Auriel gestured to the eastern passageway, but made no motion to move, lest the clanking of plate armor give away their position. "Any way you can tell us what we're dealing with, Carn?"

In reply to Auriel (msg # 29):

"Serpentsworn," he rasps. "But I can confirm that, sure."

Carnaue slips away to the east.

He returns rather quickly.

"They are incense bearers, doing what appears to be a regular sweep in accordance to their traditions. I do not know if they will reach the lobby or double back."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:31, Fri 30 Oct 2015.

In reply to DM (msg # 30):

Keef begins to move his hands in small circles and chant quielty.

/OOC unless interrupted.

There.  Now I'll know if they come into this room behind us.

[Private to DM: /OOC:  Cast Alarm in center of room.  Mental ping]

In reply to Keef (msg # 31):

~~ Disposition ~~

The P.A.R.T.Y. finds itself standing in the cathedral's ornate lobby, faced with several options on where to go next.

To the EAST: A long hallway stretches dozens of feet before turning a corner to the north. Footsteps and voices echo from this direction, which Carnaue has said belong to a group of acolytes bearing incense. There is no door at this exit from the lobby.

To the WEST: A long hallway stretches dozens of feed before turning a corner to the north. Footsteps and voices echo from this direction, but their source is unknown. There is no door at this exit from the lobby.

To the SOUTH: The cathedral's large double doors, which lead outside to the courtyard. These doors are closed but not barred.

To the NORTH: Another set of large double doors leading to parts unknown. Voices and music can be heard from this direction, though they are muffled.

~~ Decision Points ~~



Crossroad
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:42, Tue 03 Nov 2015.

I vote 3, easy on the violence

Auriel cocked his head to the side, listening to the sound of music and singing emanating from behind the closed doors. "I, for one, am growing tired of sneaking around while other die on my behalf. The quickest way to end this siege, to end the loss of life, is to decapitate the head of the snake, once can for all."

The Celestial drew his sword. "Figuratively if possible, literally if we must. Let's cast this building down stone by stone."

Barring any objections, Auriel makes ready to kick open the doors to the inner cathedral.

"Aye.  Let's do this," Maeve says, bracing herself for a grand entrance.

[Option 3!]

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 35):

...and then burn the stones...

Option 3 is Boreas approved!

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 37):

Carnanue shakes his head as the P.A.R.T.Y.'s course of action becomes clear.

"A direct assault without any intelligence on the room is a fool's errand," he growls. "I have not lived this long by taking unnecessary risks. I do not intend to start today."

Carnaue glances down the western hallway and motions in that direction.

"I will scout ahead and meet up with you deeper in the complex... if you survive that long. Godspeed."

With that, the powerful Felar dissolves into the shadows and -- so far as your eyes and ears are concerned -- vanishes completely.

The remaining P.A.R.T.Y. members look at each other, then shrug and bash down the northern door.

The door splinters inward to reveal a spacious worship area large enough for thousands of people. The aisle before you continues past row after row of stone-hewn pews, all facing forward toward a central altar placed before an enormous dragon statue that looks to be made of pure gold.

Additional rows of aisles face the altar from its east and west, and though there does not appear to be seating to the north (behind the statue and the altar), there does appear to be a series of murals, statues, and stained glass in that area.

Incense chokes the air in an almost visible abundance, and strange music is being played from somewhere in the mezzanine above you.

Though the room has the capacity for thousands, it is currently only occupied by dozens -- perhaps four-score figures crowded among the very front rows of pews. They are dressed similarly, wearing richly appointed vestments inscribed with the mark of Kazul.

All are standing. All are singing. All have their eyes locked on a figure seated in an enormous, throne-like chair set just slightly below the pedestal on which the draconic altar and statue rest.

The figure, however, is not singing. It is looking directly at the P.A.R.T.Y., and a smile graces its features after the initial surprise wears off. He holds up a hand as if gesturing for you to wait, then raises his voice in song as he rises to his feet.

The singing continues but a moment longer before reaching its conclusion, at which point the figure begins to speak with outstretched hands.

"Broodlings and clutchmates," he intones reverently. "You have lifted up your voices, prayers, and offerings to the most high, and the Dragon has heard your plea. He has sent us one of his only children, who suffered, died, and was left for dead in the fetid swamps beyond our walls."

