of bells was a mighty chorus of clashing sound. The flare from his blade was the only light he could see between the flashes of gunfire from the side as a woman frantically fired a repeating weapon down into a corridor, while a familiar burning knight and a mountain of a woman attempted to push both sides of the massive twenty-foot tall door closed.

Flailing and convulsing, a man he'd seen somewhere before swung wildly at the air yelling wordlessly into the black skyless expanse of the chamber. It was a massive well. A hexagonal shaft with one door, and a platform which they so desperately clung to. The rest of the well was flooded, but the elevated platform was fastly approaching danger itself. Nearly thirty streams from somewhere far-far above poured rivers of the tar-like filth with violent power... It was filling the chamber. "MAYLI, THE DOOR!" The young woman didn't hesitate, lunging off into the distance to assist in closing the massive portal. It wasn't just the man, there were close to a dozen of them caught in the throes of some horrid enchantment. Clawing at the stone, howling in agony as their skin begun to split and fracture. There was less than a fourth of them still conscious. "AHHHH!" The woman screamed out as she slammed herself into the door moving it a few inches, while the burning knight and Mayli struggled to move it together at all. "SIR RAGNOK, IF YOU'RE NOT DEAD. GET OFF YOUR ARSE AND HELP US!" The white haired dame was only distantly familiar at first, until his thoughts finally put the pieces together. Kaslin? The woman was colossal, nearly reaching seven feet in height and built as solid as a steel wall. A far cry from the diminutive child he remembered.

A mass of tremendous arms crashed through the door. The black limbs were nearly ten-feet thick at the wrist, grasping out with blind grotesque twitching movements. "PROFESSOR, HIT 'EM AGAIN!" A woman in a mask and dark gray coat adjusted a platform mounted with a large steel rectangular weapon connected with various cables and glowing parts. Ratcheting a long pole, she leveled the weapon and grasped two hand-sized triggers on either side. The concussive force as the hulking gun discharged a round of dazzling energy was enough to nearly send the old warrior crashing to the ground. He felt himself slide back, as he braced against the force. Like threshed wheat, the menacing claws scattered in broken fiber-like strands before the cannon's pulverizing force. "GAAAAAHHH, WHO AM I!?" The man screamed blindly before he shuddered and collapsed, the rising tide now reaching the platform's edge, to ebb and carry his body away into the foul lake. Erik didn't let the spectacle distract him, his body wouldn't let him miss his chance. Though beyond his control, he rushed forward, crashing into the towering door occupied by the other two; the entry skipped forward an inch.

(Erik) White Rose Arte: The White Flame
There were few Blanchard Knights left in the world, thus the practicality of their Artes was mostly just legends or hearsay. Within the Order of the White Rose, the White Flame was the greatest symbol of purity and wholeness. Said to be capable of purging the wicked and evil, it was an icon representing the courage and the ability to stand against all malice and corruption. When wielded in the hand of a true knight, all malevolence and wickedness would flee before its light.

Benefit: As a move action the knight summons a white flame to sheath his weapon. This flame sheds 15ft of light and cannot be doused or dismissed by standard magical effects. When the knight performs an attack against a corrupted creature, he must make a will save. The result of this save is added as an untyped bonus to his attack and damage rolls against that creature. If any single attack would inflict an amount of damage equal to more than half of the creature's hit points it must succeed a fortitude save equal to the result of the attack roll which dealt this damage. If the creature fails this save, it is slain instantly. The burden of the flame's purity takes a toll on the knight, and for each successful attack roll he makes he must succeed a fortitude save equal to the result of his attack roll. Upon his first failure, the flame is immediately extinguished. Each subsequent failure after the first over the next 24 hours begins to inflict more and more severe debilitating conditions. Should the knight recover from his condition and fail again at another time before he receives the benefit of 8 hours of sleep, or 24 hours have passed, then the new condition and all previous conditions are inflicted upon him again. The duration of these burdens is always 1 hour.

