QADIRA

“We stand on the edge of civilization, precarious, fragile, and under constant threat from the enemy. That Qadira has never fallen to this enemy should not be taken as a guarantee that we cannot be defeated, for the warmongers of Avistan and Garund are plentiful. Without constant guard they will seek to take from us that which makes us great. Our riches. Our culture. Our history. To not strike first is to invite defeat, yet to strike first is to embrace war. Neither is the better choice. Neither is the right choice. But to make no choice is the worst option of all.”

—Ghadir al-Gohar, archery trainer at Omash

To understand Qadira, one must understand its dual identity as a bridge between two very different cultures. Qadira is an Inner Sea nation, fully engaged with the regional politics and history, as well as shaped by its disasters, climate, and social struggles. It also forms a part of the Padishah Empire of Kelesh, an ancient and powerful empire—wealthy beyond the imaginings of most Inner Sea nations—with priorities and beliefs that are alien to the average denizen of the Inner Sea region. Qadira anchors the westernmost end of the Golden Path, the primary Keleshite trade route that spans the massive continent of Casmaron. As such, it is of vital importance to Kelesh. More riches cross Qadira’s borders in a week than most Avistani nations have ever held in their coffers. Yet while Qadiran cities like Katheer appear luxurious by Inner Sea standards, most of that wealth does not remain in Qadira. It is a common saying among disgruntled Qadirans that Qadira makes do with glass while the rest of Kelesh drowns in diamonds.

In the eyes of Kelesh, Qadira remains something of a frontier region, even after millennia of existence. Keleshites see Avistani cultures as primitive and bloodthirsty, but no satrapy is more acutely aware of the danger they pose than Qadira. Stranded at the edge of the empire, sharing a border with avaricious and often hostile Avistani, and separated from its nearest imperial neighbors by a harsh desert that prevents easy travel, Qadira believes that its existence hangs by a thread.

As the westernmost satrapy of Kelesh, Qadira provides a potent reminder of the strength of one of Golarion’s most powerful empires. Though Qadirans have long been at odds with neighbors who fear them and mutter jealously over Qadira’s riches and culture, the region is not the death trap her enemies spread rumors about. Yet visitors should remember a few key points during their stay in the so-called Gateway to the East. The tips outlined below are taught to new Pathfinders before undertaking missions to Qadira, but any adventurer would do well to take these lessons to heart.

Listen carefully. Qadirans are a silver-tongued lot, likely to bewitch an unwary listener. If conversation is an art form for Keleshites, then haggling is a spectator sport. As skillful with words as they are with blades, Qadirans can often do even more damage with the former. They speak Taldane as well as you do—probably better—and your Kelish isn’t as good as you think it is, so learn to listen more than you talk.

Family comes first. If you ask a Qadiran how she is, she’ll answer with how her family fares. So when you talk to a Qadiran colleague, remember you’re not just dealing with an individual. She speaks for herself and her interests, but she also represents her family, tribe, and empire. Keep that in mind when negotiating. Similarly, Qadirans show intense curiosity about the families of foreigners. Tell them your mother’s name and give them a tale or two about your most eccentric relative, and they’ll warm right up to you.

Don’t expect straight answers. Keleshites know that information is power, and they like to answer questions with questions. You can sit in a Katheerite bazaar for an hour or more before you hear a single declarative statement. It can unsettle visitors at first, but once you become accustomed to it, you’ll realize that the answer is usually contained in the responding question.

Find a patron as quickly as possible. Qadiran society comprises a dense tapestry of family and business ties, tribal affiliations, and religious allegiances. These relationships rival the hypnotic patterns on their carpets for complexity. Almost everyone requires a patron or patron family. As a foreigner, you’ll need a patron to conduct even the most basic business in Qadira, let alone gain an audience with anyone of importance.

Register as a foreigner as soon as you arrive. Foreigners enjoy some basic protections so long as they register immediately upon entering the country. If you fail to do so, don’t expect help from the authorities when you’re robbed. And absolutely never pretend to be a citizen. Citizenship in the Padishah Empire of Kelesh comes with a host of privileges and protections, and Keleshites guard that status fiercely.

Don’t start fights you can’t finish. Every Qadiran serves a mandatory 2 years in the military, and even of those in noncombat roles still get basic weapons training. If you can win a fight—preferably without killing anyone!—you’ll earn back the respect you lost for starting it; if you lose, however, you’ll find yourself a laughingstock.

Don’t start religious battles. Kelesh is enormously tolerant of other religions, but the Sarenite faith is the empire’s official religion, and Keleshites expect everyone walking their streets to respect that. They won’t try to convert you unless you show interest in the faith, but if you hold negative opinions about the Dawnflower, keep them to yourself.

Be a gracious guest. Keleshites see hospitality as a sacred obligation, and those who observe the old ways even keep a special room in their homes for greeting guests and offering them ritual food and drink.

Have a gift handy. It doesn’t need to cost much, but try to choose an unusual present your hosts can’t easily obtain. Distinctive crafts from your homeland tend to please, especially if they come with a story.

Don’t approach a noble unless you have an introduction. If you want to talk to a noble, you’ll have to work your way up a chain of patronage. This holds especially true if you want an audience with a member of the imperial family. The house guards can be rough with those who presume upon their master’s time without an introduction.

The Qadira of today is a thriving Inner Sea nation through which much of the world’s wealth passes. Though Qadirans still believe Taldor plans to wipe them out as soon as it can rebuild its armies, the Gateway to the East is in the midst of one of the most stable periods in its history. The Taldan and Qadiran governments have signed a peace treaty and are attempting to repair their relationship, trade routes are secure, and the Cult of the Dawnflower has largely ceased its calls for invasion of Taldor. Yet this newfound stability is fragile: the succession in Kelesh threatens to ignite unrest in Qadira, strange and dangerous things stray out of the deserts, the Dawnflower Cult and the mainline church still compete for the hearts of Sarenites in many cities, and raiders prey on travelers in the Plains of Paresh and other deserted regions. Qadiran culture struggles to define itself, caught between the practices and attitudes of its Inner Sea neighbors and those of its parent empire.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:27, Tue 30 June 2020.

DIMAYEN

At just over a century old, Dimayen is one of Qadira’s youngest settlements and its latest attempt to recolonize the endless Meraz Desert that renders so much of the satrap’s land useless. When the nomadic Whitewater clan discovered a spring among the rolling dunes, the standing vizier granted the family exclusive dominion over its waters, so long as its resources went into transforming the oasis into a viable community.

To the Whitewaters’ credit, their first few decades were both well intentioned and lucrative—they sold the spring’s water to farmers for a reasonable price and invested their growing profits into an ever-expanding irrigation project to connect the community with the distant Meraz River. But with each subsequent generation born into greater wealth, the family’s concern for the community waned. When her ancestor’s irrigation canal collapsed nearly a decade ago, matriarch Tianka Whitewater responded by raising the price of her family’s spring water.

Once a promising boom town, Dimayen is now caught in a vicious cycle as desperate farmers, unable to afford to water their crops, flee to greener pastures, followed by many of the town’s merchants and traders. The price of food and other necessities has risen sharply as a result. Half of Dimayen’s buildings stand empty; the desert has crept in to reclaim once-thriving fields, while large desert predators such as ankhegs have begun preying on the last floundering farms. Dimayen’s remaining residents are a bizarre collection of stubborn farmers, the wealthy elite, scavengers exploiting whatever gets abandoned, and a constantly rotating transient population of traveling caravans, merchants, and mercenaries who rely on the spring’s waters to see them across the Meraz.

Sharing exaggerated tales of the town’s lost glories is a popular pastime, and nearly all residents have stories of the wonders of their youths or schemes to restore lost comforts. Most of these plots revolve around repairing the irrigation channels, but to date all engineering solutions have fallen flat, thanks to both ankheg attacks and a seemingly supernatural streak of bad luck.

---

Your group approached the small farming community with its local oasis deep in the Meraz Desert after you have heard that the recent strange occurrences in the southern desert have their origin somewhere near Dimayen. Maybe Sayid Aaban of the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore could be of help, or the Sarenite priest Arakor Shonar, who runs the Shrine of Overflowing Joys could provide some assistance.

On your way through the desert you have already seen plenty of evidence that something is very wrong here. Abandoned caravans with no trace of their travelers save for a few gnawed bones, starving vultures fighting over human remains half buried in the sand, and unusually aggressive infestations of desert parasites. You have just reached the outskirts of the village and it is clear that something unnatural plagues the area.

---

I usually like to start my games with a bit of a slower pace and give everyone the chance to get a feel for their character in a short inner-party conversation, instead of throwing everyone right into the action from the very start. So maybe your characters could briefly discuss their journey here, what they seen and what they think might be going on.

Rictor circled high over the town of Dimayen. His dark eyes moved in an active, assessing search over the failing town, garnering clues and learning much even from his great height. He swooped low over the ruined aqueduct, claimed not by disaster but by disrepair and neglect. He saw abandoned buildings bleached grey by the unforgiving sun and tilted at listless angles into the dunes encroaching on the outskirts. He saw spreading fields that were more a patchwork of fallow earth and strangled yellow than burgeoning green. He saw desperate, huddling figures hustling through the outer town and the slow, luxurious sway of palanquins and nobles in gauzy silk in the inner.

A stab of rage pierced him but he forced his grip to loosen on the reigns, his angular jaw to unclench.

It was the never ending duty of the nobility to serve and to protect the people that were their charges. Dereliction of that duty weighed heavily in Rictor's mind of late.

Perhaps sensing his mood Alsbet broke into a keening, piercing cry. It was the screech of an eagle, proud and defiant, but deepened and broadened by that great feathered chest, booming like thunder and with the lingering hint of a growl. Rictor reached forward to stroke a hand down the great griffon's neck, the rough leather of his gauntlet scratching at her beneath her snowy feathers. She shook herself and warbled in a low burble, mollified.

Her cry caused Thunder to flap over and investigate what had agitated her. Thunder had been Rictor's true and constant companion since the doughty falcon had saved his life so many years ago. He swooped low and then flared his wings, jetting upward on one of the desert thermals and wheeling over Rictor's head. He seemed wryly amused at Rictor and Alsbet's dark mood. But then again, he always seemed wryly amused about something.

Rictor fished in his pouch for a bit of dried meat and tossed it over Alsbet's shoulder. She snapped at it and missed. Thunder keened and dove like his name. He had told Rictor his name, once. Not the word Thunder. But images. Impressions. A Moment on a Cloudless Day with a prey bird Idling and suddenly Struck like a Thunderbolt from the clear Sky. Thunder pulled back up, circled above Alsbet's beating wings, and spat the morsel of jerked meat onto the back of Rictor's collar. Rictor suppressed a smile. Thunder preferred fresh meat.

He shook off the tidbit and pulled down on the reigns. Alsbet came in for a low pass over the outskirts of the city, great wings cupped to catch the air, and landed with barely a puff of dust on the hard packed earth of the southern road into the oasis. As he dismounted she settled back on her haunches and nonchanantly began to preen. Rictor loosened the girth and pulled off her saddle and bridle, tucking them into his magical pack and retrieving a stiff brush. Alsbet gave a rumbling purr, stretching low with her paws splayed in front of her and her tail lashing with pleasure as he gave her a vigorous scrubbing.

"Off with you!" He said when he had finished, giving her a slap on her tawny rump. She snapped at him with that razor beak and turned her head in mock affront. She shook out her coat and feathers, spread her wings, and pushed off into the sky. Thunder circled her, keening a cry that Rictor could only think of as a laugh. The two had not began that way, but now they were as close friends as they were rivals. They winged off to the south to hunt, although he knew that they would stay within a day's flight of the city.

Rictor turned back to his pack and retrieved Qvan's letter. He unfolded it for the umpteenth time.

Esteemed friend Rictor...events of great import...meet at the oasis of Dimayen...

Until he came towards the end of the letter.

...join myself and Master Vahid al-Mavari, as well as...

Vahid. Rictor had never been a man of the mind or the spirit. He had always been a man of iron and steel. From his first education by the swordmasters and generals of his father's court, to the years that he had spent in exile with no object but the simple mission of survival. He thought of the necessities of the moment, of his concrete goals. Rarely did his eye turn inward to examine his own character, his own soul. But now he felt that the anger and sorrow driving him must surely drive him to madness. He had hope that he could resume the teaching that he had scorned before, the journey inward that Vahid had often spoken of.

Rictor turned his feet towards the center of Dimayen, moving towards a meeting with both his old mentor and his hoped for new mentor.

He drew many a wary eye, clearly an outlander. And a heavily armed outlander at that. Unstrung across his back he carried an ornate bow, and at his waist a great curved blade like a tulwar sized for two hands. His cloak was black scale, his armor glittering silver, and emblazoned on the breastplate were seven intricately worked towers. He wore a kaffiyeh, not wrapped as a turban, but loose around his neck as a ward against dust and sand. His fair color named him a northerner, even burned brown from his recent days of travel, and the clean shaven lines of his angular face were distinctly out of Kelish fashion. That many took him for a Taldan only deepened their suspicions.

He had on his person letters of registration as a foreigner, although with no country of origin they had been somewhat difficult to obtain. He had no patron to speak of but hoped that the honorable Qvan would serve that office to him. He set off to meet his longtime friend.

The road had been long, and Vahid would be a liar if he said he wasn't pleased to have met Lieutenant Al-Darea in a small town along the way. After briefly catching up and sharing stories, he had asked her if she would be willing to join him in his mission, for old times' sake. After all, if violence would prove to be needed, there were precious few warriors who could match her in skill. To his continued pleasure at having company through the journey, she agreed.

When the pair arrived, Vahid took in the town as he led the way to the Shrine of Overflowing Joys to meet with the priest there and make introductions. There was no denying it, this town was sick and dying, and not solely due to the neglect of the nobles in charge. No more though, Vahid promised himself. This place would be healed no matter the price.

After leaving the Shrine, Vahid turned to Zhira, clearing his throat as he spoke. "Lieutenant, would you mind finding a place for us to stay? I would help, but I cannot stand by and do nothing while it is in my power to offer some small respite." After saying his piece, Vahid handed her a pouch of coin, for any renting costs, he said, before heading off into town.

He didn't have to search far for people in need, not here. He introduced himself to the locals with offers of medical attention and water that was not ludicrously overpriced, if only temporary in nature. When the containers were prepared, Vahid clutched his holy symbol tightly, uttering a prayer as he brought up his other hand. "Dawnflower, I come before you a humble servant. Answer my prayer and deliver relief unto these people, however short lived it may be." As he spoke, the barrels and cups began to fill with clean water, some even overflowing a little. "Drink your fill, please. The water will vanish after a day has passed, so enjoy it now."

As he stepped away to allow the people to enjoy the water, he saw in the distance a great beast landing. Hand on his sword, he moved quickly to investigate, arriving in time to see it flying away, leaving a man behind on the road. Vahid watched him for a few moments, trying to place how he recognized the obvious foreigner before it came to him. He held his arms out in a welcoming gesture, dark eyes glittering with naked curiosity. "Rictor, is that you? I have heard of your victory, what brings you here?

OOC: Casting Create Water, these people now have 34 gallons of water in assorted containers, assuming they accept the offer of conjured water.

Dimayen has been in increasing dereliction for as long as Qvan could remember. The once vibrant community, in the age of his grandparents, was but a shadow now. The old mage had travelled through a number of times over the last decades, either to visit very distant relatives, on his way to remote places for his research, or simply to suggest the works of his student as infrastructure improvement to the townsfolk. Yet he could not remember a positive outcome, or even a positive aspect, to any of those visits. It had now been five years, almost to the day, since his last visit.

When the infamous Feast of Dust first showed signs of its veritable nature, far from a myth or token of history, but an actual curse or malady writhing the land, Qvan had sent some of his most promising students to investigate. They confirmed his worst fears, and outlined a pattern that designated Dimayen or its surrounding as a probable source... the magician was not surprised. He pursued his research into the origins of the disease, dusting off old tomes in his library and putting the brains of his students to good use, in theoretical exercices.

When two young magicians fell prey to the curse however, he knew that the time for research had passed. Putting quill to paper he wrote to the best men and women he knew, and asked them to meet in the town that seemingly was at the core of the problem. The School was not too far, and left in the good and capable hands of the monk Valerius, his lifetime companion, and the Druidess Avhissania. The students would be safe, albeit in complete lockdown until further notice.

Qvan arrived in town that very morning. As usual he traveled in disguise, not willing to put his face on display, in or around town. His extravagant nature was not to be underestimated though. As he appeared at the caravanserai in the shape of a camel, unbridled but wearing a small hat, a few eyebrows were raised. He vanished behind a tree and soon walked through the parched streets of the town, in search of the tavern where he could wait for his companions.

The whitewashed walls all looked the same, but the magician knew too well that behind them, a very different life was unfolding for farmers, merchants, or noblemen. He found the famed tavern, settled at the far back of the room, in a private alcove, and waited for his guests to arrive. He knew all of them to be very capable and punctual, but still expected their respective arrivals to occur throughout the day. He settled with je best tea on offer, food that would last through the day, and a book on desert agriculture.

With himself, he started placing bets on who would arrive first...

Aryk had arrived in Dimayen a few hours prior; his horse unfortunately ill-suited to the desert sands, but he had lacked the time to seek other accommodations.  He had filed his visitor's papers, in the name of a patron provided to him by his organization, and the administrative items seen to previously, had nothing left to do but make his rounds; a meal, haggling for a bit in the market for some trinkets, getting a feel for the place and it's people; basic reconnaissance.  He stepped quietly into the tavern, and was surprised to see a familiar face waiting in the back.  He circled the room, and slipped noiselessly into the booth, across the table from Qvan, a clay mug of strong local tea in hand.

"Master Qvan." he said with a slight nod.

He looked the same as the last time Qvan had seen him, albeit with a new scar in the shape of jagged line down the left side of his neck, periodically revealing itself from the clothing & armor around his throat.  His hazel eyes were still sharp as ever, moving from point to point as he somehow watched everything and just Qvan at the same time.

"It would appear that noblesse oblige has fallen off locally." he said with his dry wit.
"Although there would seem to be other things at play here, wouldn't there?" he said with a wry, knowing smile as he took a long sip.

He had been sent by his masters at the Conclave, he did not know whether they were aware of Qvan's presence or not, but the coincidence seemed too providential to be otherwise.

Eric sat across from him, dressed in his gear and armor; designed for protection but not at the expense of speed or mobility, a must for the warrior who seemed to radiating a controlled energy even as he sat still.

It was obvious that things weren't right here.  Even without arcane sensibilities, he could tell; he'd spent enough time in various cursed and corrupted places to be able to feel the auras here were wrong.  Not stagnant (although they were that too), but bad, wrong, something just in the very energy was incorrect.  his masters at the conclave had been very ambiguous with the situation he was to explore, as was their way; too much information could poison his ability to develop an intrinsic understanding of the situation as he observed it.  Still though, he often wished they would tell him more that 'go here and fix something'.

As soon as she and Vahid had come into sight of the town, Zhira's gaze had started to study the area, a hint of displeasure entering it at what she saw. While she didn't ever stop her horse as she went, continuing to lead the sand-colored mare at a slow walk behind herself, it was clear to any watching that she was taking the time to study the area. Her hazel eyes, as sharp as those of a bird of prey, lingered on things with an intense gaze that seemed to carry a note of condemnation, and whenever they particularly passed over somebody armed and paused, to make sure there was no threat to her companion, those people were quick to look away. Part of it was, perhaps, the heavy makeup around said eyes, the blue lines around her eyes, with one continuing past the corner and two descending along the cheekbones, making the already piercing gaze even deeper and more unsettling; most of it, however, was just the sheer intensity of it.

Her hard expression ans silent demeanor only broke when Vahid addressed her, a fond smile on her lips even as she shook her head slightly; she collected herself quickly enough, but there was a small amount of warmth in her respectful reply.

"As is only natural of one selfless as you are. I shall see if the inn where we are to meet with Sage Qvan offers such as well, were he not there yet. May the light of dawn watch over you as you spread its warmth to others, Brother Vahid."

She nodded just slightly, a sign of respect among equals, before leaving the priest of Sarenrae to his good deeds and heading toward the tavern they were supposed to meet with Qvan Ibn Hamid. As she went, she settled the veil around her face to better shield her from the occasional smattering of sand the rising desert wind would throw around, her other hand gently scratching the neck of her mare to pacify the horse, who seemed uneasy, as if reacting to the decaying village's rumored curse in its own way.

Once reached the tavern, Zhira took her time to ensure her horse was settled properly, the creature responding to her touch with ease, having being trained by Zhira personally since birth, before she entered the building proper, a hand on the falcon-shaped pommel of the scimitar at her side as she did. On a first glance she just frowned, visibly annoyed at the bad conditions of the place, but then, just before she could look for the owner and inquire about accommodations, a glint of armor caught her attention. She turned to check over what sort of warrior it was, then she noticed the other person sitting there, and a satisfied smile formed on her lips as she headed that way instead.

"Sage Qvan; I am gladdened to see you made it here safely, and as always, it is an honor to share your company, despite current circumstances."

She bowed to the old man with the respect reserved for one's social superiors, before turning to introduce herself to the warrior - and pausing, a hint of confusion mixed with recognition entering her eyes.

"...we met before, haven't we? At the Qadlus' defense, ten years ago?"

OOC: as a note for those wondering what the decorations around Zhira's eyes look like, just google the images for "horus eye makeup". Anybody with enough knowledge would be aware this is a traditional decoration used by Osiriani warriors dedicated to a falcon's cult. The makeup is one of my magic items.

Speaking of which, Zhira might look like she's wearing traditional Qadiran clothes in blue and gold, with a simple quilted ocra-colored armor over her torso, and she moves as if she was just this lightly clothed as well, but anybody with active True Sight (or similar) would know she's actually in Glamered Full Plate.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:06, Wed 01 July 2020.

 The Tea House was mostly empty, save a few older men playing dominos and sipping on burning hot tea. From the alcove at the back of the room, the surprisingly vivid mage kept an eye on the rare comings and goings. In the background, a beautiful fountain was desperately silent, long gone dry and fallen in disrepair. He considered putting his magic to good use and fixing it, but thought better than to make a display that could backfire.

 When Aryk arrived, a display of food was on the low table: pastries, olives, bread and various small dishes, enough to feed a dozen people. Qvan rose to salute the warrior.
  "Master Aryk, peace be with you," he considered the man and his attire for a few moments, seemingly taking in more than the eye could see. His manners left a little to be desired, but he broke out of it before it became too awkward.
 "Please, sit with me. While I am a firm believer in meaningless coincidences, I would wager you are not here by accident. Help yourself to some food, the olives are a treat."

 And as if on cue, who would push the curtain to the Tea House but an other fierce warrior of his acquaintance, Zhira al-Darea, her striking features highlighted in blue khol. Unbeknownst to the old mage, she and Aryk appeared to know each other. He stood to welcome her at the table.
  "My dear Zhira, it has been too long. More than a year? How are you? Is your family well?*"

 He sat back down as Aryk and Zhira greeted each other, nibbled on an olive.
  "A few others will join us – I hope. We will talk about circumstances then. Zhira I see you sport a new suit of armour... very fitting to your skill set." he added with a smile.

 
*can't remember if we've established Zhira to have a family or not?

OOC: she does has a family, although she's very particular about talking of it. She's quick to laud their accomplishments and speaks of them with fondness, but it's clear her traveling lifestyle means she only sees them rarely, and she has never given her full family name nor the name of her hometown. Also, if directly asked for any info she didn't want to disclose, she would have politely deflected as long as needed for the argument to be dropped. Overall, the general impression is that she doesn't want the dangers of travel to follow her home.

While Aryk seemed to need a moment to collect himself and answer, and seeing as the old mage was quicker to speak, Zhira turned toward him, offering a pleased smile at his comments.

"As well as could be expected. Little Darea has grown into something of a hellion; she once more requested I teach her to swing a sword, and while glad for the gifts I brought, also had a list of many more she wanted me to find her. She's progressed enough in her lesson as well, but not yet to the point of managing an household, not that I'd expect a six years old to, even if cousin Rahum does. Still, he was at least glad I could take her off his hands for a week, and I would wager Taena appreciated having some time with her husband all for herself as well, or as much as he could spare from his affairs. Speaking of which, when I mentioned we've met, he wanted me to let you know his offer for horses trained to not be spooked by magic still stands, should you have changed your mind on it, Sage Qvan."

There was clear fondness in her voice, although at the end she switched to a more polite, interested tone as she asked back:

"And I imagine your students have progressed well in their studies in the meanwhile? Found some new ways they can persuade the gods' laws to be directed by their will and words to help people's lives?"

While there was no mocking in her tone, nor would Zhira ever mock a social superior, there was palpable amusement to the question, of the sort one would use when exchanging an inside joke with somebody about their profession.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:04, Wed 01 July 2020.

"Master Vahid!" Rictor exclaimed warmly, striding forward with open arms to clap his shoulders and wring his hand.

His first reaction was a burst of joy at seeing his old friend and finding the object of his secret aim. An aim that he had only dimly been able to voice in his own mind. Perhaps for that reason a sudden feeling of trepidation rolled over him. Was it his pride that made him hesitant to submit that secret, raging part of himself to scrutiny? Or simple fear of what he would find if he plumbed those depths?

