One by one you tumble through the portal onto alien soil.  Brother Zelias lands alertly on his feet, feet sunk past his ankles in mud.  He can already feel the mud sealing the gaps between his toes.  Ravex lurches through next, staggers forward a few steps before tripping over an exposed root.  With a depressing splash, he kisses a mud puddle, crusting his lips with dirt and sludge.  Vaulting after him is Farren who hops on a boulder just to side of the road, the only secure perch in sight.  Then Gethin hurtles through the portal, kicking up great gouts of water with every stride.

Before you can even consider returning through the portal, you feel your hearts shudder with the boom of thunder. A second later, or two or three, lightning strikes in the sky, a tine arcing to your very stretch of road!  Drawn ineluctably to the portal, it sizzles upon meeting. Both portal and electricity vanish in an instant, ionizing the air.

Wordlessly, you gather your group together and peer about yourselves:

Between the heavy clouds and the endless rain, you might as well be blind. In the occasional flash of lightning, however, as the rain is forced aside by a gust of howling wind, you can just barely make out the road ahead. A veritable river of mud twists and winds through a copse of gnarled trees and along a rocky coastline battered by whitecapped swells.

And beyond, visible only by the brightest thunderbolts, stands a town. From what you can see, the buildings are old and patched, and the roofs are shingled peaks. Just another village, it seems, but something about it sets your teeth on edge and your skin to crawling. But then, perhaps it is just the cold and the rain . . .

OOC Saves v disease in init order.

PC         Init   AC F   R   W   HP        Surges     AP  T   notes
Zellias      24   23 19  22  20  27/50     8/8   (+12) 0   2  diseased?
Farren       17   20 16  20  16  36/45     7/7   (+11) 0   2
Ravex        16   24 21  18  16  36/61     11/12 (+18) 1   2  diseased?
Gethin       16   25 18  17  19  61/61     11/13*(+15) 1   2  LoH*, diseased?

Zellias shudders against the cold rain, feeling drained and debilitated from the fight against the slaad.

"I suggest we find someplace warm to rest in that town over there, unwelcoming as it may seem," he says.

15:33, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 3 using 1d20. Save vs Disease.

Ravex lets the rain wash off the mud as he attempts to shrug-off the last battle.

He grumbles something about slaads and demons before giving the others a confused look. "Hey now... where'd that musical fella go?"

16:05, Today: Ravex rolled 3 using 1d20. Save Ends.

"Dale left through another portal," Gethin says glumly, sloshing mud off his dinged (probably because it has no layers) plate mail.  He feels that Dale's departure is a personal failure in some way.

Not even stopping to get out of the mud, Gethin removes his rerebrace.  With a tin traveling spoon, he digs mercilessly at the flesh where the demon scratched him.  Little orange-red maggots fall, sizzling, into the murk below.

"The demon's danger is not yet passed.  We must find somewhere dry and see to treating you."

Divine Mettle on self, +1 Tip = save vs disease

01:07, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 9 using 1d20+4. save vs disease (divine mettle).
This message was last edited by the player at 05:17, Wed 15 June 2011.

The rain is no cleansing ally. It collects in puddles, sometimes ankledeep, in the road. Even in the coldness of the late afternoon storm, Ravex and Brother Zelias feel the flush of fever. Worse, Gethin catches them unconsciously scratching at their mottled skin, exposed or otherwise. By the time the party has reached the outskirts of the town, it's drenched in misery.

A roadsign sign announces the name of the town: Ashenport. Its name draws fragments of thoughts to Zellias, the traveling monk, something that he must have heard before and had fascinated him ever since at a level just below consciousness.

"When a traveller in north central <unrecalled> takes the wrong fork at the junction of <unrecalled> pike just beyond Dean's Corners he comes upon a lonely and curious country."

This must be that lonely and curious country.

Although still rendered gray and miserable by the constant downpour, the town of Ashenport looks better up close than it did from a distance. You can now see that many of the buildings are sturdier than they appeared; a few are even made of quarried stone, rather than wood. Even in the inclement weather, several shops trickle with customers, and the light that escapes through many a window is neither bright and cheerful. Sporadic people trudge their way along the muddy roads, shoulders hunched against the rain, going about this business or that.

The salty tang of the sea, and the lingering odor of a hundred years of fishing, insinuate themselves around your mouth and nose. Even the torrential rains and winds cannot completely strip the powerful stench from the air.

PC         Init   AC F   R   W   HP        Surges      AP  T   notes
Zellias      24   23 19  22  20  27/50     8/8   (+12) 0   2  diseased (-2 will)
Farren       17   20 16  20  16  36/45     7/7   (+11) 0   2
Ravex        16   24 21  18  16  36/61     11/12 (+18) 1   2  diseased (-2 will)
Gethin       16   25 18  17  19  61/61     11/13*(+15) 1   2  LoH*

This message was last edited by the GM at 19:43, Wed 15 June 2011.

Ravex squints against the rain as he trudges forward. Despite his discomfort, he doesn't react to the cold or turn his head away from spray. "Damn weather." He mutters as he watches the residents with a weary eye.

"Let's find a tavern, or an inn. The rain's starting to annoy." He nods back to Gethin and Zellias.

"A healer first."

"If I do not miss my guess, this disease will prove fatal to you if left untreated.  I have some skill in healing, but a true healer would have more.  And he may have supplies that would help in the treatment of your condition."

Sloshing down the muddy road, Gethin looks for a tell-tale steeple or unusually large and gnarled tree.

"Ha! Worry about the monk, holy man. It'll take more than a few infernal maggots to do me in!" Ravex chuckles, despite the itching.

Zellias murmurs something to himself and then repeats it a little louder. "This is a lonely and curious country indeed," he can be heard saying.

The monk moves along with the others, peering into the village streets, looking for signs of a herbalist, healer or holy place where he might find the aid Gethin suggests. He also keeps on the lookout for anything potentially threatening or particularly weird.

13:31, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 25 using 1d20+11. Perception .

As they walk, Gethin tries to unobtrusively inspect the diseased.  But skin lesions and itching are hardly unique symptoms.  Maybe it's that "just eyeball it as he walks" is not standard medical practice, or maybe Gethin knows less about the disease than he thought.  At any rate, when they get where they're going, he knows no more about their condition than when they set out.

Heal to diagnose disease = 13

Time: Afternoon

Prodded by Gethin's fretting, you bypass Ashenport's one and only house of hospitality, The Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern (Location 1 on the town map), which sits directly opposite The Bountiful Tide General Store, (Location 2) and continue along the town's central street until you arrive at a grove of ash trees (Location 4):

Here, in the center of town, a densely thick copse of trees grows, and all of the trees are drooping and weeping in the heavy rains. A full 75 feet across, the grove is far too healthy and far too well tended to be mere chance. Clearly, this grove is something the people of Ashenport take very seriously.

None of the trees appear to be especially ancient or commodious.  In fact, they appear quite flush with their own verdure.

You're on the outskirts of Ash Grove. A few locals hurry past, on their way out of the storm.


This message was last edited by the GM at 22:09, Fri 17 June 2011.

"Hello?" Gethin calls, as they enter the grove.  He silently motions for the others to sheath weapons and put on long, pious faces.  Gethin inspects the grove, looking both for its keepers and for some indication of its patron.

Religion = 28 (natural 20)

19:01, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 28 using 1d20+8. religion.

No one has any trouble putting on a long face in the face of a heavy downpour.  The piety would probably go unnoticed with the obsucation of the storm.

There doesn't seem to be an official caretaker present at the moment to respond to Gethin's salutation.

As he inspects the grove, he discovers that it becomes quite thick around the center.  If he wants to investigate further, he will have to push his way through the aspens.

Farren takes the lead here, apparently much less glum in the grove than in the soggy roads. She slips through the foliage like it's not there, but doesn't break the silence she's held since the group went through the portal.

Farren picks the thickest point of entry, a spot where two ancient aspens have become intertwined and a hawthorne bush closes the gaps save for one that has escaped all but her notice.  A few seconds later, she's reaches the interior of the grove without having been scratched and starts to poke around.

OOC Farren may make a search check at -2.

Farren is keen of eye and nose and ear.

OOC:
19:12, Today: Farren Einsender rolled 23 using 1d20+11. Perception -2.

In the heart of a grove, Farren finds a stone idol, chipped and stained, partially buried within a thatch of tall grass. She carefully unearths it, brushes off the dirt, and carries it back to the others on the outskirts of the grove. Gethin recognizes the idol as being dedicated to Melora, goddess of the wilderness and the sea. She appears to be emerging from a whirlpool to behold a canopy of trees.  The plinth had some inscriptions but chiseling has demolished the writings.

Gethin remembers one of them...

You are on the southern edge of the Ash Grove in the afternoon during a heavy storm. Any locals that pass by scurry quickly on their way out of the wet.

Zellias stands silent and still in the grove, thinking that the goddess of nature, sea and storm certainly seems to be in a foul mood this day. Perhaps it is because her likeness has been ignored and mistreated in this place.

"Well, this grove seems to be neglected," he says. "Perhaps the inn will offer us more comfort."

"I agree." Ravex tones, his soggy hair-scales looking not unlike a rust-filled mop on his head. "The monk might need a healer... but I just need a good night's rest. Stand'n in the rain for hour's just going make it all worse for both of us."

"Alright.  We passed a tavern on the way in.  Let's head back there."

"Go ahead. I'll catch up to you guys in a few minutes." Farren carries the idol back into the grove, and begins tending with a spare knife from her pack. She works quickly, weeding and pruning, but tries to do a as thorough a job as she can in less than half an hour. When she's satisfied that the little goddess of the earth and sea and its little clearing are presentable, she heads to the inn.

The only sane thing to do in the middle of a torrent in a strange town is to take refuge in a hostelry until the sky clears.  You've only seen one so far, so you backtrack, pausing to make way for a horse-drawn carriage sloshing through street. It disgorges a single occupant who gazes longingly about the tavern square before dashing inside.  On the carriage a sign reads The Ashenport Carriage which you can only decipher from a couple feet away on account of the darkness and rain.

You survey the building before entering:

Different styles of architecture suggest the building before you was once two or three separate shops, before someone sealed up the spaces between and knocked down the intervening walls. It now forms the largest structure on the block. Smoke rises from several chimneys, only to vanish into the falling rain. Firelight gleams through several windows, and the sound of conversation—nearly inaudible in the storm—leaks from the doorway. A sign above that door, portraying a ship at full sail on a waveless sea, flaps violently in the wind.

Brother Zelias also studies the building, perhaps a little longer than expected for a sick man in the rain.

Three different patterns of wooden floor, at three slightly different levels, make up the common room. Beyond this single quirk, however, this might as well be any other tavern: a bar stands on one side of the vast chamber, a staircase on the other, with a smattering of chairs and tables scattered throughout the area. Two fireplaces radiate a comforting warmth throughout the room, and several serving staff whirl about with tankards of ale and plates of smoked fish.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:32, Thu 23 June 2011.

Time: Late Afternoon
State: soaking cold, hungry, wounded, and sick.

The inn is bustling, that's for sure, and you only manage to seize a table after human merchant and his guards abandon theirs. Before grabbing the attention of the servers, you scan the common room and its occupants.

There is another table with a merchant, this one a half-elf lady with a wandering eye and six husky men to guard her.

A nervous looking man sits at a table by himself. He's sipping fastidiously from a wine glass as he rolls colored stones back and forth in front of him. Perhaps, he's anxious because he only has two guards and neither one of them looks nearly as capable as the woman with a quiet aura of confidence sitting in the back, warming herself by one of the fires.

There's the man who arrived just before you. He's talking to the innkeep behind the counter.

While there are many other people at the inn, they are clearly commoners who don't command your attention.

You have your choice of accosting three different servers: a swashbuckling-type with a glistening black mustache, a corset-bursting blond wench, and  worldweary career waitress.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:24, Fri 24 June 2011.

Brother Zellias fights off a chill as he steps inside the tavern. He appears somewhat distracted, as if running through something in his mind. It's unusual enough behavior for the typically disciplined monk that the others may notice. Perhaps it is the effects of the slaad's attacks, but it could be something else.

He pays little attention to the other denizens of the barroom. His eyes are drawn to the fire, which promises a source of warmth. He looks for a table close to the fire and, if one is open, he heads that way. Before doing so, he speaks quietly to his companions. "This place is eerily reminiscent of a village of which I once read," he says. "Perhaps if I think on that story it will give us insight as to our next steps."

History 22, Insight 29

10:02, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 29 using 1d20+11. Insight.
10:02, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 22 using 1d20+3. Skill Check - History .

"Ha! I know exactly what the next step is!" Ravex declares loudly as he fellows Zellias toward the fire. "In fact, the next three! Food, warmth, and a good hard sleep!" He plops himself down into a chair with a good view of the room and knocks on the table. "We need a waitress here! Food and wine for my friends! We have a victory to celebrate!" Ravex declares, happy to be out of the rain and willing to count any success where he finds it. "It's on me, tonight." He gives the others a toothy grin.

Gethin takes his seat and grins at Ravex's enthusiasm, but the smile is a little false.  He's worried about the disease.  For all the half-elf's size and militant equipage, he can be a bit mother-hennish at times.

But for the time being, he gladly warms himself in the room's glow -- both physical and social.  He orders a tall mug of the local brew and leans back in his chair, scanning the interesting faces in the crowd, an easy smile and a cocked eyebrow ready for any who look back.

OOC: Looking through the crowd for anything noteworthy about the people mentioned.

Insight = 20
Perception = 9

Gethin catches the eye of the worldweary career waitress a motions her over to their table.

"So... crazy weather, huh?  Are the storms normally this bad?"  He makes small talk for a few minutes, asks about the town, the normal sorts of things one does with a waitress before making an order.  But his manner, from his laughter at her dry sarcasm to the smiles and nods, is meant to gain her confidence and promise generous tips and generally make her like the group.

Maybe that will earn them a few extra fries on their platter.

Streetwise = 25

10:28, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 20,9,25 using d20+13,d20+6,d20+7. Insight, Perception, Streetwise.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:45, Fri 24 June 2011.

Manelda, as she introduces herself, reveals that this storm's no different from any of the countless others that she's weathered over the years: "Storm, squall, tempest, they're all the same: they rob good women of their men and douse the rest of us head to toe. This one won't ruin the fair; Alderman Ritter said we'll wait it out like all the rest."

After the smalltalk, she gets down to business, translating Ravex's request into three pitchers of Ashenport Pale Ale which she'll have in a "blink" and the Sea's Bounty which she'll have in "three."

Both Gethin and Brother Zelias detect an underlying tension to her manner, a tension that is not reserved to her alone. However, maybe she just perfers quiet, offseason days. Again, she seems friendly enough but like the Ash Grove, the two men sense an undercurrent, something hidden.  The monk seeks vainly to connect his thoughts to some record of history, but if the doings of this town are a matter of public history, he cannot determine.

But then she's back with the pitchers of ale and chilled mugs. And before three more blinks, she's back with a massive platter of the sea's bounty. It's a three-tiered affair with gargantuan shrimp on the top swimming in a pool of butter and garlic.  The second level sizzles with fried fish, haddock, mackeral, and five other varieties, garnished with lemon.  The bottom is actually more of a cauldron, steaming with Ashenport's signature stew, a spicy mix of shellfish, tomatoes, and onions--with garlic bread for dipping.

About this time, Farren joins the party and snatches the crispiest piece of garlic bread before anyone can clear the dust from his eyes.

OOC Ravex owes 6 gp for the current tab.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:47, Fri 24 June 2011.

  Lyriel briefly looked up from her woodwork - engraving and tinting a set of small wooden tiles that were destined for later assembly as a puzzle - as the latest set of sodden strangers entered the inn. She judged them to be mercenaries, albeit not of the common variety - the three-member (soon to become four-member) company was too eclectic and too well-equipped for that. She also sensed some tension among them, but was unsure as to the source; everyone in town seemed to labor under it, and apparently even new arrivals such as these were not immune.

  She returned her attention to her handcraft. While they were the most interesting lot to arrive over the past couple of days, they probably needed time to settle in - 'wet, hungry, and tired' were bad conditions under which to make uninvited introductions.

Farren smiles and tucks in with abandon. Her gusto messily dispels any notion that her mysterious background involved royalty or, indeed, any kind of class.

Farren pays no attention whatsoever to anything in the room but the food in front of her, nor is she likely to at any point before she's had her fill.

After a few hours of local food and ambience, you retire to your rooms, two of you fervidly praying that some sleep will banish the itching and wooziness you have felt since the slaad laid strips of your flesh bare.

The rooms are cozy enough, complete with shuttered windows, fireplaces, and beds with heavy woolen blankets.  There is no waiting for sleep this night.

You awake earlier than expected:

Slowly, gradually, a new sound penetrates the pounding of the rain and the howling of the winds. Barely audible at first, it resolves itself into an alien, high-pitched keening. It resounds with loss, with sadness—the lament of a mother who has lost her children or of the sailor stranded far from home. It echoes from over the waves and grows ever louder until the storm has receded into the background. It fills your ears, insinuates itself through your mind and your soul, until you can think and dream of almost nothing else.