WHITE FLAME BURDENS
[Failure 1] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Dimmed
[Failure 2] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Drenched 5
[Failure 3] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Sickened
[Failure 4] Damage - 20 Nonlethal | Effect - Exhausted
[Failure 5] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Drenched 10
[Failure 6] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Shaken
[Failure 7] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Slowed
[Failure 8] Damage - 40 Nonlethal | Effect - Squalled
[Failure 9] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Drenched 15
[Failure 10] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Staggered
[Failure 11] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Confused
[Failure 12] Damage - 80 Nonlethal | Effect - Drenched 20
[Failure 13] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Burning 1
[Failure 14] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Bleed 2
[Failure 15] Damage - 10 Nonlethal | Effect - Poison 3

The White Flame may possess other uses as well.

Kazik felt the platform tremble beneath his black grease-slick hands. The hum in the air. That familiar soft vibration in his ears. Everything was so much more... acute now. His senses felt sharper, his mind more keen to insight. He knew it. Something was coming. Something horrid. Some entity far beyond any of them. Clutching to his chain, half submerged, he desperately tried to find hold, to prepare himself... yet there was no strength in his limbs. The doll's feeble hands slid off from the ledge like frozen slabs of slick meat. He couldn't command it or control the motions; he was trapped.

The violent stutter shook the air and sent sharp cracks rattling in their ears as the glassy stone walls and floor split. "BEWAREN WHAT APPROCHE!" The three warriors rammed into the wall again with renewed haste, slowly pushing the colossal doorway grinding forward a few more inches. Kaslin struck her side again and again, inching the portal ever closer to closure. "RYOTT, WHAT IS THAT!? WHAT'S COMING!?" Kazik could feel a pair of hands pull him up to rest his elbows on the trembling broken dais, to be caught squarely in the steely gaze of the distantly familiar elf's sapphire glowing eyes. The woman tenderly wiped the dark ichor from wore metal mask before pressing her face close against his forehead to speak loud enough not to be overheard. "I knew you wouldn't die... You can feel it can't you?" Again Kaslin cried out "SPARROW, ANSWER ME! WHAT IS IT!? HOW DO WE KILL IT!?" The elf hid her feral smile from the rest, but he could see it. "We can't stop it... It's a god."

As if the world had heard her claim, the dim suddenly went quiet. Every bell ceased, and an eerie stillness settled around them as even the stream from the falls of water suddenly died out. "You returned because you found it didn't you.... The Key." The last word seemed to come out like more of a hiss than a word. A shift of static briefly passed his vision. A stutter in the world. Black. A still frame which came and passed. Someone knew. The explosion which followed was not like any he knew. The brief groan which followed before the entire chamber imploded upon itself, as if from some stress fracture, was like a living nightmare. Water. Like a submerged tube fastly falling into some abyssal trench, the crushing weight of the submerged world suddenly, violently, came down upon them. In that frozen moment, he could make out the shapes in the ripples and tides suspended about him. The Veilbeasts. The leering undead. Balin. Walt. Faux. The haunting spirit. Dr. Eldborogh. Professor Cross.... The Tindalos Stalker. A cruel-faced child. Black.

22nd of Neth, Sunday | Time: 11:22pm | AR 4713 (Winter)
Varisia; Sandpoint Hinterlands
Point 323a; Ulbeph - Somewhere Below the Ruins

Erik lurched up instinctively spraying the viscus dark liquid from his mouth and nose. His body trembled both from the chill and the psychological shock as his consciousness finally resumed command over his own skin. He sat waist deep in a pool of the befouled waters which he had become so acutely familiar. His sword shed its light from beneath the water, shedding a dim light in the circular chamber. One by one, splashes and coughing could be heard as other begun to wake. Off to his side, a haunting figure shrouded in a sopping billowing cloak and cowled by the massive brim of her pointed hat leered over some object floating in the water. After a moment his eyes came to focus, the sight giving him a start. The horrid witch stroked the cold cheek of the girl. A young child's pale and scantly clad corpse.

"We're back... We're back! What about the others!?" The Witch pressed a finger to her lips, "Shhhhh. You haven't earned the right to speak, mortal." Black. A gray film filled the world, choking reality in a monochrome hue. Stillness. Without sound or movement. Even the waves held their breath and dared make no noisy protest. The Witch's words were a harsh rasping whisper. "...With the exception of the two men, and the elf." Ah, yes. Kazik hadn't forgotten the terror of this thing. How could such terrible creature's exist in the same realm as men? This Whispering Witch was one of the few terrors mankind could only pray was a dream. "By the will of the Keeper... you have earned the right to speak."

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