"It is good to see you, old friend." He said, the weight of hidden significance heavy behind his words.

"I...I wanted to..."

He glanced up and down the street at the happy urchins splashing about in their newfound bounty, housewives clucking excitedly and stooping to tote buckets of water on stout sticks. That same shyness held his tongue. No. Not here, in this place, with rougher task at hand. Rictor would wait. In truth he needed time to gather his courage.

He clapped Vahid's shoulders again.

"Later, later man. For now let's go see what that old rascal has called us for, eh?"

His grin returned as they made their way to the inn, although it perhaps failed to reach his eyes. They nattered about old times along the short walk but had little time for a lengthy discussion. They were in fact interrupted by Rictor's outburst upon entering the establishment.

"Aryk! You son of a...How've you been!"

He strode forward and clasped palms, biceps straining. He clapped him on the shoulder as well and then turned to offer a deep bow to the table. Although his fondness for the old mage was equal, his relationship was more respectful.

It had been many years, but he did manage to place the dusky woman after a brief hesitation. They had traveled together many years before by happenstance, a caravan to a mystic oasis deep in the Qadrian desert. And her name was...

"Lady al-Darea. It seems that Qadria is a small place. I'm honored." He bowed respectfully to her as well, his back stiffened somewhat by formality.

For Qvan he spent a brief moment rummaging through his pack and emerged with a thick tome, yellowed with age, its warped pages held straight by a stiff cover of boiled leather and secured with a band. The words on the spine were gibberish to Rictor, written in ancient Varisian, but evidently said Being a Treatise upon the Conjunction of the Materium and Astrum through the Divinary Techniques of Hassarian of Katapesh.

This he presented with a rather inelegant flourish.

"A gift to a gracious host, Master Hamid. It is the oldest book from the library at..." He trailed off, a sudden dark look that passed over his features was quickly mastered into a wide smile. "At an ancient, fallen library."

He slid into a seat around the table and began to help himself to a plateful of dates and lamb. He leaned in somewhat conspiratorially.

"Tell me, sir, what of this plague?"

Vahid returned the handshake with equal vigor, plainly pleased to see the man again. He happily joined him in conversation on the way, hanging back as Rictor made his own introductions. When he had finished, Vahid himself stepped forward, bowing his head to Qvan in respect. "Master Hamid, I received your missive as I was preparing to disembark to Dimayen, I hope I have not left you waiting for too long."

With that he sat down, taking in his surroundings. This place was in a state of some neglect, much like the rest of the town, but nothing that needed immediate attention. He turned his attention instead to the only person he hadn't been expecting. " Hello there, you seem familiar. Have we met? Qadlas Mavari, some ten years ago? There was a pack of Gnolls?"

"And also with you, Master." he said, using the local greeting.

"Coincidence?  I doubt it.  My experience has been that such a thing does not exist, especially when The Conclave has a hand in it.  That said, your expertise would of course be welcomed upon what I assume to be our joint endeavor.  One can never have too many trusted companions, can they, especially one who took such a calling to the task as to leave their retirement."

He reached for a few olives, along with a bit of rice wrapped in leaves, swallowing just as the first newcomer arrived.  It took Aryk himself a moment to recognize Zhira.  He remembered her face and form of course, but the name eluded him, only for a moment.  He rose quickly though, grasping her wrist in the warrior's handshake.

"Yes, Ms. Al-Darea, I believe so.  It has been a while.  You seem to be doing well." he said wit a slight nod before taking his seat.

Aryk looked somewhat the same as he had ten years ago.  The same tracking eyes and a somehow still youthful face.  he of course had more scars, apparently his ability use his energies to set bone and mend flesh did not always do so seamlessly.  His gear was almost all completely different as well.  From a matching mithril chainmail and shield to some sort of elaborately carved wooden shield (currently worn on his back) and a lightweight breastpiece, although he still used the same crystalline sword, safe inside a sheath on his belt.

It was just then that Rictor appeared, jovially greeting them all, arriving at Aryk in turn.  Aryk stood to shake his hand, and returned the prince-in-exile's hand shake, along with the clap on the back.

"I've been well, as have you it would seem.  Still above ground'n kickin'."  he returned the bow, before returning to his seat, although he did pick up the plate of dolma to offer to Rictor, then Zhira.

Once again, he stood to greet the new warrior joining them, one who took a bit longer to remember.

"Ah yes, Mr. Mavari, good to see you again.  You look much better than the last time we met." he said gripping the man's wrist in a gesture of respect.
"This is too many solid people to be a coincidence.  An expedition is afoot."

Zhira smiled, happily returning the greetings she'd received from both Aryk and Rictor; at the former's question, she nodded and answered:

"Indeed; some trouble is afoot, and we are all here to help solve it. And with such high-quality company, I have little doubt of our eventual success."

She nodded toward the group at large, before adding, to answer Rictor's greeting:

"It is always an honor to fight alongside capable warriors, after all."

Then she took the plate of offered food, even as she turned toward Qvan, clearly expecting the mage to explain the reason of their meeting to everyone.

Qvan greeted each of the adventures in turn, wishing peace on them while simultaneously formulating in his head how to introduce the task ahead of them —one which, in all likeliness, would not be of a peaceful nature.

He welcomed Rictor with a warm smile, and accepted his gift humbly. It took him a lot of self-restrain to not delve immediately into the ancient book, and he did actually browse through it a couple of times when it seemed introductions were still ongoing.

Once they had all sat down, exchanged salutations and introductions, perhaps shared a story or two, and inquired the well-being of each other’s family, after they had shared some food and some tea, or something stronger for those thus inclined, after they had reassured the innkeeper that the presence of four formidable warriors and a wizard in their establishment was no cause for concern, Qvan explained:

  “I have written to five of you; one did not respond, but the gods have sent an other in her stead. As Master Aryk said, it is no coincidence.”

 “You may have observed the dereliction of the land in these parts of Qadira... in the past few days I have seen abandoned caravans with no trace of their travelers save for a few gnawed bones, starving vultures fighting over human remains half buried in the sand, and unusually aggressive desert vermin.  Something unnatural plagues the area.”

 “Some of you may have heard of the so-called Feast of Dust...” pause for effect.

 “A wretched malady. A deadly curse, rapidly spreading through the Meraz Desert. It drives its victims mad with hunger and a burning desire to flee into the sands. They die there, of thirst, fatigue, or starvation, if the jackals do not get to them first.”

 “I have been studying this bewitched disease for a few months, but I fear urgency is upon us. Two of my students even have fallen prey to its effect, may their souls be at rest.”

 “This is the deed I am proposing we undertake... to find the origins of the curse, which I suspect will lead us to witchcraft or daemonic arts, and sever its source. It is an enterprise I could not consider on my own, but one which I will confidently tackle with you. Your legs are fast and your shoulders strong, but mostly it is your hearts which I will need at my side when we come close to the source of this grand Evil.”

The old magician realised he had spoken in one uninterrupted stream. He was not a particularly charismatic speaker, and this had evidently taken a lot of effort. He was a gifted writer, but usually trusted the delivery to someone else.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:26, Thu 02 July 2020.

Aryk listened intently, only pausing to have some of the unleavened bread laid out with the spread.  The tale he wove made sense, and was exactly the kind of thing that the Conclave would've sent him upon.  The tale laid out before him was just the kind of thing that needed doing by people like them.

"Okay, I'm in." Aryk said simply, looking out to see who else would take the wizard up on his offer.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:05, Thu 02 July 2020.

As Qvan spoke and explained the nature of this plague, the seemingly perpetual smile on Vahid's face slipped away, slowly being replaced by a grim and contemplative mask as he leaned forward in his seat. Qvan was not the sort of man to speak unless he was certain of the truth of his words, which meant there would be much work indeed, a good portion of it probably bloody.

"You need not ask Master Hamid, I could never ignore such a thing. You say that you do not know the origins of the curse, but might you hazard a guess at the nature of it? do you think this the work of mortal minds, demons, what?"

Zhira's expression turned serious and contemplative as Qvan provided details over the problem they would soon be facing, and when he finished she said, tone low:

"If anything is threatening people in such a fashion, then it needs to be stopped; that's the reason we came here in the first place, knowing of the danger would never scare me away."

She glanced to the rest of the group, nodding as she saw they all seemed just as ready to see it through.

Rictor leaned back in his chair, face thoughtful.

"Yes, yes, I've seen signs of this taint during my brief travels in the area. Troubling signs. More than can be attributed to poor luck or poor leadership."

He didn't voice his assent. Qvan had asked. His assistance was a given. Instead he shifted his thoughts to the task at hand.

He nodded towards Vahid.

"Aye. Have you any clues or leads? You mentioned in your letter the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore and the Shrine of Overflowing Joys. You have leads there, I presume? We can investigate, if you have not already.

I'm sure it would also behoove us to examine one of these caravans for clues, mundane or magical."

Rictor had grown on tales of dashing swordsmen and great victories through strength of arms. As he had grown in skill and experience as an adventurer he had found that more often it was a warrior's job to escort powerful mages where they needed to be, provide them the resources for their arcane work, and protect them while they accomplished it.

 The old mage nodded in silence as the four young and formidable adventurers each in turn accepted his invitation.

  “I will not say my thanks just yet. In truth I expected no less of you, knowing the depth of your character. Aryk I am glad that once again, my interests and those of the conclave align.”

 Qvan how had so far eaten only parsimoniously selected three sweet pastries mixing pistachios, honey and almonds. His ascetic reputation was probably as famous as the indulgent fillips to his regime. He swallowed the first pastry almost whole.

  “Charms, curses and compulsions leave an arcane trace,” he started explaining in a professorial tone that they all knew too well. “In my investigations I have established that this one if daemonic in nature, as opposed to arcane or fey, for example. That is not necessarily to say that daemons themselves are cursing the victims, it could well be that magical beasts or witches act as intermediaries.”

He gulped down an other of the pastries.

“Visiting the site of the lost caravans occurred to me. I have little hope, as looters and scavengers are all too common in these lands. But then they may have missed something that we wouldn’t. If we come close to one of them en route to Dimayen, it will well be worth a detour.”

The last pastry was quickly nibbled away.
“I mentioned these two locals in Dimayen. Not because I have faith that they will have answers, but they are probably the most trustworthy places in this husk of a town. Certainly the only places where I would seek help without being concerned over ulterior motives...”

He finishes his mint tea, raised his chin in a decisive manner.
“If you are ready and girded for travel, I suggest we head for Dimayen without further delay. The day is reasonably young still, we should be able to get there by sundown.”

Before leaving the tea house, Qvan settled the bill with a generous but not inappropriately extravagant tip. He shook hands with the innkeeper thanked him for the hospitality, complimented the food, and asked that he should spread the word: the Company of Five was going after the Feast of Dust. Minstrels should journey to Dimayen if they wanted to start working on their epic retelling of their enterprise.

After leaving the tea house, Qvan gathered his trusted companions around himself and prepared to use a Greater Teleportation spell to minimize the travel time needed to get from this small hamlet to your final destination, the village of Dimayen. After weeks and months have already passed with this mysterious curse running rampant and unchecked in the Meraz Desert, there was now an undeniable urgency to the wizard's actions. Enough people have already fallen victim to the Feast of Dust and it was time to put an end to this!

An instantaneous burst of arcane power, a moment of reality shifting around you, then you found yourselves a couple of hundred feet outside of the village. Among miles of rolling desert and sunbaked,
abandoned farms, the ramshackle outskirts of Dimayen rose from the sands before you. More a network of camps than an actual settlement, the so-called Third Circle is an ever-shifting sea of tents erected by nomads, traders, and mercenaries stopping in town to resupply. Even from afar you were able to see wild jackals wandering the streets, citizens giving the creatures a wide berth with fear showing in their every move.

A scuffle erupted amid a mercenary camp a mere sixty feet away as you approached. A goateed man in armor and officer’s stripes struggled as three mercenaries fought to restrain him. A fourth pleaded, “Captain, please control yourself!” The struggling man tossed two of his captors aside with unnatural strength, and sank his teeth into the third’s neck, the young soldier falling away one hand pressed against the gushing wound. Blood-soaked and wild-eyed, the captain was about to charge the one soldier left standing, halberd raised high with both hands.




Please refer to the initiative order listed down below. As you can see, we will be using group initiative, so once the players turn is up, everyone who is in the currently active group can post in any order they wish. I would appreciate it if you could add any mechanical aspects of your actions at the end of the post, noting any changes to the stats listed in the table either here, or in the Combat Stats thread, including current HP.

If you have any other questions about how combat will be handled, don't hesitate to ask.

The whole party is up next!






This message was last edited by the GM at 13:25, Fri 03 July 2020.

Qvan gathered everyone in a quiet spot behind the caravanserai, under the shade of a palm tree, to explain the travel arrangements. They would teleport (he assumed everyone was familiar with the concept) just outside of Dimayen, as he thought better to arrive in town by foot rather than appear in the middle of a crowd.

---

The old wizard’s information must have been slightly out of date, as the quiet spot he had picked for their discreet arrival was in fact a busy little street! Two much blood sugar probably, he thought, blaming the succulent pastries for the destination mishap. He was quick to take his bearing though, and whispered to the others:
  “The Curse has preceded us, it seems... we should subdue these people before someone is killed.”

His idea though was to sit this one out, and see firsthand what the brave young adventurers were capable of. There was no doubt in his mind that he was surrounded with the crème de la crème, so he simply moved in a safe position, out of harm, at a vantage position to observe the scene, and to act if things got out of hand.

The way an arch-transmuter does that was obviously to use his best polymorph spell, turn into a gust of wind and fly ahead. The others could see a vaguely humanoid creature made of thin air, twelve foot tall but light as a few feathers, dash forward and perch on the house overlooking the commotion.

He looked down onto the brawl, and tried to identify the protagonists.

---

Standard: cast extended shapechange, turn into a Huge Air Elemental.
Move: fly 100ft to I18-K21, at elevation 15ft (or whatever the height of the parapet is)
Effects: elemental traits, mage armor, shapechange, arcane sight

As the magic deposited them, Vahid stumbled a little on landing, taking a few moments to get his bearings. Teleportation magic was not the most comfortable way to travel, but it was undeniably useful.

As he took in his surroundings, Vahid saw the fight and began moving to take action. He clicked his heels together, shuddering almost imperceptibly as the magic flooded his body while also raising two fingers to a gem set on the headband he wore, rising a few inches off the ground before shooting off in the direction of the fight, drawing his scimitar as he went.

As he maneuvered past one of the men and settled into position within the halberd wielding mercenary's guard, he offered a quick prayer, suffusing himself with divine power in the process. "Everlight, allow my blade to strike swift and true, the better to end this quickly."

Actions undertaken
Activate boots of speed, free action
Activate headband of Aerial Agility, standard
(assuming movement bonus stacks with fly spell) moving 85 feet and stopping adjacent to token labeled Khazat, next to merc three. Drawing scimitar as part of move action
Swift action, burning one use of fervor to cast divine favor, +3 luck bonus to attack and damage rolls. 16 uses of fervor remain(15 if you're not supposed to round up, half of 17 being 8.5)
Haste grants extra attack at full bab when full attacking, provides a +1 to attacks and a +1 dodge bonus to ac and reflex saves. Combine with divine favor, attack lineup looks like this;
+26,+26,+21,+16 full attack, subtract 4 from those for power attack, I'm undecided as yet. Damage per hit is 2d6+14(22 with P.A), additional 2d6 holy if target is evil, crit on 15-20 with a x2 multiplier
Final note, if he attempts to five foot step, I'm following him. Ain't the step up feet just dandy?
This message was last edited by the player at 13:46, Fri 03 July 2020.

After the brief surprise of the ensuing struggle up ahead wore off, Qvan acted with startling speed. It seemed that age did not always make one slower in mind and body, as proven well just then and there. The wizard took a more relaxed approach to the situation, transforming himself into an enormous column of howling wind and sped forth to hover menacingly above the crazed man and his comrades.

Vahid followed not a heartbeat later, activating several magical effects in rapid succession, ending his blurred dash next to the soldier as well, ready to interfere.

---

Would be great if you either included any stat changes (like from the shapechange or the haste right in your actual post, or in the combat stat thread for me to look up.

Waiting for Zhira, Rictor and Aryk!





This message was last edited by the GM at 19:34, Fri 03 July 2020.

Zhira narrowed her eyes on seeing what was apparently a commander attacking his subordinates without cause; as soon as Vahid took flight, she followed after him, placing herself so that she could immediately strike at the enemy should they decide to try and escape from her allies' blades as she shouted, making sure the man could hear as she pointed her weapon at him:

"What sort of coward strikes to their subordinates like that? You should try it against somebody who can defend themselves, instead of acting so shamefully!"


OOC:
I'm drawing my Scimitar, keeping it as only its normal +2 bonus for now, as part of using my move action to get all the way to K14; this nets my 1 point of tension.

Then I'm using my standard action to activate patrol, which extend my threatened area from 5 ft to 30 ft, meaning our enemy is now well within it and will thus provoke attacks of opportunity from me if they leave it, try to cast a spell, are tripped/fall prone, or do something that naturally provokes. I have a couple of rolled attacks here just for that; I'll roll more if the enemy provokes more than twice, since I can go up to eight.

16:10, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 32 using 1d20+29.  Non-Lethal NoPA 2h Scimitar attack.
16:31, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 50 using 1d20+33.  Scimitar attack of opportunity 2h, lethal, no PA.

Finally, as my Swift Action, I'm issuing our opponent a challenge (note that mindless creatures are immune to this), so he gets a +2 to attacks rolls against me specifically, but a -6 to any attack roll made against anybody else (area of effect attacks that would target both me and other people get no bonus nor penalty, assuming they have attack rolls). And of course, if this individual is a spellcaster, then his defensive casting is penalized and they provoke from me if they fail to cast defensively.

That leaves me still having Martial Focus and with 1 Tension for now; I also haven't drawn my Shield for now.

----

THIS POST IS AN EDIT. Myself and Aryk posted movement that had us end up in the same square, due to a mistake on my part where I wrote the wrong square in my post. Thus, I edited my post; I kept the original below under spoiler for the GM to be able to check what I removed, should they decide that my changing of my post was overstepping.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)

So, assuming my math isn't out of touch, I can get to K14 with my land movement as a move action; this also will net me 1 Tension point. I can draw my scimitar as part of my movement, and I'm keeping at just +2 for now.

Then I'm using Locust Pounce as my standard action to jump (from K14 to H16) and attack.

The DC for such a jump (I'm assuming I have a running start from my move action) would be 20 (30 if I don't have a running start), and since my bonus to jumping is 40 (36 if I don't have a running start), I shouldn't need to roll, since I'd beat that even on a 1.

Locust Pounce provokes an Attack of Opportunity, but I will spend my Martial Focus to negate that. Then for my attack roll, I'm attacking non lethally, two handed, and not power-attacking; meaning my attack bonus there ends up being a solid +29.

16:10, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 32 using 1d20+29.  Non-Lethal NoPA 2h Scimitar attack.

So that's not a good roll, but maybe it's successful anyway? If it does, it's 24 weapon damage, 22 from Vital Strike, so that's 46 non-lethal damage, plus 5 bleed for a total of 51; here's the rolls for that.

16:16, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 28 using 2d6+24.  Scimitar DMG (1.5 STR + Devast. + WT + enhancement).
16:17, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 22 using 6d6.  Vital Strike.

If the attack is successful despite the bad roll, I gain a second tension point and my armor's Bolstering ability gets triggered, and then I'm using Follow-Through to bull rush as a free action, without provoking, with my weapons's attack bonus (+9) added to my baseline Bull Rush modifier for Medium creatures (+29) for a total Bull Rush bonus of +38.

16:21, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 49 using 1d20+38.  Follow-Through Bull Rush.

If that's a success, then he will be pushed away from me 5 ft (so to G18); I don't know how high his CMD is, but for every 10 points by which I beat it, he's moved a further 5 ft instead - assuming he can move; seeing as the corner of the house is in G18, he might be unable to, if the wall blocks his movement. I also am not sure how forced movement that my bull rush causes would interact with Step Up from Vahid, although if I moved him only to G18, he should still be withing Vahid's threatened area so it shouldn't matter.

Also note that going to G18, the enemy left my threatened area, so if he tries to move back into G17, he'd provoke an attack of opportunity from me, for which the roll is here.

16:31, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 50 using 1d20+33.  Scimitar attack of opportunity 2h, lethal, no PA.
16:32, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 29 using 2d6+24.  Scimitar DMG (1.5 STR + Devast. + WT + enhancement).

So currently, I'm at 2 Tension (if the attack hit) or 1 Tension (if it didn't), no Martial Focus, +2 to all my saves against this enemy (again, only if the attack it) and my shield is still off.

---

This message was last edited by the player at 15:27, Fri 03 July 2020.

Aryk caught his bearings a second after their teleportation, realizing the gravity of what they ha sheen dropped into immediately.  As the others began to move around him, Aryk likewise became a flurry of action.  With a thought, he released his subconscious focus to his body as he ran at the conflict, nearly doubling his speed as he drew his crystal blade, allowing him to move to contact after sidestepping one of the mercenaries.  With another thought, he willed his already flaming sword to be imbued with psionic corrosion as he also channeled his power through the blade, striking for a weak chunk in the man’s armor with a hard, audible exhalation of breath.

Expend subconscious focus to increase speed to 70 ft., move to I15 as move action.
5-foot step to H16.
Spend 3 power points to manifest ‘Dissolving Weapon’; +4d6 acid damage charged.
Spend 2 power points + 2d6 damage charged.
Attack Khazat.  1d20 (17; Crit) + 19 +2 flanking bonus.
Roll crit confirm.  1d20 (15) + 19 +2 flanking bonus.
Damage rolls will assume critical.
Damage:
Conclave Blade: (1d8 (1) + 10)x2 + 1d6 (4) fire + 4d6 (12) acid + 2d6 (7) deep crystal + 3d6 (12) sneak attack = 57
This message was last edited by the player at 15:04, Fri 03 July 2020.

Rictor stepped out of the inn and raised two fingers to his lips to let fly a piercing whistle that echoed through the bazzar and drew many a startled eye.

"Hold a moment." He asked.

A minute later the sleek form of Thunder fluttered down to perch on his shoulder, head cocked curiously and golden eyes taking in Rictor's new companions. Rictor clucked the falcon under the beak and fed him a tidbit snuck from the table.

"Thank you." He said to Qvan, nodding that he was ready.

He had only moments to get his bearings before they re materialized in the street. He cut short an oath. A madman? Clearly. He repressed a shudder at the insanity in his eyes, the savagery of his movements as his teeth clamped down on another man's throat.

"Subdue him!"

Somewhat contrary to his own words he loosed a volley of arrows at the man. He considered briefly joining the melee and trying to lay hands on him, but it was imperative that he be brought down quickly. Combined with Zhira's dazing blow he hoped only to weaken the man enough to bring him down.

---

Free action: Activate Boots of Speed
Free action: Quickdraw Longbow
Full round action: Full attack vs Khazat Karelem

08:41, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 40,42,40,29,29,29 using 1d20+26,1d20+26,1d20+26,1d20+21,1d20+16,1d20+11.  Full Attack.
08:43, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 107,13 using 4d8+92,4d6.  High Attack Damage.
08:44, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 86,14 using 3d8+69,3d6.  Low Attack Damage.

If his AC is less than 40 he takes 120 damage, if his AC is less than 29 he takes 220 damage. If he goes down before Rictor's full attack is finished then he'll stop shooting.

HP: 187 Effects: Haste
This message was last edited by the player at 14:59, Fri 03 July 2020.

It didn't take long for Zhira to grasp the severity of the situation as well and she hurried after Vahid, drawing her curved blade and calling a challenge to the captain of the small mercenary group. Her words are partially lost in the din of shouting and screaming, but she was sure that the bloodthirsty man had heard her.

Right on her heels came Aryk, sword already in hands and eager to put a stop to any more bloodshed as quickly as possible. His supernatural speed brought him within reach of the mercenary, intercepting his charge before he was able to take more than a single step. The glazed eyes of Khazat Karelem glanced to the side as the new opponent appeared next to him within mere moments, but then it was already too late. The crystal sword embedded itself deep inside the captain's right abdomen, and he grunted in pain, spitting blood onto the sands at his feet.

The only member of the party who didn't move more than a few inches from where he stood was Prince Wyrmbane. Drawing the bow from his back in a well-practiced motion, he called over the noise of battle what could be interpreted as an order or command, then swiftly took aim and expertly shot between all the moving bodies, hitting his target two times. The first arrow is deflected by the mercenary with a masterfully executed whirl of the halberd, knocking the projectile harmlessly to one side. Even though such a maneuver can only be done by someone who has spent countless hours in training, in this moment it seemed as if Khazat did so almost subconsciously; merely reacting out of instinct. But the following two shots hit their mark and Captain Karelem staggered back with each impact, knees almost buckling, but he remained standing, using the butt of his weapon as an impromptu crutch.

---

With a bloodcurdling roar, eyes wide and mouth agape, Khazat looked past the many enemies right in front of him to where Zhira stood, recognizing her as the usher of the challenge. But there was simply no way getting to her, so he merely growled in disappointment and focused his unbridled anger at Aryk, the only one within reach who had actually wounded him so far. He turned around to face the psionic warrior and started a vicious assault, stabbing and slashing with the halberd, quite easily overcoming his opponent's defenses. Each attack is made with incredible force, Aryk could almost hear the muscles in Khazat's arms tearing under the strain, and a few seconds later he was in a world of pain.