It is not beautiful. It is not comforting. And yet you find yourself overcome with an irresistible urge to follow.

Irresistible that is for Ravex and Brother Zelias.  Why do the two leave their warm beds for the coldness of the seawater? Does Ravex long to explore subterranean tunnels beneath the sea cliffs?  Has Brother Zelias already heard the call before?

OOC The call interrupts your extended rest. This is not a standard encounter.  Instead, when you post, describe what it is you want to do. Those not affected by the call are wakened by it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:48, Tue 12 July 2011.

  Lyriel's eyes snapped open and her breath caught itself mid-intake as the sound pierced the walls; she sat bolt upright with her ears flattened back to ward off the vicious auditory assault, though it was readily apparent - even having just woken to it - that there was something more to it than the threat of teeth being set on edge.

  Something unnatural. Something dangerous. She threw back the covers and stood; the sound of doors opening and people moving about in the hall were evident amidst the cacophony. With time a possible factor, she strapped on her weapon harness and a few smaller accessories while peeling back the corner of the curtain in hopes of catching sight of the source of the disturbance.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:02, Thu 30 June 2011.

A distant look in his eye, Zellias rises from the bed, where he has slept in his clothing. Moving slowly and with much more deliberation than his usual easy grace, he walks to the door, opens it and heads to the entrance of the inn. The distant call is strangely intriguing, and he will follow it. He wonders if, perhaps, it will lead back to where they began ...

Clearly, whoever was making all that racket needed to shut their trap. So, compelled or not, Ravex grabbed-up his sword and shield and set-out with a determined step to find the source and shut it down.

Gethin comes groggily out of a deep and pleasantly snoring slumber.  "Somebody's in trouble," he mumbles thickly as he tries to pull on gear in the dim light.  He has to hastily jerk the last few pieces in place, pulling on buckles and latches as he jogs to catch up with the others.

Armed but not armored, Lyriel peers intently through her window. Even through the rain and darkness, she observes figures clad in the garb of sleep walking unerringly for the wharf and once there into the roiling waters of Ashenport harbor.  With the obscuration, she can't make out their faces or identities.

Time: Call of Dagon +1

No amount of compulsion could force Ravex to leave his khopesh, javelin, and shield behind.  They will accompany him wherever his scaled feet lead which is currently out of his room and down the stairs.  Although he doesn't notice, he's slightly ahead of Brother Zelias. Looks like he'll be the first to get where he's going.

Back in their room, after slapping his breastplate in place, Gethin fumbles with the straps to his vambraces, slipping the cords in the wrong holes.  Would the fight be over before he even geared up? That would be a nightmare. Maybe it is?

With his comrades already out the door, Gethin shoves whatever he has not had time to don into his pack, slings his shield over his arm and his sword belt over his shoulder, and rushes after them.

"Ravex! Brother Zellias! Where are you going?"  The persistent call in the back of his mind worries him.  Gethin has always been uneasy about any water deeper than a pig trough.  This longing for the sea is entirely unnatural, and if the same compulsion is on his comrades, they might be in up to their necks before he can stop them.

"Wait! Come back!"

If Gethin does not have 5 minutes to don armor before the others are out the door, he'll grab his pack & sword (MINOR), stow the armor (MINOR), equip his shield (MOVE), and follow after them with a double-run next round.

  Lyriel emerges into the hall as several figures shuffle past in the thrall of whatever madness has seized the town, but the shouting human to the right offers some hope that it hasn't taken hold of everyone - not yet, at least. The human clearly hadn't taken a look out his window, though. "Something has seized their minds and they're all going to hurl themselves into the sea!"

  She grabbed hold of the nearest sleepwalker and gave him a good shake in the hope that it would break the trance. If that failed then a slap across the face would follow, and if neither worked... well, this probably wasn't the time to worry about concussions; a dagger-hilt to the back of the head would either wake them up or knock them out.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:55, Tue 12 July 2011.

"I'm gonna' shut this lady up, damn it!" Ravex belts out at Gethin as he stomps down stairs and out of the inn.

OOC: Not entirely sure why Ravex can do in this "state." Walk forward, I presume?

In reply to Autarch (msg #35):

A column of ash, wind, and fire moves through the sky. It swirls, rolls, and moves itself onto the harbor near the party. Then it seem to become solid, and burst into 100's of green crystal shards. They hover in the air for a moment, before flying back together and take shape. A statue made of a crystal substance-expect it has a staff, traveling leathers, a pack at the small of its back...

Then it moves-and its near featureless face moves. Only eyes are visible-made of crystal like the rest. It studied its surroundings, and leaned on its staff. Glancing at those who look at it-including the party.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:59, Thu 14 July 2011.

Time: Call of Dagon +2

Neither Ravex nor Brother Zelias respond to Gethin's pleas. Perhaps, the pleas lack conviction on account of the paladin of Pelor taking time to neatly stow his armor in his pack before rushing after his sea-bent comrades.

Gethin is 2 minutes behind Ravex and BZ.

After exiting her room, Lyriel grasps a husky man-at-arms by the shoulders as he passes by moving foot by foot to the sea.  She gives him a good shake. No good! He walks on. Frustrated, she slaps him back and forth across the cheeks, moving uncomfortably close to him to do so, the scent of his rank garlic sweat thick in her face. His eyes blink.  For a moment, she thinks he might see her, but, no, he continues his march.  He repeats a few words to himself, "Drown with me," again and again. Not tonight, Lyriel swears.

OOC Man-at-arms failed save granted by Lyriel.

Lyriel is 1 minute behind Ravex and BZ

Meanwhile, Ravex and Gethin do the only thing they can do--listen to Dagon and thirst for the watery bed.

The waters gonna drag you down
Come drown with me
We're gonna sink to the depths
Come drown with me
The elders drag the humans down
Down, down, down

They don't, not even for a moment, notice the crystalline sentry in front of the inn.

This is DawnStone who is one minute ahead of Ravex and BZ.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:55, Thu 14 July 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #41):

Seeing all the people moving in one direction, Dawnstone wondered if there was some kind of holiday or festival. The strangeness of the flesh folk always struck him as odd-but then, the suffering their kind was forced to endure would make anyone act oddly. However-he had been told this place needed him. Whatever was going on, he doubted it was any good. He noticed two well-armed fleshlings, and decided to reach out to them first.

In Ravex's and Brother Zellias's minds they heard a very monotone voice. Excuse me, but where are you going? The same place as everybody else? He listened into their minds for a response...

Gethin runs to catch Ravex and Zellias before they drown themselves in the sea.

  Lyriel drew a combat knife, reversed her grip, and brought the hilt down on the back of the guardsman's skull. The blow was meant to stun or knock out its victim rather than to cripple or kill, but in the heat of the moment there was no sure thing. If nothing else, maybe this would be sufficient to snap him out of it.

  Even as she struck, she realized that this one act wouldn't solve the problem - almost everyone in the inn seemed to be caught up in the spell, so rather than spend any more time in the hallway, she pounded down the stairs to the front door, where she promptly exchanged her dagger for her greatsword and stood ready to block whomever tried to leave - with a blow from the flat of the weapon if need be.

  "Snap out of it!" she snarled at the oncoming crowd. Bared teeth emphasized the point, but sharp as they were, the gleaming length of cold steel held far more painful promise.

  Lyriel hit the guard for 14 damage. (Unconscious if reduced to 0 HP.)
This message was last edited by the player at 19:11, Thu 14 July 2011.

Time: Call of Dagon +3

There's the singin' in the rain that trumpets ineffable joy. And then there's singin' in the rain at the compulsion of a slavering god of the deeps. This is that type of singing, and even an alien lifeform such as Dawnstone can perceive this, with or without the aid of his innate telepathic ability. As if to reinforce this perception, Ravex and Brother Zelias leave the front of the inn on their way to the wharf, singing as they do so with no awareness that they are singing in their skivvies with an accompaniment of similarly clad somnambulists.

The water pulls you down
Together we'll ride the night current
We'll ride the night current forever
The water pulls us down

There's no chance that another voice could drown out that of a god's. But pain can. Pain can scream louder than any god. That's whay Lyriel thinks as she wickedly cuffs the back of the rank man's head with the hilt of her dagger (man-at-arms hit for 14 dmg). He staggers from the force of the blow but his legs regain their rhythm, a steady bump-thump on their way to the shore (man-at-arms fails his save again).

Gethin is 1.5 minutes behind Ravex and Brother Zelias.

Lyriel is 1 minute behind them.

Dawnstone is with them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:26, Sat 16 July 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #45):

Dawnstone shook his head. I must act-now! Forgive my roughness...he sent to the two. His telepathic abilites could not stop the call, but maybe something else could. A shock to the system

The crystal being stomped its staff into the ground. In front of the pair, formed a snake-like thing made of fire and rock. It shot up in front of them, and a heat came off it and lent a slight glow to Brother Zelias. Then it proceeded to to strike the man with its form...

(OOC-Free action, Summoning Spirit companion in front of the two. Brother Zelias gets 4 temp hp.

Standard action-spirit does protector's strike on Brother Zelias, trying to snap him out of it. Holding back the damage so that the temp HP absorbs the worst of it-but the pain will still be felt. Protector's strike also gives temp HP to allies next to it-so both Brother Zelias and Ravex will get another temp hp (replaces any remaining temp HP).

As the spirit is in front of them both, they will get +2 to all saves. However, if they try to move away from the spirit without shifting-it will get OA on them both, attempting to hit them and again, give them another save at +2.

I am assuming I do not need to roll to hit in this particualr situation-as they are more or less ignoring everything and not really fighting me.)

  Reasoning with the sleepwalkers seemed like a futile task, and lay about though she might, Lyriel knew that she couldn't keep everyone in. Eventually their numbers would win through and she'd be forced aside or simply trampled. Then again, simple noise might work where words would fail, and if making the noise also provided a second hindrance to simply walking out the door...

  Without abandoning her self-appointed post, Lyriel half-turned and swept her sword across the high shelf to one side and overhead; a deflecting stroke that sent the plates and platters clattering to the nearby floor, where they shattered into hundreds of smaller fragments.

  This considerable cacophany had the side effect of filling the area near the door with improvised caltrops. If the sound of dozens of pieces of crockery shattering all at once wasn't enough to startle these people awake, perhaps getting a few shards stuck into their feet would jolt them back to their senses. It wasn't a pleasant thing to do, but it was still preferable to the deaths that would otherwise await them.

 
  Std: "Caltrop" the area near the door.
  Move: None.
  Minor: Poised Assault (+1 to attack rolls).

  Lyriel will OA anyone who attempts to pass through the door - and they'll need to Bull Rush or otherwise get her out of the way to get through at all. She strikes to KO, not to kill.
 

  Edit: There's a caveat to this: if Gethin clearly does not seem to be sleepwalking - and from the prior interaction upstairs it was apparent that he is not - then she'll let him pass, although she'd prefer that he help her to deal with the people here rather than running off after those who've already left!
This message was last edited by the player at 05:46, Wed 20 July 2011.

Gethin continues to force his way through the crowd, trying to get out the inn door and to reach his friends.

OOC: It looks like he'll eventually meet Lyriel holding the door.  Let me know when.

Ravex stops in his tracks and growls. Suddenly, he feels cold, wet, half-naked, and unhappy. He looks around dumbly for a moment, then turns to look at Dawnstone. "Hey, you... uh, what the hell is going on here? Who are you?"


10:18, Today: Ravex rolled 15 using 1d20+2. Save Ends. SUCCESS

The monk's movements were sluggish and lethargic, very unlike his usually quick and simple agility, as the strange being spoke in his mind and conjured some sort of ghostly presence near him. But as the voice echoed in his brain, his mental discipline developed through years of training snapped into place. His strong-willed mind drove the watery call from his thoughts.

His posture returned to its usual state - appearing utterly dignified yet completely relaxed. He regarded the newcomer for a long moment. Thank you. Your timely intervention appears to have freed my mind from some sort of compulsion. He sent his thoughts in Dawnstone's general mental direction.

10:36, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 18 using 1d20+2. Save.

In reply to Ravex (msg #49):

I do not know what happened...he mentally sends back. All I know is there was a voice in both your minds telling you to jump into the water-and you sang of your own deaths. I must hurry, there is a chance to save others from this fate. He begins to head to the harbor, planning to help anyone else who he can sense the alien presence in their minds. I am called Dawnstone, Shaman of the Elemental spirits. However, he starts to head off quickly. If you feel able, I could use your help.

(OOC-Doing the same plan as it seems to work. Putting the spirit in the way of a group of people. As they ignore everything around them as they are in a trance, they will move past it without shifting. Giving the spirit an OA and hitting them-lightly (1 hp subdual damage). As they are next to the spirit-they will get +2 to the saves he is granting.)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:37, Wed 27 July 2011.

Time: Post Call of Dagon, Pre-dawn

Cold, wet, half-naked, and unhappy...and feverish with night chills, Ravex realizes.  But not riding the night current, he thinks with relief--Dagon's call still resonating within but no longer pulling him.

Brother Zelias likewise shivers with ague, his legs unsteady (just flavor, only current effect is -2 will). It would have been nice to rest his legs, let the night current carry him along forever, he muses until the measure of his sanity returns, after which he thanks DawnStone (BZ's third paragraph).

Lyriel's improvised caltrops free three guests of their night swim mania, including the man who had arrived the night previous aboard The Ashenport Carriage. Wearing only his nightshirt, the man hastily returns to his room. Strange. He seemed to have the beginnings of slits on the sides of his neck, Lyriel observes.

DawnStone proves most effective at restoring sanity: he saves a party of six guardsman and their merchant, the half-elf lady from the night before.

The survivors stare at the group of heroes standing by the wharf, their faces saying what their voices fear to: Help us. It takes no great calculus to perceive that the locals didn't feel the call the same as the visitors.

Even with the adventurers' heroics, Dagon will not be riding the night current alone this time.

  "Secure the building. No one comes in except by the front door, and no one goes out until I get back," Lyriel instructed the two survivors who hadn't beat a hasty retreat back to their rooms, and with a low, slow, one-handed sweep of her sword - pointing rather than striking - she further indicated the crockery shards. "And see if you can find a broom to clear this away."

  With that, she headed out into the streets and hustled toward the docks. The call had ceased, which was a welcome relief, but she wasn't certain whether that meant that its other victims had been released.

Ravex huffs his displeasure at the entire situation and stomps back toward the inn to get his armor... or go to sleep... or get new orders, depending on what the others concluded was going on.

"Always with the magic-tosser mumbo-jumbo... and in the water no-less. I hate water. It's for the fish... damn the rain, too." He fumes, looking at Gethin as though to say: "Well, what now holy man?

Time: Before Dawn

Having dispatched her orders and begun her way to the docks, Lyriel discovers Ravex and the others returning from there. Their expressions tell her all she needs to know: there is nothing to be done.

Everyone assembles in the common room, the dragonborn warrior, human paladin,  wolfish swordswoman, human monk, and the ... DawnStone, whatever it might be, along with the ashen-faced guardsmen (six), two merchants (the half-elf, Terza, and the merchant, Jandal), and the one traveler who arrived the night before. Everyone is there, that is, save for the fomerly omnipresent hotel staff.  No Sannuel with his oiled mustache, no Relina with her creamy expanse of bosom, and no Menelda with her talk of "blinks."

Two of the guards shuffle off to the kitchen to make some coffee, apparently too distraught to go alone. There is to be no more sleep tonight, not in this town, not for its visitors.

Terza speaks first, no, beseeches the heros first, "For my and my fellows' safety, I offer you 500 pieces of gold."  Too shaken to speak, Jandal lays out 300 more pieces of gold, his contribution clear.  Lastly, the young man with the curious neck retrieves a bottle of whiskey from his pack and sets it with the gleaming pile of coin. It might not be worth much but its value, given the night's horrors, seems to surpass that of the gold.

"We have the worst luck with hotel service," Gethin mutters, noting the absence of the help.  At least they didn't offer them any cheese.

The paladin pours liquor for Ravex and Zellias, then leaves the bottle in the middle of the table for the others.  He addresses the wolf-woman and the crystal-man.

"Thank you for your help, friends.  I fear my comrades would have been drowned without it."  He glances at his half-on-half-off armor, but says nothing more about that.

"I am Gethin Ballider, paladin of Pelor."

  Once back at the inn, Lyriel took a few moments to get dressed before joining the gathering downstairs; she folded her hands on the table initially, keeping them in sight among the strangers, but when the bottle was passed around, she poured a half-shot for herself and subsequently kept one hand around the glass.

  "I accept your commission, though truth be told, my own safety is as much at stake as your own," she replied courteously, her voice noticeably low but only slightly rough by human standards. She'd become acquainted with the merchants and their business over the last few days, but the new arrivals were another matter, so she then turned to them to introduce herself. "Lyriel Renard. This was to have been a trade mission, but it seems that I've been drawn into something more serious."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:17, Mon 25 July 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #55):

DawnStone looks at the shiny coins. He knew something about trade. The tribe who thought him showed him barter for things and goods. As he did not sleep or tire he was a good worker-and had value from that standpoint. He also knew he would need such things for new magic items to help carry out the spirits will. So he would have to use it-even if he found the concept odd. Have almost no physical wants or needs would do that to someone-he learned that quickly enough.