The lighting in the room is such that the speaker's features are resplendently amplified -- though the lavish vestments do not hurt. He is certainly humanoid, but also bears a sort of reptilian countenance with strange ridges and scales on his face and head in place of hair.

"Power... true power... cannot be conferred by a piece of paper. Or by a government official. It must be earned, and it must be held. If you lack the strength to back up your claim, you never deserved it."

"Thus it is folly to ask for the Dragon to further defend this city, for if we cannot defend ourselves, we are not worthy of the Dragon's aid. I tell you, we have seen the tidings for ourselves. The gates of Nekria have been damaged. Our very cathedral has been damaged. And a dragon -- a Child of the Drake -- has been slain this day."

A murmuring fills the congregation, only to be silenced with a gesture.

"The races of this world have proved themselves to be too weak to carry out the Dragon's will. Even the mighty Saul was laid low by frail and fragile humanoids who dared reach for the sun with their bare hands. Who dared to endure the blistering pain for a chance at glory. At victory. At mastering their enemies."

"On that day, the Dragon bade me enter this world myself. To take upon my shoulders the mantle of my counterpart, who had failed us both. I was there when Lord Saul the Fallen fell. Indeed, my emergence finished the job! And, my friends... they were there, as well."

He points directly at the P.A.R.T.Y. at this moment, and the congregation whirls as one.

"Welcome to the Serpentsworn Cathedral," he intones. "Have you come to leave your tithe to the Dragon... or, perhaps, to finish what you started in the churning waters of the River Gullet?"

[Private to Auriel: Your eyes hurt. Your body hurts. Your soul hurts. This is an evil outsider, and a very strong one.]
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:30, Thu 05 Nov 2015.

Auriel sank into a defensive stance, golden energy crackling along his shield while the final echoes of the hymn to Kazul faded away in the corners of the vaulted cathedral. Lady willing, it would be the last ever sung.

He narrowed his eyes at the resplendant figure addressing them. To his Celestial senses, the sulfuric tang of the Hells was almost overpowering.

Overpowering, and familiar.

"So, Kazul sent his mirror in place of his failed servant. And you even managed to escape the deck of that sinking ship. How efficient. Clever, even. But ultimately useless. Your city burns, your dragon rots, and your people die needlessly."

He raised his voice, booming loudly throughout the otherwise silent space. "Leave, all of you. This building will collapse, and this city will be reclaimed. Your god is unable - and unwilling - to protect you. See to your own safety, and live another day."

Auriel pointed Dawn at Kazul's lieutenant. The sword burst into blindingly radiant light.

[Infernalbane Sword]

"Shall we test our strengths, one last time?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:36, Thu 05 Nov 2015.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 39):

The congregation murmurs, and about a score turn to flee from what they presume will be an ensuing conflict. Eight are immediately struck down by their nearest allies with blocks from behind amid cries of COWARD and TRAITOR, but the remaining half-dozen escape to rush closer to the P.A.R.T.Y. (and the exits behind you).

"The Dragon's apathy over this matter should not be mistaken for impotence," the figure says grandly. "For instance..."

The figure utters a few profane words, and dark energies swirl around each of the half-dozen who had escaped the congregation in an attempt flee. They fall to their knees, shrieking and holding their heads in anguish.

Then they begin to change.

Their skin thickens, their faces become leathery, wrinkled, and rounded, and their limbs become stubbier even as their torsos lengthen. A trunk-like appendage sprouts from their nose, and their ears lengthen like those of a jackrabbit. Their bellies become swollen and distended, and their body groans as it is stretched to nearly nine feet tall. A pair of crimson tusks curve outward from each, reaching five feet from their mouth, and though their arms have become coiled with muscle, their fingers appear blunt and stubby.

These changes take place almost instantaneously. In moments, each of the kneeling figures has similar transfigured, and the creatures stare at the P.A.R.T.Y. with bulging violet eyes filled with range and malice.

[Private to Auriel: They now register as evil outsiders, though less evil than their master.]

"Those among us who are chattel but did not attempt to flee may return to their usual duties. Go. Secure the grounds, the parapets, and the rest of the cathedral, and search for any other heretics while you're at it."

Most of the congregation moves backward, away from the altar and the aisle to distance themselves from the fight, though ten resolute figures remain behind.