The other mercenaries were still rather dumbfounded by the sudden arrival of these strangers and the resulting eruption of violence. They had the look of hardened veterans, but this was a bit much to handle right away even for them. One female soldier a few feet away from the main group of combatants raised one hand and shouted, "Please, whoever you are, don't kill the captain! He is not himself!"

---

I hope there won't be too many corrections/retcons I need to make, but we'll see. It's the first combat, after all :)

The whole party is up again!

Khazat Karelem makes a full attack against Aryk, hitting AC 36,33,22,and 29 for 3 times in total. Total damage amounts to 155!

Aryk moves at the speed of though, instinctually slipping to the side, dodging the first blow but was staggered slightly by the follow ups.  He stabbed, slashed and stabbed again in a blur, all three attacks striking sparks as they glanced off the ‘man’s’ armor before Aryk stepped back out of reach of the man.


Use sidestep power; negate first melee attack against him.
Full round attack.
8 + 18 = 26
14 + 13 = 27
2 + 9 = 11
No hits.
Five-foot step to I15
This message was last edited by the player at 23:06, Fri 03 July 2020.

As the woman shouted, Vahid grunted in acknowledgement of her before sidestepping behind the evidently possessed man in an attempt to divide his focus between himself and Aryk. After achieving this, he let loose with a flurry of quick, fluid slashes. To the untrained eye it might have seemed as if the priest was attempting to kill the mercenary, but the seasoned warriors present saw the edge turn away at the last moment to avoid mortal wounds.

Unfortunately, the man proved far more competent than anticipated, deflecting Vahid's strikes, save for a solid blow to the collarbone with the flat of his blade. That done, Vahid settled into a more defensive posture with a short prayer "I do not fear the sword of my foe, for I do the work of Sarenrae. Her light will preserve me." As he spoke, a warm light seemed to suffuse his armor, his face confident and calm.

Five foot step diagonally to flank with Aryk, then full attack.
All but one attack misses, which deals 32 damage from the scimitar and 9 holy damage on the chance he's evil, all nonlethal thanks to divine fighting technique. It's an incredibly long shot and I don't expect it to affect anything, but if he counts as an outsider for some reason, the planar enchantment on my sword means the first five DR he has is ignored.
Following that, swift action to use sacred armor because I feel it will be very relevant shortly. Enhancing armor with +1 enhancement and light fortification. AC is now 30 and any crits he might threaten have a 25% chance of being negated.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Fri 03 July 2020.

Zhira looked at the woman, then nodded and said, in a serious tone:

"He'll live, but achieving it is gonna be painful, and not just for him. I apologize in advance."

She then moved, quickly maneuvering around the nearest soldier to reach her opponent from the side, turning to slam the hilt of her Scimitar straight on his nose, before grabbing the weapon with both hands, slamming the flat of it into the man's abdomen and sending him crashing into the soldier just behind him, before quickly retreating away, dodging the man's retaliatory strikes.

OOC: right, so this time I have my geography right.

All of my attacks this round will be non-lethal and without Power Attack, so I'll have a -4 penalty on them all; it shouldn't be too much of a problem.

Move action will be to move around the mercenary to reach I8, and then shove; that's 25 ft of movement, so I'm getting another point of tension, meaning I now have 2. Shove is a touch attack, and thanks to Slapper I can add the bonus of a 1h weapon to it, meaning this is a hit unless I roll 1.

00:53, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 48 using 1d20+29.  NL Shove (touch attack).

...it's so sad that Shove can't crit, isn't it? Anyway, the enemy thus takes Shove damage, which is 9 HP (STR + enhancement bonus to 1h weapon) and is battered, meaning -2 to CMB and inability to take attacks of opportunity provoked by combat maneuvers.

Next is my standard action attack with a two-handed Vital Strike, still non-lethal, still +29 bonus; since I am in I8, if the soldier named Salazeh is an ally, that gives me a +2 for flanking. That might matter later, but for now I haven't factored it into my rolls.

01:09, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 36 using 1d20+29.  NL 2h VS Scimitar attack.
01:12, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 61 using 8d6+24.  NL 2h VS Scimitar DMG.

Note that, in addition to the 61 damage from the attack, I also inflict 5 bleed damage. I'm noting this separately because I'm not sure if it's inflicted immediately or not - I think it should be, but I'd like a confirmation.

Anyway, that was a successful hit, so I get another tension point, bringing me to 3. It also triggers my Bolstering ability, meaning that, if he uses any ability that causes me to roll a saving throw during the next round, I get a +2 on that saving throw.

Next if Follow-Through, for my free action no attack of opportunity bull rush attempt. First the roll, still non-lethal, with a bonus of +34, keeping in mind that my opponent has a -2 to his CMD from battered.

01:17, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 37 using 1d20+34.  Follow-Through Bull Rush.

Not a very good roll, but it should at least be enough for a medium sized creature to be moved, especially with the -2 penalty from battered (and, if the bull rush is successful, the enemy will remain battered until the end of my next round, meaning anybody else can use combat maneuvers on him without provoking). Of course, as always, every 5 I beat the CMD by is 5 extra ft the enemy gets moved (basically, the margin of success on a bull rush is added to 5 to get the total amount the enemy is moved, which is then rounded down to the nearest multiple of 5). Here is where whether I have the flanking bonus matters, as that would add directly to the result of my bull rush, thus increasing the distance moved.

See, since I'm in I18, on a successful the enemy would be moved diagonally away from be, into G16 first, then F15 and so on... except that G16 is currently occupied by Salazeh. This means that, since I have Martial Focus right now, my Hammer ability activates, and both the enemy and the person they would have hit with the movement take 1d8 (non-lethal) damage for every 5 ft they would have moved; so if I, say, beat the CMD by 12, that would be 15 ft of movement, so 3d8 of damage. As I don't know the enemy's CMD, I'll leave this for the GM to calculate. Both Kazath and Salazeh would take this damage.

Assuming that's not enough to bring the man down, I'll be then spending 3 tension points to move up to my speed as a swift action, moving back to L16 for another 20 ft of movement (so I have moved 45 this round, and have 40 left); as that would provoke attack of opportunity, I'm rolling Acrobatics to avoid them.

01:47, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 30 using 1d20+28.  Acrobatics (avoiding attacks of opportunity).

If that's not enough to avoid the attack of opportunity, and I get hit, then if it's a critical, I have Light Fortification for a 25% miss chance.

Hopefully, he won't hit me, and now he needs to leave the threatened area of everybody else (thus provoking a slew of attacks of opportunity from all of them) if he wants to attack me.

As I end my turn, the effect of my Patrol ends and my threatened area shrinks back to 5 ft, but the enemy is still under Challenge (10 rounds left of its duration), so still takes the -6 to any attacks made against people other than me.

I still have Martial Focus, but my Tension is back down to 0, and Bolstering is giving me +2 to saves until next turn.

This message was last edited by the player at 10:10, Sat 04 July 2020.

Rictor stiffened as he saw the madman's blade bite Aryk, drawing a bead along his shaft as he lined the dancing tip up with the swirling combat. He felt his focus narrow, every distraction except his quarry fading from his mind. He was having trouble drawing a bead but saw his opening when Zhira's punishing assault pushed him back.

"Duck!" He called out, and sent out a pair of arrows that passed within inches of Aryk's ear.

He was aiming for this captain's blade arm, but the motion was too chaotic and he sent his next two shafts thudding into his thigh. He could see the others doing their best to bring him down but from Rictor's vantage he didn't have that luxury. All he could do was aim to wound rather than to kill, feathered shafts sprouting from his targets legs and shoulders rather than his throat and chest.

---

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Swift Action: Cast Instant Enemy on the captain.
Full Round Action: Rictor full attacks for 34,48,40,38,35,31. Five hits one miss, for a total of 232 damage. If one of his earlier attacks brings him down won't take the remaining shots.

22:18, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 215,17 using 6d8+186,6d6.  Damage.

22:17, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 34,48,40,38,35,31 using 1d20+31,1d20+31,1d20+31,1d20+26,1d20+21,1d20+16.  Full Attack.

---

HP: 187   Effects: Haste

---

EDIT

I miscalculated my attack bonus, I was counting both favored enemy bonuses. Rictor's proper attack should have been 32, 46, 38, 36, 33, 29, which means that his first attack (the Multishot) would have missed. I've rolled the damage for that attack and detracted it from his damage total this round.

22:40, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 71,8 using 2d8+58,2d6.  Multishot Arrow.

His total damage this round should be 153 damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:41, Sat 04 July 2020.

Aryk's quick sidestep spared him a deep wound from the first, earth-cracking swing of the madman's halberd, but he didn't anticipate that the follow-up attacks would be made with such speed and ferocity. Badly injured in their wake, his own focus and strength faltered momentarily, causing his attacks to miss.

Vahid stepped to one side, next to the building's stone wall, in the hope to take advantage of the fact that Aryk was keeping the captain distracted from the opposite side. Unfortunately, that was the exact moment his companion decided to back-off for now, not wanting to risk further injury. With this, Khazat Karelem was able to concentrate on defending against the warpriest's attacks, doing an admirable job, his gleaming, blood-dripping halberd a veritable whirlwind of deflections and parrying strokes.

Zhira finally entered the melee fray as well. Darting next Vahid, she barrelled into the mercenary, breaking his nose with a powerful punch of her scimitar and followed up on that with a bone-crunching slam of the halberd to the chest. Khazat is thrown back and onto the ground, next to Lieutenant Salazeh, sand and dust exploding outwards in all directions from the heavy impact. For a long moment it seemed as if the captain would continue his struggle, growling and clawing at the hard ground, but then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed.

---

Rictor, if you used any limited resources, you get them back, seeing as Zhira ended the battle just before your turn.

Combat is over!

Zhira let out a long breath, before sheathing her scimitar back. Next, she knelt next to the man, starting to work on his wounds to ensure he was stabilized and didn't bleed to death while she spoke.

"I apologize for the brutality of that; would you be willing to explain to us the reasons for these events?"

She didn't move her eyes from the wounded man as she spoke until she was certain that he'd survive.

OOC: made a Heal check to stop the bleeding on Khazat and ensure the man is stable and doesn't die on us, but without using any actual magical healing (since that'd remove the Non-Lethal damage and cause him to get back on his feet and resume the battle). Also, Vahid, you might want to offer some healing to Salazeh, if she was bitten.

14:56, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 30 using 1d20+18.  Heal check (stop the bleeding).

After the man fell and he was confident that his comrades had control of the situation, Aryk resheathed his sword and then took a deep, slow breath, focusing himself inward, on his body and the wounds he had sustained, willing his flesh to reform and repair.


Aryk uses ‘Body Adjustment’, enhanced to max (17 psionic points) to bear 8d12).
Heals 41 points (to total of 108 HP)

 Qvan was still in Elemental shape, resembling a slender humanoid djinn of pure air. He flew like the wind (literally) down from the parapet, in a wide circle around the group with the sound of a sudden and powerful draft. He landed behind Aryk and the lieutenant. As he reached the ground, he regained his human shape, six and a half feet of wizened old man in tan robes, still carried by the momentum. His black leather boots slid on the sandy ground and he came to a stop, resting on his ebony staff.

  "Peace be with you, Lieutenant..." he said, looking at Salazeh, his eyes flickering to the stripes on her uniform.
  "I am Qvan Ibn Hamid. Would you let my companion Vahid take a look at your wound? He is a superb healer."
He bowed his head ever so slightly, glancing at the fallen captain. His arcane vision allowed him to scan the body for magical auras, and he did keep staring as long as he could garner more information.

 He appreciated Zhira had already asked for explanation, and did not want to pile on the inquiry. Yet he had to wonder... was the officer such a formidable force of nature to begin with, or was it the affliction that had taken him? From the testimony he had gathered, the so-called Feast of Dust reverted its victims crazy, violent, and famished... but he had not yet heard about the curse giving them supernatural strength, stamina, or fighting abilities.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:35, Sat 04 July 2020.

As the man fell and Zhira began tending to his wounds, Vahid sheathed his sword, allowing the light to fade from his armor and willing the flow of magic from the boots to stop. With that done, he stepped over to the woman, gesturing toward her bleeding throat, "Master Hamid speaks truly. I can help you with that, if you will allow me."

After gaining her permission, Vahid gently placed his hand over the wound, closing his eyes and pulling on the positive energy he had been taught to channel, flesh knitting itself back together.

When she was healed, Vahid stepped away, giving her room to breathe. "Aryk, do you want me to help with those?" He said, gesturing to the rather sever wounds Aryk still had after using his own powers of healing.


Canceling Sacred Armor and Haste, 16 minutes and 8 rounds of duration remain for them respectively.
Healing the throat bitten Lieutenant with a use of fervor, she is healed of the following
12:07, Today: Vahid al-Mavari rolled 21 using 6d6, rerolling ones (({1}2,2,{1}5,4,5,3)).

Assuming Aryk agrees to wanting healing, he is restored of the following.
12:09, Today: Vahid al-Mavari rolled 25 using 6d6, rerolling ones ((2,4,5,6,3,5)).

Rerolling ones for my fervor because of my trait, Envoy of Healing. Assuming Aryk wants in on the healing, I have 14 uses of Fervor left for the day.

“Thank you Vahid, it is much appreciated.  Apparently I was an easy target.  I will additionally require a moment to refocus myself.”

Aryk took a moment to center himself as Vahid healed him, more of his wounds closing up and reknitting.  He closed his eyes for a moment, emptying his mind and making his body still, recentering himself.  Following that, he squatted down next to the lieutenant to make sure that the man was disarmed, removing his weapons from him and placing them out of his grasp.

“Does anyone have restraints for this man?”

Aryk will accept the healing, thank you.
Additionally, he will use a full-round action (six seconds) to regain his subconscious focus.

Qvan glanced at the others after Aryk’s question. He reckoned none of them would carry manacles with them, and surely even if they did, he doubted they would be enough to restrain the crazed captain. The man had after all shown an incredible display of force, and breaking steel handcuffs would not seem impossible.

“Let me get some proper restraints,” he said.
“I will be right back.”

While Vahid use his magic and skills to take care of the wounded, the tall wizard disappeared for a moment. Without much of a warning, he turned to an earthy appearance, his skin taking the quality of sand and his clothes and equipment simply merging with his body, save for the pendant bearing a bright gem around his neck. In this new elemental shape, he sank into the sand, leaving no trace behind him.

Less than a minute later, the stone like wizard reappeared, almost in the same spot. This time he was carrying a large hard stone, possibly marble or granit, and weighing over fifty pounds. He placed the stone right next to the unconscious captain, and gradually faded back into his fully human shape. Stroking his long moustache, he asked the Lieutenants Zhira and Salazeh:
  “Have you stripped him of weapons, even concealed, or anything else you think should be removed?”

Once this little detail was done, he cast a simple but very efficient spell, and quite potent in the hands of an accomplished sculptor.

The stone became malleable, softer than clay, and in a few expert strokes was shaped into two sets of manacles, each about twenty pounds in weight, perfectly smooth and solid. One set was restraining the man’s wrists, keeping them close together and behind his back. The other set was restraining his ankles, allowing enough distance between them to let him walk, albeit awkwardly. The two sets looked like they had been cast around his joints and would be impossible to remove save by magic —or tremendous force.

---

Elemental body: medium earth elemental, to use earth glide and find a suitable stone underground.
Cast Stone shape to create the bespoke restraints.
Craft check take 10 is 40

His wounds mostly healed, Aryk made a more comprehensive check of the unconscious man for concealed weapons or anything else of note.  He smirked to himself as the wizard did as wizards do, changing shape & whisking himself away on an errand of his own.  He worked his way down the man’s body, starting at the bottoms of his boots and meticulously working his way up, checking his entire form for anything he might use to make trouble, finishing just as the mage returned.

Perception check for concealed weapons: 29 + 1d20 (15) = 44
This message was last edited by the player at 01:06, Mon 06 July 2020.

The four other mercenaries relaxed visibly as their crazed captain toppled to the ground, defeated by these strangers in a quick and brutal fight, but clearly still alive. The lieutenant slowly climbed to her feet once more, hand still pressed against her neck to stem the bleeding as much as possible. She eyed Zhira and the rest of the group with a mix of suspicion and respect, taking a while before she responded to the woman's question. "Lieutenant Salazeh of the Long Whisker Mercenary Band, thank you for your timely assistance. To answer your question, the captain behaved rather strangely over the last couple of days, looking unhealthy and restless. In hindsight I should have recognized the signs of this curse right away, but he assured me that everything was fine on multiple occasions." Her voice fell to a whisper as she regarded the unconscious man at her feet, her free hand clenched tightly into a fist. "Maybe I just didn't want to admit it to myself that Khazat Karelem, my friend and superior, was someone who could also fall victim to something as evil and vile as this..."

The arrival and transformation of Qvan in their midst brought Salazeh's attention back to the moment. She raised one eyebrow at the formidable display of arcane power, then inclined her head respectfully towards him. "And with you, Qvan Ibn Hamid." Her own gaze flickered over to regard Vahid for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "I would be grateful for his aid."

The lieutenant watched Vahid warily, but offered her bleeding neck for his treatment without hesitation. After the magic took hold and the warpriest stepped back, she took a deep breath, gave a satisfied grunt and started to clean her bloody hands with a piece of cloth. "Thank you, Master Vahid. I'm in your debt. If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Salazeh was about to complete her sentence that started with, "We should have enough rope in one of those buildings to...", when Qvan changed form once again, causing a gasp of surprise to be uttered from one of the other soldiers. She shook her head, crossed her arms in front of her chest and waited patiently, apparently content to let the wizard take care of the this as well. After Qvan reappeared and queried them about having disarmed Khazat, Salazeh gestured at Aryk and said, "I think your colleague here took care of that. From what I have seen, he did a thorough job and there shouldn't be anything left that the captain could use as a tool to escape."

As the large piece of rock was shaped and transformed by the wizard, even Salazeh had an impressed look of astonishment on her dirty face, eventually simply nodding as a statement that this should do the trick. "Once again, thank you all for your invaluable help. I cannot be sure what the exact outcome of this struggle would have been without your interference, but based on what I have witnessed, I assume it would have been a lot worse. My gut tells me that all four of us here are only alive because you took action."

The lieutenant glanced around at everyone in the group of strangers, then ordered the other three mercenaries to lift up the unconscious body of the captain. "I'm afraid there is not much else, but I gladly tell you everything I know about what has happened here after we have removed Captain Karelem from the street. It won't be good for morale of the troops if they see their superior office lying in the dust, bloody and beaten."

Zhira nodded to Salazeh in a grateful manner.

"That would be good, Lieutenant; anything that can cause such events to happen is certainly cause for concern."

She then looked at the soldiers and added:

"And it is wise to keep the populace as calm as possible in such trying time. Would you like help?"

OOC: Zhira's STR is 24, so I'm confident she could carry the man all by herself if the soldiers are having trouble; and considering her walking speed, she'd probably get it done faster than they would, too. But she won't embarrass the soldiers like that unless their leader specifically says she wants her to help.

Both of the male mercenaries who had stepped up and close to their fallen captain gave Zhira an appreciative nod, shared a look between each other, and ultimately gestured dismissively in a way that told everyone 'we got this'. They lifted the armored form of Khazat Karelem up from the ground with a lot of heavy grunting and red-faced effort, but eventually managed to bring him into the nearest building, dropping him onto a free bedroll that lay on the floor against one wall. Both men needed a minute to catch their breath, gasping for air after the effort; and maybe next time they are offered help, they would think twice about declining it straight away.

Salazeh gave Zhira a knowing smile and a shake of the head, mumbling something like, "Men...always the same..." under her breath, before thanking the two soldiers more audibly, padding each one on the back for a job well done, smirking at their sorry state all the while.

---

Giving others the chance to post as well before continuing on with more story-relevant info.

Rictor whispered briefly in Thunder's ear and then hurled the falcon aloft to circle the area and keep an eye out for approaching danger. Thunder cared little for the settlements and edifices of man, but could cry out a warning if anything imminent were approaching.

With the others dealing with the aftermath of the fight he jogged in a wide circle around the battle, checking the observers for anyone whose interest seemed suspiciously keen. The man could have been a victim of the Feast of Dust, or the symptoms could have been unleashed upon him in this public place for some purpose.

When he was satisfied he moved forward to offer a stiff bow to Salazeh.

He knelt over the fallen captain before he was taken away, examining the color of his skin, peeling back his eyelids, and looking over his wounds for any external clues to his condition.

"My regrets for your captain's condition, Lieutenant." He said as her underlings bore the unconscious man away.

"You said that he was behaving strangely in the days leading up to this attack. Strangely in what way? Did he display any physical symptoms of this malady? Did he have any contact with strangers, or unscheduled meetings with unknown persons? Was he missing at all, or did his  duties take him somewhere isolated?"

Qvan waited for Rictor in front of the house, as he checked the surroundings for any sign of danger. Eventually they joined the others inside, where they could give the captain a more thorough examination.

The tall wizard explained to Lieutenant Salazeh:
  “Incidentally, my companions and I have just arrived in Dimayen, with an intent to investigate the Feast of Dust. We seek to find its source, and potentially put an end to its spread. If you happen to know anything more about the Curse, we would welcome the information.”

He knew well that the current state of knowledge may be patchy and inconsistent. Getting information from as many source as possible would be very useful to filter out the facts from the rumours, before both became things of legend.

The old man found a seat somewhere in the house, while the more versed in medicine examined the diseased officer.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:52, Tue 07 July 2020.

Not one of the few people around the place of the brief struggle were causing Rictor to become suspicious of them. Some other mercenaries of the Long Whisker Band had come out of their buildings and tents, weapons ready to confront whatever the reason for the clashing of weapons might have been. But as soon as they realized that everything was under control and there was no need for their involvement, they returned to their duties. Any civilian inhabitants of Dimayen's outskirts stayed as far away as possible, not interested in getting in even more trouble than they were already in. It wouldn't take long, though, for the news of the arrival of this impressive-looking group of strangers to make the rounds.

Lieutenant Salazeh offered a salute in response to the ranger's bow and looked down at her captain with a grave expression, tight-lipped in an effort to no show too much emotion while her subordinates were still around. "Thank you, Sir. And yes, as I mentioned, Captain Karelem showed signs of illness, malnutrition. He looked restless, as if he has not gotten much sleep, and haggard. His eyes almost looked haunted yesterday and he secluded himself more and more away from everyone."

She thought about the rest of the questions for a few moments, then shook her head in denial. "No, not that I can think of. No strangers in town since we arrived about a week ago. And the captain mainly stayed with the rest of us during our time here, as he usually does. No duties anywhere else. By the way, may I ask about your name?"

Salazeh then turned to Qvan and gave a quick nod, as if she had anticipated something like this. "It is good to hear that someone is finally trying to do something about this issue. I don't have a complete picture of what is going on, but it is certainly not good. Not good at all. We came to Dimayen to rest and refill our water supplies at the Whitewater Spring. By that point, it seems the townsfolk had already developed superstitions about the jackals, which reportedly carry the curse and are everywhere these days. Each night since then, we have seen starving, deranged victims running northeast into the desert. We tried to question some of them, and even detain them for some time to get answers, but all of them either died soon thereafter, or were surprisingly strong and resilient, catching my men off-guard with their viciousness and desire to flee. A day or two after our arrival, the Whitewater family sealed off their compound and the spring within, leaving us to gather what water we could find from the muddy, silt-choked irrigation ditches." She grimaced in barely hidden disgust at the memory and this unsuitable behavior from the rulers of the village.

Salazeh took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself, then she finished her short explanation and story. "We’ve heard that High Priest Arakor at the Shrine of Overflowing Joys could cure the malady overtaking the town, but he hasn’t been seen for days. I was about to start a search in honest for the man, in lieu of how bad things have gotten here, when the captain started to worry me." With a heavy sigh, she sat down on an empty chair nearby, head in hands as she massaged her temples. "Now you know as much as I do. I hope you can make better use of this knowledge."

---

A difficult Heal or a (even more difficult) Knowledge the Planes check might help with identifying this curse.

Zhira frowned, thinking the matter over, before shaking her head.

"It is all very strange and worrisome to hear, but I doubt we will be able to understand much about what is going on without investigating the area first."

She looked at the rest of the group, as if to see whether they had any idea that the former soldier had not.

OOC: rolled for Heal, but only gotten 22, which I imagine is not enough. Maybe Qvan will have more luck? I can't imagine a Wizard's Knowledge to be low. :)

 The old wizard listened intently to the Lieutenant's recollection. He let his mind focus and read between the lines, almost taking over from his conscious self, allowing it to see pattern that would ordinarily remain obfuscated.

 With Vahid's assistance, he gathered clues from the ill captain. He had produced from his haversack a quill-pen and small pieces of parchment, which he quickly blackened with indecipherable symbols and formulae, little sketches and annotations.

 He did not say much, only exchanging a few mumbled comments with the Priest of Sarenrae, as they both knelt next to the unconscious man. Eventually he rose, a few joints clicking loudly as he stretched upwards.

  "It is surprisingly fortuitous, that fate will have given us the chance to observe the Curse firsthand just as we arrived. Although perhaps coincidental. It is also fortunate that the, specimen –pardon my language– we can examine is such a man, of formidable constitution and spirit..."