The yellow crystalline eyes looks over the room at the others. Greetings...they all heard in their minds. Having no mouth kept one from speaking, after all. I have been named DawnStone-I serve the spirits. They called me here-warning of a evil on the rise. As always, they are correct. If I can be of aid to you, I will. This...thing...cannot be allowed to claim more victims.

  Lyriel briefly tensed as the voice rang out in her mind; having just come through the Call of Dagon, her initial reaction to this second mental intrusion was one of alarm. She relaxed again when it became clear that this was no attack, merely a form of communication, although what was said ensured that she didn't relax completely.

  She turned in her seat to directly face the crystalline creature, responding with actual (if somewhat agitated) words. "What spirits? You know what's going on here?"

"If I had to guess," Gethin pours himself a shot, "the locals have struck a deal with Dagon whereby he gets visitors and they get..."  He pauses in contemplation, then sips cautiously at his whiskey.  The paladin was not a hard drinker.

"I don't know.  Lots of rain?  Left in peace?"

He turns to the traders.  "You've been here longer than we, or maybe you've heard rumors on the road.  Do you know what this is?"

In reply to Lyriel (msg #59):

The crystal being cocks its head to one side. Seeing the anger in her voice more of a change in her mental communication. As one could hear the change of tone in someone's voice-he could see her anger and fear as a change in the color of her mental communications-the lights that came along with her words.

There are spirits all around you. Life makes them. As does any natural force of the world. Fire. Light. Wind. All of witch sense aberrations. Disorders. Changes to the natural world. It makes them reach out and seek entrance to this world-in order to put such things to rights. To do that however, they need a channel into this world. They guide this person-and shaman allows them a physical presence.

He looked over the wolf woman. You, of all people-do not know this? You bear the mark of the link between nature and spirit yourself-in you very flesh...

  "You mean the primal spirits, though I've never heard of them needing intermediaries." That part, at least, made sense. The crystalline creature's next statement did not, though she'd grown used to humans and others making that sort of assumption and had long since ceased to be either perplexed or annoyed by it. Mildly amused, yes, and her response - delivered with the faintest hint of a smile - reflected that. "But the only relationship I have to spirits are the sort that you find in a bottle: the wine trade forms a large part of House Renard's business."

  "Business, however, will have to wait," she concluded, rising as she turned back to address the gathering as a whole. "We need to put a stop to whatever is going on here. I intend to find out what the mayor has to say for himself, and anyone who feels they can hold their own in a confrontation is welcome to join me. Everyone else should barricade themselves into this place so they can't be drawn or dragged out if someone or something else comes calling."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:03, Mon 25 July 2011.

In reply to Lyriel (msg #62):

The crystal being nods. I have nothing to fear from drowning. May I recommend myself to see what is occurring below? In addition, I doubt any beast down there would find my substance appetizing...

Gethin nods.  "This is something I wish to do, also.  But my comrades and I come from a recent battle against evil in some other place.  We are wounded and weary.  We will need rest before we can undertake another quest."

"Speaking of comrades... where's Farren?"

OOC: Our extended rest was interrupted.

No need to go into the whole "where's Farren" thing on my account.  I just think it would be weird not to even mention her.

As though to emphasize Gethin's point, Ravex releases a mighty yawn, punctuated by a smack of the lips and a scratch of the butt.

  "Whatever is out there isn't going to wait for our convenience. We need to act now. Farren...?" Lyriel looked over the crowd, trying to place each face among those she knew, because she certainly didn't know everyone's name. "The elf? I haven't seen her since last night. If you didn't stop her on the way to the docks..."

Time: Dawn (or what passes for it)

Behind the constant rains and stone-thick clouds, the lightening of the sky is all but imperceptible. Still, dawn has come, and Ashenport should be rising as well.

It is not. Even as the first few moments of morning creep past, the town remains utterly still. No doors slam, no shopkeepers huddle against the rain as they rush to start the new day’s business. Other than yourselves and your fellow outsiders, not a soul stirs. The only signs of life are a few large gulls, undaunted by the rains, that perch among the town’s roofs, like flies converging on a bloating corpse.

The two guards return from the kitchen with steaming mugs of coffee and good news.  The Smooth Sailing Inn and Tavern, while lacking a staff, does not want for larders and kegs. They report of ample quantities of salted pork and fish, potatoes, onions, loaves of hard, crusty bread, apples.   If they're going to have to barricade themselves in here, at least they won't have to resort to "eatin our own boots."

One of the man-at-arms, a skinny lad gripping a spear tightly with his white-knuckled hands, stares out one of the windows and echos Gethin, "Sheets and sheets of rain. Gonna drown this whole town. All that rain. Not right. This isn't right," his voice whispery quiet--just heard over the torrents.

His mouth continues moving, "So much rain. It's gonna drag you down. You're gonna ride the night current. All of you. Cold and wet and dead, you're gonna ride it forever."

OOC Yes, an interrupted extended rest which means you do recover your surges but not your dailys. Ravex and BZ do not make rolls for their disease progression. If you want to explore the town, just let me know which building on the map you want to head to.

In reply to Autarch (msg #67):

He looked about. They would run out of food eventually. Not to mention beings of flesh got sick in such conditions. They longer they stayed here-the worse it would be.

We need to go to the source. This creature will keep sending out the call until all are drowned. However, with the right ritual-I could grant you all the ability to breath water for a time-hours, in fact. However, I do not know this ritual. Is there someplace in this town where it could be acquired?

"We passed only a general goods store on our way in.  Not likely they'll sell rituals."

"Let's go explore the town," Gethin decides, with a sudden putting away of weariness.  "See if we can find a magician's shop."

"The side alley leading away from the water looks promising.  And I'd prefer to stay away from water for now, anyway."

Gethin rushes down the last of his breakfast and finishes arming himself.  "You stay here," he tells the merchant's caravan.  "Lock the doors.  Three short raps and it's us."

OOC: I suggest we head east down the side street, past 1a (which I'm guessing is a stable), and see what buildings 3, 8, and 9 are.

  "The only place we'll find something like that - if we find something like that - is the church on the hill." Along with whatever unpleasant surprises their suppositions implied...

  "Let's go." Lyriel saw no point in further debating the matter and headed out the door; they'd get their answers one way or another.

Tired and in need of physical and mental replenishment - but unwilling to not follow along - Zellias silently goes with the group.

Ravex dons his armor and comes back down to join the group. Like Zellias, he looks tired and a little pale-under-the-scales, but willing. "A'right." He announces, "Let's get this over with. No rest until death or victory!"

The dragonborn grins a toothy grin.

The crystal being nodded, and proceeded to follow the others. They knew this place, and he did not. With any luck, the ritual would be where they had suggested.

Gethin makes sure the merchants and their guards are amenable to the stay-here-and-wait-for-three-knocks plan, then he leaves with the others.

armed & shield equipped, but sword sheathed

Time: After Daybreak

Guardsmen busy themselves assembling a barricade out of tables, casks, and chairs while the merchants look shakily about--as if they could see the voice and hide from it.

It's an unescapable thought that leaving the inn moves you closer, not further, from the beckoning water. That might be what makes exploring the forested side of Ashenport appealing. Stepping past the stables (who will feed the horses this day?), you reach a small cluster of buildings (8 on the map), one of which appears to be mercantile. Peering inside, you can see that:

The anvil, the wall of hammers and tongs, and the heavy furnace clearly mark this shop as that of a blacksmith. You see nobody inside, however, nor any tools or weapons hanging on racks for sale, and neither do you feel intense heat emanating from the furnace which has likely been cooling for several days. What catches your attention is a simple wooden table on which sits a circular headpiece, the allure of which even penetrates the blackness of the rain.

With no one to bar your way, you take a closer look:

This tiara has "a very large and curiously irregular periphery, as if designed for a head of almost freakishly elliptical outline. The material seems to be predominantly gold, though a weird lighter lustrousness hints at some strange alloy with an equally beautiful and scarcely identifiable metal."
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:12, Thu 28 July 2011.

  Lyriel placed one hand against the door frame as she tested the air within the smithy using both her nose and her ears. The storms and the sea had probably erased any clues she might pick up that way, but it was a precaution best taken before entering to apply her hands and her eyes to the investigation.

  "What creature would this fit?" she wondered aloud as she drew a knife and cautiously circled the table, searching out any other details that seemed out of place, though she made no move to touch the crown itself. Its unknown make, coupled with the time and place of its discovery, strongly hinted that something about it or its would-be collector would turn out to be very wrong.

 
  Dungeoneering 13, Religion 8: What sort of creature might wear this crown?
  History 29: Does this crown bear a resemblance to any known relics?
  Perception 19: Is there anything else out of place within the smithy?
 

The manner in which the tiara has been left here on the table suggests both purpose and insouciance. The smithy, after all, looks pretty tidy after what might well have been an orgy of mace-making.  Lyriel bends in closer to the tiara, studying its maze of reliefs that "all hint at remote secreats and unimaginable abysses in time and space, the monotonously aquatic nature of which becomes almost sinister."  Far from being a relic, this headpiece might be rather ordinary given its placement, a thought with its own unsettling ramifications, for the wearers wouldn't be, couldn't be entirely human.

While Lyriel doesn't notice anything out-of-place, excepting for the tiara, she spots a number of reddish stains with a metallic odor, rust deposits by every indication.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:50, Sat 30 July 2011.

Gethin watches silently as Lyriel handles the elliptical headpiece.



"If I had to guess," Gethin plumbs his intuition "I'd say the aquatic race that has taken over this town."

"Let's hang on to it.  Maybe we'll find others like, or other discarded items, that will give us further clues about what we're up against."

He gives one more glance around the place, then (assuming he finds nothing) suggests, "Let's move on."

Perception = 21

Nature = 17.  Does Gethin know any sea-dwelling races noted for oblong heads?

How about Building 9 next?  Then we'll work our way up toward the church.

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg #78):

Dawnstone nods in agreement. He tries to think of something that could fit this description. He had leaned much, and had picked up more from his mind to mind contact of some of the more brilliant sages on his travels. However, it did not sound familiar...

19:45, Today: DawnStone rolled 17 using 1d20+12. Nature
22:02, Thu 28 July: DawnStone rolled 18 using 1d20+14. Arcana.

  Lyriel had already surmised that some aquatic species was at work - the question was what it might be. Rather than belabor the point, she turned her attention to the rust stains...

 
  Nature 21, Perception 26: Rust stains, or...?
 
This message was last edited by the player at 01:01, Mon 01 Aug 2011.

Time: Well Past Dawn

Only a rare sort could suss out the mysteries of this tiara in a state of high anxiety, a state not suited to the quiet contemplation of the ineffable wonders of forgotten races. While DawnStone likely possesses more equanimity than anyone in the town, even he would need some tall candles and a caesura of the storm.

It's easy to tell that the red stains owe their color to ferrous deposits.

The group sloshes past the tannery (Bld #8) to reach the mill (Bld #9), wondering that the former is more redolent of brine than astringents, dyes, and sulphur.

The mill, an old wooden building, contains little more than a heavy and ponderous grindstone and other milling equipment. Although one cannot initially see what power turns the stone, one can eventually hear the running of a small underground stream, barely audible over the rain. Like the smithy, no one mans it this day. Instead several people appear to have been using it as a flophouse: four sleeping bags and a midden of trash remain. Oh, they left you a message on a cloth spread over a table, the message cut in that same metallic red you just saw.  It tells you something you already know but refuse to believe: "You're gonna ride the night current."

OOC Who took the tiara?

  Lyriel took note of but didn't dwell on the latest evidence, including the threat-stained cloth, turning her gaze instead half-skyward, as if seeking hidden clues amidst the rafters, or perhaps in the gloom-shrouded sky further above. "They've been preparing for a long time, but where are they?" She couldn't discount the possibility of an ambush, but the place had been all but deserted. Were they holed up somewhere? Had they fled the place? Or were they already among the drowned - figuratively or literally?

  "Mayor's house. I doubt we'll find him, but if anyone has been keeping records..." She let the explanation trail off as she readied her weapon and strode back outside.

In reply to Lyriel (msg #82):

We will need that ritual. Even if just to avenge the people of this town. Our foes lie under water, knowing that it protects them and kills the land dwellers. We should go to the church first...The crystal man points out.

Gethin removes his helmet and tousles his hair with a mailed glove, wincing as the unconscious habit yields pinched and pulled hairs.

"As the most prominent building, the church on the hill is more likely to be guarded.  I'd rather go there last, after we've learned all we can about our enemy by searching the other buildings."

He picks up the message, pondering it in his slow and deliberate way.  "Did they assume that some would survive their night-time call and go exploring the next day?  Or was this message intended for someone else?"  Gethin kicks through the bedding and trash, trying to determine if the occupants were one of the Free People or something else.

"Right next door is a tannery that smelled of the sea.  Let's look in there, then look for the mayor's house.  Do you know where that is, Lyriel?"

OOC: Gethin took the tiara.

Tell me if I need a nature roll to look at the bedding.  I was thinking of looking for obvious clues -- does the trash contain the remnants of human food? does the bedding smell like sweaty people or tuna fish?  that sort of thing

Empty bottles of Ashenport Pale Ale and fish bones ... that's about what Gethin can identify in the trash pile, that and a few apple cores.  The garbage smells wet and fishy with a blessing of hops.  Then again, everything smells wet and fishy during a squall of many days in a harbor town. Gills and wetness and seaweed and darkness. Maybe you're already riding the night current.

Pushing that thought aside, you step outside into the true wetness before dashing into the tannery where even in the heavy rains and winds, the stench of tanning chemicals and dyes lingers heavy on the air, causing stomachs to turn and eyes to water. A briney smell lingers even heavier and you soon discover why.  Along a wall to the left of a work counter, a many-hooked wall, hang ten seaweed-bedecked sets of clothing.

Even smeared by the sea, the clothes are not alien to you.  An ermine cloak and mustard-colored doublet? The man fiddling with gems at the tavern wore that the night before. A metal cap and a boiled leather jerkin with the sigil of a two-headed jackal? That's the sign of one of the men-at-arms who drank loudly and lustily of Ashenport's pale ale the night before. A formerly tidy white frock with a comfort kitten stuffed in a pocket?  A girl of not quite ten years in town for the fair with her mother and father--whose clothes must be to her left and right.

You all know what they're doing now, don't you?
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:35, Tue 02 Aug 2011.

  "Either someone was waiting to collect salvage or the dead walked back to shore," Lyriel surmised, though this time the sharp edge to her words was muted by the inevitable faux-congestion that resulted from trying not to breathe in through one's nose. "Either way, time's wasting." Especially if we've got seaweed-laden zombies to contend with on top of everything else...

  Lyriel headed back outside, cloak over her nose and weapon at the ready.

In reply to Lyriel (msg #86):

Again-I must request we head for where the ritual might be. The more time we spend on this-the smaller and smaller our chances are of saving anyone. It is possible this creature might need some of these people alive for some loathsome purpose...He pointed out. He followed the wolf woman out-hoping the others would speed up the search and head for the church...

Gethin really has no idea what they're doing.  The presence of this clothing in the tannery suggests a macabre fairy tale logic to his mind.

"Did water zombie dopplegangers steal their clothes and their forms?  These clothes have clearly been in the sea, any way.  And now they're here.  Without their owners."

He pauses.  Exploring additional buildings seemed only to add to the mystery, not clarify it.

"I doubt there's anyone to save, DawnStone.  They're drowned, or have grown gills and want to drown us.  But I'm ready to go to the church, since you insist."

Ravex had been content to trail the rest of the party, doing his finest to keep from falling asleep. Too-much magic mumbo-jumbo, and now they were stomping around an alien town with a couple of perfect strangers. To top it off, they were finding the soggy clothes of the drowned and tiaras for the oddly-headed.

The disease he still suffered from not withstanding, the dragonborn felt a bit uneasy about the entire business.

Time: Not Quite Morning

A macabre fairy tale logic, indeed.  Tens sets of clothing, ten sets of human skins.  You abandon the tannery and its silent condemnation.

While DawnStone stresses the urgency of reaching the church on the hill (the Gleaming Dawn Church, Lyriel will supply), Gethin's assessment provides a counterweight, enough of one to argue for a few stops on the way, the first one being at the Bountiful Tide General Store, directly opposite the inn.

There’s little to differentiate this building from the other surrounding shops, save that the walls are meticulously whitewashed (or at least they were meticulous before the heavy rains). Above the door hangs a painting of a beautiful shoreline, with the words “A Bountiful Tide” etched above it in gold paint.

Unlike the other places you've visited, this one is...open...and a doddering human-looking shape can be seen within sweeping the aisles--albeit in a jerky fashion.

Do you care to enter?

  All this, and Lena's busy dusting? It didn't add up...

  "Browse a bit. See if there's anything here that shouldn't be," Lyriel rumbled quietly to the rest of the company before stepping inside.

  "Lena? Good to see that the storm isn't slowing you down any, unlike our host at the inn. Are you open for business?"

  Whether she was somehow blithely unaware of what was going on or was taking part in it... well, one bluff could be called by another.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:17, Wed 03 Aug 2011.