"I rather like this cathedral," the figure continues. "And unlike others I might name... I have the strength to defend it. Yield to my power, Celestial. The odds are not in your favor. Leave, and you may live to die another day."

He motions to the congregation around him as though to demonstrate his point, and allows himself a victorious smirk.

~~ Disposition ~~

This room is enormous (think about the interior of a medieval basilica), and currently contains:

• 56 clerics, priests, servants, acolytes, and neophyte mooks who have been dismissed but are still in the room at the moment
• 10 of the the above with class levels of some kind
• 6 of the transfigured creatures
• 8 lifeless corpses that are totally unlikely to rise again
• 1 unnamed named NPC

~~ Decision Point ~~

1) Fight!
2) Flight!
3) Other (or "I need more information"; post to the OOC or PM me if this is the case)

CROSSROADS
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:14, Tue 10 Nov 2015.

Auriel winced as he felt the life fade from the fleeing worshippers. If he had any remaining doubts about their decision to end the Kazulian cult, they vanished with screams of the transformed beasts.

"So Keef," Auriel said, "do you remember all the times we discussed collateral damage, minimizing property damage, or worrying about the aftereffects of dangerous magics?"

His face hardened into a steel mask. "Forget all of that. Let's bring this Cathedral down."

[OOC - FIGHT]

The Celestial pointed out the speaker and the transfigured creatures. "Have a care. These are all Hellspawn."

You're not going to turn into a snake are you?  You know that never works out.

[Casting Walk Unseen]

Boreas flickers away, preparing to fight.

In reply to Boreas Highwind (msg # 42):

Keef nods.

You shouldn't have sent the dragon, he says to the mysterious figure in a voice he is clearly struggling to keep even.  He shouldn't have died.

FIIIIIIIIIIIGHHHHTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 44):

The P.A.R.T.Y. carefully appraises its options, and it soon becomes clear that battle will be joined. The 50-odd mooks rush to clear out of the area, leaving behind a still-impressive collection of enemies.





The figure shrugs out his bulky robes, revealing a muscular body, a scaly hide, and two wicked-looking swords which he draws with a flourish. The air around them shimmers with a sickly yellow light that you're certain can't mean anything good. He then utters a few choice phrases and smiles.

[Casting: Unholy Aura]

An orb of darkness surrounds his form and that of his closest officers, providing a measure of protection.



"Very well, then," the figure sneers, pointing to the P.A.R.T.Y. with one of his blades. "Kill them."
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:31, Tue 10 Nov 2015.

Boreas' gem glows, and icy kelp springs from the ground under the Mirror and his minions.

Strands lash out at all of the foes within reach. Though they bounce off the sphere protecting the Mirror (failed touch attack), they start to coil around the officers surrounding him.  Officer J manages to free himself from their grip (natural 20), but the others are entangled, struggling under the constricting strands.

[Casting Arctic Grasp]

[Officers D, I, H, and G are grappled.  The area is difficult terrain, and everyone who starts their turn in it takes 2d6 cold damage.]

Auriel pointed to the Mirror and uttered a few words in Celestial.

[Glyph of Challenge]

[Each time a marked creature casts a damaging or disabling spell, or makes an attack that does not include Auriel, it receives 1d6 damage. If that attack succeeds in damaging or disabling any targets, that damage increases to 1d8 per target affected.]

The paladin launched himself the air, preparing to vault over the heads of the Serpentsworn but unable to close such a distance immediately.

As he flew, the air around him began to shimmer. Through watering eyes, the ghostly shape of a longsword materialized next to him.

[Divine Retaliation: The conjured longsword will automatically retaliate against each melee attack made to Auriel. Attacks at +13, deals 1d8 + 9 damage]

[35 Temporary HP remaining]
This message was last edited by the player at 19:28, Wed 11 Nov 2015.

In reply to Auriel (msg # 47):

The betrunked hellspawn trumpet as one, their ridiculous appearance belaying an ominous power even as they shamble into place. Each heavy footstep causes their bulging eyes to pulse and swell painfully within their skulls, but their expressions are deadly serious.

Several of them raise their trunks, brace their legs shoulder-length apart, and spew forth a scalding mist that threatens to sear the flesh from your bones. Well, some of your bones, at least. The attacks are sloppy and haphazard at best; perhaps mist isn't as accurate as you've been led to believe.