 He rummaged through his bag and pulled out a leather-bound tome, and flicks through pages of anatomy diagrams and tables full of symbols.
  "His symptoms profile reminded me of something in there..." he mused.

---

Qvan uses his daily Moment of Prescience on the Knowledge Check... and what a great moment to roll a natural 1 !!
 Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 51 using 1d20+50.  Knowledge: The Planes
(understand the Curse, with moment of Prescience)

Vahid had been hanging back, merely listening to the conversation as he prepared his tools to give the bound man a full examination. He didn't participate until he had thoroughly checked the man for any physical ailments that might be attributed to the Curse. When that had been completed, he looked up from where he was kneeling next to the bound man and spoke. "Nobody has seen the local priest? Has anyone checked the Shrine itself for him, or has he simply secluded himself?"

10:26, Today: Vahid al-Mavari rolled 50 using 1d20+40.  Heal check(understanding the plague).

Fingers crossed this gets something really good.

Rictor assumed a straight backed pose with his arms folded, tapping a thumb against his chin.

"No one else sick, and yet the captain was not often isolated where he alone could have contracted this disease. Clearly this is no natural malady, and upon first examination I fear the vector of transmission may be supernatural as well. It may be difficult to tell who will be stricken next." He said as if musing to himself.

Salazeh's words brought him out of his reverie.

"Forgive me. I am Rictor bin Caeler al-Alkir, sometimes called Wyrmbane. I am an assistant to Qvan Hamidson, and in this troubling matter your humble servant." He cut another bow.

"It may be wise to examine your men, Lieutenant. Particularly those who had close contact with Captain Karelem. If they begin to evince the same symptoms then it could be valuable to isolate them for a time.

If this priest that you speak of has a cure for this plague then finding him is a priority. It also seems that there may be something in the northeastern desert, but I would be hesitant to direct our efforts there with no further information."

He resumed his thinking pose, thumb tapping. Suddenly he held a gauntleted fist aloft and the circling Thunder alighted with a flurry of feathers. Rictor stroked the falcon and fed him a morsel.

"My friend, fly a day's flight to the northeast. Keep a keen eye out. Report to me gatherings of men or beasts, suspicious or unnatural objects. Go!" He flung his hand up and Thunder keened and flapped northward.

"My lady, require you any other service from us? If you do not Master Vahid and I will repair to the Shrine of Overflowing Joys to seek Arakor."

In response to Vahid's question about High Priest Arakor, Lieutenant Salazeh shook her head once again. "I'm not sure, but from what I heard of the people living in Dimayen proper, he hasn't been seen for more than two days now. As desperate as folks are around here by now, I doubt that merely secluding himself in his shrine would be enough to count as 'having vanished'. Everyone wants that cure for either themselves, or a loved one who got afflicted. Those cursed victims would surely find and confront him in his chambers at the Shrine of Overflowing Joys, if he would be there, simply hiding. But," she admitted after a moment, "we haven't checked for ourselves. I guess it couldn't hurt to stop by and ask around."

At Rictor's introduction, Salazeh inclined her head respectfully as well, recognizing his name with a surprised blink of her dark eyes. "Prince Wyrmbane, it is an honor to meet you in person. I have heard much about your exploits, as well as those of Master Hamidson here. Both of you are quite famous." She smiled at her next words and how absurd the mere notion of it would be. "Despite you gracious offer, I could never see or treat you as a 'humble servant' of mine, your Majesty. But I am very glad you all are here. Witnessing your group in action is one thing, but knowing who you really are gives me even more confidence that there is now hope in sight for us all to survive this accursed plague."

At Rictor's suggestion of checking her men, she grunted in agreement. "Indeed, that sounds like a good idea. We had been doing this already, and staying away from those afflicted if possible, but in lieu of what just happened here, doubling down on making sure no one else shows any signs of the curse is definitely required." She turned to the other three mercenaries in the room and gestured for them to get going. "You heard it, gather everyone!"

As the ranger mentioned that something of note might be out in the desert, Salazeh scratched her head and pondered this for several seconds, before remembering. "I'm not certain this is what you have heard as well, but there is a rumor in Dimayen about a holy man out at Blood Rise Rock in the desert, who apparently is blessed with the power to cure the curse as well. Honestly, I myself don't give too much on this hearsay, but if you have learned of this as well, then maybe there is some truth to it, after all."

The lieutenant watched the magnificent form of Thunder fly off after receiving his instructions, then turned back to Rictor. "No, I do not believe so. We will stay here and tend to the captain, waiting until he regains consciousness again. Hopefully he is able to think more clearly then, at least for a little while, so that I may get some answers and ask him what he would like us to do next. If anything comes from this, I will inform you all right away."

---

We should wait for Qvan and/or Vahid to give us their interpretation of what they know about the Feast of Dust before moving on.

 The old wizard browsed through his tome a bit more, frowning more and more, his mood gradually sinking as he pieced elements together.

  "It is worse than I feared... dire I dare say."

 "I brought this book with me, for I had suspicions on the daemonic nature of the curse. From what I have observed, it fits the profile of a magical disease from the dread realm of Abaddon... specifically from Trelmarixian’s court; the Horseman of Famine."

 "Vahid will probably have more to say about this, but from my understanding, people affected by the curse will experience great fatigue and hunger. They will find it impossible to eat; believing that the food is nothing but ashes, dust, and rot. They will remain ravenously hungry as long as the curse persists and eventually die of starvation."

 Qvan winced, as his description was about to become worse even.
  "If anyone should survive this first stage —like our captain did thanks to his formidable constitution— the fatigue will disappear, they will experience feebleness of mind, as their body gains superior strength and fortitude, and start biting others to quench their debilitating hunger."

 The wizard turned to the lieutenant and added:
  "Regarding the point you mentioned, of people running into the desert... it seems that the afflicted is compelled to travel towards the source of the curse originates, instinctively knowing the direction. This suggests that the malady indeed has a supernatural origin, and it is on our Plane."

 He looked at the other adventurers, a grave look on his face.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:56, Wed 08 July 2020.

Rictor nodded gravely as Qvan expounded on the curse.

"Supernatural in origin? Then truly nobody is safe. Is this curse spread like a normal disease, through contact? Or does it afflict at random? Are those closer to the source that you mention at greater risk?

If the afflicted have been seen traveling to the northeast we can assume that something is hidden in the desert out there. Hopefully in a day or two we will have more information.

In the meantime finding some way to combat the curse or protect people from its influence seems to be of utmost importance. Not only are the infected at risk, but if they survive the curse they become a danger to everyone around them as well.

Priest Arakor or the holy man of Blood Rise Rock seem to be our best leads at the moment."

He saluted Salazeh. He had long ago given up his onetime habit of denying his birthright, ashes though it was. But still he felt that old familiar stab, and a muscle in the side of his jaw strained as he bore the title. Prince, but prince of nothing. This too he would speak to Vahid about when the time was right.

"Call upon me if you have need. Qvan, I am going to investigate the Shrine."

He stowed his bow and with a final bow made his way off through the city, cutting through the streets on his way to the Shrine of Overflowing Joys.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:14, Wed 08 July 2020.

Zhira frowned, and raised a hand to stop Rictor.

"Is that wise? With such a danger around, we should try to stay together; the possibility of somebody being infected while they explore things alone seem quite high. Seems like a pointless risk to take."

OOC: Zhira might not have much INT or CHA, but she has pretty solid WIS.

Also, I was waiting for Vahid's additional explanation that should be coming before posting because I would rather know everything we could when we formulate our plan of action. Splitting the party seems like a very bad idea to me.

Vahid mostly ignored the back and forth of his fellows, so focused was he on his examination. Nothing was left unchecked or untested, and after verifying hi findings and packing his things away once more, rising to address everyone present.
"I have checked and double checked, and I can agree that everything Master Hamid has said is true. However, with all respect due to your scholastic abilities Master Hamid, you have missed two crucial points. Firstly, while normal food would have no effect, I believe magically conjured food would stave off the starvation, though the sufferer would have to be forced to eat."

Having said this, Vahid waited for everyone to process this before carrying on, The second point is that the disease can be cured, but only through the most powerful of wizardly spells or direct divine intervention in the form of miracles. Failing that, the killing of the creature who caused it or the removal of such from the material plane for at least a day should suffice to end the plague. Though it pains me to say, I must suggest that we seek the head of the being who has done this unless they prove to have been an unwilling victim of some horrible ritual."

 Qvan Ibn Hamid nodded gravely as Vahid spoke. He obviously agreed with the clarifications, and eventually just said in a whisper:
  "I concur..."

 The old wizard also agreed with Zhira, and held Rictor back for a moment.
  "We will accompany you. Until we know how the curse spreads, I think it better that we do not walk separate ways. Not really for our protection, but for the safety of others around us, if one of us should fall prey to the disease."

 He turned to Vahid and asked:
  "Could you make some recommendations to Lieutenant Salazeh, to take care of the captain for the time being, and contain the spread of the disease if it were to be contagious? Your healing expertise would be welcome I am sure."

 "We will retire now. I'm sure you will be able to find us in town, should you need anything. Thank you and good luck, Lieutenant. Peace be with you," he said with a slightly awkward smile.

 Qvan placed a hand on the Prince's shoulder, and they left the house.
  "The Shrine of Overflowing Joys is a good place to start, and if it proves a dead end we can seek the man at Blood Rise Rock. Will you guide us through the streets?"

 "Say, what happened with your steed? You used to have a Griffon for a companion, did you not? At first I thought the little Falcon may be an aspect of it, but I recognise a polymorph when I see one!" he added as they walked out, an intrigued smile between his wrinkles.

Lieutentant Salazeh gave Qvan a smile in return as the group took their leave, bowing one last time in respect to his official standing. "Peace be with you all as well, Master Hamid. You have earned a rest after this violent arrival in the village. I sincerely hope you and your companions will be able to get to the bottom of this curse before no one is left to save in Dimayen. I will wait for an order from Captain Karelem, but I assume we won't be staying for much longer. This was only supposed to be a short stop on our route to the south-west, refilling water and having a few days in a somewhat civilized area, before moving on. Also, I don't want to risk more of my men getting afflicted like the captain did. This was already a blow to our company that will be hard to come back from...good luck!"

You exited the small stone building and with it the mercenaries of the Long Whisker Band, starting to make your way further through the Third Circle of Dimayen, the poor living conditions evident everywhere you looked. Even at the best of times, this would be a pitiful sight to behold. Now, that the Feast of Dust ravaged the poor village, things looked extremely bleak and hopeless. The few living inhabitants that you spot keep a 'healthy' distance to your party, only glancing with suspicion and disinterest through holes in their tents, or around door frames of their hovels. Some wild animals could be seen as well, starved and emaciated dogs and jackals fighting over scraps, barking and yowling at each other, mostly suffering as badly as everyone else did.

A short while later, before you reached the Second Circle of the village, something to your left caught your attention. In what was once a large, open lot of sand and stone lay a yawning, steep-sided ditch filled with hastily shrouded corpses. Guards unloaded additional human-shaped bundles from a cart—some still, others wiggling—and unceremoniously threw them into the sandy pit below. An officious woman in captain’s stripes oversaw their efforts with a clipboard and torch, standing beside a dozen wooden casks labeled “oil.”

---

I don't want to interrupt this potential new conversation between Qvan and Rictor, so please finish it before moving on the this new scene. It's just that in a pbp format we need to keep going if we want to finish the story in the not-so-distant future. Hope you understand :)

"Aye, although I would consider her more a friend than a mere mount." Rictor said, chatting with Qvan as they made their way through the town.

"Alsebet and Thunder have been getting along with each other well lately. A miracle, to be sure, but a welcome one." There was much of the wilderness ranger in the way that he spoke of his animal companions as if they were human.

"Alsebet doesn't like cities. And I suspect she would like being polymorphed even less." He said with a wry smile, jokingly wagging a chiding finger under Qvan's nose. His tone clearly said don't get any ideas.

"She will be somewhere in the surrounding area, hunting, perhaps building a nest. But her wings are swift, and my whistle is loud. If we have need of her then she will be able to make her way..." Rictor trailed off as they passed the grizzly scene of the mass grave.

The Feast had been claiming lives longer than he had assumed.

He was on the verge of turning away sadly when a wiggling movement caught his eye. In a moment he was at the side of the trench.

"Halt." He commanded, holding up a forestalling hand to the captain. He didn't wait for an answer, wading into the trench towards the sackcloth wrapped body that was still moving.

Zhira had been following the discussion with only middling interest, but when she saw Rictor jump into the pit, she frowned in clear confusion, perhaps a bit of annoyance, before she turned to Qvan and Vahid.

"You didn't say, but I imagine that this curse turns fatal at some point, yes? Or is there a way to keep the victims alive indefinitely without having them devour other people?"

Qvan was walking alongside Rictor until the point where he broke off to jump into the mass grave. He had not noticed the movement among he corpses, and thus found the sudden jump into action peculiar... but he trusted the prince to be a man of purposeful action.
  “I am not sure, but I suppose something is afoot here...”

 He imagined the interruption could trigger some reaction from the authorities, and he remained alert in case his intervention was necessary. Yet he found enough clarity of mind to answer Zhira’s question.
  “Unless the victims have some way of surviving starvation, death is the only outcome I’m afraid. This may come sooner to those who run into the desert under the scorching sun though... starvation will take days to kill someone, while sunstroke may be a matter of hours.”

 “Master Vahid may well be able to tell you more though. His idea that magically conjured sustenance could provide nourishment to the afflicted certainly has merit. While I haven’t witnessed this myself, I should say it is certainly worth a try. This could potentially fend off the disease until such time when we either find a cure, or remove the entity responsible for the Curse from this Plane. I would prefer it be destroyed, but I’m afraid we can’t expect to be so lucky... Daemons have a way of coming back from even the most permanent death...”

 The old wizard peered over the gruesome scene to look at Rictor in the pit. Both hands leaning on his staff, he peruses the scene and asked aloud, for all to hear:
  “Prince Rictor, have you found anything troublesome?”

From the corner of his keen eye, he checked on the captain supervising the operation. From up close, Zhira could notice that the old man’s eyes were actually slightly glowing, their natural dark brown highlighted with a blueish hue.

---

perception take 10 is 46 / sense motive take 10 is 25
This message was last edited by the player at 22:51, Thu 09 July 2020.

Aryk watched them as they threw something moving, wrapped in a sheet, into the burn pit.  He pursed his lips slightly as Rictor hopped into the pit after the package.  While he understood the knee-jerk reaction, he also felt it extreme.  The movement could've been anything, from vermin to a simple artifact of the magical-nature of the curse.  And even if it was exactly as Rictor seemed to believe, the city guard most likely had their reasons, and as the arbiters of justice and law in this town, they had authority & power on their side as well.

Aryk started to move between Rictor and the captain, his back now to the burn pit.

"Excuse me Captain, if I may have a moment?  Does that happen often?  Moving bundles going into the burn pit?"

He put on a facade of merely asking, although he also meant to draw some of the attention from Rictor too.  He kept his hand from his weapon, appearing non-threatening, although he had a few tricks up his sleeve even when unarmed.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:15, Thu 09 July 2020.

A total of six guards were busy with their grizzly work at the pit, ordered around by one female overseer with an expression of distaste and annoyance on her sun-weathered face. At Rictor's sudden shout, the tone of command unmistakably and clearly audible for everyone to hear, the well-trained guards froze, heads turning around to see who just had arrived. The overseer was taken completely by surprise as well, barely managing to open her mouth in a response, before the stranger jumped straight into the deep pit without hesitation. Her face darkened with anger as she bellowed, "What do you think you are doing? This is the business of the town guard, you are not allowed to interfere!"

As the rest of the party approached, she whirled around and gestured for her men to draw their weapons. "You there, stop! Don't come closer! Before dealing with you, we first need to make sure you are not infected, like those poor bastards down there. We need to keep this plague in check, so don't give me any trouble. Strip down and let my men take a good look if you show any signs of injury or other indications that you might also be a victim of this curse. If you are clean and I get confirmation you don't present a threat, we can talk."

By now, Rictor had torn open the wriggling bundle at his feet, exposing a young female villager who showed clear signs of having been affected by the Feast of Dust. It seems she had not yet reached the second stage of the curse, as freeing herself from her bonds would have been rather easy at that time, and only moved with feeble strength, trying to claw her way free of the cloth she was wrapped in. Her glazed eyes didn't even seem to register Rictor at all, mouth hanging open in an almost constant moan, eyes sunken, the skin stretching taught over her bones as she had starved for weeks.

The captain took several steps away from Aryk, keeping her distance. "Haven't you heard what I just said? Stay where you are, don't move! Before we..." Then she saw the clear signs of battle on Aryk's attire, the blood splattered armor and the remaining wounds that Karalem inflicted with his halberd, those that were no yet healed completely. The overseer's eyes grew wide, and she sputtered, pointing wildly at Aryk while glancing over to her retinue. "Guards! Be ready! This man here is wounded and might very well be infected!" Then she focused her attention back at Aryk and the rest of the party. "Lay down your weapons! Surrender! We can't take any chances. You should have thought before bumbling straight in here, looking like you do."

Zhira let out a long, very annoyed sigh at that.

"Captain, before this degenerates, might I at least ask on what authority you are giving this order or making a call over the treatment of infected? Only one member of our group has any wounds, none of us are showing symptoms of any disease as far I can tell, and surely picking a fight with passersby due to mere suspicion cannot be approved policy around here, can it?"

She paused, then added, glaring at Rictor:

"And while it's true that one of us might have overstepped and interfered, for which I'm sure he'll apologize in a moment, you can surely see how a lack of understanding might have led to that? No regulations were given for us to follow upon arriving, so faulting us for lack of knowledge as if it was malicious disobedience is somewhat abusive, don't you think?"

OOC: Note that I'm fully aware this probably comes off as somewhat condescending - that's because Zhira is condescending by nature (as per my flaw), even when being respectful and polite (like I aimed for her being here with my word choice). This is more about collecting information than really defusing the situation on my part (as a player), even if Zhira herself (as a character) thinks she's been reasonable and de-escalating here.

 Qvan winces a bit at Zhira's attempt at diplomacy – although he fully realises that diplomacy was likely not her intention. When she suggests the guard is abusive, and responsible for the group's lack of knowledge, he feels like maybe his old age should be the voice of temperance.

  "Lieutenant, if I may..." he starts addressing Zhira and stepping forward as the spokesperson for the group.

 With no weapon –other than his walking staff– and a raised hand in sign of peace, he commences:
  "Peace be with you and with your people, Captain. I will ask that you receive our ways with indulgence. We are indeed foreigners in Dimayen, and on our way to being registered."

 "I am Qvan Ibn Hamid, and I can assure you none of us is infected. I am an accomplished physician and I have examined my people, I can vouch for them."

 "A master healer travels with us, Master Vahid Al-Mavari," he adds and points to the warpriest.

  "We happen to have ways of alleviating the symptoms of the Curse, until such time when we can cure it. This is why our brave Prince Wyrmbane brashly jumped into the grave... to save a life."

 He smiled in sign of appeasement, looking at each of the guards individually and then back to the captain.
  "We certainly don't think you are being abusive here... but as we are not infected, we will not expose ourselves on the street. Though I assure you I have nothing to be ashamed of, despite my advanced age... no one us want this to go any further than it has to, do we?"

 Qvan allowed a long pause for the captain to respond to his plea for peace, while Rictor carries on with his liberation of the ill but not quite dead body.

 The old man was within reach of the guards, should they want to attack him. He showed no intention of resisting, and should they try to subdue him, he will gladly let them do so.

---

Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 33 using 1d20+25.  diplomacy.
Not sure if circumstance modifiers apply (being an unarmed wise old sage and all...)


 

Rictor spared a glare for the captain as he hauled himself out of the pit, laying the emaciated woman out on the ground a few steps away. He kept an eye out for any other bound figures that were squirming, all too aware that any of the victims could have been hurled into that pit alive but too weak to move.

"You were going to burn her alive." He said, his tone accusatory.

He felt that old anger surging in his breast and fought to keep his hands from his sword hilt. Fury and worry warred in him. He knew that his feelings were disproportionate, the Captain was simply an outlet for the anger inside of him, yet even still it was all he could do to keep his features impassive. He succeeded in managing his face back to no more than a glower.

"Vahid, can you help her? Conjure food to stave off the curse?" He asked.

He straightened, placing himself between the starving victim and the guardsmen. With an effort he kept his hands from his weapons and folded his arms across his chest. Were these men acting under the city council's authority? Or had the nobles abandoned the Third Circle entirely? Rictor knew the type. If these guards were acting out of fear and desperation there could be an opportunity to seize control of the situation. Begin barking orders. Point as if expecting to be obeyed. It was shocking how often simply acting with authority could sway people.

But no, it was too great a risk. If they were acting under orders the situation could devolve into a brawl in the street. His welcome in the city, and his ability to help, would be gone.

"He speaks the truth." He said, jerking his head at Qvan.

"The Feast of Dust can be treated. This is a curse, not an illness, and is not so easily spread. If those affected can be treated then they will pose no more danger than you do." He said with a withering glance.

He made no move to drop his weapons.

It was a close thing. The first inch of bared steel would send the whole situation spiraling. The guards needed some way to take action without coming to blows. Some way to exert their authority.

"Are there more afflicted nearby? Bring them here. We will see that they are cared for."

---

If I can I'd like to use Aid Another to give Qvan a bonus to his diplomacy check.

13:03, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 24 using 1d20+10.  Diplomacy to Aid Another.

Vahid opened his mouth to respond to the shouted commands, only to disregard her as the others began to speak and Rictor  called him over. The sufferer was more important right now.
"Sadly Rictor, I have no spells to conjure food readied besides the summoning of water, or I would gladly do so. Give time to rest and pray though, I will be able to offer some relief from the hunger." Vahid said as he knelt next to the woman, trying to determine how far along she was in her suffering.

After getting a quick assessment, he looked up and finally addressed the woman in charge, no anger present on his face or in his tone, only a massive and obvious disappointment. "This is a shameful display, this murder. You have succumbed to fear and overreacted in the extreme. Stand aside, The Dawnflower has sent me to deliver these victims from their torments; this plague and your panic."

00:25, Today: Vahid al-Mavari rolled 49 using 1d20+40.  Heal check to get a sense of the woman's condition, particularly how far along the curse seems to be.
Not the best roll, but it should suffice for my purposes, I think.

As Zhira addressed the overseer and pointed out some logical details in a reasonable and respectful manner, the woman calmed down somewhat. She cleared her throat, stood straighter, tugged at her ruffled clothing in several places, then turned to look at the female stranger. "Captain Dagarma al-Duhl. I have been given the order and authority to dispose of those bodies by Tianka Whitewater, matriarch of the Whitewater Clan and ruler of Dimayen. I hope this suffices and makes it absolutely clear that I'm in charge of what happens here."

She rolled her eyes in clear annoyance as well before continuing on. "Now to your other questions. One injured individual is more than enough for me to be overly cautious. This disease has ravaged through our town for weeks now, and we are still not close to solving how it spreads and what the cause is. I'm simply not willing to risk any of our guards or my own health, especially not for a band of strangers who think they might be above the law." She took a deep breath in further attempts to get the situation and her flaring temper under control, holding up one placating hand. "No one here wants a fight. You are free to leave and be on your way. But if you intend to interfere more with my work here and come that close to me or my men, then I insist on making sure no one is afflicted. Nothing of this current situation is even close to the norm, there are no regulations put into place for everyone to follow. I just do the best that I can."

Dagarma then focused her attention on Qvan as he stepped forth and spoke, her eyes growing large in recognition of his name. With a deep and respectful bow towards him, the captain responded, "Master Hamid, it is an honor. I have heard of you and your teachings. If you vouch for your companions here, then that is good enough for me. Please excuse my rather harsh reception of your group." At his next words, she looked even more surprised, glancing briefly into the pit next to her. "Really? You are able to cure the afflicted? That is...wonderful news indeed, Master Hamid. Even though I doubt any of these poor souls down there can still be saved, you are welcome to try, of course. There have been enough lives lost already."

As Rictor emerged once more and accused her of prematurely killing the women, the overseer's posture stiffened, face growing colder. In a clipped tone, she said, "She is clearly infected by this Feast of Dust, or whatever other name you might call it. Only a slow and unnecessarily cruel death out in the desert awaited her if she would have been allowed to leave. This was intended to stop her from infecting others, and as a mercy."

"A curse, you say," Dagarma responded to Rictor's brief explanation. "This...changes things. If it's true what you say, and none of the afflicted are capable of infecting others, then our problems are maybe less severe than I expected. Though the meaning of the word 'curse' usually points to a more...supernatural origin; which is maybe a lot worse than a 'common' disease or plague." At his final question, the captain simply gestured to the cart and the pit, where lay about half a dozen more still-moving bundles. "This are all we could find so far. I doubt we got everyone, but it should take care of most in town. As I just mentioned to Master Hamid here, you are free to attempt your cure."

When Vahid pointed out that he was, in fact, not able to provide the women with any curing food, the overseer simply raised one eyebrow in slight disappointment, but held her tongue. But as the warpriest accused her of bringing shame upon herself, she was ready to explode. Eyes bulging, shoulders trembling, it took her several long moments before she could even get a word out.