The monk nods at Lyriel's words and begins to slowly move throughout the store looking for anything particularly suspicious. Though in this odd town, it was hard to define "particularly suspicious" in a meaningful way. The general fuzzyheadedness he was feeling since their encounter with the slaad certainly didnt' help either.

21:15, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 12 using 1d20+11. Perception - Search the shop.

With an onslaught of muddy boots and rain-soaked cloaks, you despoil the entry to the general store, obliterating its formerly pristine state.

Lena, the shopkeeper, doesn't seem to care one bit. She's always cleaning and now she actually has something to clean.

"Open?" she responds to Lyriel, trying out the word, tasting it within her capacious mouth. Perhaps for her, there is no other state; she can't conceive of closed for her store is always open. That's the only explanation for it being lit at this hour.

She shrugs off her uncertainty with an ear-to-ear smile. Really. Although seemingly geriatric in almost every respect from her iron-gray hair to her arthritic limp, she possesses an unnerving elasticity, centered around her mouth and stretched across her cheeks. You feel a bit like a minnow confronting a sperm whale until she speaks.

"Why, you poor dears. You're soaked through and through. Whatever have you been doing out in the rain?"

Without waiting for a reply, she continues, "Please if there's anything you want from my shop, dearies, just say the word." She spies Ravex and Brother Zelias and a pained frown the size of a baby "o" replaces her transcontinental smile, "Oh, dearest me, you two look green in the gills. You really shouldn't be out in weather like this."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:49, Thu 04 Aug 2011.

"We'd like to ride the night current," Gethin experiments.  "You have anything that will help with that?"

He says this casually, over his shoulder, as he's browsing her merchandise.  But he watches her reaction shrewdly.

OOC - Just normal shop stuff, or anything fishy?  (I will keep using that pun, as bad as it is.)

Insight = 22.  Passive = 23.

  Unsubtle, but effective... thought Lyriel as she stood aside to allow Gethin to lead the discussion, such as it might be.

In reply to Autarch (msg #93):

When the old lady mentioned green to the gills, Dawnstone put up the hood to his cloak. He did not want to scare the woman, as he had done so in the past. His appearance was often viewed as monstrous by the fleshy ones. Not that it troubled him-but it made dealing with them that much harder.

"The night current?" Lena repeats, her face straining to conceal her uncertainty.  She can't even come close to managing it. Her cheeks fold, her lips quiver, and her tongue lolls just a bit.

"Oh, dear, you wouldn't want to do that," she responds, finding some confidence. "What with the storm and all. It wouldn't be safe. And how could you find the current in the dark?"

She leads you to an aisle devoted to hawkeye lanterns, pitch, and tar. "I bet you'll find just what you need right here. I'm sure you'll find that night current after all, my dears," she beams.

"Unless," her confusion returning, "it finds you first?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:12, Fri 05 Aug 2011.

"I hope we find it before it finds us," Gethin returns.  The mysterious having failed him, Gethin tries the quotidian.  "Where is everybody?  The town is empty.  The inn staff is gone, the miller and tanner and smith are all gone.  Do you know where they went?"

"Where is everybody?" Lena parrots, but not unkindly. "Why," her ear-to-ear smile returning as she decides that Gethin might be a bit simple, "Scarp, Mickey, and Flanders, they're probably home, snug in their beds dreaming of ribbons and curls, newly married all. They don't work during the festival. The others probably went home to check on their families; it is a fearful storm, dear. Maybe you should do the same?"

Meanwhile, Brother Zelias, paying no heed to the palaver, wanders the shop, absentmindidly checking out the merchandise. He stops in the "Adventurer's Essentials" aisle, his face transfixed by a cloak that stands apart from the others.  For a moment, you think he's staring at a gap of night in the store itself until you realise that only ripples of midnight blue save the cloak from being unrepentingly fuligin.

  "How long do storms like this last? Not long enough for Rastenford and back," Lyriel inquired as though working out the distance and travel time - the location in question presumably being that of home and family for her.

Time: Deep into the Heart of Morning

Crash! The windows and shutters rattle with the violence of the shock, a few vials of Dr. Murk Eye's Eelness Begone Elixir shatter on the floor, and your hands tighten on the hilts of your weapons.

"It's just the storm, dearies," the grandmotherly shopkeep reassures you.  Her cheeks flush a shade red, flattered that you think she knows so much.

"How long will it last?" she says, repeating Lyriel's question. She scratches her limpy leg a bit. "Seems to me they always seem to last the length of the festival. Three days, that would be, but who can tell? I guess this one's early."

She looks at all of you, "Can I answer any more questions? Please, don't hesitate. I have all the time in the world."

"All the time in the world," she repeats in case you didn't catch it the first time.

"No, I think we'd best be moving along, thank you."  Gethin glances over at Zellias, wondering if he found something of interest in that cloak.

"Where is this festival?  I think we'll go see it."

OOC: Wait for Z to decide if he's doing anything about that cloak, but I propose we leave.  Nothing else to see here.

  "Canceled on account of rain," Lyriel muttered as she headed toward the door. On catching sight of Zellias and the cloak he was nigh-transfixed by, she turned away from the exit and nodded toward the monk and his find. "Nice piece. Local tailor?"

  Perception 24: Do any of the good for sale seem... previously owned?

Time: No clue, actually. Day has brought no light to Ashenport.

Lena doesn't catch Lyriel's question, the storm's bellow and Ravex's steel-shod boots obliterating her sounds. She can tell that the goods are fresh.

Trudging along, you pass several two and three-story houses. Contrary to your first impression, the town is not desolate. While the upper-most stories are inevitably shuttered, the lower levels flutter with activity: flickering candles, moving shadows, and half-heard conversation.

Splashing along, the water reaching your shins in some places, you occasionally feel a greater than mud slush. Kicking up your boots, you recoil; great strips of green encircle them.  Seaweed. In the streets. It's like you're already riding it.

Stepping closer to the ash grove, you hear the crazed cries of the mill squatters, three men and one woman wearing cloaks of nearly impeccable fuligin and wielding an array of cultish weapons: long maces, curved daggers, and crossbows. They have only one desire and that's to spray your brains upon their streets although puncturing your entrails might suffice as long as they get to watch you trying to hold them in.

PC         Init   AC F   R   W   HP        Surges      AP  T   notes
Ravex        27   24 21  18  16  61/61     12/12 (+18) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Zellias      20   23 19  22  20  50/50     8/8   (+12) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gethin       11   25 18  17  19  61/61     13/13 (+15) 1   2  LoH, no dailies
Lyriel       10   23 21  18  16  56/56     9/9   (+14) 1   2
DawnStone     4   21 22  21  22  52/52     9/9   (+13) 1   2
Mill Squatter (f)                                             Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed
Mill Squatter (m)                                             Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed
Squall Caller                                                 Mace held on left, crazed
Squall Caller                                                 Mace held on right, crazed

This message was last edited by the GM at 02:59, Sun 07 Aug 2011.

  Lyriel had been keeping her weapon at the ready for a reason. These people - the entire town's worth of them - were it.

  Initiative 10.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:23, Sat 06 Aug 2011.

Through blinding sheets of rain, Gethin has difficulty making out the villagers, but some intuition in the pit of his stomach tells him they mean trouble.

"Is something amiss, good people?" he asks, but his hand goes to his sword.

INITIATIVE = 11

In reply to Autarch (msg #104):

The crystal man watched these armed newcomers. Its seemed totally irrational that they would seek to harm his group-the where clearly not of Dagon. However, back at the village which had raised him-the shaman told him that despite the fearsome nature of the beasts of the wilds, there was worse. No creature desvered your cation more than man. The beasts did not lie and betray after all...

(OOC-20:23, Today: DawnStone rolled 4 using 1d20+3.)

Ravex was tired, wet, sick, and he was in no good mood for bullshit.

The danger was obvious, and it was time to act.

20:28, Today: Ravex rolled 27 using 1d20+7. Initiative.M

Without pause Ravex steps forward and draws his weapon into a slashing uppercut. All the while, he does his dragonborn-best to ignore the larval slaads wiggling under the scales between his toes.

Move: Move to AE17.
Minor: Draw Khopesh.
Standard: Reaping Strike vs enemy at AD17, rolled a 27 vs AC, dealing 10 damage.

Ravex learns that these men bleed like any others, leaving the insensate cultist with a vertical gash on his chest (Reaping Strike hits for 10 dmg; SC right is marked, I assume), payment for assaulting the dragonborn's nostrils with the reek of soured Ashenport Pale Ale thick upon the man and his garb.

From around the bend, dimly visible in the blackness of the storm, another squall caller advances, this one holding his mace on the right. Through unspeakably ancient arts, he conjures up a storm within a storm in your very midst (Storm of the Ocean Lord centered at AE15 targets reflex and hits Ravex, Gethin, Lyriel, and BZ for 12 cold dmg and immobilizes them till the end of SQR's turn). This one's harder than it is wet; sheets of icy sleet lash you, leaving purple welts and all but freezing you in place.

PC         Init   AC F   R   W   HP        Surges      AP  T   notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  49/61     12/12 (+18) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                          Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  38/50     8/8   (+12) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  49/61     13/13 (+15) 1   2  LoH, no dailies, Imm (no save)
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  44/56     9/9   (+14) 1   2  Imm (no save)
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  52/52     9/9   (+13) 1   2
Mill Squatter (f)                                             Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed
Mill Squatter (m)                                             Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed
Squall Caller     22              -10                         Mace held on left, crazed

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
ColdArea burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:42, Sun 07 Aug 2011.

Unable to do much, the monk draws a dagger and flings it at the foe on Ravex. As the dagger then falls to the ground, he winces and shakes his head, wishing he had an enchanted weapon to throw.

Minor: Draw Dagger
Standard: Throw Dagger, RBA of 17 vs AC, if that somehow hits, damage is 9

13:04, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 9 using 1d4+7. Damage.
13:03, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 17 using 1d20+13. Ranged Basic.

A great, burly cultist splashes forward (Squatter m moves to AA,25) and levels his crossbow at Gethin.  The bolt whistles through the day that is night and pierces a groove between his poleyns (Ranged Basic Crits for 11 dmg). Just a second after him, his female counterpart, freakishly strong, advances and levels her crossbow as well but at Brother Zelias who twists effortlessly to avoid the singing quarrel (Ranged Basic misses BZ).

Grunting, the squall caller lurches away from Ravex and gains another gash for his imprudence (R's OA hits for 12 dmg and halts Caller's movement; Caller uses another movement action to move 3 squares away through difficult terrain).

PC         Init   AC F   R   W   HP        Surges      AP  T   notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  49/61     12/12 (+18) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                          Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, AA25
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  38/50     8/8   (+12) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squatter (m)  19                                              Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, burly, Y27
Squatter (f)  18                                              Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, X13
Squall Caller 16  22              -22                         Mace held on left, crazed, AD20
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  38/61     13/13 (+15) 1   2  LoH, no dailies, Imm (no save)
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  44/56     9/9   (+14) 1   2  Imm (no save)
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  52/52     9/9   (+13) 1   2

This message was last edited by the GM at 03:35, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

Gethin draws out Pelor's standard and preemptively claims the soggy battlefield for the god of the sun.


MINOR: Draw Battle Standard of Healing
STANDARD: Plant BSoH in (AD,15)
MINOR: Virtue (-1 surge, Gain Resist 3 All USoNT, Gain 15 temp HP, All PCs gain 1 HP)
This message was last edited by the player at 00:48, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

  A toothy grunt escaped Lyriel's lips as the rime-laden tempest washed over her and froze as it rolled down her armor. She wasn't going to be going anywhere with her lower legs coated in ice and her feet frozen to the ground, but the thin patches of frosty film elsewhere shattered of their own accord.

  Gritting her teeth, she stowed her sword and readied her bow in what was clearly a well-practiced maneuver. While three of their assailants had ducked behind cover, one had remained out in the open, and feather-fletching decorated her vitals a moment later.

 
  Poised Assault (+1 to weapon attack rolls)

  Minor: Master-at-Arms (stow sword, draw bow).
  Std: Ranged Basic Attack hits Squatter at X13 for 20 damage.
  Move: None.

 
  HP 45/56  Sg 9/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16
 
 
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #112):

Dawnstone let off what sounded a telepathic growl. He banged the end of his staff, and a snake of fire and stone formed near Ravex. Brother Zellias feels a healing surge pass through hiim, and Ravex feels restored as well. Then the burning serpent shoots forward and tries to strike one of the crossbow men...

(OOC-Free action, summon spirit in space AD 16, Ravex gains 4 temp hp.

Minor action-using heaing spirit on Brother Zellias, allowing him to spend a healing surge. Ravex heals 4 extra hp

Move action-use as minor action-teleprtds spirit companion to space W13. Crossbowman must shift away in order to move safely away from it-otherwise it he will provoke a OA.

Standard action-Protector's strike against crossbowman.

22:07, Today: DawnStone rolled 16 using 1d20+9. vs willl
22:08, Today: DawnStone rolled 13 using 1d8+6. damage
22:07, Today: DawnStone rolled 4 using 1d6. healing for Ravex)
This message was last edited by the player at 04:03, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

Deftly, Lyriel returns fire, nocking, pulling, and releasing in one breath. Before the next, the arrows thuds into the freakishly strong squatter's chest (RB hits female squatter for 20 dmg).

DawnStone's burning serpent hisses and expires before reaching the distant foewoman (Protector's Strike misses).  His emmisary from the spirit world, though, arrives and immediately oppresses the wounded crossbow-woman (Spirit Companion teleports to W13).

PC         Init   AC F   R   W   HP        Surges      AP  T   notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  54/61-4  12/12 (+18)  1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                          Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, AA25
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50     7/8   (+12) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squatter (m)  19  21                                          Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, burly, Y27
Squatter (f)  18  21              -20                         Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, X13
Squall Caller 16  22              -22                         Mace held on left, crazed, AD20
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  39/61-15 12/13  (+15) 1   2  LoH, no dailies, Imm (no save), Resist 3 All
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  45/56     9/9   (+14) 1   2  Imm (no save), +1 Attack (Poised Assault)
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  52/52     9/9   (+13) 1   2

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
ColdArea burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:32, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

Rooted in place, Ravex can do nothing else but throw is brand-new magic javelin at the escaping storm caller.

His toss is rather less than stellar, and flies wide of the mark.

A moment later, the weapon re-materializes in the dragonborn's hand, and the fighter grins despite himself.

Minor: Sheath Khopesh
Minor: Draw Javelin.
Standard: Throw Javelin. Miss.
Minor: Sheath Javelin.

More ranged fire, but no new wounds (R's RBA misses).

Sheets of ice once again encase your feet and legs, these sheets heavier and sharper than the last barrage (Storm of the Ocean Lord recharges for Squaller at AB22 hits all but Gethin for 17 dmg except for Lyriel who takes 21--all hit are immoblized until the end of Squaller AB21's next turn).  Lyriel can no longer feel her lower extremities (Lyriel is bloodied) and she begins to fear for her upper ones as well. At least, she's not riding the night current fixed in place as she is. Unless that comes next.  Something worse can always come next.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP      Surges       AP  T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  41/61   12/12  (+18) 1    2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                          Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, AA21
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  33/50     7/8   (+12) 1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squatter (m)  19  21                                          Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, burly, Y27
Squatter (f)  18  21              -20                         Crossbow held, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, X13
Squall Caller 16  22              -22                         Mace held on left, crazed, AD20
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  39/61-15  12/13  (+15) 1  2  LoH, no dailies, Imm (no save), Resist 3 All
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  24/56     9/9   (+14) 1   2  Imm (no save), +1 Attack (Poised Assault), Bloodied
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  52/52     9/9   (+13) 1   2

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
ColdArea burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:59, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

Hoping that he will soon be free of his icy foot shackles and ready to fight - and with his only thrown weapon lost somewhere in the bottomless mud of Ashenport - Brother Zellias stands still and silent, meditating on the meaning of existence, especially the fickleness and capriciousness of the elements. He feels himself regaining much of his strength.

Standard: Second Wind, spend one surge, regain 12 HP, now at 45/50 with 6/8 surges remaining

Only Brother Zelias's years of monastic training allow him the space to inhale in the midst of a cataclysmic, if localized, ice storm (BW spends SW, gains 12 hps and +2 D) (+1 hp for all per BSoH).

The burly cultist hurtles towards you (Male Squatter runs to AA19), dropping his crossbow in his haste to brain each and every one of you. The freakishly strong cultist, oppressed by a wispy snake of flame, drops her crossbow, wheels, and clobbers the serpent (MB hits DS's spirit companion for 19 dmg, dispelling it). It's DawnStone who feels the pain (8 dmg).  Unharried, she joins her male counterpart in a lumbering run towards you (she runs to AA13, granting CA), sending great spouts of mud flying in her wake.