[Hellspawn A vs Reflex DC 18 (Boreas, Maeve): 28, 17 ]
[Hellspawn C vs Reflex DC 18 (Maeve, Keef): 29, 14]
[Hellspawn D vs Reflex DC 18 (Boreas, Maeve, Keef): 26, 12, 14]
[Hellspawn E vs Reflex DC 18 (Maeve): 21]
[Hellspawn F vs Reflex DC 18 (Auriel): 11]

The mist deals significant damage, but the P.A.R.T.Y. notes that toward the end of each blast little puffs seemed to choke out of each trunk... likely they will not be able to do that again without building up more pressure first.

[Total Damage (Boreas, Maeve, Keef, Auriel): 18, 56, 34, 21]

Hellspawn B assumes a more defensive position and readies an action.

In reply to DM (msg # 48):

The mist causes Keef to yelp in pain.  Chubbs croaks dejectedly.

The hellspawn HE's fought had far hotter nose mist.

Keef waves his hands and a roaring barrier of flames bursts from the floors, singing the edge of the kelp and bathing the officers in waves of magical heat.

The flames extend from wall to wall and reach up 20 feet, effectively screening the party from the Officers of Kazul.

(OOC:  wall going roughly along column 15 to cut off the officers until we deal with the hellspawn and sending damage their way.  Immediately its 6 damage to officers I, H and then 1 damage to officers G B, C, D and J

Maeve and Sekhmet hover at around the same level as Auriel, approximately ten feet off the ground.  Surveying the battlefield with its slew of potential targets, Maeve decides to remain exactly where she is and whale on Hellspawn D.

[FPA #1: 26]
[Damage: 32]
[FPA #2: 26]
[Damage: 36]



[Three things:
1. I still am wearing my Ring of Acid Resistance 10, so assuming that this is acid damage, the amount I took needs to be updated.
2. Sorry I took so long!  I never actually changed Maeve's character sheet when we leveled up so I had to get around to doing that before I could kick some butt.
3. What are the saves for her new prestige class?]

In reply to Maeve Hassan (msg # 50):

OOC @ Maeve: This is actually "heat damage" from the scalding steam, which I believe means fire resistances would come into play even though that doesn't make any sense. No worries on the delays! Your saves should be the same as they would have been if you'd continued your past class choice instead of taking the prestige class (unless you would like to propose something different, in which case we can look at tweaks).

Several of the Serpentsworn officers shiver as the strands of kelp chill them to the bone, despite the blazing presence of Keef's impressive fire wall.

It is difficult to see through the flames, so it is not clear what exactly they're doing over there... though you can certainly make out some chanting, screaming, and swearing.





The Mirror is likewise shrouded behind the flames, and you can hear him laughing maniacally at the scene before him.

This laughter is interrupted with a sudden influx of air and a noise that sounds like "HURK!" Steel clashes on steel, and it becomes clear even through the flames that someone has joined the fight on your side -- someone who appears to be only minorly inconvenienced by the Unholy Aura.



Whatever is happening over there seems to be taking the bulk of the Mirror's attention, and he does nothing further that directly affects the P.A.R.T.Y. this round.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:29, Wed 18 Nov 2015.

Auriel reaches out to Maeve and light arcs across the gap, rejuvenating the warrior.

[Lay on Hands: 56]

He then continues his arc upwards towards the heart of the battle.

Boreas dashes to H24.  His gem glows a bright green as a fluorescent burst of acid streaks toward Hellspawn D.

[Casting Eldritch Chain/Vitriolic Blast]
[Ranged Touch vs. D 19]

It strikes the abomination directly in the face as the burst splits into two more glowing bolts of acid that streak toward 'spawns B and C.

[Ranged Touch vs. B - Critical Miss, Save Successful]
[Ranged Touch vs. C 33]

The burst flies wild of B, but splashes into C.  Hellspawn D howls in pain as its face melts off.

[Acid Damage 25]

It falls to the ground, dead.  Hellspawn C trumpets in pain, the acid sizzling on its skin.

[Acid Damage 15]

It continues to sizzle, searing into the creature's befouled flesh.

[2d6 Acid Damage for the next 2 rounds]

Immediately afterwards, another blast of energy (with a higher pH) flies toward Hellspawn C.

[Casting Quickened Eldritch Blast]
[Ranged Touch Attack - another critical miss, save successful]