The other six guards had been wary at first, hands on weapons and ready to follow their orders from the captain, even though it was clear that none of them looked particularly confident when faced with these strangers. As the captain calmed down with the introduction of Qvan, they too relaxed and gathered to one side of the pit, watching the discussion with interest. But they knew their superior well, and seeing her furious reaction to Vahid's comment, they tensed and got ready to draw steel, after all.

Zhira seemed happy when Qvan intercession appeared to calm things down; however, she looked surprised, and obviously conflicted, when Vahid's words lighted up the controversy once again. She took a breath, as if trying to calm herself, and then said to Vahid, her tone level:

"Brother Vahid, the Captain here said they are just looking out for the safety of people, and doing their duty as commanded to them. Surely that's enough for us to refrain from throwing accusations around? Everybody here obviously wants only what's best for the town's citizen - any conflict would but see us weaken each other, instead of dealing with whatever force is behind this."

She glanced at Qvan, as if hoping the mage would be able to placate the other members of the group, although she just as obviously didn't want to ask directly, so as not to appear like she was trying to order the mage around.

 Qvan could not blame anyone for how they reacted. It was a horrible scene, and showed the direness of the situation here. It also showed the extreme behaviour humans are pushed to when they lack understanding of what threatens them. And the horror they are willing to accept when instructed by someone who claims to act for a supposed greater good.

  “Captain Dagarma al-Duhl, well met. I am sure you were doing what seemed best, and with the lawful support of the local authorities. Please forgive the judgment some of my companions are quick to pass on you — we have only just arrived in Dimayen and do not fully know the situation, we ought to speak with more restrain.”

 “What my friend Master Vahid suggested I believe, is that one would expect the critically ill to be given a quick and painless death, if this were indeed a mercy. But then if you had done so, it would be too late for us to do anything to the poor souls... thus maybe fate wanted it this way.”

 “Now please, lower your weapons, as we will ours, and be the captain who allowed foreign healers to save some lives —if only a few.”

 The old man turned around and suggested everybody put their weapons back in their sheaths. Having seen how swiftly Prince Wyrmbane could draw his bow, he knew that this made little difference to the threat that they still posed.

 Qvan have everyone a moment to cooperate and gather their spirits. He turned to a wall, the closest thing to a small house or similar structure. He looked at the captain and said:
  “I am going to get a spell now, to conjure a place where we can provide care for those who can still be saved. We will take custody of any of the infected who is still alive, and let you carry on with your difficult and honourable task, with those for whom it is too late.”

 He did not quite wait for an approval, and with his staff drew a perfect rectangle on the wall, about four feet wide and eight feet tall. With a subtle flicker of light, the rectangle pushed into the wall and became a door. With just a look, the old mage invited everyone to carry on with the operation.
  “Captain, once you are done, you are very welcome to join us inside for tea and tell us more about your current fight against the Feast of Dust.”

 Beyond the —temporarily visible— magic door, one will find first a large vestibule, then a high-ceiling banquet hall which will be repurposed as a treatment room for the afflicted. All around, doors open into different chambers, and at the far end a spiral staircase leads up to a mezzanine. The upper level has similar rooms dotted all around. The place as a while is of robust timber construction, with rugs and carpets several inches thick, and magical glyphs and symbols in various places. There doesn’t seem to be any window anywhere, but magical orbs light up the place to provide ad hoc illumination. Invisible servants are available to provide food and guide anyone identified as a guest.

 

---

cast Mage’s Magnificent Mansion.
 This creates a 5,000sqft house with servants who will provide magically conjured food for up to 250 guests (over 34 hours)
It’s now our field hospital. We may have to recruit nursing staff among the locals. 
This message was last edited by the player at 10:39, Sun 12 July 2020.

Qvan got his placating words in just in time before Captain al-Duhl was able to respond to Vahid's harsh judgment , and her attention was drawn back to the old wizard almost involuntarily. But even when faced with such a highly respectable and famous individual like him, it took all of her willpower to keep quiet and listen, fists clenched tightly at her sides, face red with fury.

After Qvan had finished speaking and requested sincerely that this precarious situation should not escalate any further, Dagarma closed her eyes for a long moment, took a deep breath, forcing her hands to relax with visible effort, then opened her eyes once more and gave a single, curt nod. "Alright then. Men, stand down. Master Hamid's words are wise and reasonable indeed, maybe fate or the Dawnflower wanted this to happen. Who are we to argue with such higher powers and their inscrutable designs?" She glanced briefly at the half-dead woman still lying on the hard-packed ground at Rictor's feet, then grimaced slightly. "Maybe the treatment of the still-living could have been handled better...in a more human way. I don't know." Turning to Vahid, her eyes still smoldering with anger at his proclamation mere moments ago, she said, "Do what you must...or can for them, in the name of Sarenrae. We won't interfere." The overseer then stepped away from the pit, turning her back to the grim scene as if she had enough of this and just wanted to get away from it all.

At Qvan's announcement of taking custody and casting his spell, she didn't even look back at him, simply gestured for him to proceed and nodded her agreement. "Do that, Master Hamid. I hope you are successful in saving some of them. We will finish up here in the meantime." She did not respond to his invitation to join them later on in the mansion, apparently busy studying the paperwork she had clipped to her board.

The other guards waited patiently and respectfully for Rictor and Vahid to extract the remaining moving bodies from the pit and cart, then proceeded to dump the rest of the dead inside, eventually lighting them on fire with oil and torch.

There were seven people in total who were still alive, including the first woman Rictor saved from being burned alongside the others, with four of them showing clear signs of having been afflicted by the Feast of Dust, and three others who had fallen ill thanks to some different, more mundane diseases. Those three could easily be nursed back to health with simple restorative magic, or even with just ordinary medicine, time and care.

Zhira let out a long, relieved breath when the situation didn't devolve into a fight, then she bowed and murmured "thank you, Master Qvan" toward the old wizard.

Then she turned to Vahid and Rictor and said, in a low tone so it wouldn't carry to the soldiers:

"Why do that? You can't take the place of the law like that, insult its representative, and act like you're in the right. Next time, think things through instead of just charging in."

It was clear she wasn't very interested in the answer, as she instead move to help the surviving wounded into the mansion Qvan had created; only once that was done did she turn back to the rest of the group again, her tone less angry and more sounding just a bit tired.

"So... what next? We have a number of leads, but I don't know that we can follow after them all on our own, and I'm not sure what we should prioritize."

She glanced at Rictor and Vahid and added:

"And I think that splitting up would be a really, really bad idea right now."

Rictor worked quickly, slitting open the cloth shrouds to check each of the bodies and then tucking them closed respectfully if the occupant was truly dead. When he had the seven rescuees resting comfortably on the lavish rugs and plush pillows of Qvan's conjured mansion he instructed the ghostly forms of the liveried servants to tend to them and feed them if they could.

His jaw tightened when an examination showed several without the touch of the Feast. They would have been consigned to a grim death just like the others. Through fear and ignorance.

He marched up to Captain Dagarma, his face cold. This Tianka Whitewater bore ultimate responsibility for burning plague victims alive. A ruler had to accept responsibility for the needs of their people. But his misdirected anger at Dagarma herself had cooled only little.

Still, Rictor wouldn't do anything to undermine the tenuous peace that Qvan and Zhira had brokered with the town guards.

"Captain. I apologize for my rashness." He said stiffly. His teeth sounded like boulders as they ground together.

"If you find any others with this curse bring them here for treatment."

He jerked a stiff bow, barely an inclination of the head, and whirled to stalk into the Mansion. If it were possible to gently, angrily see to the needs of an invalid he accomplished it. He was seeing that one of the Feast victims was fed, those stricken with mundane illnesses who really might spread their condition were resting in their own chambers, when Zhira took him to task. His shoulders tightened and the muscles of his jaw began to rapidly tense.

"You would stand by then? And allow the innocent to be burned alive? Perhaps petition the lord and fill out forms in triplicate before helping?" He snapped.

He stood and exhaled a deep sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few breaths he seemed more in control of himself.

"I'm sorry. I'm sure that keeping peace with the locals will be of value too." He said.

When the sick and cursed were resting comfortably Rictor righted himself.

"I am going to investigate the Shrine of Overflowing Joys. Zhira is right, if any of the afflicted is as dangerous as Captain Khazat when the curse is fully manifest then it could be dangerous to separate, even within the confines of the town." He said brusquely. His anger had cooled somewhat, flaring only when he glanced in on one of the victims.

With a last look to make sure everything was in order he began to make his way through the city to the Shrine.

"Rictor, these people are doing the best with that they have.  Our knowledge and abilities are game-changers, but until we arrived and offered our help, they had no means to treat the affected, nor the true knowledge of what they were facing.  Given that, what they have been doing is the most appropriate option given that they knew and could do."

He took a moment to survey the scene further, giving the captain, a sad smile.

"While I must again apologize for our manner, I will not apologize for our purpose.  Prince Wyrmbane can, on occasion, allow his passion to overcome judgement & propriety, but it is always in the purpose of the better."

Aryk then mvoes to assist the others in sending the remaining moving bundles to the makeshift facility, hoisting one his shoulder and the other under his remaining arm.

heavy load is 350, lift off ground is 700; I assume between that he can manaeg two mostly-starved wrapped up bodies.

Overseer al-Duhl glanced up from her clipboard as she heard Rictor approach, her weary and concentrated expression being replaced by one of cold, professional detachment as she saw the look on the warrior's face. already expecting more arguments and discussions, she was taken aback by his words, as unconvincing as they might sound. Inclining her head towards him, she said, "Apology accepted, Sir. Should we find more afflicted who are still clinging to life, we will bring them to you first. You have my word." After Rictor has turned around and was marching away again, she called after him, "Thank you for helping out, despite how all of this went down, we are glad for any assistance!"

---

Is everyone in agreement to accompany Rictor in seeking out the shrine after having done everything you can (for now) for your patients? I will move on to the next scene by tomorrow unless any of you has other ideas, plans or suggestions right now.

 Once everybody was inside the magically conjured mansion, the afflicted tended to as far as could be within a reasonable timeframe, Qvan gathered the companions in the vestibule.

  "This place will remain here and accessible for the next day. If needed, I can make it stay into existence beyond that. Only people whom I identify as guests will be able to access it, so it should be the safest place for anyone to be."

 He made sure everybody understood clearly the 'rules' of this magical haven, thought anyone who had traveled with him before knew them already. The would even notice only minute differences since the last time they were guests in the mansion. The ghostly servants are not spooky in any way, although they look eerie and people unused to magic may struggle to trust them at first.

  "Rictor is right, we should follow through at the Shrine of Overflowing Joys for now. Let us all go there, as soon as possible. And after that, we could inquire at the Fabled and Forgotten — it is a bookshop I have visited in the past, one of only a handful of places in Dimayen where I would send a friend without concern."

 Qvan realised at this point that having a few of his apprentices would have been useful. He could have left one in charge of their magical headquarters, and ask the other to run errands in the short term.

 As they walked through the narrow streets, the magician asked:
  "I was thinking we should send a message to lieutenant Salazeh, for her to bring any of her afflicted, including the Commander, to the Mansion. What do you think?"

 "On an other note, Master Vahid; do you think you could recruit a cleric to take care of the wounded here in our absence?"

 The magician slowly grew aware that having more people would be useful... mighty as they were, wielding steel and magic of overwhelming power, none of them were gifted with ubiquity.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:03, Tue 14 July 2020.

Zhira nodded to Qvan's suggestion of sending somebody to Salazeh.

"That seems like a good idea."

Then, she quickened her step to get level with Rictor; apparently, she had been thinking on what he'd said to her earlier, judging from her choice of argument.

"While I would not go as far as to say you have to involve bureaucracy in every decision you make, you realize that failing to do so much as asking permission will eventually put you into a conflict with authorities that might lead to the death of people just doing their duty, yes? Not even going into how forcing the authorities' attention to be divided between apprehending you and solving whichever trouble caused you to break the law in the first place, instead of having them at your back, would make actually solving the trouble harder, refusing to ask means you might miss some crucial information that made the decision justified."

She shook her head, looking genuinely puzzled.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't help those who need it, I'm just surprised at the manner in which you decided to do so. From what I remember, you're some sort of noble in your land, correct? How would you feel, if a wandering swordsman killed soldiers sworn on your service, who were but doing what you commanded, and the reason for the conflict was that the swordsman had refused to inquire if the people you'd put to the task had a valid reason for what they were doing?"

OOC: just doing some IC conversation, but I'm fine with moving things forward plotwise.

Zhira's comment sent Rictor back to long afternoons in Master Luhan's study, listening to the old barrister pontificate on civics and government and the duties of rule. His father the king had joined those lessons whenever his duties allowed him to, teaching Rictor and his brothers everything he knew.

It had been years since Rictor had trained as a statesman, but his fathers lessons were core to his being.

"It isn't the purpose of peaceful, productive citizens to uphold the law. The purpose of the law is to facilitate a peaceful, productive life for the people. If the law deviates from that purpose then it ceases to be a tool of righteous justice and becomes a tool of oppression instead.

It's the duty of all citizens to disobey corrupt laws." He said.

His tone was conversational, not adversarial. He greatly enjoyed discussions of this nature.

"A king, or here in Dimayen these clan chiefs, are the authors and stewards of that law. They are servants of the people, and their method of service is to safeguard the law against corruption. The town guard, they are adjudicators and enforcers of the law. Their task is ensure that the law is used to provide peace and safety.

You are right, those that disobey or subvert the laws threaten that peace and safety. If the law is just."

He turned to face her, pausing in their walk.

"But Zhira, a law or command that compels a good captain to burn innocent victims to death is an unjust law."

He resumed their walk, his face grave. Fingers tightened on his sword hilt.

"A ruler that gives such a command is unworthy of the title."

Zhira shook her head, although it didn't look like she was angry or annoyed; if anything, she seemed happy with having a civil discussion over the matter, although her words did still carry a slight condescending note.

"It is not for the subjects to decide which law is just or unjust; else every subject could declare any law they dislike unjust, and disobey it. Authorities are appointed to make a call on what the laws should be for a reason."

Then she continued, sounding more practical:

"I will allow that, sometimes, wrong decisions can lead to wrong laws, but there's usually a reason why the mistake was made. In our case, the people in charge had likely no idea that a cure was possible; given that assumption, for them to simply release a person from their pain, instead than letting them literally starve to death, and potentially spreading the curse to others, might well have been considered a mercy."

She made a gesture with her hands, encompassing the town in clear dire straits around them.

"It is clear that this curse has brought great ruin to this place; for those ruling here, the infected are likely a source of great fear. You saw yourself that, once we provided another solution, the soldiers were happy to take it; and because we talked to them rather then fighting, they'll now be able to bring any living infected to master Qvan's mansion, saving more lives. Whereas had we fought them, even if we managed to subdue every guard without killing, those people they'll now save would not have been seen to, and we might well have had to subdue every single guard in the town before we could get to solving this issue."

The way Zhira said it, she clearly had no doubt at all that they would have succeeded in defeating every single guard the town had to throw at them; if anything, a note of longing entered her voice as she spoke, as if she almost regretted not having had the chance to be the winner of such an epic brawl. However, she quickly shook her head, returning to a more serious expression and tone, as she concluded:

"So, you see, by following the proper channels, more people were saved, and less people were hurt, than otherwise would have been. The law is there for a reason, and respecting it can only ever lead to the greatest peace and safety. All that is required is to not follow it blindly, but surely you see the distance between doing that, and just breaking it, don't you?"
This message was last edited by the player at 18:51, Tue 14 July 2020.

Vahid had remained silent as he helped Rictor work, placing the ill under whatever shade he could find nearby, only speaking once more when that first work was done. When it was complete he walked with the others, thinking over the conversation before speaking.
"I believe I may be able to convince some of my fellow priests to come hgere, especially when I explain the torment these people have already endured. I am not the most highly ranked of the clergy, but I can exert some pull for such a situation as this. I will need a swift messenger though, perhaps a couple," he said to Hamid, listening to Zhira and Rictor, waiting patiently for a lull in the conversation so that he may add his own thoughts.

When such an opportunity arose, he did not hesitate. "Rictor speaks wisely Lieutenant, an unjust or cruel law or order is to be ignored and disobeyed. A merciful death for sufferers of this curse would have been a slit throat, ordering them to be burned is merely sadistic. That a cure was not known to the local authorities does not pardon such barbarism," he said before sighing, looking her in the eye as he continued, "I admit that it was wrong of me to speak to the captain that way, as it was not her order, but I will not apologize for my words. Not for something like that."

Zhira smiled at Vahid's comment.

"That is a valid angle, brother Vahid; what I would expect from a chosen of the Goddess. It is the way that would more perfectly limit suffering, you are correct in saying so."

She inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment of the point. Still she added afterward:

"But it might simply be that the disposal of corpses and the mercy killing of infected got lumped together due to laziness. That is certainly something worth complain about, but there is difference between complaining to authorities about an unjust law, so it can be changed, and simply ignoring or breaking it. The former is the proper procedure to set things right, while the latter is just unacceptable, and will only lead to more pain for everybody."

By then the group had crossed over the dried-out irrigation channel and into the Second Circle of Dimayen. As the Shrine of Overflowing Joys lay to the north-east of your current position, your path through this part of town brought you passed many a limestone building and larger wooden structures-many abandoned and standing empty-to Longmarchers Market.

Named for the tendency of traveling merchants to arrive in the late afternoon, Dimayen’s oldest market sold a dizzying variety of goods, from linens and wine to potions and armor. Each of the permanent shops—some of the busiest in town—belonged to one of the 12 members of the merchant council, while stall space within the market itself went to whatever caravans and artisans stood in the council’s good graces. With Dimayen’s steady economic collapse over the past decade, the council’s membership has changed repeatedly, and at any given time one of the shops here is empty, awaiting its next master.

Despite the dire circumstances, with most of the remaining citizens of Dimayen being too afraid to leave their homes unless absolutely necessary in fear of the curse, there were still several people frequenting the market, picking through the meager offerings or abandoned possessions on the streets. One figure in particular stood out, quite literally, and caught your attention. An elderly woman, dressed in dirty and torn clothes, had positioned herself near the center of the marketplace, standing on the stone rim of a dusty fountain, arms stretched imploringly to the side. In a loud, croaking voice she exclaimed for everyone to hear, "“Behold! Behold the fury of the Great Scarab!” A rattling gasp erupted from the wrinkled woman as she pointed an accusatory finger at each passerby in turn, her sunburned face twisted with burning conviction. “Behold his disgust at this soft town that’s forgotten the wandering ways! His disgust at children who turn their backs on their mother desert! This is his righteous punishment and we well deserve it! Make no mistake, worse is yet to come!”

 Qvan used a moment when there was a lull in conversation to go back to the mercenary camp. He took the shape of an air elemental and flew at high velocity and high altitude back to the house where they had left Lieutenant Salazeh.

 There he explained the situation in just a minute –working hard to be extremely concise. He mentioned the altercation with the captain, the fact that magical nourishment would help the inflicted, and the magical haven now available to them.
  "Bring your own people who are cursed, and also anyone whom you wish to help. I feel it is not a random act of fortune that we crossed path, maybe the Long Whiskers were fated to help the people of Dimayen in a time of need..."

---

 Qvan flew back to his fellow adventurers, resuming his human shape almost seamlessly as he landed a their side. The conversation had shifted to politics and philosophy of the law, it seemed.

 The old man listened but said naught. He was intrigued, maybe a little amused by the views of his young friends. Maybe it was their idealism or their convictions that he admired most of all their traits. He knew better than to engage in these conversations, not while they had an important task ahead, as his own views could easily drift into an hour-long exposé in his usual professorial style.

  "I see you have strong convictions in your young age — I wish my old mind still had this candour and naiveté."

 While they slowly made their way through the narrow and sun-scorched streets, the old magician could not help but notice the ever presence of lone jackals in the background. Never too close to them, but never quite far, their sinister silhouettes adding to the atmosphere of despair.

  "Prince Rictor, I see you as something of a self-taught authority in animal behaviour... do you think these canids are simply drawn to misery, hoping for scrap food to scavenge? Or as I'm starting to fear, are they literally harbinger of bad omen?"

---

EDIT: sorry, was working on this while you posted. Assume this is done and said before we get to the market.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:26, Thu 16 July 2020.

Rictor shook his head.

"No, it is imperative for responsible citizens to decide for themselves what laws are just or unjust. For a people to submit to rule without consent, just or unjust, is simple tyranny.

Mad king Hainer III declared that all young maidens of the kingdom were to be sent to his bedchamber upon their majority. Should their fathers and mothers simply have accepted that law without questioning its justice? Should they have approached him, calmly and logically with their grievances, and asked him to overturn his law? It was also his law that those who objected be beheaded.

Not all cases are so dire. Once each man decides in his heart what is right the correction varies. If a man is unhappy with the taxes levied upon him, or where the adjudicator judges the edges of his property to be, then--as you say--the correct course of action is to go to the judges. Submit a petition. Form a council to write letters to the crown.

If people are being burned alive the only course is to spring into action."

He frowned at Vahid's comment. His instincts told him that everyone could be saved, even as his rational mind told him that this was false. Sometimes in difficult situations there was no easy solution that would save everyone. Hard as that was for Rictor to accept.

"Slit throat. Poisoned painlessly. Burned alive. It all seems apiece to me. Neither end is..." The muscles of his jaw twitched. He was forced to confront the though of dying helplessly, without a sword in his hand. He shook his head.

"What's done is done. The only thing we can do now is quash the source of this disease as soon as we are able."

By now they were passing through the once bustling market, now fallen to disrepair. As Qvan took his leave to invite the Long Whiskers to their impromptu sick ward Rictor nodded at Vahid's request.

He concentrated, reaching with his senses. The Greensong was always faint in cities, the song of the desert always a sharper, deeper tune than the lilt of the high mountain forests to which Rictor had first learned to attune. But he could still feel the beat of the place, the pulse, suppressed but not removed by the presence of humans. Even here you could find nature. He called out, a fluttering coo, and a desert dove flitted down to alight on his gauntlet. It cocked its head.

"Pen a note to the brothers of your order. Our friend here will carry it a fortnight in any direction." He said to Vahid.

Qvan returned in the middle of the operation, he really was swift, and Rictor tapped a thumb against his chin as he thought on his question. He pointedly ignored the doomsayer.

"Jackals are scavengers. There is much death here, perhaps that is what has drawn them. And yet..." He mused.

---

Rictor will cast Animal Messenger for Vahid. It lasts for 17 days, so as long as your recipient is within a 17 day flight they should get it.

He'll also make a Knowledge check about the jackals. Are they mere scavengers, or is their presence a side effect of the curse?

10:22, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 20 using 1d20+10.  Knowledge: Nature.

Zhira was surprised at the vehemency of Rictor's defense, especially when she heard him disagreeing with Vahid despite the fact the priest of Sarenrae had pretty much taken his side in the argument, if not on the proper terms. She seemed ready to offer some more specific counter as he spoke of a mad king, the look of somebody preparing a rebuttal clear in her eyes, but when he broke his speech halfway through speaking of death, she seemed to reconsider, then said softly:

"We don't need to discuss this if it pains you. I cannot agree, as I've seen how many innocents a man who thinks himself righteously above the law can murder, and that self-righteousness matter because it means they'll sleep soundly at night and never stop to reconsider their acts; to condone it even once is to invite that to happen again and again. But if your reasons for disagreeing are rooted in personal suffering, I won't be changing your mind no matter what I say, and I would not speak of it if the only result would be you being hurt by my words."

"...And yet these seem too focused. Too intent. Look at them." He said, gesturing with his chin towards a mangy creature slinking towards the edge of the market.

"Jackals are hunters and carrion feeders, not ambush predators. A scavenger like that has to stay on the move, searching for meat. Even a jackal drawn by the death in town would gorge and leave, or retreat if there were no easy prey. Most beasts they the places of men. These just...stand there. Watching."

He tapped a thumb against his chin.

"It may be nothing. Their behavior is odd, but not alarmingly so. Still. We should see that those at the Mansion do not venture outside after dark, and advise whoever we can in town to do the same."

An uneasy feeling still prickling at the back of his neck and he dug in his pack for a tidbit of dried meat.

He approached several paces, leaving the bustle of the crowd behind, but not close enough to enter the jackal's sphere. Close enough to invite an interaction, just far enough not to imply hostility. He squatted down on his haunches but held his back erect, shoulders back, eyes level. Not a subservient posture, nor a dominant one that would invite a struggle for territory. He know the beast could smell him and projected curiosity and wariness. Not a bumbling, burning, killing twolegs. Another predator making the first tentative overtures to share a kill or a hunt.

---

I'll try a Wild Empathy check to influence the jackal's attitude towards Rictor. If I can get it friendly enough to sit still for fifteen minutes or so we can ask it some questions.

12:00, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 30 using 1d20+17.  Wild Empathy.

Obviously this could branch out into combat or an investigation, but if it just doesn't work or the jackal scampers off I'm okay with jumping straight ahead to the shrine without the delay of a followup post.

Qvan noted that his suggestion had stirred something in the ranger. Observing animal behaviour was not his field of speciality, but he knew a thing or two about the natural world, he had actually authored a tome about plants, animals and mushrooms of the Mezari desert. While Rictor slowly made his approach with one of the jackals, he took a piece of parchment out of his satchel and started making notes.