The other squall caller simply stares at Gethin (Dagon's Fang, a ranged 10 attack, misses his fort). Dagon's Fang is a misnomer.  He has as many fangs as he needs and no shortage of jaws either.  This set descends from above the paladin as a shark plunging below for a floundering swimmer.  Such pitiful magics don't fool Gethin.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP      Surges       AP  T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  42/61   12/12  (+18)  1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                          Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, AA21
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  49/50    6/8*  (+12)  1   2  Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save), +2 D (SW)
Squatter (m)  19  21                                          Crossbow dropped, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, burly, granting CA, AA19
Squatter (f)  18  21              -20                         Crossbow dropped, great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, granting, CA, AA13
Squall Caller 16  22              -22                         Mace held on left, crazed, AD20
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  40/61-15  12/13 (+15) 1   2  LoH, no dailies, Resist 3 All
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  25/56     9/9   (+14) 1   2  Imm (no save), +1 Attack (Poised Assault), Bloodied
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  27/52     9/9   (+13) 1   2  Imm (no save)
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22   -/-                         Dispelled

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
ColdArea burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:04, Tue 09 Aug 2011.

  Shivering from the cold and half-blinded by the rain, Lyriel valiantly works her bow. One arrow finds purchase, though it doesn't seem to slow the fanatic down much...

 
  Free: Spend AP.
  Std: RBA (w/HE) hits Squatter AA13 for 15 damage.
  Std: RBA misses Squatter AA13.
  Move: None.
  Minor: None.
 
 
  Free: When Dawnstone uses Healing Spirit on Lyriel she activates her Amulet of Life to spend a second healing surge, which returns her to full (56/56) HP.
 
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

Gethin draws his sword, holds it high a moment, then charges in where the action is the thickest.  He slashes at one of the squall callers, hoping to end the freezing attacks so his friends can move and fight.

MINOR: draw Longsword
AP: Second Wind (-1 surge, Gain Resist 3 All USoNT, +15 HP, all PCs +1 HP, end at 56/61-15 HP)
MOVE: move as part of charge (to get total movement of 10)
STANDARD: Charge to AC19 vs. Lefty w/ Virtuous Strike (8 dmg & Gethin gains +2 saves USoNT)
FREE: Activate Flaming Weapon Daily (+3 fire dmg, 5 ongoing fire dmg, save ends)

17:20, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 3 using 1d6. flaming wpn fire dmg.
17:17, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 27,8 using d20+12,d8+5. charge Lefty.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:28, Mon 08 Aug 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #120):

Dawnstone once again calling on his spirit,  it appear again near Ravex. Lyriel feels the healing spirit, as does Ravex. Then it moves to the rooftop, by the chimmey. From there, dawnstone breaks into a hundred bits of crystal, and switches places with his spirit.

(OOC-Free action-Spirit appears in AD 17.

Minor action-healing spirit on Lyriel. Ravex heals 6 (or 7 with magic Item) hp, and gets 4 temp HP.

Move action-teleports spirit to AH 18

Standard action-does shard storm and trades places with spirit. Dawnstone on roof, spirit on ground in his position.

17:41, Today: DawnStone rolled 6 using 1d6.)
This message was last edited by the player at 02:44, Tue 09 Aug 2011.

With extreme cold reducing the structural integrity of his crystal infrastructure, DawnStone decides that any place, even a precarious perch upon a rain-slicked, peaked roof would prove safer. Reforming two stories above the battle, he grabs for the support of the chimney but his feet skid and he begins to slip... (DC 15 Acrobatics Check at the start of your turn to stay perched on the roof).

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  51/61-4 12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                   Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, AA21
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save), +2 D (SW)
Squatter (m)  19  21                                   Crossbow dropped, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, burly, granting CA, AA19
Squatter (f)  18  21              -20                  Crossbow dropped, great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, granting CA, AA13
Squall Caller 16  22              -48                  Mace held on left, crazed, AD20, 5 flame ongoing, Bloodied
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  56/61-15 11/13* 1/2   LoH, no dailies, Resist 3 All, +2 D, +2 Saves, Weapon Daily expended
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  56/56    7/9    0/2   Imm (no save), +1 Attack (Poised Assault), Amulet of Life expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  30/52    9/9    1/2   Imm (no save), Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
Cold Area burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:26, Wed 10 Aug 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #124):

(OOC-12:52, Today: DawnStone rolled 24 using 1d20+12. Should be +3, I rolled Athletics rather than acrobatics. Its a success ether way...Made a 15.)

Still rooted in place, Ravex has no other option but to give his javelin a second try.

This time, he finds his mark, despite the rain.

Minor: Draw Javelin.
Standard: RBA vs bloodied stormcaller. Rolled 24 vs AC, dealing 8 damage. Stormcaller is marked.
Minor: Stow Javelin.
Minor: Draw Khopesh.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:19, Tue 09 Aug 2011.

Is it a continuation of the same ice storm or a fresh one born of squall caller's inexhaustible enmity for beings of dust and stone? It does not matter. Lyriel and Ravex once again (15 dmg to R and L, imm (no save) suffer the incisions of shards of ice. Inexplicably, Brother Zelias, standing in the midst of that very storm, will brook no wintry assaults; it's as if he exists in another space entirely.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  40/61   12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, Imm (no save)
Squall Caller 22  22                                   Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Z19
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squatter (m)  19  21                                   Crossbow dropped, great flail holstered, wild-eyed, burly, granting CA, AA19
Squatter (f)  18  21              -20                  Crossbow dropped, great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, granting CA, AA13
Squall Caller 16  22              -56                  Mace held on left, crazed, AD20, 5 flame ongoing, Bloodied, Marked
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  56/61-15 11/13* 1/2   LoH, no dailies, Resist 3 All, +2 D, +2 Saves, Weapon Daily expended
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  41/56    7/9    0/2   Imm (no save), +1 Attack (Poised Assault), Amulet of Life expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  30/52    9/9    1/2   Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
Cold Area burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:48, Thu 11 Aug 2011.

At last freed from the icy paralysis, Brother Zellias feels the rush of blood to his feet as he zips through the muddy streets, moving as best he can despite the obviously horrible maintenance job done by the Ashenport Department of Public Works.

He slides to a stop near Gethin, using the momentum of his movement to feign a charging attack against the squall caller. At the last moment, he feints and effortlessly plants a spinning kic into the enemy's gut. The foe's reaction lets Brother Zellias quickly launch a shot with his walking stick that sends the squall caller slipping through the mud, opening him up for further attacks from the monk.

Move: Dancing Cobra Movement Technique, move Speed +2 (Speed 8 = 4 squares w/difficult terrain), 3 NE, 1 E to AD-17
Move: 2 E to AD-19
Spend Action Point for Standard Action
Standard: Dancing Cobra Attack, Attack 23 vs Reflex, Damage 10
Free: Centered Flurry of Blows, Additional 7 Damage, Slide Squall Caller to AC-20, gain CA vs enemy UEoZNT w/Deadly Draw feat

Note: Total Damage 17

08:15, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 10 using 1d10+7. Damage.
08:15, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 23 using 1d20+11. Dancing Cobra vs Squall Caller AD20.

The squaller perishes in a gout of flames in the midst of a torrential downpour (5 ongoing fire kills SQ at the start of his turn); it is no ordinary fire that consumes him, but the fire that burns from within, leaving only char without.  Gethin's kiss, the smallfolk call it.

That leaves only three, two of whom, the squatters, charge Lyriel and Gethin. Lyriel's longbow nearly snaps beneath the crush of her assailant's great flail, but the ball wraps around and claps her shoulder (17 dmg and knocked prone), the pain of cracked bones sending her to her knees. Gethin merely turns aside his man's assault with cool raise of his shield.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  40/61   12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squall Caller 22  22     20                            Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Z19
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   0/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squatter (m)  19  21                                   great flail held, wild-eyed, burly, Encounter power spent, AB19
Squatter (f)  18  21              -20                  great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, Encounter power spent, AF14
Squall Caller 16  22     20       -88                  Dead
Gethin        11  25 18  17  19  56/61-15 11/13* 1/2   LoH, no dailies, Resist 3 All, +2 D, +2 Saves, Weapon Daily expended
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  24/56    7/9    0/2   +1 A, A of L expended, Bloodied, Prone, Holding longbow
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  30/52    9/9    1/2   Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
Cold Area burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:09, Fri 12 Aug 2011.

  Lyriel's loss of breath transforms midway into a snarl and finally a sharp command - apparently she has some experience directing tactical deployment - as she wrenches hard on the bow, taking advantage of the chain's entanglement to pull the wretch off balance as she rises. She abandons the weapon in favor of her sword, letting it fall free; the brute manages to shake his flail loose in time to parry her blow, though just barely - that crippling shoulder-strike doesn't seem to have hindered her any!

 
  HP 39/56  Sg 7/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16

  Free: Dwarven Armor (Lyriel regains 15 HP).
  Move: Stand up.
  Minor: NTA. Ravex and the spirit gain a +2 bonus to AC until Lyriel's EONT and may shift 2 squares as a free action.
  Free: Drop bow.
  Free: Draw sword.
  Std: Melee Basic Attack misses Squatter AF14.
 
This message was last edited by the player at 05:31, Thu 11 Aug 2011.

Glad of his stalwart shield, Gethin returns the squatter's heavy blow with one equally powerful and equally ineffectual.

The rhythm of strike-counterstrike is an ancient ritual that runs deeper than creed or crazy.  Gethin locks eyes with the man, and wordlessly, the two have become mortal foes.

STANDARD: Valorous Smite vs Squatter miss
MINOR: Divine Challenge Squatter (marked, 7 radiant dmg if att other)

In reply to Autarch (msg #129):

From his rooftop, Dawnstone saw Lyriel in danger. He gestured with his staff, causing the spirit to appear besides her. Then it seems to flow into her, causing a mini-tornado do flow about her, shielding her with a swirling barrier of rock and wind...

(OOC-Minor action-teleport spirit companion right behind Lyriel.

Standard action-Uses Granite armor power on Lyriel. Spirit then vanishes. She gains resist all 6 until the end of Dawnstone's next turn. She also gains 4 temp HP. She then is the source of a close burst 1 attack, foes only, but I rolled crap and it missed.

Move action-sits down on roof so Dawnstone does not have to worry about falling. Using Chimney as brace.)

Freed at last from his stormy bondage, Ravex looses a gout of flame at the nearest squatter, distracting it, then howls a charge toward the remaining storm caller. Like a scaled freight train, Ravex slams into his enemy, knocking them off their feet.

Free: Lyriel's granted shift to AD17.
Minor: Dragon Breath vs Female Squatter. Rolled 20 vs reflex, dealing 9 fire damage. The Female Squatter is Marked
Move+Standard: Charge to AA18, rolled 28 vs Stormcaller AC, dealing 7 damage. Stormcaller is marked
No Action: Activate Takedown Strike. Stormcaller takes 5 additional damage, as in knocked prone.

Lockdown is achieved, as Ravex aggravates two foemen and Gethin the other.  Ravex also cuts the squaller as he squirms (OA hits him for 12 dmg, stops movement), the foot-deep muck of the grove sucking him down.

Locked together, the flailman and the paladin trade mighty swings of ball and blade.  The ball lands first (17 dmg).  What should have been a shoulder-smashing strike proves inconsequential with the paladin's piety proving nigh on impenetrable.

Still feeling the dragonborn's heat, the other mongrel thrashes around in the water, more intent on dousing flames than landing blows (squatter misses).

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  41/61   12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, +2 D
Squall Caller 22  22     20       -24                  Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, AA19
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   0/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squatter (m)  19  21     20                            great flail held, wild-eyed, burly, Encounter power spent, AB20, Challenged
Squatter (f)  18  21     20       -29                  great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, Encounter power spent, marked, AF14
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  39/56-4  6/9    0/2   +1 A, A of L & DA expended, Resist 6 all, Fullblade held
Gethin        10  25 18  17  19  55/61  11/13*   1/2   LoH, no dailies, Weapon Daily expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  31/52    9/9    1/2   Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
Cold Area burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:24, Sun 14 Aug 2011.

Feeling footloose and fancy free - and frankly eager to fight - now that he is free of the ice's grip, Zellias darts past Gethin to stand beside the dragonborn. With steely focus in his eyes, he lets out a sharp "hyah!" as he drives the heel of his palm into the core of the squall caller's gut. His other hand swings his walking stick, hitting the stormbringer in the ribs and forcing him into a position where he's now surrounded by three foes.

Move: To AB-18
Standard: Enduring Champion vs Squall Caller, Attack 25 vs Fort, Damage 23
Free: Centered Flurry of Blows, additional 7 HP damage, slide Squall Caller to AB 19, gain CA vs Squall Caller until end of my next turn

13:45, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 23 using 2d10+7. Damage.
13:44, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 25 using 1d20+11. Enduring Champion Attack.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Fri 12 Aug 2011.

  Lyriel had no reservations about hitting someone when they were down, especially when that someone had been about to do the same to her. Her sword found purchase in cultist flesh, and - as the cultist haphazardly parried a second stroke, sending both weapons wide - her fist claimed a few teeth as well.

 
 
  HP 39+4/56  Sg 7/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16
 

  Std: MBA (Power Strike) hits Squatter AF14 for 27 damage.
  Free: Stone Fist Squatter AF14 for 7 damage.
  Move: None.
  Minor: None.
 
This message was last edited by the player at 01:44, Sun 14 Aug 2011.

Though Gethin's piety is protecting him, it is not helping him to overcome his foes.  He lunges in as Zellias sends the Squall Caller stumbling toward him, but the cultist parries the thrust with his staff.

STANDARD: Bolstering Strike vs Squall Caller (miss)
MINOR: Divine Challenge male Squatter
MOVE: none

The spirit appears again, and flares up, but otherwise does no harm other than empowering Ravex again...only to appear near the other two

(OOC-Free action-Spirit appears in AA19, Ravex gets 4 temp HP.

Standard-Uses Scorching Sands encounter power-misses, spirit fades away.

16:02, Today: DawnStone rolled 13 using 1d20+9. vs reflex

Minor-appears in AC 18. Gethin gets 4 temp HP. Any allies next to spirit gets +2 Saves. Spirit may make special OAs vs foes who move without shifting.)
This message was last edited by the player at 20:07, Fri 12 Aug 2011.

While a few of her teeth may have lost their purchase, the freakishly strong cultist still grips her great flail, ready to strike her lupine adversary.  The other cultist, the storm caller, finds himself beset on all sides; his day may be done but his long night is about to begin.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  41/61-4 12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, +2 D
Squall Caller 22  22     20       -54                  Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, Bloodied, AB19
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   0/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squatter (m)  19  21     20                            great flail held, wild-eyed, burly, Encounter power spent, AB20, Challenged
Squatter (f)  18  21     20       -63                  great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, Encounter power spent, Marked, bloodied, AF14
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  39/56-4  6/9    0/2   +1 A, A of L & DA expended, Resist 6 all, Fullblade held
Gethin        10  25 18  17  19  55/61-4  11/13* 1/2   LoH, no dailies, Weapon Daily expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  31/52    9/9    1/2   Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
Cold Area burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:25, Tue 16 Aug 2011.

Ravex deftly re-positions himself into a flanking position and executes a mighty sweeping-blow that catches both the Squatter and the remaining Stormcaller across their backs.

Move: Pass Forward to AA19
Standard: Sweeping Blow vs Storm Caller and Squatter. Rolled 29 vs SC AC, and 24 vs Squatter AC, dealing 11 damage to both.

The Stormcaller is Marked.

The squall caller falls to his knees, sinking into the slop, and silently beseeches his master for more eldrich magic. His master must be preoccupied, for no new energies infuse the man.  He feebly raises his mace to deflect the next attack...

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  41/61-4 12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, +2 D
Squall Caller 22  22     20       -65                  Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, Bloodied, AB19
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   0/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squatter (m)  19  21     20       -11                     great flail held, wild-eyed, burly, Encounter power spent, AB20, Challenged
Squatter (f)  18  21     20       -63                  great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, Encounter power spent, Marked, bloodied, AF14
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  39/56-4  6/9    0/2   +1 A, A of L & DA expended, Resist 6 all, Fullblade held
Gethin        10  25 18  17  19  55/61-4  11/13* 1/2   LoH, no dailies, Weapon Daily expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  31/52    9/9    1/2   Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

Combat Glossary
Storm of the Ocean Lord (standard; recharge ) ✦
Cold Area burst 2 within 10; +12 vs. Reflex; 2d8 + 5 cold damage and target is immobilized until the end of the cultist’s next turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:40, Tue 16 Aug 2011.

Moving awkwardly but with deceptive speed, Brother Zellias lurches around Ravex, circling the melee. He comes up beside the squatter and dupes the crazed woman into taking a fumbling swing at him. The monk weaves out of the way, so that the bumbling opponent targets his own ally. Zellias adds an extra quick kick in the knee to drive home the fact that the squatter is too clumsy to contend with the spry monk.

Move: Drunken Monkey movement allows speed +2, ignores difficult terrain, circle around to avoid OAs and end at AB-21
Standard: Drunken Monkey Attack v Squatter, Attack 30 vs Will, Damage 12 to squatter, slide squatter to AC-20, squatter makes MBA vs Squall Caller
Free: Centered Flurry vs Squatter, 7 HP dmg

Note: Have CA vs Squatter until end of my next turn, Deadly Draw feat

The head of the flail whizzes over the monk's head  and as the chain extends to its full length, the ball crunches into squall caller (12 dmg to caller) who begins to pitch face first into the mud.