While the ritual proceeded, he sketched a few things, wrote down notes, all the while comparing with what he knew of a normal Jackal — perhaps he could help refine the ranger’s judgement on the topic.

“A bad feeling I have about these creatures... so far our investigation has not been riddled with random events. Things here seem to have a purpose, and I take it these jackals are no different,” he mused...

---

know nature take 10 is 43

The jackal Rictor picked for his little experiment remained seated on the sun-baked street, watching his cautious approach with unveiled curiosity. Tilting its head to one side as the tall man squatted down to be on a more equal level with the beast, it sat there, gazing at Rictor with intense, yellow eyes, occasionally scratching itself behind the ear. Eventually, after several minutes, the ranger felt the attitude of the jackal change slightly, regarding him not quite like a newfound friend, but more like a tolerated acquaintance.

Several other visitors to the market-their attention drawn to the party by the sheer force or presence alone-stopped what they were doing as they witnessed this, pointing at him and started to whisper to each other. Some looked afraid of what might come of this unwise interaction, others shaking their head in response to this obvious foolishness. But none left, all were eager to see what would happen next...from a save distance away, of course.

---

Despite the great result, Rictor is only able to change the jackal's attitude to indifferent. Still, good enough to make request at least.

Rictor sat for long minutes, concentrating on the creature in front of him, but also concentrating on the thin threads of nature that he could feel in this place. Communing with the Greensong was always more difficult for him in cities. There wasn't a place on Golarion completely devoid of nature, though, and as Rictor cleared his mind he could feel things that grew and things that decayed.

After some fifteen minutes of quiet contemplation his eyes snapped back to focus. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, but deep inside they seemed to take on a reflective, golden hue.

"Dunerunner. I am Scalekiller. The meat here is poor, the prey here is prickly. Why do you tarry? Why do you watch?"

His words were human, but with a disconcerting quality like a low growl leading up to a howl.

---

Meditating for 15 minutes to prepare Speak with Animals in my last spell slot then casting it.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:20, Fri 17 July 2020.

The jackal seemed to be taken aback by the sudden means of unfamiliar communication and it took the beast a while to answer the questions. Slow, hesitant, it responded in a voice that was part snarl, part growl. "Enough meat among the dunes. The pack leader provides. Hunger returns quickly. Bones are picked up. Bones are gifted. Meat arrives. Endless circle. Bones attract other Dunerunners." It continued to eye Rictor warily, but for now seemed to be content with speaking to him.

"Someone once told me 'there are no random events, only machinations yet to be understood.'." Aryk added, wryly smirking at Qvan.

He himself believed that speaking with those at the Shrine of Overflowing Joys was also their best bet, and voiced that opinion.  If there was in fact another of the town who could cure or at least treat the malady, he might very well have insight into the curse which would be of value to them.  Topped with the fact that he had potentially disappeared, the plot thickened.  Once again, fate seemed to conspire against the party to obstruct and obfuscate their path.

He turned, and saw Rictor as he began to converse with the jackal, an unorthodox but still viable means of gathering intelligence.  While Rictor spoke with the canid,  Aryk turned to scan the horizon and take in the town and crowds around him, watching for peculiarities and feeling for the energies around him.

Zhira looked at Rictar's interaction with the jackal with curiosity, but didn't interfere, clearly happy to wait and see what intelligence the ranger would be able to collect from the animal.

 Qvan was observing the interaction with focused interest. He made notes about it, and used the time to also write down and organise his notes and thoughts about other events of the day, keeping a journal of their encounters, leads and early hypotheses. The jackals were high on the list of things to investigate, along with the direction taken by the hunger-crazed inflicted.

 The old man smiled as Aryk quoted something which he remembered once saying, and wondered whether he ever truly believed it. Or rather, if he found solace in the apparent order of things well aligned, and choose to ignore the chaos of the rest for his own sanity.

 He hoped the crowd would not grow into a mob. If at any point it seemed that the gathering was getting too numerous or too rowdy for his friends’ safety, the mage would create a diversion somewhere on the market to disperse them.

While the rest of the party was waiting patiently for Rictor to return to them, hopefully with some helpful new information about the situation here in Dimayen, they were able to overhear a few conversations that other people at the market were having. While much of what was said was either common small-talk, or things that they already knew about, a couple of more interesting details were also mentioned here and there.

“The desert spat out some new curse: it rides bits of old bone carried by filthy jackals. If a jackal crosses your path, spit on your shadow and turn around, or else food and wine will sour on your lips and eventually a maddening hunger will drive you into the wastes.”

“High Priest Arakor has vanished in our hour of need! I always knew that wobbly-kneed city boy was too young for the job. No guts.”

“This is all the fault of that drunken drifter who tore up the Sarenite temple a few months back. Things have only been getting worse since then!”

“Everyone knows Sayid runs some secret cult out of the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore. His boy told everyone so before he ran off. If Sayid’s not the cause of these jackals, he at least knows who is. He’s smart to keep out of sight, because I’ll string him from the rafters if it means protecting my children from this curse. Or maybe I’ll tie him down and the jackals pull him apart!”

“I hear there’s a holy man out at Blood Rise Rock with the power to cure the curse. Sameer set out to meet him just two days ago when little Ghilana fell ill.”

“I hear no one’s safe from this plague. Even some of the Whitewaters are falling from it.”

Rictors questions were straightforward and phrased simply, directly, in ways the beast would understand. He didn't try anything like insinuating himself in pack hierarchy, promising rewards, or making threats. He simply tried to get as much information as he could. One predator to another.

He asked about the Pack Leader, about his habits and hunting grounds, and he asked explicitly whether Pack Leader appeared as a jackal or as something else. He asked about the gifting of bones. The dunerunner had made it sound as if they collected bones and brought them somewhere for a reward of meat. Or perhaps they were gifted bones? The thoughts of animals were often alien to human minds. Simpler and more primal.

He followed through with that line of questioning until he felt that he had gotten all of the information that he could, and then straightened and joined the others to relay what he had learned.

While Zhira wasn't one to involve herself much into rumors, she took note of everything she heard, so that, once Rictor was done with the jackal, they could better decide which of the various things she'd heard to investigate.

However, when she heard about somebody vandalizing the temple of Sarenrae, she frowned, clearly particularly annoyed that anybody would have the gall to commit such a blasphemous crime, and looked for whomever had said it, to see if she could ask about further details.

OOC: basically, while the rest of the info seems like things that we can investigate later at our leisure, this one seems like it'd be something where we need to talk with people in the know, so if the people talking look like Zhira could approach them without being rebuffed, I'll have her do that.

Three elderly women were standing together near a cart that offered fruits and other common food found out here in the desert, though most of them looked dried-up and old. Based on their clothing and physical health, Zhira would assume that they belonged to the Second Circle of Dimayen. The trio stopped their conversation as Zhira approached, turning to face her, eying her with slight suspicion and some trepidation. She was able to hear one of them mutter, "...another member of those mercenaries? What are they still doing here?"

Zhira smiled to he old women, offering a respectful nod of greeting before asking, in a respectful tone:

"I apologize if I am bothering you, good ladies, but I heard you speaking of a blasphemer damaging the temple of our great Goddess? Given that I myself am a faithful of the Dawnflower, I was wondering who would be so brazen as to do something like that."

She waited, trying to gauge if the women had anything to say.

OOC: I'm assuming the women are standing near the fruit stall, but that none of them is operating it - if any of them is actually a fruit merchant, then Zhira would open the conversation by buying a fruit, paying, and then proceeding with the question above - since I expect people would be more friendly with a customer.

 The tall wizard was quick to scribble down whatever piece of far fetched rumour or solid information he could hear, intent on sorting out later. Surely most of it would be rubbish, but there was a chance that some nugget of truth could be harvested on the marketplace. He used a cryptic ranking system to identify how trustworthy each source first appeared to be.

 And then he heard a name he recognised from his last visit to Dimayen, years ago and long before the curse was ever mentioned. Sayid from the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore... Obviously interested, he barged into the conversation with a relative subtlety.
  “Peace be with you... what makes you think the bookkeeper knows about the jackals? And what happened to the boy? He left you say? I’ve only just arrived in town, I need to catchup on the latest gossip... would you tell me more about it?”

If the people talking included a merchant, Qvan would feign interest in their merchandise to keep the conversation going. He might even buy a lamp, tow ounces of cinnamon, or a sack of dried figs if it loosened the tongues.

diplomacy to influence attitude of gossipers: take 10 is 35
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Mon 20 July 2020.

Aryk himself listened to the rumors swirling through the bazaar, taking note of them all, but particularly the supposed cult, the alleged healer and the opinions of the missing healer.  He was going to turn to speak with the fruit sellers, but once Qvan did that, he turned to a nearby weapons dealer, something more his style anyway.  He made some small talk with the man & his son running the booth, recalling from his primer on the region their preference for extended small-talk before any sort of true business was conducted.  Not that he wasn't taking his shopping serious either.  While he doubted that he would find anything blessed or enchanted here that would be a good addition to his arsenal, he nevertheless could appreciate the craftsmanship and was always interested to learn about the martial tools of another.  He checked the heft and balance of a number of weapons, giving a few some test slashes and thrusts, even temporarily handing the stall owner a dagger made in the manner of his homeland for comparison as they chatted about everything & nothing, with Aryk slowly trying to steer the conversation towards anything of use, as he used the bartering of some local daggers and arrows for foreign tobacco & some silvers.

Charisma check for haggling & discussing.  1d20 (6) + 1 = 7.

The man behind the fruit cart was happy to service Zhira, even gifting her a plum on top of what she ordered with a warm smile and respectful incline of the head. After she had turned to the trio of women and stated that she, too, was a devout follower of Sarenrae, their attitude changed visibly. Their wary stance relaxed, gone was the suspicion and doubt, instead Zhira felt welcome and accepted now and they took her into their midst.

In answer to her question, one of the three grimaced in anger and spat on the ground to one side, then answered in a raspy voice, "Bah, a traveling swindler and treasure-hunter called Ibhris Akpahl. The drunkard arrived some three months ago in Dimayen and quickly earned a bad reputation in our village. One night he clashed with the priest of our temple over healing expenses, making quite the ruckus as he destroyed some furniture in his inebriated state, storming out into the streets, yelling and complaining. Good for nothing idiot..." The other two women nodded emphatically, arms crossed in silent protest of such unfitting behavior.

The two men whom Qvan overheard talking about the bookstore fell silent as the old wizard interjected himself into their ongoing conversation. At first, they looked offended and ready to tell him to go mind his own business, then both realized that this was not just another normal visitor to the Longmarchers Market. They shared a quick glance with each other, then took a half-step away from him and bowed. "Peace be with you," they responded in unison. The older of the two then cleared his throat and scratched his neck in a gesture that told Qvan right away that the man felt uncomfortable. "Well...to be honest, good sir, that was just something I heard the other day. Sayid and his son had an argument, just one of many in recent months, and Dehlvat left the village afterwards, calling his father's 'cult and old relics remnants from the past' as he stormed away. Now that I'm thinking about it, there was no mention of any jackals...but what else could be responsible for this curse? I'm sure it had something to do with the man."

---

Aryk, all available general gossip and rumors were already listed before in the post above. If there is anything in particular you want to know more about, let me know.

When the group reconvened to share what they had delved of the rumors flying through the market Rictor had grave news as well, although it was gossip from a rather more bestial source.

"The jackals are tied to the curse somehow. They act at the direction of a pack leader that they describe as neither man nor jackal, who sits on a throne made of bones. It seems that they are the vectors of this disease. Or one of them at least. The Jackal King commands jackals to bring cursed bones here, to Dimayen. And when the madmen wander into the desert driven by the curse to seek its source they are in turn fed to the jackals when they expire." He said hurriedly, in hushed tones.

He rummaged in his pack for a bit of parchment and a quill. Conveniently they were right at the top of his haversack.

He gestured Aryk over and spun him around, using his back as a makeshift desk as he scribbled a note.

Captain

The jackals and the bones they bear are the proximal cause of the curse, though not the ultimate cause. Caution, they may not be the only vector. Must be driven from the city, or at least kept from most populated areas. People must stay away from them.

-Rictor Wyrmbane

He had no authority to command, but he could warn.

"You there. Lad." He snapped his fingers and pointed towards a nearby urchin, beckoning him closer.

Rictor held up the folded note and a silver coin.

"Know you Captain Dagarma of the town watch? Carry this to her and she'll give you another of these." He flipped the coin over and held up the note.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:20, Tue 21 July 2020.

Qvan listened carefully to what the man had to say, and left a heavy silence floating the air afterwards. He felt like the tone was rather apologetic, and realised he had an opportunity to push things a bit further. He pressed the conversation in the direction he wanted.
“It sounds, good sir, like you have been speaking a rumour that is not quite founded in truth, but rather hearsay. If Sayid knows anything about the jackals or the curse, I will make sure he tells me. My name is Qvan Ibn Hamid, and with my companion I intend to find a cure to the Feast of Dust. You should spread this word instead of tarnishing the name of the bookkeeper.”

The wizard bought something for good measure, but did not even bother bargaining for it, instead paying the few silvers exactly as first asked.

---

He rejoined the others as their ranger was sharing his findings.

“It is as I feared... we should let the people know. Master Vahid, it should come for you. They will respect your word as they do your priesthood.”

The old man noted it was a good idea to alert the captain. She could do something about it, bring the word higher up to the authorities, and it would improve on their rapport with her, which at the moment we probably still lukewarm at best.

“We should delay no further and head to the Shrine. In just over an hour, this investigation has already borne more fruit than I expected it would in a day. It is good news for the currently sick. They may well be hope for all.”

Zhira shook her head in commiseration with the group of old women.

"Certain people should really learn how to behave properly... or be taught, if they failed to learn on her own."

She absentmindedly tapped her hand on the falcon head that was her scimitar's pommel, then asked, in a thoughtful tone:

"Do you happen to know if he's still in town, and where he might be staying? I wouldn't mind giving somebody like that a stern talking to, if only to ensure no such desecration happens again."

Once given her answer, whether that be a location or being told they didn't know, Zhira offered her thanks to the old women, before returning to the group to report about it and listen to what Rictor had to say.

The young boy that Rictor addressed hesitated for the briefest of moments, clearly intimidated by the ranger's formidable presence and equipment. But as soon as the silver coin was gleaming in the bright sun, he grinned a toothy smile and darted closer, eagerly leaning in to listen to his instructions. A quick nod of affirmation, he certainly knew 'Dagarma, the Grumpy', a snatch of both the coin and the note, and he was off again.

---

All three women nodded in agreement when Zhira mentioned teaching the man some manners might be in order, faces grim and impervious. At her next question, they had to take a minute and ponder what had happened to Ibhris Akpahl, muttering among themselves as they tried to figure out who knew what of his last whereabouts. Eventually, one lifts a finger as she had a flash of insight. "Ah, yes! Know I remember! He was last seen running of into the desert with Sayid's boy. Heard there was more trouble between father and son, surely because of that damn drifter and his bad influence! As if their relationship was not bad enough already, things went from bad to worse after Akpahl befriended him. A shame, really. Sayid is a good man. Hope nothing bad has happened to him. Or his son, I suppose."

Zhira listened to the report, then made her own. At the end of it, she added:

"It might just be me, but it seems to me like the various things we've heard about aren't as disconnected as they first appeared."

She raised each of her fingers in turn with every thing she said as she started to explain:

"We have a miscreant who ran into town. He had a conflict with the priest of Sarenrae. He left with the soon of the bookstore owner. The priest of Sarenrae is now missing in action, and the bookstore owner is said to have had a row with his son over an ancient cult."

With the fifth sentence, she had all of her fingers up, and thus she closed them into a fist as she continued:

"And thus we have a thread that connect a set of suspicious events, caused by a stranger that headed for some place in the desert, just as we also heard that a sage lives in the desert who might know something about the curse."

She then motioned with a wave of her hand toward Rictor.

"Which is certainly an interesting parallel to the crucial information that a single individual is behind this curse, and sitting in some hidden base in the desert."

She looked at the whole group, and concluded:

"This doesn't really feel like a coincidence at all to me."

"We can seek clues at the shrine and the book sellers, but it's sounding more and more like everything that we find will only confirm that we need to make an expedition into the desert." Rictor said.

"If we can pick up the trails of this drifter, or the priest, or the jackals, or any of the fleeing madmen we may be able to track them back to their point of origin. Let's see if we can pick up the priest's trail at the shrine first. If not perhaps the bookseller may be able to help u."

He nodded and moved off towards the Shrine.

"I concur.  It would seem that all threads, eventually, connect to a locus in the desert.  That said, before we cone again trek into the dunes, I do believe we should at least check in at the shrine.  At best they may have yet more clues for us, at worst we may introduce ourselves and find more of the nature of this curse." Aryk agreed, and walked after the prince, keeping a few steps behind him and off to his right.

Zhira nodded.

"Of course; as that was the first place this stranger visited, we need to check it first."

She seemed to have no problem letting Rictor lead the way.

The party continued their way through the Second Circle westwards, passing more and more unpleasant sights and scenes. So far you have spent only a short while in Dimayen, but it was already more than clear now that-if things continued to deteriorate in this manner for a week or two more-this village would soon be nothing more than sand and bones. Until now, the stricken citizens clung to a tiny shred of hope that this accursed plague may be moving on soon, or that it may have run its course eventually, but that was all that was left to them. Their home and livelihood were here and there was no where else to go for them in the pitiless Meraz Desert.

The Shrine of Overflowing Joys stood in the middle of the Third Circle on the west end side of Dimayen, where the poor and hopeless need help the most. The wood and masonry walls of this humble temple looked worn from the relentless desert wind but clean. The friezes decorating the walls were masterfully executed, but had since been touched up by amateurish hands. Though the gilding of its dome had begun to wear off, heavy layers of wax still gave it a blinding sheen in the bright sunlight.

Dimayen’s temple to Sarenrae was built atop a secondary spring, which the faithful believed the Dawnflower herself blessed, making it an ideal place to find shelter and succor. Inside, two dozen of Dimayen’s residents—ranting and gnashing their teeth in the final throes of the Feast of Dust—were lashed to cots in the temple’s sanctuary, while another two dozen stable victims wandered its few rooms aimlessly. Six acolytes struggled to keep up with their charges, but all of them looked exhausted and extremely tired.

 Qvan stayed in the middle of the group, his tall stature allowing long views over the crowds. He was not really worried about an ambush –truly no one could be foolish enough to go after such a formidable looking party– but he kept an eye and an ear out nonetheless.

 He took a moment to appreciate the architecture of the temple. It had seen better days obviously, but that could not be attributed to the recent plagues. Dimayen had been in decay for years. The building looked hardly worse than when he last visited, years ago.

 As they walked into the temple, he decided to stay slightly in the background. The more devout in their company would be better suited to make introduction, he thought, and if asked he would offer Master Vahid as their spokesman. He did however observe, and made notes, and very little if anything that was happening would escape his sight.

 The wizard wondered whether the local priests had already come to the conclusion that magically conjured food may be able to satiate, if only temporarily, the cursed residents. Simple divine spells were able to do so, therefore it wouldn't be surprising that the acolytes had tried such method.

 He reviewed his repertoire of spells and wondered if he could help in this department, if the local clerics did not have such powers available.

---

Perception take 20 is 56
 I could cast Major Creation to summon food, but not sure that's the most useful use of a 5th level spell...   

A fresh surge of anger swelled in Rictor as they entered the dim confines of the mosque, filled with moaning and raving. Not anger at mistreated victims, but anger at the nameless force that had created these victims at all.

Even as he weathered the storm of his own response it troubled him. Always he reacted with anger first, and with concern second. He really did need guidance from Vahid.

"I...need some time to think on this." He said, withdrawing to one of the transepts. He knelt before the icon there, and for some reason found it difficult to raise his eyes. Instead he contemplated Sarenrae's feet, tracing the statue with his gaze and trying to master his emotions.

---

Rictor will meditate for 15 minutes and prepare allfood in his open 2nd lvl slot.

---

When he emerged he felt somewhat himself again, although still grim, and cast about for a suitably large object. One big enough to take full advantage of his magics, but not one so important that it would be missed if it were consumed by the afflicted. He settled on one of the rough pews towards the back of the nave.

He settled a spell upon it, one that sought out the natural bits of the wood, that shifted its form to something nourishing. It sagged, transformed, and Rictor broke off a gooey handful of the transformed object and brought it to his mouth as much to test that the spell had been effective as to assure the onlookers that the bench really was edible now.

"Begin feeding this to those afflicted with the Feast. The worst cases first." He said to a nearby acolyte.

A vein throbbed in his temple.

"THEN I'LL BUY YOU A NEW BENCH!" He roared if the hapless priest raised any objections.

His teeth ground and his fists clenched and unclenched.

"I'm sorry. This malady is weighing heavily on my mind. Please see that these people are cared for. Magical and conjured foods will sate their hunger, the worst of it at least, until we are able to cleanse the source of this taint.

I seek the head of your order, Arakor Shonar. Where was he last seen?"

 Qvan looked at Rictor as he casts his spell. He raised an eyebrow, as he recognised the threads of transmutation. This was, after all, his field of speciality. He wondered whether this sort of magic would be able to satiate the inflicted.

---

Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 32 using 1d20+25.  spellcraft: allfood

The young female acolyte did not complain as Rictor used one of the benches inside the temple as a source of food, quite the opposite in fact. She was surprised by the spell's effect, of course, but a lot more happy to have a larger amount of food as their disposal now, than offended by his destruction of public property. Everything else was going to ruin, why make a big fuss about a wooden bench? After giving the task of feeding the afflicted over to the other acolytes, she hurried away and soon thereafter returned with the priestess Sister Khalidras in tow, leaving it to her authority to answer any questions you might have.

Sister Khalidras was not in a much better state than anyone else in the Shrine of Overflowing Joys, wearing tattered yellow robes, arms covered in recent bite marks. A quick glance could tell anyone that these wounds haven't been treated properly and have begun to fester, but the priestess didn't show any signs of being yet another victim of the curse. With a tired but warm smile she greeted you, "Welcome to the temple of the Dawnflower, good people, and thank you for the food you provided, as unconventional as it may be. With Arakor Shonar being absent for now, I'm the nominal leader of the remaining clergy here. What can I do for you?"

Aryk smirked slightly as Rictor shouted at the clergy, knowing the young prince often drew power from his emotions, riding the thin line between controlling and being controlled.  Still though, his effectiveness could not be questioned.  Turning the bench into food was an interesting solution, although he was unsure whether the magical nature of the food would be enough to stave off the curse.  It would intriguing information to find out one way or the other though.  When the clergy approached, he turned and bowed his head slightly.

"As-salaam-alaikum, Sister." he said as greeting, waiting and deferring to their Zhira and Vahid as to opening the conversation with the woman.

Rictor waited for Vahid to make a formal introduction, once the group had been presented to the acting high priestess he stepped forward with a bow. He explained their mission in Dimayen, how Qvan had gathered them to seek a cure for the Feast of Dust, the particulars of the curse and the the treatment by conjured foods.

"Rumors say that a stranger with sinister ties to the disease met with the imam. We seek that stranger, and the holy man Shonar as well. What can you tell us about the particulars of that meeting? Did Shonar seem agitated or disturbed before or after he met with the stranger? What were the circumstances of his disappearance? Does he have a personal meeting chamber or rooms here in the temple that we could search for clues?"

Zhira nodded at Rictor's request.

"Indeed, anything you could tell us about this man, Sister, might help with solving the trouble that has been hurting your fair city, and talking with Brother Shonar, if in any way possible, would be even greater help."

OOC: apologies for being a bit less present lately - I had a very full last two weeks.
 

Sister Khalidras' eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted in an expression of loathing as Rictor mentioned the stranger. "Are you talking about Ibhris Akpahl? That loathsome little man wandered into town with a host of venereal diseases months ago—claimed he’d escaped a pairaka, but given his character, we assume he acquired them the usual way. We relieved the worst of his ailments, and he threw a drunken fit when we required payment for Sarenrae’s blessing. Perhaps if he were a regular parishioner—or at least less belligerent—we would have provided our services for free. He... desecrated our holy water, then kicked over the font and stormed out. I understand he eventually left town with Sayid’s good-for-nothing son Dehlvat, and Dawnflower forgive me, I was glad to see them both go!” The priestess had worked herself into a righteous anger as she was retelling the story of their encounter with Akpahl, and she had to take a few moments to calm down again.

"Please excuse me, I really shouldn't get so worked up about this," Khalidras said, turning away to walk over to a small water-filled basin and taking a sip of the sparkling, precious water within before continuing. "But I never had seen anyone showing such a blatant disrespect for the gods, especially not after we had helped him the best we could. Arakor was quite upset as well, naturally, though a bit more level-headed than I was, admittedly. I guess he has seen and experienced a lot more during his many years of serving our goddess and knows how to handle such delicate situations. But High Priest Arakor Shonar did not disappear," she explained with a reassuring look in her dark eyes. "The Whitewaters summoned him a few days ago, and he’s been safe and sound behind the walls of their compound ever since. But they’ve also been sending us clean water and bread ever since. Some of the parishioners believe he’s waiting out the storm in luxury. I... prefer to believe he’s working with Tianka Whitewater to find a solution. So there shouldn't be any reason to search his private quarters, yes?"

Zhira looked thoughtful at that, then answered:

"I would agree with you, Sister Khalidras; it only makes sense the authorities would want to consult with the most knowledgeable healer you have to find a solution to this situation. That such consultation would take days should surprise nobody who has had experience with bureaucracy before. And of course, we would never violate the privacy of High Priest Shonar."

She offered a respectful nod at that, then continued:

"However, our investigation gave us reason to believe that the blasphemer, this Akpahl, might have been the one to bring the curse to your lands. He has certainly acted suspicious. And we have the might sage Qvan here, as an expert of such arcane mysteries, who will ensure that our investigation in this matter be conducted with as much respect as they ought to be."

Zhira motioned to the old magician, before focusing her attention back on the priestess as she concluded:

"Thus, you understand, it is in the best interest of yourself and the entire village to help us in any way you know, be it with knowledge or by giving us access to all that you can, to better ensure our success. It might well be the will of the goddess for us to correct this blight. You have seen how Prince Rictor here was able to provide a mean to fight off the disease, and we have perhaps learned more about what is going on in the brief time we have arrived than any of those who have looking into the matter for weeks. How else would that be possible, if not with the light of the Dawnflower guiding our steps? And if She Herself wants us to succeed, surely you would not want to stand in the way of that, would you, Sister?"

Not for a moment had Zhira's tone wavered, her voice entirely polite throughout the conversation, carrying no hint of accusations or doubt; it seemed clear she genuinely believed ever words she'd said, and was confident that the priestess would see the logic of her words.

Sister Khalidras' tired face showed signs of worry and concern as Zhira mentioned that Akpahl might be responsible for bringing this curse to Dimayen. "While I'm not really skilled in the arts of deduction-for me the man simply acted like a reckless, drunken jerk-it seems that your group might have greater insights on what has happened here, and so I will defer to your judgment in this matter. If you deem it to be necessary to search the High Priest's personal chambers, then I will not stand in your way. Though I doubt you will find anything useful in there that might concern this plague, or any additional information about Akpahl."

She walked over to one of the simple stone benches that stood around this central chamber and sat down, hands resting in her lap. "Speaking about the plague, of course I will tell you what I know in the hope that it will help you in your investigation and search for a cure. Master Sayid from the Fabled and Forgotten bookshop  referred to it as the ‘Feast of Dust,’ but we haven’t seen him in days, either. The first victim was Pretty Jambre two weeks ago, I think, but we didn’t know what it was. Some thought their loved ones had gone mad or contracted some disease. Then we started finding fragments of bone carved with sigils among the victims, and witnesses began talking about the jackals that would watch the sick." Khalidras sighed, shoulder slumping slightly, and she suppressed a yawn as the many sleepless nights threatened to catch up to her.

"Only recently has this curse become an epidemic. We sent word east and west requesting aid, but it may be weeks before the satrap organizes assistance. until then, we are left to struggle against this on our own. Well, at least until you arrived, that is."

 Qvan had stayed in the background and listened intently. He stepped forwards and bowed softly when introduced by Zhira, and only whispered, "Peace be with you." He remained silent for an other few minutes, as the two women progressed the conversation. Only when carved bones were mentioned did he fully join in, his long moustache almost trembling.

 "Sister Khalidras, I believe this is the first we here about sigils in carved bones... would you be able to show us any of them? It may be of vital importance to our investigation."

 He weighed in the pros and cons of pushing to explore the chambers of the priest, and suggested in a diplomatically soft and measured tone:
 "We certainly do not wish to tarnish the good name of High Priest Arakor Shonar, by treating his absence with suspicion and his room like the scene of a crime. There is no need for all of us to trample over his carpet, but maybe our companion Brother Vahid al-Mavari may take a look, for peace of mind to both you and us, and make sure that nothing is afoot."

 As Zhira seemed to have established a decent rapport with the priestess already, and was herself a devout of the Dawnflower, he added:
 "Maybe Zhira would accompany, him – we'd rather no one be left on their own in the current circumstances, for everyone's safety. In the meantime, we can give you some assistance here, and then we will be on our way to talk to Master Sayid."

 Mostly was interested in seeing the carved bone, if any was available here. He was surprised that no one had mentioned this detail before – but then what seemed crucially important to them may have been overlooked by others...

---

Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 38 using 1d20+25.  diplomacy (sister Khalidras)

Rictor nodded gravely as Sister Khalidras spoke.

"Aye, those must be the bones carried by the Jackal King's lackeys. Qvan's examination may tell us more, but at the moment they seem the likeliest vector of this disease. They should be handled carefully, never touched, and brought here to the shrine to be locked away until we can determine whether it will be safe to destroy them. I worry that damaging them may also harm those that they have infected with the curse.

In the interim the Dawnflower bless your efforts here. Feed those affected only food that has been conjured or magically treated. If your facilities become strained then bring the afflicted to the third circle. Qvan has extended his mystical domain there and created a space to house and treat them. My own talents are limited, but I have some meager resources that I can use to produce food that will stave off the worst affects."

He gestured at the bench that he had enspelled.

"My magics require raw materials though. Have your followers gather bricks and clay, or stones, anything that will serve as fuel for the spell. I should be able to convert enough material to feed eighty people with each casting.

If we act decisively and with mercy we can halt the spread of the disease, although we can't yet cure the victims. Abadar send that we can eliminate the root of the problem before our resources to manage the symptoms are exhausted."

Aryk's eyebrow raised twice during her explanation; when she mentioned the claim of congress with a pairaka, and again at the mentioned ensigiled bone shards, the only indication of his interest.  he nodded a few times as the others spoke up, before turning to Qvan.

"As unlikely as it would seem, a pairaka would fit several pieces together.  From my experience, one would be being a fitting underling or harbinger for such a disease-like curse." he said quietly to the wizard.

Sister Khalidras stood up, steadying herself on the backrest of the bench for a moment, then gestured for Qvan and the others to follow her. "Of course, we have collected several of these fragments that I can show you. Please come this way. I hope that they can tell you more than us, as we were unable to make heads or tails of the strange inscriptions."

While walking over to a small side chamber of the temple that served as a storage area, the priestess inclined her head in response to Qvan's further reassurances. "Thank you for being respectful, Master Hamid. If  Brother al-Mavari wants to take a look at his private rooms in order to help during this crisis, I'm sure that Arakor wouldn't mind; especially if it is another servant of Sarenrae who conducts this...inspection. Whatever is necessary to stop the curse."

Khalidras stopped before a wooden crate standing on the floor in one corner of the storage room, knelt down to lift the dark cloth covering its contents and revealed the aforementioned bones. "Here you go. Take all the time you need, but I will have to get back to my duties and help the acolytes in their duties."

As Rictor offered a second safe place for the afflicted to go, she smiled in relief and bowed in thanks. "That sounds wonderful. Our resources and every one of the remaining clergy here is already strained beyond what can be considered healthy, and I fear that the worst is still to come. So having this 'mystical domain' for us to bring more sick will be extremely valuable indeed. I will let the others now. And we will find time, somehow, to gather the raw materials you need, Sir. Being able to have food, regardless of its quality and taste, without the need to pay the exorbitant prices on the market right now will be a heaven-sent as well. I cannot thank you all enough for this assistance. May the Dawnflower bless you!"

---

The tiny symbols carved into each bone are a strange blend of Abyssal and Infernal, and require magic such as comprehend languages or a successful DC 25 Linguistics check to decipher.

When the priestess presented the bones to them, Zhira leaned in to scrutinize them attentively, making sure not to touch them; even so, it was clear her piercing gaze seemed to find something interesting in the designs.

OOC: 10:33, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 30 using 1d20+17.  Linguistic.

 The old wizard heard Aryk's suggestion, and pondered over it for a moment. The idea had some merit, but he was not so sure that it fitted the bill quite so perfectly. Still something worth keeping in mind, and he made a note of it for later on.
  "I will consult my books when we are back at the Mansion... I think I have something on Divs – this however seems a lot more elaborate than the maladies these lewd creatures are said to convey."

 Qvan was most grateful for the opportunity to examine the carved bones. He followed the priestess to the small chambers and bowed slightly when he was presented with the fragments. Looking over the symbols, he recognised the blend of two languages he could read, but the meaning was not immediately apparent.

 He used a simple spell to conjure an invisible servant made of pure force. With a mental command, the bones were lifted some five feet from the floor, and slowly rotated for a comprehensive perusal and examination. He also summoned a magical light onto his staff to reveal the minute details on the bones.

 The old mage exchanged a glance with Zhira as it appeared that they both deciphered meaning behind the sigils.
 "Mmmh... interesting," he mumbled under his moustache.

 Beyond the meaning of the symbols, he also analysed the bone themselves. He scrutinised the anatomical details to understand to whom they once belonged, animal or human. He looked at signs of weathering or decay to establish how long it had been since the death of the owner. He perused the carving edges and depth, to determine how they had been carved, whether by tools or magic. He examined the surface for marks that would reveal that the bones had been carried.

---

 Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 53 using 1d20+33.  knowledge(Planes):Pairaka
 Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 47 using 1d20+36 perception: bones – I've watched a lot of Sherlock Holmes lately :D
 Qvan Linguistics take 10 is 29
 Cast Unseen Servant to manipulate the Bones
 Cast Light for better illumination 

Rictor had little expertise to offer in this area, knowing little of the esoterica represented on the macabre scrimshaw. His only contribution was to check the bones. Were they human? Animal? Recently deceased? Or old dry bones cured by desert heat?

---

Heal check to see what Rictor knows about bones.

12:08, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 13 using 1d20+10.  Heal.

 With the unseen servant holding up the eight bones for inspection, Qvan was able to peruse them in great detail and offered some insight:

  "These come from different species... see this one is human, but those are animal, most likely a large ruminant."

 "They also vary in their age... none too recent though, from a few weeks, to decades for this one. The marks of wear show they have been carried in the jaws of a canine, without a doubt."

 "The carvings are recent though, all done by hand... most likely with a sharp claw or tool."

 He pondered over the markings for a moment more. The meaning was already there on his mind, but he was refining the wording in Kelish to render the message as accurately and vividly as possible:
  "You shall have to excuse the wordiness, it reads thus:

 Woe unto those who would hold themselves above the dust, who walk as gods with souls that slither.
 Woe unto those who feast to stay the hand of blessed oblivion.
 Woe unto those who rebuff their harbinger, the Maw of the Heralds, the Master of the Flaying Winds: the Jackal Prince of Famine.
 Slither as the beast and gorge unto bursting, and all shall be ash in your bellies."

 "A vivid message, is it not?"

Zhira nodded along, then commented:

"But substantially cryptic. Does anybody has any idea what all those pretentious-sounding titles actually mean? I confess to never having heard anything like it before."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:06, Wed 29 July 2020.

 Qvan sported a cryptic smile under his moustache, he exchanged a glance with Vahid and responded:
  "Those titles must refer to an avatar of Trelmarixian, or a servant of his court. He is one of the Four Horsemen of Apocalypse, known as the Horseman of Famine. He dwells on the dread realm of Abaddon, one of the lower demonic planes..."

 He said this absent-mindedly whilst making rapid notes about the bones and carvings. On a clean page of his notebook, he reproduced the markings and a translation next to it.
  "There may well be more to learn from this writing, given time and a library to compare with classical scriptures. For the time being we can safely assume that the jackals are envoys of a demon, a servant of the Horseman of Famine, and they curse people with these bones..."
 "Whether it is by touching them, putting them on one's shadow, or simply by sight – I do not know. Maybe Master Sayid at the Fabled and Forgotten will have more to contribute."

 As soon as Vahid could be done with the examination of the priest's chambers, Qvan would suggest they leave to visit the bookkeeper.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:05, Thu 30 July 2020.

Vahid had been quiet on the way to the temple, penning, crossing out, and rewriting his message to the Mavari Temple. As they arrived outside the Shrine, he put the final touches on his message and gave it to the conjured dove with instructions to fly directly to the Mavari Temple and deliver it to High Priest Abdullah. Upon entering, he spared a moment to introduce himself to Sister Khalidras with his customary small bow before stepping aside to pay his respects at the altar itself before returning.

As the others leaned in to inspect the bones presented, Vahid cleared his throat quietly to gain the Sister's attention. "Thank you sister, for allowing me to have a look in High Priest Shonar's quarters. I can assure you that I will leave it just as I found it, and we only wish to look for the sake of thoroughness. If you would, please lead the way."

As they walked, Vahid looked at her and spoke. "Forgive my eavesdropping Sister, but I heard that you believed it would be some time before the Satrap sent aid to Dimayen. Before we arrived here, I sent a message to the temple in Qadlas Mavari, so there may yet be further aid coming from that direction."

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
message to the Mavari Temple.

Master Abdullah, I hope that this message finds you well. I have arrived in Dimayen, and it is worse than we first thought. The plague is magical in nature, it forcibly starves its victims to death and compels them to run out into the desert to be eaten by jackals. The only mercy to this is that conjured food seems to stave off the effects for a time, but the local clergy is overwhelmed.

As if this were not enough, the local authorities seem to have fallen to panic. They have been burning the victims alive, I witnessed guards tossing people, living and dead, into pits with oil with my own two eyes. I am sorry to say that my tongue and my heart outpaced my mind when confronting them over it, but things seem dire here, and grow ever worse.

The Dawnflower has smiled upon me, and crossed my path with Masters Aryk, Rictor Wyrmbane, Qvan Ibn Hamid, and Lieutenant Zhira Al-Darea. They are of sharp minds and strong arms, and the creature who unleashed this pestilence would be wise to count its lifespan in days rather than years. That said, we cannot be everywhere, and the people of Dimayen suffer needlessly at this curse and at the hands of their masters. I ask you in the name of the Dawnflower to please send whatever aid and people can reasonably be spared, and to spread the message along.

May you walk forever in the Light,

Vahid Al-Mavari

---

Sister Khalidras had left the other party members to inspect the bone fragments in quiet and peace, guiding Vahid to the private chambers of the high priest, hands clasped in front of her. Without looking up, she gave a brief smile in response and a nod of acknowledgment. "Thank you for being so considerate, requesting help even before you had reached our village; the actions of a wise man indeed, Master al-Mavari. I know how remote Dimayen is located here in the northern Meraz Desert. Only a small and rather unimportant speck of civilization. The next closest settlement would be Qaharid, the Turquoise City, and I speak from experience if I tell you that they are not really concerned with our well-being down here. Everyone else is even farther away, making the prospect of sending help less and less likely."

She sighed once more, the difficult days of the past two weeks clearly showing in her posture. "But maybe, if they realize that this accursed plague may be spreading further, they may find themselves willing to do something about it. The White Feather monks have a great reputation, even if the satrap does not condone their faith."

Khalidras stopped next to an unassuming wooden door at the end of the corridor, produced a key from underneath her robes and opened the door for Vahid. "I have to say your group has seriously impressed me so far, even if we just met, so maybe we don't need to rely on anyone else to solve this crisis. I pray to the Dawnflower that you will succeed. Now, here we are, Master al-Mavari, take your time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:37, Wed 29 July 2020.

Aryk took a moment to examine the bone shards, reflecting upon his training, readings, and experience, pulling together his knowledges and his training in spellcraftery.  Without touching the items, he slowly walked around them as the unseen hand suspended them in mid-air, taking full advantage of the ability to see all sides of them, to fully inspect them, fully absorbed in his mind-dive on the new clue.


KNO: Religion check; 1d20 (17).  17 + 11 = 28.
KNO: History check; 1d20 (5).     5  + 11 = 16.
Spellcraft check; 1d20 (20).        20 + 15 = 35.

 Qvan was reading his notes again, changed the translation on a few words, mused half to himself:
  "Mmmmh.... “The Maw of the Heralds” and “The Jackal Prince of Famine” were honorific titles for a powerful evil in the dawn of Meraz’ history... I wonder if Master Sayid will know more about it."

 He tried to link the names with folklore of the Desert. Sometimes the oral tradition of nomadic tribes allows for long forgotten pieces of information to remain... if given a chance he would like to query them.

---

Qvan Ibn Hamid rolled 24 using 1d20+16.  Lore: Meraz Desert.

"All that I can add is that the bones are weathered by the desert. Probably scavenged, and not retrieved from our victims." Rictor said.

Instead he followed Vahid. He would be more useful searching for clues than he would trying to decipher ancient runes. He hoovered with his hands clasped behind his back respectfully, looking over the quarters without prying or touching anything.

---

Rictor will look through the room. This is his regular roll, feel free to detract whatever penalty he's taking by not touching anything.

13:55, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 49 using 1d20+36.  Perception.

Aryk starred at the shards, holding a hand clsoer to them, as if feeling them without touching them.

"There is powerful necromancy upon these bones, Qvan.  My knowledge of the arcane is not sharp enough to tell more, but it is strong.  These are cursed things; cursed by something of power."

Zhira seemed thoughtful at that, then asked the group at large:

"So, has anybody any idea what this all means, or would it be better to go talk with the bookstore owner before we start trying to piece together the meaning of all that we've learned?"

Sister Khalidras trusted in the discretion and professionalism of both Vahid and Rictor, leaving them to search the high priest's chambers on their own. She made her way back to the storage room where the rest of the group was still crowded around the wooden crate containing the bone fragments.

"Is there anything else that I can do for you," she asked with a polite smile. "Otherwise I will go and see how our acolytes are doing, check if they require my aid, and inform them about your mystical place that you have set up for more of the afflicted. Maybe then, finally, I can get a couple of hours of rest..."

Rictor quickly ascertained that there was little to discover in the priests chambers and, after a cursory examination, returned to the prayer hall just in time to hear Aryk's announcement.

"Da-" He began to curse but glanced at Khalidras and cut short.

"Troubling. Is there any way to break the curse? Can the bones be destroyed? If they are, what effect will that have on those who have become afflicted? We should take these, they could be dangerous to the parishioners." He said.

When Aryk and Qvan's examination was finished Rictor gingerly transferred them back into their crate and tucked it into the expansive space inside his magical pack. He made a mental note to commission a lead-lined crate at the market place before they moved on.

"Thank you Sister. Peace favor your sword." He said formally and bowed deep.

He turned to answer Zhira.

"I'd say we have a fair bit of information so far."

He began holding up fingers as he summarized their discoveries.

"One, Ibhris Akpahl arrives in town. He seeks healing at the temple and argues with Arakor Shonar, the high priest. Could he have been sent as a scout to ascertain the city's ability to fight the plague?

Two, Ibhris then goes to the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore where he prompts the son of Sayid Aaban, proprietor of the bookstore, to argue with his father about something related to a forgotten cult.

Three, Ibhris and the son, Dehlvat Aaban, leave on a journey into the desert.

Four, cursed bones begin to appear around town and people begin to fall prey to the Feast of Dust. The first victim is Pretty Jambre. This may be incidental, but perhaps not.

Five, these bones are carried to town by jackals, acting at the behest of this Jackal Prince of Famine, the Maw of Heralds. The jackals bring the bones to Dimayen and are rewarded by the Jackal Prince, who feeds them the madmen who wander into the desert."

Rictor closed his fingers into a fist.

"I have guesses about what this all means. Ibhris could be the initiate of an ancient cult or even the Jackal King in disguise. My hypothesis is that he came to Dimayen seeking books or ancient scrolls about reviving the power of the Jackal Prince, books which Aaban possessed. He used Aaban's son to procure them and then went into the desert to enact his plot.

This is all wildly speculative, but we do know this for certain. There is something out there in the desert that is the root of this plague. Madmen and jackals can lead us to it.

We should seek out Aaban first, he may have the tomes and scrolls that can reveal exactly what the threat is. But in the end we will have to make a foray out to the sands themselves in search of the threat."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:16, Sun 02 Aug 2020.

 Qvan straightened his moustache, rose to his full height after a last glance at the bones before Rictor packed them away.

“I agree with our prince. I would be tempted to go directly to the desert with what we know... the only sure way to break the curse will be to destroy the source of this evil, and that is where it lies.

Yet a visit to master Sayid could be useful. He might know more than I do about this Demon. In fact he may be able to help us devise a way to destroy it, or at least send him back to his plane.”

 He motioned towards the door, and bowed to the priestess.
  “Thank you Sister. You are doing a world of good for these people.”

On his way out he talked to Aryk in hushed tones:
“I concur. A more thorough examination in the quietness of my study would maybe bring out more about the magic in those bones.”

---

will take 20 on a spellcraft check With arcane sight later on
This message was last edited by the player at 13:06, Sat 01 Aug 2020.

Vahid took a bi more time in the room to be certain, and made the effort to clean up after himself and Rictor, as promised.
With that completed, he returned to the group in time to hear Rictor share his theory. He mulled it over briefly in his mind before answering, inclining his head deferentially as Qvan added his perspective.
"It is a well reasoned theory Rictor, but I must agree with Master Hamid. Master Sayid may have observed things about Akpahl that escaped notice by others, or changes in his son's behavior before he left. Aside from that, if Akpahl believed the store held the knowledge he sought, it could easily be that it contains knowledge of how to undo this curse.

With that said, he then looked to Sister Khalidras and nodded his head. "Thank you for your aid Sister, you have been of great help in seeing this madness ended. I would say you have earned some rest."

Leaving the Shrine of Overflowing Joys and Sister Khalidra behind, now that you had a chance to investigate the bone fragments responsible for spreading the curse and in general have gotten more information about the ongoing situation in Dimayen, you made your way once more across the village to the east where you hoped to find more answers. This brought you close to the central place of government in Dimayen, the Whitewater Compound. The enormous marble palisades adorning the area attested to the enormous wealth of the Whitewater clan. One of the first families to discover this desert oasis, the Whitewaters claimed the richest spring and have made a fortune over the past century selling the spring’s pure water to the thirsty people of the Meraz. Even from a distance you could easily see the grim faces on the three guards at the entrances, standing on makeshift platforms behind each gate, crossbows at the ready to fend off any unwanted intruders. But a more personal visit to this place would have to wait until you had finished with your next stop.

The Fabled and Forgotten bookstore sat in the middle of the Second Circle, door standing open to invite potential customers inside to peruse the various items for sale. Inside, the small shop was filled with shelves along each wall and stacks of books—new and old crowding every free available space. A display of inks, papers, and writing implements covered the low counter to the west, where a scrawny young woman sat on a rickety stool, smiling awkwardly at you as you entered.

"Welcome, welcome to the Fabled and Forgotten bookstore. Is there anything I can do for you? Master Sayid is away on business right now, I'm afraid, so if you are looking for anything more complex than stationery or ink, I humbly ask you to come back in a few days after Master Sayid has returned from his trip."

 Qvan was happily leading the march to the bookstore. While he wanted to leave the initiative to the more devout in their company when it came to the temple, he was eager to take point in their visiting Master Sayid.

 He had met the old erudite on a few occasions, and had never left the famed shop empty-handed. He also knew that rare books were not the only esoteric items that could be traded at the Fabled and Forgotten, or at least that was the case last time he visited.

 A frown dropped on his face as he found the gaunt librarian instead of his old comrade in the shop. His jolly mood quickly ebbed away.
  "Peace be with you..." he said with no enthusiasm.
  "I am Qvan Ibn Hamid, an old and loyal customer of Master Sayid. I did not come for stationary I'm afraid, but I will take two vials of your cobalt ink. I know Master Sayid stocks a shade to which I am very partial."

 He looked around the shop while the clerk prepared his order. His grey eyes darted and flickered all over the place, his observant nature had beed refined to an art form over the years. Where most would only see objects and markings, he saw patterns and deduced things that were no longer visible or yet unseen. One could notice a faint hue of blueish light around his irises as he perused the room.

  "Are you related to Master Sayid, Miss? Or simply minding the shop in his absence? Could you tell me where he has left? I believe I still owed him a pot of mint tea and a story."

 The old mage observed the young woman as he asked where the shop owner was, tuning in on clues that she may know more than she would say.

---

Arcane Sight is on
Perception Shop: 43
Perception Librarian: 46
Sense Motive Librarian: 33 

Rictor stayed respectfully behind Qvan as they entered the shop, stepping forward only after introductions had been made.

"Indeed, we seek Master Sayid himself. Where has his journey taken him? If he is not expected back perhaps you could help us. Do you know anything of the whereabouts, aims, or activities of Dehlvat Aaban or his associate Ibhris Akpahl?"

"Master Qvan, I believe that these shards could be destroyed, if necessary, although they do seem weakened.  I doubt that doing so would alleviate the suffering of those already afflicted, or if we will be able to safely do so with other shards to come.
 If we have all that we can gather from these shards, it may be best to neutralize them so as to limit their ability to act as a contagion or channel."

With that, Aryk looked up as the warpriest returned, and then agreed with Qvan's plan to visit the bookstore before venturing into the sands to confront whatever they sought.  He followed the group from the shrine, through the streets.  Aryk had heard of the bookstore in question before, although he had never had the opportunity to visit, he was both excited to finally see it and a bit saddened it had to be under such rushed & professional circumstances.  He took a few steps inside the door, and instantly noticed the change in Qvan's demeanor, wondering if something was afoot.  He stepped to the side of the doorway, inside and in cover, but where he could easily block it if needed, and let his arm dangle at his side.  Unsure of what was going on, especially as the firebrand prince began to interrogate the clerk, Aryk kept his eyes open & looked around the inside for anything amiss.