Gasping for breath as his blood turns the ooze crimson, neither of the cultists can pierce his adversary's defenses.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  41/61-4 12/12   1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies, +2 D
Squall Caller 22  22     20       -77                  Mace held on right, crazed, Storm of the Ocean Lord recharging, Marked, Bloodied, AB19
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   0/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Squatter (m)  19  21     20       -30                  Great flail held, wild-eyed, burly, Encounter power spent, AC20, Challenged
Squatter (f)  18  21     20       -63                  Great flail held, wild-eyed, freakishly strong, Encounter power spent, Marked, bloodied, AF14
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  39/56-4  6/9    0/2   +1 A, A of L & DA expended, Resist 6 all, Fullblade held
Gethin        10  25 18  17  19  55/61-4  11/13* 1/2   LoH, no dailies, Weapon Daily expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  31/52    9/9    1/2   Healing Spirit**, Shardstorm expended
Misty Serpent  4  21 22  21  22

This message was last edited by the GM at 17:39, Thu 18 Aug 2011.

  "Hyeeah!" Lyriel's bellow was punctuated by the meaty thud of steel against flesh; the squatter reeled and staggered back as fresh drops of crimson spattered against the muddy ground.

 
  Std: MBA hits Squatter AF14 for 16 damage.
  Move: None.
  Minor: None.
 

Despite his gusto, this just isn't Gethin's fight.  Maybe it's sucking mud beneath, or the blinding rain above, but a third blow is easily parried.

He takes it all philosophically, though.  At least he's keeping them busy.


STANDARD:  Virtuous Strike vs Squall Caller (miss)

Squatter (m) remains Challenged. (7 radiant dmg if att other)

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg #145):

The spirit moves into Gethin's body, giving his strength and speed to strike at the target of his choosing before vanishing once more. The it reappears again-strengthening Brother Zellias.

(OOC-Standard action-Using spirit Infusion on Gethin. Giving him a free basic melee attack, with +2 to hit and +4 on damage. Spirit vanishes.

Minor action-Spirit appears by Brother Zellias. Brother Zellias gets 4 temp HP. Spirit is in Space AA 20, giving +2 on saves to any ally nearby.)

A foreign intelligence snaps Gethin's eyes to a weakness he hadn't seen before: the man holds his mace too high, leaving his left thigh unprotected.  The mace can't possibly reach there to parry before the longsword can reach there to strike.

Gethin lunges with a mighty effort, and this time draws blood.

FREE MBA hits for 14 dmg

11:16, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 30,14 using d20+15,d8+9. free MBA vs SqCall (CA, +2 att, +4 dmg).

A storm cloud blots out the sky, blackening it nearly beyond black, and less than nothing can be seen. A sharp cry is heard, followed by two more.  The first comes from Gethin as a flail clouts him (16 dmg), joining his spittle to the downpour. Then, gloom replaces oblivion, restoring perception. Lyriel stands erect, gripping in her hand a shock of black hair that is attached to a head acutely at odds with its stem. Across the grove, Brother Zelias likewise stands erect, his fingers tasting liver and kidney, the vital organs hot on his digits.

The battle is over.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  41/61   12/12   1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8*   0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  39/56    6/9    0/3
Gethin        10  25 18  17  19  43/61   11/13*  1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  31/52    9/9    1/3   Healing Spirit**
Misty Serpent  4

This message was last edited by the GM at 22:12, Sat 20 Aug 2011.

Ravex licks his scaly lips and sheathes his weapon. Though a small amount of confusion is evident on his face, habit takes over, and he begins to search their defeated enemies.

He yawns several times, and scratches at a particularly itchy slaad maggot... but says nothing otherwise.

Spend 1 Surge

Dawnstone still sits on the roof, only to have his spirit appear besides him and carry him down the side of the building safely. He looks to the others if they are ok, but he gently touches the cracks in his own crystal hide.

(OOC-Using assistance of the strong spirit power to take him down to ground level safely. Then resting and spending one healing surge.)

  Lyriel spends one surge, bringing her to 53/56.

  Lyriel lets fall the body and stands in place for a few moments, breathing hard as she takes in the rain-soaked aftermath of the battle. "Anyone hurt?" she called out as she retrieved her bow and started cleaning the muck and gore from her weapons; no one seemed to be seriously injured, but she wasn't taking anything for granted.

Gethin looks around for a clean patch of grass to wipe his sword, but there's nothing but muck and slush.  He has to settle for the filthy cloaks of the fallen.

"Well fought, friends.  I am not badly wounded, but a little healing power would help."

Gethin stands under the eaves of a nearby house, leaning against the wall to stay out of the rain.

"Shall we investigate the ash grove again, since it is near here that these cultists attacked us?  Then we can continue on our way."

One surge would put Gethin at 58/61, so if Dawnstone has a Healing Spirit that is not needed elsewhere, he could likely top off.

We were headed to #6 then #5 on the map, as I recall.  Worth another look in the Ash Grove at #4?

After that we continue our way north -- #10, the mayor's house; then #12, the town hall.

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg #152):

(OOC-each use of the healing spirit I use, costs you a healing surge which can only be recovered via extended rest. If you are only down a few HP, I can give out some temp HP, but it would be a waste of your surges to heal you just a few points.)

Zellias shakes the foul matter from his hands, using a nearby puddle to get most of the remnants off. He nods at the suggestion to check the grove again, though he's distracted by the foul things coursing through his being.

"I am wondering if we might find a shop that sells medicines," he says.

  "If you think there's something there, we'll look," Lyriel conceded, hefting her blade as she warily approached the wooded copse ahead. She hadn't had cause to lounge about what passed for Ashenport's public park whilst awaiting the opening of the trade fair, nor had she been aware of anything unusual about it... but with everything else about the town turning out to be connected to some dark secret, why not the park as well?

 
  Perception 21: What do we have here?

  Lyriel can use the extra healing. Now back to full (56/56).
 
This message was last edited by the player at 03:01, Fri 19 Aug 2011.

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg #152):

Before we move on...Gethin is correct. We need to be ready. his mental voice says. He bangs his staff, and the spirit appears once more to heal Gethin, and soothe the wounds of one other.

(OOC-using healing spirit on gethin and healing somebody else 1d6, you guys pick who. After short rest to get power back, will give everybody 4 temp hp)

Having already turned over the squatter's flophouse, you don't expect your riffling to turn up anything on their persons beyond a few strips of fish jerky, bits of seaweed, and a scattering of sea glass. You're not disappointed.  The grove has nothing new to disgorge as well, so you marshal yourselves to investigate the ediface on the far side of the ash trees.  Brother Zelias wonders if he might have been wise to buy a few bottles of Dr. Murk Eye's Eelness Begone Elixir earlier.

This squat building is made of a dull, filthy stone. Only a single heavy door provides ingress, and all the windows boast rusty iron bars. Although it has largely faded, blurred by many years and the overpowering scents of ocean, rain, and fish, the tang of human misery still clings to the small structure.

With some strain, you force the door open and the sludgy water follows you inside to the jailhouse--although jailhouse may be too grandiose a term for one room with a bank of four cells, the keys to which may well still be in the desk.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         27  24 21  18  16  56/61   11/12   1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Zellias       20  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel        10  23 21  18  16  56/56    5/9    0/3
Gethin        10  25 18  17  19  58/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended
DawnStone      4  21 22  21  22  44/52    8/9    1/3   HS
Misty Serpent  4

This message was last edited by the GM at 22:35, Sat 20 Aug 2011.

  "I wonder..."

  Lyriel rifled through the desk drawers, searching not only for keys, but for any records that might shed light on the situation in town.

While Lyriel fishes out keys, Gethin looks through the bars into the cells.

Lyriel spills the essentials of jailhouse duty onto the top of the desk: an oily deck of playing cards with nets, traps, hooks, and harpoons for suits, a truncheon with flaky rust stains, a nearly empty bottle of whiskey, and a set of four keys.

A bottom drawyer contains confiscations, including a pearl brooch with a cameo of a young man and woman on a sailboat. The woman, her brown curls restrained by yellow ribbons, looks to be lost in love as does the man. It also has a hymnal for Melora, a letter, and a set of architectural sketches.

The tannery had been a surprise, but with each step towards the bars, Gethin knows that looking through them is not a good idea.  Peering through the first set, he surveys a bare cell with back and side walls both covered with an intricate spiderweb of scrawls. That's not what ne notices, though. It's his first inhalation after placing his head between the bars.

Not the smell of dust, or urine, or human sweat. No, none of that.

The reek of the sea.

  Lyriel scans the letter, the hymnal, and the sketches.

 
  What is the letter about?
  Has the hymnal been defaced or modified?
  Do the sketches seem to be of any of the buildings in town, or otherwise significant?
 
This message was last edited by the player at 22:40, Sun 21 Aug 2011.

"Hey, Quinn--" Gethin begins, and then falls silent and melancholy.

He clears his throat.

"There are some markings of some kind on the back of this cell.  Hand me those keys, and let's see if we can figure them out."

Ravex pats Gethin on the back as he stands silently next to him. He looks expectantly at Lyriel and Dawnstone, not sure which to ask about the writing, either.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:30, Sun 21 Aug 2011.

In reply to Ravex (msg #163):

Dawnstone peers at the writing, as well at the drawings. Hmmm-I think I read something about this in my studies of the regions. Not to mention my research of  the sea itself...

(OOC-Rolling Relgion 19:36, Today: DawnStone rolled 23 using 1d20+12. However, it could also be my nature roll-which is the same, as well as my dugenoneering. Whichever seems more approaerit to the DM)

With a raspy scratch, the first cell door unlocks and Gethin and DawnStone enter to decypher the wall-covering script. It doesn't take long. One word repeated over and over again, overlay upon overlay.

Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn. Evelyn.

The letters are crudely rendered and frequently flecked with red.  You observe twisted, whitish crescents on the floor near the engravings.

Meanwhile, Lyriel can detect no trace of damage to the hymnal, the contents of which stress that each aspect of nature is special in its own way; the taiga is no more special than the underground lake and so on.  It's not very convincing because everybody knows nothing is better than a subterranean lake, jet black current running through caverns and tunnels without end.

The sketches are indeed of buildings in town, including some you've already visited: the inn, the millery, and the very one you're in right now.  One you don't recognize, though.  This one is of an altar, so black it almost blots out the entire page. This one has a note as well: Ah, to glimpse the mysteries of myself! Where I have been and Where I will return! C'la!

He skims the letter which is addressed to one Mr. Martin Cavander, Esquire (and Dearest Son):

...As you know, Martin, the thought of your visit in two month's time dispels the gloom from the endless night of this old woman's remaining days...Teas and lemon-seed cakes, you still enjoy those, don't you?...You'll love the garden, so ever many flowers ready to bloom for your stay...Perhaps, you'd like to meet the mayor's daughter, Janie? Now, a small-town mayor's daughter would never be important enough for a merchant captain such as yourself, but wait till you see her curls...I trust you'll stop in Ashenport on your way for the trade fair...You're gonna ride the night current; you know that, don't you? All of you.

  Lyriel set the other papers aside and held out the sketch of the altar for everyone to examine. "Can anyone identify that?"

The usually serene monk seems fidgety and aggravated, to say the least, by the things tormenting him from within. When Lyriel offers up the sketch of the altar, though, he manages to concentrate on it for a moment. It is evocative of something he has seen before ... or perhaps merely something he read about it in a strange and disturbing story.

Religion, History or whatever: 20

09:49, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 20 using 1d20+3. Int related skill check.

In reply to Lyriel (msg #166):

Dawnstone peered at the drawing. He called upon the spirits for any possible information they might know. Checking he thought of the human minds he had peered into may take some work indeed...

(OOC-Religion roll with speak with spirits bonus.

10:06, Today: DawnStone rolled 33 using 1d20+16.)

It's clearly the altar of a malevolent deity; more, you can't tell.

Gethin's knowledge of religious practices is fairly good.  It was the only study he showed any aptitude for, much to the chagrin of the good Brothers who raised him.  He is impressed by Dawnstone's evident knowledge of even the schisms in minor branches of the same cult -- does one wear the miter straight up and down in honor or moral rigidity, or titled five degrees back so as not to offend the sky gods by pointing rudely up at them -- that sort of thing.

So he doesn't try to add his own knowledge to the crystal-man's study of the altar.  He simply nods.

"Is that letter signed, 'Evelyn'?" he wonders aloud, just guessing, really.

Using the keys, he checks the remaining cells, moving down the line.

  No signature was mentioned?

  "If 'You're gonna ride the night current,' counts as a signature, then yes," Lyriel replied as she gathered the papers together on the desk. While Gethin and Dawnstone surveyed the rest of the cells, she studied the pin - one part of the image matched one part of the letter; if it had an inscription to clinch the association...

Dawnstone looks at the papers. It seems a even better reason to check the temple now. Is it possible this Dagon had a cult here older than the settlement of the town itself? Perhaps a hidden alter to a dark god? He sent. Of course, that is just a guess, but they could have concealed the thing-hiding it in plain sight among the other temple...

Gethin's right. The details can tell.  The architectural sketch captures the effect of masterly beviling, creating the illusion of waves upon a black ocean.  This must be the altar to some fell sea god. But you already knew that, didn't you?

Three more cells, three more stories, and Gethin means to hear them all.

The cell next to love's end (would any sane man etch the name of his mother with his fingernails? No, he must have owned the cameo.) is identically bare save for one feature.  On the cell wall, a stranded son pasted stringy strips of brown together to spell, "I'm sorry, mother."  Flecks of red and white still show where scalp and hair met.

Gethin holds his breath and unlocks the bars for a closer look.  It doesn't help.  He wheezes. His breastplate squeezes his chest, compacting his lungs! No breath, no expansion. He falls backward in horror, falls to the floor and gobbles great inhalations of fetid jailhouse air.

The third and fourth cells sill beckon.

Lyriel studies the cameo for engravings but finds none.

A man of faith, Gethin doesn't balk at the final two cells.  He can't be bucked so easily.  He's here for a reason and cowering in the lock-up house isn't it.

To get a right and proper look at the third cell, he unlocks the door, strides within, and plants himself in the middle.  This must have been the priest's cell, for clotted upon the walls are some rhymes:

"I see with my lttle murky eye,
five wet, wet things
fishy fish fishy beings
Dagon craves fresh fish--C'lie! C'lie!"

Then, Gethin vomits copiously, spattering wall, ceiling, and floor with his spew, chunks of white haddock first adhering and then slipping to the floor.  Some pinkish nodules catch the clotting and stick there.  One of you rushes in to remove him from the cell just resisting the stomach-emptying vertigo.

Befouled without but steeled within, Gethin enters the last one. The last cell has, like the others, just one calling card.  Sitting on a wooden table and underneath a glass case is a perfect replica of The Ashenport Carriage, a replica in bone.  Finger bones, bird bones, fish bones? Small bones broken and whole.  According to the logic of the four cells, each prisoner supplied his own materials. But if that's the case here, how could he have ... after he had ... ?

So cold, Gethin mutters, shaking as he withdraws, his snot already freezing.  Perhaps, there is a better place to go.

  Lyriel frowns at their latest discoveries, but she doesn't dwell on them. She heads outside into the rain, calling back to the rest. "Mayor's house. No more side trips."

In reply to Lyriel (msg #175):

Dawnstone nods. Very well...but at some point I will need to search the temple for rituals. We need the one that allows water breathing for a group. Otherwise we will not be able to chase down our foe. He has killed so many innocents, and must be made to pay. He proceeds to follow the wolf-woman.

Gethin steadies himself on the desk and rinses out the salt-water-and-vomit taste with a mouthful from his waterskin.

"These are puzzles I do not understand.  But clearly something drove these prisoners mad."

"These are not side trips," he says solemnly.  "We have a duty to the dead to bring the dark deeds that killed them into the light.  Besides, we may yet find something to help us in our struggle."

"But I am ready to go the Mayor's house next."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:15, Tue 30 Aug 2011.

Lyriel informs you that the mayor (or alderman in this town) has his fine house just beyond townhall:

The townhall, a large stone building, one of the tallest in Ashenport, can only be the seat of government. Most of its windows are dark, but lantern light shines through a few, forming peeping eyes in the building’s façade and suggests that business continues even in this weather.

A structure nearly as tall as the town hall, though not nearly so broad, boasts several peaked roofs and a number of gleaming windows. The entire property is surrounded by a wrought-iron fence.

You don't, as of yet, hear any wild barking but maybe you have to scale the fence first.

OOC Gethin loses one surge due to his ordeal in the jailhouse.

Brooding and increasingly ill, Zellias follows the others to the mayor's residence.

Ravex, in much the same mood as Zellias, keeps his maw shut and his weapon drawn.

Sleep, glorious sleep. Someday... maybe.

  Keeping one wary eye on the town hall as they circled around it, Lyriel led the way to the gates of the mayor's house and swung them open, then proceeded up the path to the front door. They were sure to make more unwelcome discoveries; the only question now was what those would be.

You've been in Ashenport too long to naively believe the saying about any port in a storm. And yet.  A few late morning crumpets, a spot of tea, and a cozy parlour, might they await you in the mayor's manse?  With this fanciful hope, you open the gate and splash your way through a twisting path, the barren limbs of forgotten trees arching overhead, to the front porch.

The rain continues unabated but an eerie silence predominates. The lights that you noticed earlier now appear to emanate from behind the left side of the house; otherwise, the place seems totally abandoned.

You study the front door. It has an elaborately carved knocker with just enough tentacles to pass for a squid and a bell-pull on the side.

  "Direct approach first," Lyriel stated as she tugged on the bell pull and gave the knocker three solid raps for good measure. If that failed to produce a response... well, there were other measures that could gain them entry.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:49, Sun 04 Sept 2011.

Ravex clears his throat and checks his gear. Satisfied that everything other than himself is in top order, the dragonborn nods.

"Sooner we kill whatever it is that's doing whatever. Sooner we get some sleep." He says, quietly nudging Zellias.

Hmmmm...the crystal man thinks. That is not a promising sign. He sends out mentally to his friends.

Lyriel yanks the bell-pull and flaps the knocker three times, her fingers not quite sure which tentacles to grab.  Deep within the bowels of the house arises a tinking sound and the lights on the side of the house wink out.

A few moments pass, made only longer by the rain, darkness, and gloom.

Then, the door handle turns and the door opens. Standing in the doorway is a man who must have been hoary-haired before the Master himself had been born.

"Yes," he states, laconicly. His intonation is such that can't tell whether it's a question, affirmative, or an exclamation.

"We're coming inside to investigate," Gethin asserts forcefully as he sticks a steel boot in the door so the butler can't shut it.

"Now if you'll excuse us, sir..."  He pushes past the butler if necessary.

Intimidate = 22
This message was last edited by the player at 17:46, Sun 04 Sept 2011.

  Lyriel was no good at fast-talking and she knew it. With Gethin forcing the matter (in two senses of the word), she silently followed him inside, keeping a wary eye on the butler.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:45, Sun 04 Sept 2011.

"Sir," the butler replies icily, "You have neglected to wipe the leavings of your last bacchanalia from your doublet." It's true: some pinkish globules clot the area between neck and chest, not that any of the others look much better.

The butler squares himself to Gethin, blocking the path to the reception hall.

"You can't expect to present yourselves to the Master as you are," he adds with all due condescension.

  Is there anyone in the reception hall behind him, or anything odd about it?

  "He's in, then? We've got leavings of fish-men, thugs, and cultists to 'discuss' with him, nevermind the rest."

  What other rooms/doors/hallways/stairs/etc are nearby?
This message was last edited by the player at 03:50, Mon 05 Sept 2011.

Beyond the butler and through the vestibule lies the reception hall, a long room with generous seating accomodations and paintings hanging along the wall. It appears to be unoccupied.

"It's not for the likes of street scum such as yourself to know the Master's whereabouts," the doorkeeper declares. "Leave at once before I release the bitches."

Gethin's color turns an angry pink that matches the clotted globs stuck in his creases.

"Your 'Master' has a great deal of explaining to do, and if he comes out of our meeting with no greater shock to his sensibilities than the remains of his minions on my armor, then he should count himself a very luck man.  Or fish."

"Now move."

Gethin does not wait for compliance.  He sucker-punches the butler in the gut with a mailed fist.

OOC: Sucker Punch hits AC 19 for 8 nonlethal dmg.
Used unarmed MBA*

11:01, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 19,8 using d20+7,d4+4. MBA Sucker Punch: Bolstering Strike.

* = Dice roller says Bolstering Strike, but that's a mistake.  Only Virtuous Strike can be used as an MBA.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Mon 05 Sept 2011.

Ravex hadn't finished chuckling from the butlers ironic dog comment, when Gethin struck the first blow.

The fighter readied himself, but kept chuckling despite himself.

11:48, Today: Ravex rolled 17 using 1d20+7. Initiative.

 
  Initiative 11.
 

Init = 6

(I guess he's winding up for that punch like a cartoon character: one eye shut for better aim, tongue stuck out one side of his mouth, arm wheeling in impossible circles.)

In reply to Gethin Ballider (msg #192):

Oh dear...the crystal man thought as the blow was struck. Such violence. A shame really. Still, it was better than what Gethin COULD have done to him... He points out.

OOC-Initiative 14:17, Today: DawnStone rolled 12 using 1d20+3.

Gethin knocks him out!

Suckerpunched, the butler crumples to the floor with no more than a soft thud on the thick padding of the vestibule carpet.

Then, the alarm sounds, a "Hehnnnn" that blares three times, loud enough for any guard or bitch on the grounds to hear.

Sure enough a swarthy man rushes through the reception hall entrance. He's wearing chainmail embossed with the sigil of Ashenport, the black squid.  Even in the tight space of the entrance, he has clearing to swing his halberd right for Gethin's neck. Startled, Gethin doesn't react quickly enough and the curved blade crashes into his gorget.  His gorget does not give (Halberdier misses)!

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Halberdier    19
Ravex         17  24 21  18  16  56/61   11/12   1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  44/52    8/9    1/3   HS
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56    5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Butler         6                                       Unconscious
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  58/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended

This message was last edited by the GM at 02:46, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

Ravex raises his shield and focuses on the grounds around him. "Uh... Gethin, we killing, here... or just trying to subdue?"

Delay Action until dogs or other enemy appears.

Gethin's face softens, but only a little, as the butler falls.

"Spare life where you can," Gethin advises as his hand wanders to his sword.  "We did start this fight, after all.  But we have good and sufficient cause.  I believe we've already hit four of the five conditions of Saint Alshield's Just War theory."

"We've got to find this Master and stop him to save what can be saved of this town."

This message was deleted by the player at 04:43, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

This message was deleted by the player at 06:54, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

Red eyes a-gleaming, the dogs of the bitch pack wheel around the southern extremity of the manor house.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Halberdier    19                                       J7
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61   11/12   1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Bitch Pack    16                                       P8
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  44/52    8/9    1/3   HS
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56    5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  50/50    6/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Butler         6                                       Unconscious
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  58/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended


Reminder: all exterior terrain is difficult for non-quadrapeds
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:21, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

Ravex roars his delight as he's finally able to ignore the itching, in favor of a good solid fight!

Charge! Rolled 19 vs AC (add up to 2 tips to make successful, if needed), dealing 11 damage.

The bitch pack is marked

Dragonborn and kennel-bred clash, gnashing canines and slicing khopesh hungry for the one purchase of flesh. One of the bitches leaps for Ravex's throat and two snap at his hamstrings while others circle for an opening. Snarling, the warrior blocks the leaper with his shield and kicks the harriers aside with his steel-plated boots (Both charges miss).

Another pack of bitches races towards Brother Zelias from the northern extremity of the manor.

"The Master's name is Ritter," he says aloud, startled at his own knowledge. He would seem to have known all along. Revelation provides a patry defense: the bitches are upon him! (Charge hits for 13 dmg).

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Halberdier    19                                       J7
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61   11/12   1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16                                       N6, Marked
BP Beta       12                                       H3
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  44/52    8/9    1/3   HS
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56    5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  37/50    6/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Butler         6                                       Unconscious
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  58/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended

This message was last edited by the GM at 20:24, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #204):

Dawnstone summons his burning spirit by Ravex, and then it moves. It going to face the other Pack on  Zellias. He moving out of everybody's way. The spirit striking at the dogs's spirits-but not striking to kill. Even while filling its allies with healthy and energy. Then Dawnstone invokes the healing spirits on the monk.

(OOC-Free action-summons spirit to L4. Gving Ravex 4 temp hp

Move action-Spirit moves to I3, allies adj to spirit get +2 to saves

standard action-Spirit does protectors strike on Beta pack.

01:00, Today: DawnStone rolled 10 using 1d8+6. damage
00:59, Today: DawnStone rolled 22 using 1d20+9. vs will.

If hits, Brother Zelllias, Dawnstone, and Lyriel get 4 temp hp.

Minor action-healing spirits on Brother Zellias. He can spend a healing Surge. Dawnstone heals 1d6 hp

01:09, Today: DawnStone rolled 1 using 1d6.)
This message was last edited by the player at 05:21, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

  "Press!" Lyriel exhorted Gethin, but the arrival of two packs of wild dogs forced a change of plans, and she called out directions with the practiced ease of someone used to command as she turned away from the manor to help deal with the new problem.

 
 
  HP 56+4/56  Sg 6/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16
 
  Minor: Natural Terrain Understanding. Dawnstone, Gethin, Ravex, and Zellias shift 2 squares as a free action and gain a +2 power bonus to AC until Lyriel's EONT.*

  * Zellias to H2 unless he objects, since this will set us up to flank. Everyone else as they see fit.

  Move: Walk NE-NW to H4.

  Std: Sweeping Blow vs Hounds Beta hits AC 25 for 12 damage + vulnerable. This is a Close Burst attack.
 
This message was last edited by the player at 17:21, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

In reply to Lyriel (msg #206):

OOC-Dawnstone shifts to K2

Gethin takes the opportunity afforded by Lyriel to close with the halberdier.  He plants his feet carefully around the elderly butler, trying his best not to further injure the man.

OOC: free shift to (J,6), standing over prone & KO'd Butler

In reply to Lyriel (msg #206):

Ravex shifts around in place. Scratching an itch.

OOC: In H-2 per Lyriel's post to start turn

The monk feels the power of Dawnstone's spirit allies surge through him, helping him shrug off most of the damage done by the dogs. He eyes them for a moment, then crouches and swings his walking stick low, targeting their many legs. It sounds like a child running a stick along a rail fence - wack wack wack - as the stick smashes through the fur-covered limbs, knocking the creatures to the ground. He adds a whack on one particularly nasty-looking canine and focuses his mind, preparing to ward off the next attack better than he did the last.

Standard: Dragon's Tail vs Dogs, Attack 30 vs Fort, Damage 9, dogs knocked prone
Free: Centered Flurry of Blows does another 7 HP damage
Minor: Harmonious Discipline, gain 3 temp HP, on first attack after temp HPs are gone, gain +3 damage on first melee damage roll before end of next turn

13:56, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 9 using 1d6+7. Damage.
13:54, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 30 using 1d20+11. Dragon's Tail vs Dogs.

This message was deleted by the player at 23:08, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

Wimpering, the bitches recoil from the monk's stick, perhaps recalling the selfsame blows their master had delivered not hours earlier when one had piddled too vigorously, dampening his boots (BZ deals 1/2 dmg, Lyrie deals full+5, packed knocked prone).

DawnStone ever attuned to the suffering of his organic comrades restores and soothes (healing/temp hps/etc) even finding time to stove in a dog's skull in between benedictions.

Back in the manor, a voice calls out, "Hans, bar the door!" followed by a arcing halberd that bloodies Gethin (Halbedier's charge hits Gethin for 13 dmg). A second household guard has joined the fray!

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19                                       J7
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20                                N6, Marked, Swarmy, Harry 1
BP Beta       12  23 20      19   -30                  H3, Swarmy, Prone, Harry 1
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  45/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS*
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Halbedier      8                                       J8
Butler         6                                       Unconscious
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  45/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:56, Thu 08 Sept 2011.

Gethin steps inside the halberdier's blade and delivers a sharp pommel-blow to the man's head.

"Stand down, sir!  We do not wish to hurt you, but we will see the Master of this manor."

((Does the halberdier seem normal, or "fishy" -- in any sense of the word?))

start in J,6 from Lyriel's free shift

MINOR: Draw sword
STANDARD: Valorous Smite vs Hans (hit AC 28 for 18 dmg nonlethal & all enemies within 3 -- that's Hans and Hal and Beta Bitch -- marked by Divine Sanction UEoNT.  -2 att other, 7 radiant BURST dmg if they do)
MINOR: Virtue (-1 surge, gain Resist 3 All, gain 15 temp HP)

15:44, Today: Gethin Ballider rolled 28,18 using d20+11,2d8+5. Valorous Smite vs Hal.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:09, Wed 07 Sept 2011.

Arrayed in seaweed, flecked with white gobs, and stained with salt, Gethin squints at the household guard before him for signs of fishiness and finds none. He's just a guard, now dazed by a pommel strike, of the manor somewhat inexplicably armed with a halberd. Judging by the bulge of his stomach, he was probably raiding the chowder pot when he heard the alarm. He misses with a powerful swing.

"Gunther," he responds to the other guard, "Flanke, bitte!"

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19                  -18                  K6, Sanctioned
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20                                N6, Marked, Swarmy, Harry 1
BP Beta       12  23 20      19   -30                  H3, Swarmy, Prone, Harry 1, Sanctioned
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  45/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS*
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gunther        8                                       J8, Sanctioned
Butler         6                                       Unconscious
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  45/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked

This message was last edited by the GM at 18:54, Fri 09 Sept 2011.

Ravex commits himself fully to his fight against the hounds. He shows little compunction against fighting the dogs, and is glad he doesn't have to negotiate in the middle of a fight like Gethin.

Rather than do the sane thing, Ravex drops low and sweeps through the dogs with his khopesh. He then lets loose a gout of flame, for good measure.

Standard: Sweeping blow vs BP Alpha. Rolled 29 vs AC, dealing 10.
Minor: Dragon Breath vs BP Alpha. Rolled 17 vs Reflex, dealing 6 fire damage.

The bitches writhe and howl piteously about Ravex, falling to flame and khopesh alike. Cowed, they snap and growl but press bellies to the ground unwilling to close. Their sister bitches, sanctioned and sequestered, likewise recoil.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19                  -18                  K6, Sanctioned
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -30                 N6, Marked, Swarmy, Harry 1, DB expended
BP Beta       12  23 20  18  19    -30                 H3, Swarmy, Harry 1, Sanctioned
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  45/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS*
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gunther        8                                       J8, Sanctioned
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  45/61   10/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:36, Sat 10 Sept 2011.

  The scent of scorched flesh wafted from the conflagration as Lyriel laid into the pack with her now-flaming blade, punctuating the assault with a vicious stomp that ensured at least one of the beasts would stay down!

 
 
  HP 56+4/56  Sg 6/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16
 
  Std: MBA hits Hounds Beta for 22 fire damage* (counting vulnerable 5, not counting swarm reduction).
  Free: Stone Fist Flurry on Hounds Beta for 12 fire damage* (counting vulnerable, not counting swarm reduction).
  Move: None.
  Minor: None.

  * Lyriel's turn follows Dawnstone's, so she would have the fire damage benefit during her turn.
 
This message was last edited by the player at 21:58, Fri 09 Sept 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #216):

Dawnstone moves forward slightly, and Gethin feels himself heal, and restores Dawnstone slightly as well. The spirit rises up and strikes down at the hound, bursting into flames. The flames flow into Lyriel's weapon and Dawnstone's staff, as well as Brother Zellias' hands and feet. However, the spirit itself vanishes.

(OOC-Move action-Dawnstone moves one space north to J2

Minor action-Dawnstone uses healing spirit on Gethin, who can spend a surge. Dawnstone himself can heal d6 worth of hp.
17:26, Today: DawnStone rolled 3 using 1d6.

Standard-Dawnstone's spirit using Burning Sands.
17:26, Today: DawnStone rolled 10 using 1d8+6. fire Damage (total 5)
17:26, Today: DawnStone rolled 30 using 1d20+11. vs reflex

Beta pack gains fire vulnrability 5 until end of Dawnstone's next turn. In addition, Dawnstone, Lyriel, and Brother Zellias can do fire damage next round with all their attacks until end of next turn.

Spirit vanishes)
This message was last edited by the player at 21:34, Fri 09 Sept 2011.

Zellias feels the surge of fiery spirits around him. He punches and kicks like a burning whirlwind, tracers of flame seeming to follow his every blurred movement. The blows connect, burning the dogs with their cruel heat.

Standard: Five Storms, Attack 19 vs Ref hits for 13 damage, plus 5 for fire vulnerability
Free: Centered Flurry, 7 damage, plus 5 for fire vulnerability

Total Damage 30

18:38, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 13 using 1d8+7. Damage.
18:36, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 19 using 1d20+11. Five Storms v dogs.

The bitches cannot withstand the heroic assault (Beta pack dispatched) of fire, fist, and blade. One, a sloe-eyed husky, suffers more than the rest.  Brother Zelias's fist crushes her backbone and ignites the fur on her hindquarters. Pathetically, she tries to scrabble away from her own anterior, but no matter the exertion of her front legs, it still follows.

Within the vestibule, Gunther and Hans, though inferior fighters, work Gethin into a disadvantageous position with Gunther risking the paladin's holy blade (OA offered) as the price.  Gunther slams the shaft of his halberd into the trespasser's legs (14-3=11 dmg and knocked prone), tumbling Gethin to the ground.

"Gut, das gut," Hans grunts in approval.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19                  -18                  K6, Sanctioned
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -30                 N6, Marked, Swarmy, Harry 1
BP Beta       12  23 20  18  19    -85                 Dead
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS**
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gunther        8                                       I6, Sanctioned
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  48/61    9/13   1/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked by Gunther, Resist 3 All, Prone

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:44, Sat 10 Sept 2011.

Gethin lunges for Hans -- or is it Gunter -- as the man moves, but doing so lets his guard down, and next thing he knows he's on his back.  He pushes back to his feet and brings a blow past the halberdier's defenses, but he doubts it had the power to bite through his armor.