---

Perception check: 1d20 (17); 17 + 19 = 36

The gaunt women nodded in response to Qvan's request for some ink, slowly standing up and shuffling over to one nearby shelf, rummaging around for a brief moment before retrieving the vials of cobalt ink. She returned to her spot behind the counter and started to pack the vials in a small padded leather pouch before handing them over to him with a deferential bow. "Here you go, Master Hamid. That would be 20 gold pieces. Thank you very kindly for doing business with us once again."

As Qvan asked some follow-up questions, the woman hesitated, then shook her head. "Not related, no, good sir. To be honest, I only met Master Sayid once before a few years back on the market. It seems he had discovered something related to the curse and left to investigate, but didn't say more. At least not to me personally." She scratched her cheek absentmindedly as she thought back. "That was about a week ago now, yes. People in Dimayen were already growing afraid and suspicious, and it seems Master Sayid had a difficult time finding someone to take care of the shop during the early days of the spreading plague." The woman hesitated once more, biting her lower lip as her gaze took in the gathered party, then she sighed and said in a more quiet tone, "You see, the people have heard about this stranger and his dealings with Master Sayid's son. That both ran off into the desert and in their wake the curse started to appear...many blame them, or the master for all of this trouble. But not me," she shook her head vigorously. "No sir, I knew that Master Sayid is an honorable and responsible man. After hearing that he was looking for someone to keep his business running while he was away, I immediately volunteered. It pays good," she added with a wink.

She turned to Rictor then and shrugged apologetically. "No Sir, I do not. Only have heard what others say in the town as well. That this Ibhris Akpahl befriended Master Sayid's son and that the two left together and disappeared into the Meraz Desert. I'm afraid that's it. As mentioned just now, I am not a close acquaintance of Master Sayid, so I wouldn't expect him to be sharing important details with a stranger like me. I'm sorry if this is not very helpful, Sir!"

 The young woman's earnest attitude seems to mellow Qvan a little bit. He still appears slightly bothered and maybe a bit on edge, but the air of suspicion which he conveyed has mostly receded.

  "He has been gone for a week already... I suppose that will make it difficult to track him down," he mused as his eyes lingered all over the shop.

 He produced twenty gold coins from his pouch, laid them on the table and pocketed the ink vials.
  "I am saying this with the best intentions obviously, my companions and I are looking to destroy the source of this Curse. We though Master Sayid could use some help, as much as we could be aided by him," he added with a smile.

  "Do you think you could be tempted to aid us yourself? Anything you can say that would help us find Master Sayid, or his son, would be hugely helpful to our quest."

 The tall wizard kept an eye on the woman and tried to ascertain exactly what magical auras were about the room, whether on her person or around, due to magic items or ongoing spells, and how potent a spellcaster would have been to conjure them. As much as he could, he showed no reaction to this newfound knowledge... but it should be noted that Qvan was not known for his poker face.

---

Spellcraft to identify auras around the shop:
 identify: transmutation faint 45
 abjuration faint 37
 transmutation strong 28
bluff to hide reaction: 8
diplomacy to improve attitude: 44

The woman nodded in agreement as Qvan mentioned that tracking Sayid would be rather difficult now, after several days have past already. "Indeed, I suppose so. But Master Sayid knows that this curse is not to be taken lightly and given the dire circumstances that our town find itself in right now, I'm convinced he will return shortly. I will report your visit to him as soon as I see him again, you have my word!"

With a thankful smile, she took the coins from the table, produced a small wooden box from under the counter, unlocked it with a tiny key, and dropped the money inside. While she secured the lockbox once more and stored it back out of sight, she found herself agreeing with Qvan yet again. "Master Sayid is a very knowledgeable man, true. I have not often spoken to him, but his reputation of being a sage and an expert in such supernatural things precedes him. It is good to hear that he is not the only one trying to do something about the curse. We would surely be lost if we simply relied on the help of the Whitewater clan," she finished with a grimace and a roll of her eyes.

In response to Qvan's following words, she cringed slightly and spread her hands in a gesture that she had nothing to offer. "I'm really sorry, Master Hamid. There would be no need to tempt me in order to bring me to help you, please believe me. If I knew more, I would share it with you freely. I'm afraid I have told you all I know."

 The old wizard remained by the counter, listening to the young woman and nodding in appreciation of her efforts. He got the impression she could be a bit more helpful, and perhaps she needed some incentive to do so.

 He lowered his voice and leant forward. In a confidence tone, he insisted a touch more:
  "I understand you do not want trouble... maybe you could tell me just this: what type of undead are you?"

 In a well oiled and practiced performance, the magician used the sudden bizarreness of his question to startle the shopkeeper. In a split second, he grew about a foot in height and adopted the shape of a gray-skinned humanoid with four arms, each ending in a three-fingered hand. In the same motion as he transformed, the four arms reached over the counter and the heavy hands dropped on the young woman, grappling her and locking her in place in the instant...

 As he firmed his lock on the skinny shopkeeper, he explained in a surprisingly composed voice and tone:
  "Subdue her. This is no woman but a vile undead creature with secrets to share..."

 The others would still recognise Qvan under this shape as he was still wearing his silk robes, headband and necklace, even his unmistakeable moustache completed the outfit.

---

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Hopefully that constitutes a surprise round?
 Free Action: click heels (boots), change shape to Witchwyrd (Shapechange)
 Full-Round: full-attack 5 slams with grab/haste

Five attacks hit respectively:
 AC 28, grapple check 29, 13 damage +6 holy
 AC 37, grapple check 34, 18 damage +11 holy (confirm crit 32)
 AC 29, grapple check 31, 10 damage +5 holy
 AC 32, grapple check 28, 10 damage +14 holy
 AC 35, grapple check 37, 9 damage +11 holy
 (all attacks hit AC 2 higher if evil and deal holy damage accordingly)

 I don't think multiple grapple conditions either stack or worsen, so only the best one applies (grapple 37)
 Qvan's current CMD is 41

---

Aryk stayed coolly by the door, until Qvan began to transform.  His hand strayed a little closer to his scabbard, but when Qvan shouted for them to subdue 'her' as he reached for her, Aryk moved.  He attempted to vault the counter and then subdue the thing.

---

Acrobatics: 1d20 (1) + 23= 24?
Grapple: 1d20 (14) + 18= 32; unless there's an additional bonus from target already being grappelled?

Rictor's eyes narrowed slightly. Sayid had entrusted care of his shop to a woman that he had barely known? Rictor knew little of the man, he didn't have the benefit of Qvan's personal acquaintance with him, but if he was the least bit fastidious or concerned for his business that seemed odd.

He was about to voice his concern when the storefront exploded into a furious flurry of activity. Rictor reacted without thinking, darting forward with a sudden burst of motion. That dangerous, stalking aura that he always seemed to evince manifested itself in a lightning fast, serpentine motion. There was a soft sussuration of steel on leather as his blade whispered from his sheath but he forestalled his hand. His trust in Qvan was absolute, but he hesitated to strike down what appeared to be an unarmed woman.

Instead he moved to cut off her escape, herding her towards his compatriots in their attempts to corral her.

---

Free action: quickdraw sword

Move action: Move around to the back side of the shopkeeper, so that she's between Rictor and Qvan

Standard action: Aid Another to give Qvan a +2 bonus on his grapple check.
15:00, Today: Rictor Wyrmbane rolled 44 using 1d20+28.  Aid Another.

The woman behind the counter was wary, maybe Qvan's famous reputation had even reached her ears, but as the first few minutes of the conversation went by without giving her any real cause for concern, she grew a bit complacent and was caught by surprise at the wizard's sudden change of shape. She barely managed to jerk backwards away from the many grasping hands, before all five of them slammed into her, breaking bones and searing her flesh with holy energy. But despite Qvan's successful ambush and good aim, only the very last attempt managed to actually get a hold of her elusive form. Growling in a distinctive inhuman voice, the facade of the gaunt human woman fell away in a blur, revealing the dark-purplish skin and face of a ghoul-like entity beneath!

Before the undead was able to do more than bare her sharp, pointed teeth in a snarl at being caught in Qvan's grip, Aryk and Rictor vaulted over the counter to flank her from two more sides, interfering with any potential means of physical escape. she hissed once more as her eyes darted from one man to the next, finally focusing back on Qvan. "So you've figured it out, after all, 'Master Hamid'," she rasped in a mocking tone. "Should have expected someone like you walking around with active divination spells, but couldn't risk the chance of exposing my cover without being sure. Silly me, now I'm in quite the pickle it seems...let's see what we can do about it, yes?" She was clearly hurt badly, but didn't seem to be overly bothered by it.

---

No additional bonuses against a grappled target, Aryk, so your check failed I'm afraid.

Rictor, as you can see on the map there is no easy way of cutting off her escape, other than opening the door behind her and moving deeper into the store. For now I put you just behind the counter as well. Let me know if you want to be somewhere else instead.



Wow, I rolled very well for most of your initiative checks!

Group 1 is up first!

"Foul thing! Your situation is hopeless. Reveal your part in this foul plot and be banished, or resist and be destroyed. I care not which you chose." Rictor said, two hands gripping his blade, the flecked black iron held at a killing slant.

---

I'll delay my initiative until after the critter, don't want to lay into her if she's going to surrender.

Aryk draws his weapon and attempts a quick, non-lethal strike with the pommel of his sword.

---

Draw weapon as move.
Non-lethal Attack: 1d20(8) + 19 - 4 = 23
Damage (if hit): 1d8(3) + 1d6(1) +10 = 14

The moment Qvan transformed, Zhira drew her blade reflexively, her instinct taking over before she even realized what was going on.

Once she realized that Qvan was facing an evil creature, her eyes narrowed, and she answered the creature's mockery, in a dark tone:

"No, let's not see it; instead, let's see you go down, right now."

Then she grabbed her scimitar with both hand, the blade glowing with golden light as she did, before she simply took a step forward and attacked the creature quite brutally.

OOC: so, one of my traits let me draw for free upon rolling Initiative, meaning I have my sword in hand already; upon drawing, I'll use one my three daily uses of my scabbard to grant my scimitar the keen property.

Then, in my turn I'm opening with a Swift Action scout, which hopefully will tell me to which kind of Bane effect she's vulnerable.

After that, I'll be using Warrior Spirit (It doesn't say anything about it taking any type of action, so I'm assuming it doesn't require me to use any) to add another +6 enhancement, separated into +3 attack/damage bonus (so the scimitar's total grows to +5), +1 Bane (if the Scout roll isn't enough to determine which type, I'll go with Undead), +1 Entangling (http://spheresofpower.wikidot.com/weapons#toc69), and +1 Training (to give myself the Furious Focus feat).

Next, a 5 ft step should put me within attack range, after which I'll simply full attack using Power Attack for +15 damage on every hit, with a +36/+26/+21/+16 attack bonus (each of which will increase by 2 if the Bane is correct, I believe), according for the combination of power attack and furious focus.

And here's the rolls:

21:54, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 24 using 1d20+22.  Perception: Scout the enemy's weaknesses.

22:06, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 40 using 1d20+36.  Full Attack, first hit.
22:07, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 42 using 1d20+26.  Full Attack, second hit.
22:08, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 35 using 1d20+26.  Full Attack, second hit crit confirmation.
22:09, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 33 using 1d20+21.  Full Attack, third hit.
22:09, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 35 using 1d20+16.  Full Attack, fourth hit.
11:10, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 19 using 1d20+16.  Full Attack, fourth hit crit confirmation.

22:14, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 39 using 2d6+36.  Full Attack, first hit damage.
22:14, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 47 using 2d6+36.  Full Attack, second hit damage.
22:15, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 38 using 2d6+36.  Full Attack, second hit crit damage?
22:15, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 42 using 2d6+36.  Full Attack, third hit damage.
22:16, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 44 using 2d6+36.  Full Attack, fourth hit damage.

If the critical hit on the second attack is confirmed, she's also entangled for attacks 3 and 4 (which reduces AC), and of course, if Bane works, that's an extra 8d6 of damage; I'll roll those if it's required.

Let's see if she can survive that... and in case she does, she might still be entangled, which makes it harder for her to escape, hopefully.

This message was last edited by the player at 09:11, Thu 06 Aug 2020.

Pershpia hadn't even finished talking before Zhira reacted to this sudden threat in a blur of lighting-fast motion. A quick step forward, a mere glance to gauge the enemy's weaknesses, followed by a series of masterfully executed cuts of her blade. The first laid open her chest cavity, revealing dried-up organs and splintered ribs, the second strike decapitated the ghoul in one fluid motion, her scimitar encountering almost no resistance thanks to its enhanced magical powers. Pershpia's head slowly rolled forward, falling off and onto the counter where it came to rest, purple tongue lolling, still staring in sudden shock at Zhira.

But the sense of victory only lasted for a brief moment. Without any forewarning at all, Qvan was suddenly pummeled from behind by several heavy fists and only his formidable defenses protected him from suffering more than one major injury! Glancing around the rest of the shopfront, there was still nothing to be seen. No magical aura hiding the assailant(s), nothing...

---

I assume after Zhira dropped the 'shopkeeper', Vahid won't do anything important right away with his turn in round 1. The present threat was obviously eliminated. Correct me if I'm wrong, please.

Also, Aryk, your turn falls in group 3, so you should have waited before posting your action. Luckily the fact that Zhira killed Pershpia already means that this invalidates your already stated action, so you are free to make another post now that group 3 is up.

Group 3 is up next!

Unknown Assailant hits Qvan with a 43 vs. AC for 38 bludgeoning damage.

ouch! didn't see that one coming!

 Qvan is still in the shape of a seven-foot otherworldly traveller, when the ghoul goes limp in his four arms. He lets go of it but barely has time to take his bearing as he is hit from behind. The onslaught is painful, even if he can feel his magical armour deflecting most of it.

 He winces under the invisible blows, and as the others must be perplex around him, he explains in a hush: "Invisible attacker..."

 In a move that will not surprise those who have known him for years, the wizard spins and turns into a little flying imp, the size of a house cat with tender pink skin and a stubbed piggish snout. He is eyeless but his nose sniffs at the air in search of the attacker, just as he flies away to perch on Rictor's shoulder.

---

Free: change shape to Sin Seeker
( https://www.d20pfsrd.com/besti...l-beasts/sin-seeker/ )
5ft step to perch on Rictor's shoulder.
 Perception take 10 is 46, with Blindsight 50 ft, Low-Light Visio, Scent, and Arcane Sight.
 Effects: barkskin, shapechange, arcane sight, protection from evil, mage armour

 My standard action will depend on what I see (will update combat stats now)

looks like this: https://www.google.com/url?sa=...husCFQAAAAAdAAAAABAE
This message was last edited by the player at 14:14, Thu 06 Aug 2020.

While Qvan was still not able to actually see anyone in the room except for his companions, his new special senses revealed to him the nearby presence of two creatures exuding pure malevolence. Based on his vast knowledge of all manner of different creatures, there could only be one answer to what he was facing here.

---

Please remember that, even if we assume Qvan will be able to announce the exact position of the two enemies all of the time, they still benefit from total concealment (50% miss chance) against anyone who can see them. Make such rolls (announcing in the roll if higher or lower than 50 is going to hit) on your own should you make attacks. Thanks

Qvan still had his standard/swift action, so I'll post that now:

 From the relative safety of his companion's shoulder, the little creature that was now Qvan scanned the room and immediately spotted the unmistakable silhouette of the invisible stalker. He also noticed that these were not quite the usual type, and counted himself lucky to have only suffered minor blows.

  "Two invisible stalkers, one right here facing Aryk, the other one just a few feet behind, at the end of the bookshelf! Look at where the light strikes..." he said in a strange nasal little voice.

 Immediately after that, Rictor could hear the little creature forming words of magic near his ears, and five projectiles shot straight towards the assailants, striking true despite their invisible nature. If anyone could see them, they looked shocked and dazed by the sudden magical strike.

---

Cast Dazing Magic Missile
 IS1 takes 11 damage and is Dazed for 1 round (Will save DC21 negates)
 IS2 takes 7 damage and is Dazed for 1 round (Will save DC21 negates)

It was a familiar feeling to stride into battle with a winged companion tucked onto his shoulder, although it was distinctly strange for that friend to be Qvan.

"Where..." He began, but the canny old wizard was already belting out his instructions.

Rictor slid forward blindly, sword held low and to the side. He struck upwards in the probing flurry that was heron parts the rushes, a sword form of quick probing strikes designed to test an enemy's defenses. He couldn't see his enemy in the slightest, but with the lights of Qvan's attack pointing out their locations the multitude of quick strikes would give him the best chance of striking home.

---

Free action: 5ft step to G-11

Full Round Action: Full attack S1. Three attacks don't break the 50% concealment. One attack makes the 50/50.

IF target AC < 41
   Rictor hits for 35 damage
   IF target AC vs Crit Confirm < 45
      That hit is a crit for an additional 37 damage, a total of 72 damage
      S1 is staggered for 1 round
         IF S1 fails a DC 27 Fortitude save it is staggered for 5 rounds instead.

Several bright missiles of pure energy shot forth from the small winged creature, each one hitting the hidden creatures with perfect accuracy. Qvan had hoped that his slight alteration to the spell's effect would leave the two enemies in a daze, but they easily withstood it.

Rictor followed the clear and precise instructions that Qvan gave in order to maximize his chances of actually hitting one of the two opponents. Several probing sword slashes only cut through empty air before he finally managed to connect with the invisible hide of the stalker, delivering a deep wound that caused the thing to grunt in surprise and pain.

---

All three saving throws were successful!

Aryk, Vahid and Zhira are up next!

Vahid had held back as the others spoke, and been slow to react as Qvan revealed the ruse for what it was, hanging back to allow the others closer to destroy the creature. However, as two more beasts made themselves known, he sprang into action. He didn't bother looking around, he simply moved to the bookshelf Qvan had indicated.
On arrival, he took a moment to look for any sign of movement at all before making a single swing, testing the waters.
When his attack proved fruitless, he fell back into a defensive stance, pressing his back to the end of the shelf. "Put your backs to something, it will be one fewer means of attack to fear."

Move action to G13, then single vital strike attack. Completely whiffs on miss chance, that's me done for now.

As Qvan and Rictor pointed out the location of the enemy, Zhira's eyes narrowed as she eyes them, her hazel eyes gaining a soft, yet menacing golden glow, even as she took a simple step forward and attacked the enemy that Rictor had already wounded.

OOC:

So, I'm spending Martial Focus to gain the benefits of Piercing Eye as a free action, then taking a 5 ft step, and full-attacking the same enemy that Rictor wounded; again, I'm not sure which Bane my weapon currently has (it should be the one suited to Pershpia) or if it applies to the stalkers, but if it's does, that's +2 on all of my attack rolls - these ones aren't as good as the last ones, so maybe it'll matter.

Also, my first attack is a Critical and probably confirmed, which means the opponent I hit with it is now Entangled, which lowers AC, limit movements, and so on - important because the lowered AC also makes my other attacks after the first more likely to hit. Furthermore, since I have damaged the stalker, I get my bonus to saves against it from my armor.

Thanks to piercing eye, I should have bypassed the miss chance on every attack, even if they failed to hit the AC... or so I hope, at any rate.

Also, between last turn and this turn, I've collected 2 Tension points. Just nothing it for future reference.

And here is a list of rolls.



10:41, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 200 using 4d100 with rolls of 73,58,54,15.  Miss Chance.

10:38, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 55 using 1d20+36.  Full Attack, first hit.
10:38, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 52 using 1d20+36.  Full Attack, first hit, crit confirm.
10:39, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 30 using 1d20+26.  Full Attack, second hit.
10:40, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 32 using 1d20+21.  Full Attack, third hit.
10:40, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 19 using 1d20+16.  Full Attack, fourth hit.

10:43, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 41 using 2d6+36 with rolls of 3,2.  Full Attack, first hit damage.
10:44, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 45 using 2d6+36 with rolls of 5,4.  Full Attack, first hit critical damage.
10:44, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 41 using 2d6+36 with rolls of 4,1.  Full Attack, second hit damage.
10:45, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 42 using 2d6+36 with rolls of 3,3.  Full Attack, third hit damage.
10:45, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 45 using 2d6+36 with rolls of 3,6.  Full Attack, fourth hit damage.

10:46, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 7 using 2d6 with rolls of 5,2.  Full Attack, first hit bane damage.
10:46, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 4 using 2d6 with rolls of 1,3.  Full Attack, second hit bane damage.
10:47, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 10 using 2d6 with rolls of 6,4.  Full Attack, third hit bane damage.
10:49, Today: Zhira al-Darea rolled 12 using 2d6 with rolls of 6,6.  Full Attack, fourth hit bane damage.

Vahid and Zhira both closed the short distance to the two elementals at the same time, their weapons drawn and ready to join the fight against the unseen attackers. Feeling not very confident to hit invisible enemies, the priest attempted one strike to gauge how difficult this would going to be and found himself missing entirely.

Zhira on the other hand had a fitting trick up her sleeve, focusing on her extensive martial training to pinpoint her opponent's exact location. With that concern out of the way, she executed a series of masterful attacks, landing three of her four strikes exactly as intended, killing the creature in the process.

---

Zhira, your weapon would have the 'Undead Bane' property right now. The Stalkers are outsiders, but I don't think you really need the extra attack or damage bonus :)

Waiting for Aryk!

As the invisible thing next to him was slashed apart, he channeled his gift, his intuition sharpening to let him know where the remaining thing would be.  He stepped to it, and slashed out with his blade.

---

-5 foot step to I12.
-Use psionic power ‘Inevitable Strike’, with enhancements, for 7 points.  +11 to attack bonus & negates miss chance from concealment.  In addition, use two points to charge weapon (+2d6 damage on next hit).
-Full-round attack.
—1d20(4) + 30 = 34; 19 damage if hits.
—1d20(11) + 25 = 36; 15 damage if hits.
——First hit deals an extra +9 damage.

Aryk followed the example of martial excellence displayed by Zhira, stepping around the counter and letting his sharp intuition guide his next strikes. Both swings of his Conclave Blade connected easily with the stalker, cutting deep wounds in its tough flesh.

The invisible stalker grunted both in pain and in response to the dire situation that it found itself in now. As both of the possible exits were blocked by its enemies, there was not much choice other than to continue the fight. The creature chose Zhira as its preferred target, seeing how deadly she was. Two well-aimed punches hit the fighter, bruising her flesh and bones with enormous strength. It then stepped away from her in a vain attempt at not being surrounded on all sides so easily.

---

Group 3 is up next!

Invisible Stalker #2 hits Zhira with 43 and 39 vs. AC, dealing 36 and 32 damage!

This message was last edited by the GM at 09:15, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

Qvan was still in the shape of a plump flying imp, his piggish little snout sniffing the air to locate the enemy. Rictor has moved forward but he stayed right where he was. He pointed to the location of the invisible stalker:
  “it has moved right there by the entrance, behind Vahid. It is wounded, you can finish it off before it strikes again.”

The old wizard started growing again, gaining a humanoid shape with resolutely feminine features, and vegetal extensions all around her, in the form of ivy, flowers, and clothes that have taken a bark-like texture.

As he did so, his injuries seem to quickly recede, the bruises on his back disappeared, and the pain vanished.

While the others focused on the fight, he listened at the doors, trying to gauge what may lie behind.

---

Free: talk, change shape to Hamadryad, click heels
Perception check behind the two doors: take 10 is 46

Effects: Arcane Sight, Barkskin, Shapechange (DR 5/silver), Mage Armor, Aura of Good Protection from Evil, Resist negative energy 10, 25% immune to negative levels (standard)
 + Fast Healing 5 , DR5/cold iron, Tree Meld (as Hamadryad)

 EDIT: With DR5/silver, I should have taken 5 fewer damage points, and fast healing 5 now give me +5 hp, for a current total of 137/165
This message was last edited by the player at 15:27, Mon 10 Aug 2020.

Rictor nodded.

There was a sharp crack as he snapped his fingers and the long dark blade in his hands whirled away into nothingness and vanished. He sidestepped for a better view, or rather a better shot, and like a flash his bow was in his hands instead.

He knocked and drew, the fletching silky against his cheek. The tip of the arrow wavered in a questing pattern and Rictor closed his eyes. There! The slightest vibration resonated through the shaft, almost a hunger to be loosed and seek flesh.

He let fly.

---

Free Action: Store held item in glove of storing
Free Action: Draw bow via Quickdraw feat
Free Action: 5ft step to H11

Full round action: Full attack vs S2. Rictor's seeking longbow ignores miss chance.
Attack 1: 23 to hit, 50 damage
Attack 2: 37 to hit, 28 damage
Attack 3: 16 to hit, 26 damage
Attack 4: 11 to hit, 22 damage
Attack 5: 12 to hit, 29 damage

Seeing how devastating Zhira's attacks had been against the two invisible stalkers and being quite sure that the sole remaining opponent wouldn't last for much longer, Qvan decided to change his shape once more, this time becoming a fey entity of the First World. Turning away from the battle for a moment, he leaned close against the door, trying hear anything on the other side over the din of battle.
Rictor observed the tightly-packed battlefield and briefly glanced at his three other companions. Most of them were more suited to melee combat, so leaving the few open spaces of the storefront to them would be more beneficial. Discarding his blade for now and drawing his trusted bow, he took aim, trying to hit the hidden target without endangering Vahid in the process. In a blur, five arrows flew at their mark, but only one managing to actually wound the stalker.

---

Waiting for Aryk! After he has posted, group 1 can go ahead with their actions for round 3.