(out of turn OA rolled 15 vs AC for 10 dmg)

MOVE: Stand
STANDARD: Bolstering Strike vs Gunter (rolled 17 vs AC for 7 dmg)  [If 1 Tip will make this a hit, spend 1 Tip.]
MINOR: Divine Challenge Hans (-2 attack other, 7 radiant dmg)
This message was last edited by the player at 12:19, Sat 10 Sept 2011.

"Zher gut," exclaims one of the guards, most likely Hans whose halberd blooded Gethin in between his shoulder and neck (11 dmg). Less enthusiastic is  Gunther who grunts at the impact of Gethin's mailed fist (7 dmg, -1 tip).

No more guards or bitches arrives. Looks like this is all there is.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19  18               -18                 K6, Sanctioned
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -30                 N6, Marked, Swarmy, Harry 1
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS**
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gunther        8  18                -7                 I6, Sanctioned
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  37/61    9/13   1/2   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked by Gunther

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.

Reminder: all exterior terrain is difficult for non-quadrapeds
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:57, Sat 10 Sept 2011.

Ravex continues his assault against the dogs, keeping them at bay and distracted while his allies deal with the guards. "Here poochy!" He taunts at one, as is Khopesh carves into it.

Gnolls or dogs, or little ice demons... It didn't matter. They all learned not to mess with a dragonborn, in the end.

Standard: Covering Attack vs BP Alpha. Rolled 23 to hit AC, dealing 13 damage.

BP Alpha remains marked.

Ravex, the fleet-footed gnoll killer, calms another beating heart.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19  18               -18                 K6, Sanctioned
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -36                 N6, Marked, Swarmy, Harry 1
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS**
Lyriel        11  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 5/9    0/3
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gunther        8  18                -7                 I6, Sanctioned
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  37/61    9/13   1/2   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked by Gunther

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:08, Sun 11 Sept 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #224):

The spirit appears again., this time next to gethin. It enters his body, empowering him. Making his skin like stone and causing a storm of wind about him.

(ooc-free action. Spirit appears in j7. Gethin gets 4 temp hp.

Standard action-Grantie armor. Gethin gets resist all 6 until end of Dawnstones next turn. Close burst 1 around Gethin on two guards.

21:11, Today: DawnStone rolled 14 using 2d6+6. Damage
21:11, Today: DawnStone rolled 24 using 1d20+8. Vs fort
21:11, Today: DawnStone rolled 16 using 1d20+8. Vs fort

Spirit vanishes.)
This message was last edited by the player at 01:15, Sun 11 Sept 2011.

Zellias darts into the doorway, seeing that Gethin has taken some hard shots from the guards. He lurches and for a second appears on the verge of collapse, but then he sticks his walking stick between one of the guard's legs and twists it roughly. He lurches back into the room and tries to swing at Zellias or Gethin, but only ends up targeting his co-worker. Zellias takes advantage of the confusion to drive the heel of his palm into an exposed area on Hans.

Move: Using Drunken Monkey movement technique, speed +2, go to J-5
Standard: Drunken Monkey attack v Gunther, Attack 28 vs Will, Damage 7, slide Gunther to J-7, he makes a melee basic attack against Hans
Free: Centered Flurry v Hans, 7 damage

22:14, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 8 using 1d8+7. Damage.
22:13, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 12 using 1d8+7. Damage.

 
  After Zellias...
 
  The company pressed the advantage, Zellias and Gethin moving deeper into the meeting hall as Lyriel rushed the guard who still stood by the doorway. This was hardly a regular unit, but they still understood enough of tactics and she of their methods to direct the flow of the battle to their advantage.

 
  Move: Noble Presence. Zellias and Gethin gain a +2 bonus to all defenses until Lyriel's EONT and can shift two squares as a free action.*
  Minor: Berserker's Charge.
  Std: Charge S-SE to J5 hits Hans for 30 damage**.

  * The rest of this post assumes that Hans is still up and that Zellias moves further inside (or outside) so that the doorway is clear.

  ** Lyriel disables rather than killing the guards if she reduces either to 0 HP.
 

Zellias will use the shift to move to I-6

Hans dies messily, neck half-cleaved by Gunther's misdirected halberd, noisily choking on his own blood.

His eyes ask, "Aber, Gunther, Aber?"

Gunther has no time to answer before Lyriel floors him with a forearm.  He crumples to the carpet.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Hans          19  18               -49                 Dead
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -36
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS**
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel         9  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 6/9    0/3
Gunther        8  18                                   Unconscious
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  37/61(4) 9/13   1/2   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked by Gunther, Resist 6

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:07, Mon 12 Sept 2011.

Gethin's face is sad but grim as Hans goes down.  In the thick of combat, these things happen.  If you play with blades, somebody is likely to get cut.

Nonetheless, though it is likely a lost cause, Gethin reacts as quickly as he can to try to save the guardsman.  He sheathes his weapon, throws down his shield and gauntlets, and grabs the man's neck, trying to staunch the copious bleeding.

MINOR: sheath longsword
MOVE: unequip heavy shield
STANDARD: Heal check to stabilize Hans, if possible: result = 17
This message was last edited by the player at 20:31, Sun 11 Sept 2011.

Ravex keeps up his assault against the dogs, though he is less effective this time.

He still manages a few nicks and cuts... but decides to move aside to give his allies the space they need to help out.

Clearly the maggots had him off his game.

Standard: Reaping Strike vs. Bitches. Missed. Automatically deal 2 damage.
Move: Pass Forward to N5

The Bitches remain marked.

For the first time, Ravex's blade is less than lethal, only scoring the chest of one of the few remaining uncowed bitches as it leapt for his own.

Gethin can't be blamed for trying.  Certainly, in the confusion of blows, he couldn't have grapsed the severity of Hans's injury. Grasping Hans in his own hands now, he verily does. He can't be saved any more than a felled tree can be made to stand upright.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  56/61(4) 11/12  1/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -65                 Bloodied
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS**
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel         9  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 6/9    0/3
Gunther        8  18                                   Unconscious
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  37/61(4) 9/13   1/2   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Marked by Gunther, Resist 6

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.


Reminder: all exterior terrain is difficult for non-quadrapeds
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:53, Tue 13 Sept 2011.

 
  Since I can't see the map for whatever reason...

  Minor: None.
  Move: Out of the house.
  Std: Charge the hounds. Hits AC 29 for 21 damage.
 
  HP 56+4/56  Sg 6/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16
 
 

In reply to Autarch (msg #232):

Dawnstone's spirit appears behind Ravex, leaps into his body, and has him strike again with force and accuracy...

(OOC-Free action-spirit appears in space behind Ravex. If Hounds have caused his Temp HP to be used up, he gets another 4.

Standard action-spirit infusion. Ravex gets a basic Melee attack with +2 to hit and +4 on damage.

Spirit Vanishes.)

Disturbed by the sudden presence of the spirit. Ravex swings at the air and curses. "What the hells was that?!"

Missed melee basic attack.

Brother Zellias zooms back out the door to confront the rest of the dogs.

"Get out of here!" he barks at the canines as he punches and kicks at them, wacking away with his walking stick, in a blur of focused energy and violence.

Move: To M-6
Standard: Five Storms vs Dogs, Attack 17 vs Ref, spend a tip to make it a hit, Damage 10
Free: Centered Flurry, 7 HP damage before any resistance

19:27, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 10 using 1d8+7. Damage.
19:27, Today: Brother Zellias rolled 17 using 1d20+11. Five Storms v more dogs.

With the disturbing spiritual interruption behind him, Ravex redoubles his efforts to slap the bitches down. Smack the ho's.

Every dog has its day, and this just wasn't theirs.

Standard: Reaping Strike vs Bitches AC. Rolled 22 (+1 tip for 23), dealing 11 damage.
Free: Activate Takedown Strike. +4 damage, and the dogs are knocked prone.

Bloody to the elbows, Gethin wipes his hands on Hans' cloak and rises.  "Rest in peace, young soldier.  May Pelor's light guide your path through the shadowlands."

He re-arms himself.  From the yelping and whimpering and thumping noises, it is clear that Ravex and Zellias have the dogs well in hand.  Now to find the master of the house.

MOVE: equip shield
MINOR: draw sword
MOVE: to J,10 if door is open; to J,8 if it is closed

Just one bitch attacks after Ravex hacks and hews, the rest too maimed and mangled to fight. The heavy rain almost drowns out the sounds of their pitiful whimpering.  This last dog ducks below the fighter's blade and clamps her jaws to his ankle (12 dmg), the sheer concussive force jarring the dragon-man.

Gethin disengages himself from Hans's arterial hemorrhaging to call upon Master Ritter...

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  48/61    11/12  1/1   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
BP Alpha      16  23 20  18  19    -72                 Bloodied
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52(4) 8/9    1/3   HS**
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50(4) 5/8    0/3   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel         9  23 21  18  16  56/56(4) 6/9    0/3
Gunther        8  18                                   Unconscious
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  37/61(4) 9/13   1/2   LoH, no dailies, WD expended

Harry 1: While an enemy grants combat advantage to the pack of hounds, any enemy that starts its turn within the aura is slowed until the end of its turn.


Reminder: all exterior terrain is difficult for non-quadrapeds

In reply to Autarch (msg #239):

Once again, Dawnstone's spirit appears behind Ravex, leaps into his body, and has him strike again with force and accuracy...

(OOC-Free action-spirit appears in space behind Ravex. If Hounds have caused his Temp HP to be used up, he gets another 4.

Standard action-spirit infusion. Ravex gets a basic Melee attack with +2 to hit and +4 on damage.

Spirit Vanishes.)

Ravex is a little more prepared this time, as the spirit leaps into him. He lashes out at the remaining bitch with some success, though the look on his face is one of consternation. "Damn living rocks... tossing magic..." He grumbles.

Basic Attack: Rolled 28 vs AC, dealing 12 damage.

  Lyriel pounds back outside and around the corner of the manor, rushing to Ravex's aid...

 
  Minor: None.
  Move: None.
  Std: Charge to M5 hits Hounds Alpha for 20 damage.
 
  HP 56+4/56  Sg 6/9
  AC23 F21 R18 W16
 
 
This message was last edited by the player at 13:06, Fri 16 Sept 2011.

With Lyriel silencing the last of the curs, everyone tenses, ears alert to the faintest hint of hooves, hooves rushing the constable's coach to the manor house.  Unwilling to move for fear of alerting someone somewhere to the manor house horror, everyone waits, measuring their own heartbeats, those with hearts.

Nothing.

The rain continues to fall, thick sheets carpetting the yard. Black clouds still blot the sky. Winds still whips through the trees, wresting the last of the leaves from the now barren branches.

Within the vestibule, Gethin steps away from the guards, both the unconscious and the semi-truncated one, and through the reception hall doors. Intricately decorated with scenes of the sea, the doors close softly behind the paladin though he did not bid them do so.

The reception hall has all of the amenities that the jail house lacked and none of the haunts.  A bevilled glass table offers a full, blessed be, bottle of whiskey, set along side glasses. Several deep-backed chairs provide plush reception to any gentleman's derriere.  Next to a blazing fire, a sealskin-lined rug beckons.

On the walls are hung a number of paintings, three of which even seem remotely interesting.

There are any number of exits in the room leading who knows where.

In the middle of the room, Gethin stands, dripping blood, mucous, and sticky strands of kelp, his sloshy bootprints betraying his path, presence, and business.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Ravex         16  24 21  18  16  48/61    11/12  2/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
DawnStone     12  21 22  21  22  48/52    8/9    2/4   HS**
Zellias        9  23 19  22  20  49/50    5/8    1/4   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel         9  23 21  18  16  56/56    6/9    1/4
Gunther        8  18                                   Unconscious
Butler         6                                       Unconscious, Indignant
Gethin         6  25 18  17  19  37/61(4) 9/13   2/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended

In reply to Autarch (msg #243):

Dawnstone moves inside the house. Before we go on, we must rest for a short time. Whatever awaits us, no doubt something more dangerous is waiting for us. Perhaps a secret door? He offered mentally.

(OOC-Short rest for everybody)
This message was last edited by the player at 13:01, Sat 17 Sept 2011.

  "They'll run off if we sit around," Lyriel objected. She meant to at least check on the rest of the manor itself before taking a breather, though if there were secret doors leading down into dungeons she would concede to waiting a few moments for everyone to make ready before plumbing the depths.

  South door if Gethin is taking the east one.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:44, Sat 17 Sept 2011.

"No rest yet.  We need to find this Master."

Gethin takes the scene in a glance.  Curiosity piques, but business comes first.

He retrieves a sunrod from his pack and activates it.  Then he moves to the east door, opens it, and looks within.

Ravex enters the building and shakes himself off. While the others look around, the fighter busies himself by guarding their unconscious enemies and resting... and itching at his maggots.

Spend 1 healing surge. Full Health

Gethin takes one door; Lyriel takes another. Both rush through their respective doors.  And smash right into each other.

"Wha..?"

"Didn't you..?"

They both did, they concur. And yet here they are with fresh bruises and stains in a room all blue--blue carpetting, blue drapes (curious for an interior room), and blue panelling.  And more than a few doors.  Realization dawns quickly.  They might find many things in this manor; indeed, many things might find them, but the Master was not wont to be one of them.

Cautiously, they return by way of Gethin's door, certain of a reception hall welcome. No. The next room appears to be some kind of forgotten larder: links of black sausages, wheels of hard cheddar, and bags of potatoes.  Dust and sprouts render the provender unappetising. This room at least only has three exits.

Again, Gethin and Lyriel take one of them, wanting really nothing more than a return to the reception room. No. The third new room looks like a fisherman's shack albeit set in town manorhouse. One wall houses rows and rows of hooks of devilish design and dimensions, several still glistening with the traces of their last catch. Another has an array of nets, some seaweed-strewn and others, obscured, still with their wriggling catches. One look passes between the paladin and the slayer and they take any door, any door out of that room.

Then the call comes and they follow.  They take a door they hadn't noticed before, one with elaborately detailed scenes of the undersea.  They know where it leads.

OOC Gethin and Lyriel have exited the house at O,10. Other players may choose their starting positions respective of their last activity.

  Initiative 22.

Ravex was far too enamored with a maggot that he'd cornered between two scales on his arm to react as quickly as usual.

Initiative 8
This message was last edited by the player at 01:54, Mon 19 Sept 2011.

In reply to Autarch (msg #248):

21:49, Today: DawnStone rolled 21 using 1d20+3. Iniative.

It's not for mere flesh folk to resist the call, Brother Zelias propounds. Weak vessels meant to sink beneath the waves. Never to know the true existence beyond this pale eidolon of reality.

No, the monk answers. The call is not for me.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Zellias       26  23 19  22  20  49/50    5/8    1/4   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel        22  23 21  18  16  56/56    6/9    1/4
DawnStone     21  21 22  21  22  48/52    8/9    2/4   HS
Ravex          8  24 21  18  16  61/61    10/12  2/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gethin         4  25 18  17  19  37/61    9/13   2/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended

Brother Zellias zips out the door, hoping to intercede with Lyriel and Gethin.

Move to L-4 (Speed +2 Dancing Cobra movement technique)

 
  Move: Walk to M5. If Zellias has a readied attack, it would go off now.
  Move: Walk to J0. Otherwise.
 

In reply to Autarch (msg #252):

Dawnstone sees the effects of the call once more. However, this time he was ready. His spirit compainion appears next to Lyriel and lightly strikes her, even as it renews her strength...

(OOC-Placing spirit companion in space J1. Lyriel gets 4 temp hp.

Standard action-Protector's strike.

16:47, Today: DawnStone rolled 19 using 1d20+9. vs will.

Does 1 hp damage. Comes off temp hp.

Should give saving throw vs effect, as before. Any ally standing next to spirit companion gets +2 on all saves.)

  The shove sent Lyriel staggering, but it also snapped her out of the briny reverie...

  Save succeeded (22).

With exquisite control, DawnStone reminds Lyriel to mind the riptide.

PC          Init  AC  F   R   W   HP     Surges  AP/T  Notes
Zellias       26  23 19  22  20  49/50    5/8    1/4   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Lyriel        22  23 21  18  16  56/56(3) 6/9    1/4
DawnStone     21  21 22  21  22  48/52    8/9    2/4   HS
Ravex          8  24 21  18  16  61/61    10/12  2/2   Host Body (-2 will), no dailies
Gethin         4  25 18  17  19  37/61    9/13   2/3   LoH, no dailies, WD expended, Called

Gethin trudges wherever the water god wills, for a few moments at least.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:48, Wed 21 Sept 2011.

Ravex wanders out of the estate in time to see his good buddy shambling in zombie-mode. Without hesitating, the dragonborn charges and attempts to knock some sense back into him.

Move and charge + bull rush Gethin. Rolled 24 vs Fortitude

  Lyriel caught herself and shook her head as if to clear it, then blinked as she looked around, weapon at the ready. When no foes appeared to take advantage of the situation, she whirled to face the south, and a specific building that was now hidden from sight behind others. "We need to get back to the inn, quickly. The others should have barricaded the place, but that may not hold long enough to keep them all inside."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:43, Thu 22 Sept 2011.