The town of Baden's Bluff was modernized and nationalized at some point in the centuries before the coming of the military. Now guards stand at their posts, with rumors indicating the watchtowers are manned to grant a beautiful sweep of the terrain. Before the military broadened its search into the fertile lands in the Jungle of Aruun, the rocks faced crashing waves several miles to the southwest. Demigraphically the city then became bolstered by the military, with several of the military garrisons electing to have queues and plumed hats, in a gesture of style in keeping with the strident and yet diehard military presence. The population sat at 30000 in the third century BK (before Kronos) and the political nature of the city means the four gates are always welcoming in fresh streams of individuals. Once the harbinger of illicit trades, the city is now more streamlined and faces magical trials all in their due purpose. The gods have been paying especial attention to the city, given its growth over the years from 30000 to 130000 today. This means, given the chronology, that it is considered a metropolis. It was the sole city to be literally erased from the pencil drafts of Izrador's minions, and the gods were unable to detect what the servants of Izrador were cooking up in the tunnels beneath the city. Nestled into the surrounding hills, the ground is a fine light green, often glowing amber as the wind sends its currents through the plants, which are well known for speaking in obscure tongues. The coffers are currently low but the chancellors are using their numismatical skills to channel a grudge against the "haves" in the outside of the city. Upon the coins are inscribed letters similar to Phonecian, and many postulate that these coins are the work of collaboration with Meeru and the demodands, solidifying arcane control of the city. It erupts once every ten years, forcing residents to pay homage to myths like Pompeii to maintain their grasp on the environment. Meanwhile the water sits unrippled, pond scum radiating a similar energy to that in a Roman bath or the speaking plants far-flung.

The coins that you spent have an image of Posiin, a legendary ruler who travelled from the lands to the southeast. He has a fishhook pitted against his mouth, and the angler's guild is well known for supplying magical food to the population from the center pond and indoor pools. Demographically the city is highly stratified, with magic in the hands of only an elite few.

Izrador's presence in the realm of the gods means he has been sealed up, but not water tight. When gods mess around with bodies, there's no telling when there might be danger exuded from the pores of even a city tree, which are bent around the city like spokes on a wheel. One myth postulates Posiin rolled up the city like a snowball of dough and rolled it into the latest modern craze: the bowling alley with magically resetting pins. The gods are decked out in magical style, but the presence of the fallen one goes way back into the past, his forme changing as the years brushed his scaled dragon-like carapace. There is a natural dilemma resulting from his attempt to control the power nexuses and explosions resulting in fire elementals at sites where his attention warps into place like a broken pipe. Currently the gods' followers who directed you to pay some attention to the city from your travels from Huxtable, marking a new era in the jockeying for power that is the pantheon. Spontaneous combats break out when individuals resort to openly displaying magic items or trinkets. The glow of trinkets is much lower, however, and the triangulation harbors deep desires from the crisp leaves that can be folded into magical origami. Some use these as spies, and the rumor about missing children means that the origami will glow in tandem with telluric currents, but the city's riot takes the attention away from the disappearance.

A man with a plumed visor with white marks on it and rainbow ponytail-like plumes darts around a corner after the coins get ripped open by someone exploiting the riot. Screams soar all around amidst the chaos, and you're able to get magical entrance, having sensed the masonry of alabaster whispering cries of terror. The slope seems to tug at your feet and a fire elemental darts around the corner with its amorphic form stitching together a hike to pursue the man with the holy book in his hands. He blasts the man with enfeebling ray, causing him to tip over, and you hear the clanking of his coins as the cobbles greet death from below.

Looking all around, Birahu is unsettled, thinking it might be safer to leave and never return! It looked daunting to him! "Well good gentles, what do you think?" he asks the others in his party. "Lady Maevre? I'm out of my element with all of this. There are just too many and many are much more powerful than I. Elementals flitting everywhere."

Aranea looks around a bit and in her hybrid form facial expression is only slightly modified by the mandibular fangs that fold out from her jaw; there are still segments that may as well be lips- and those are being bitten. She spoke her thoughts though, "I am going to cast Magic Aura to hide that aspect. I can probably find a decent path unless they really are everywhere. The chaos should make it easier to move around unless someone does something drastic. I am very much not effective against elementals. If we can find their summoners though, I'd be happy to deal with those. I'd rather be in the forests than the city but this is a bit extreme."

"Well this looks difficult" Lady Maevre said "I have fought these Elemental's before and they were difficult. In groups they can summon and project fireballs. Unfortunately my most effective attacks are fire based, so as you might imagine that's less useful against fire elementals"

"We will not be able to move around unnoticed. We can and will try of course, but from what
I have experienced before Prophecy and mystic portents are working against us. I am not unskilled in the arts of moving silently and unseen, and I have had no success in avoiding contact"

"I suggest we move as a group. We do not know each other well in a fight, so I would ask 'who is capable of fighting'. Obviously our friend Garaxus here is going to be at the forefront. I also will be mainly in the fight. Birahu you look like a magician to me who would like to avoid such things. Aranea?"

"It looks like I will have to update my repertoire, I cast mostly fire based spells. Looks like I need water based and maybe acid based too, perhaps and energy conversion skill should be added."

"Cold if you can" Maevre commented "Given a choice Fire Elementals hate the cold. I know in Elemental Progression theory water .. acid ... has power over fire, but I don't think it works that way in practice."

"Should we retreat, find a place to rest up so that you can prepare?"

"Not a lot I can do against fire elementals, no matter how much I think about it. I can use Resist Energy to help keep myself protected, Magic Missile goes through, Ray of Enfeeblement will sap their strength I guess."

He casts Mage Armor on himself to raise his AC.

She finished that casting, "I have several liquids on me..." She said as two glass vials are brought out of her robe... By two independent left hands... Not the one in the sleeve. "Healing potions and antivenom are kind of a waste. I also imagine a throwing ax has little use against the elementals and biting them is also well out of the question... We need to go west to the coast and then south to the woods, or to a boat is our best bet."

The dulcet tones of the fire-breathing beasts match up with visions of the elves and the people flocking around you, moving in channels that put at odds the reason for maneuvering through the city. Riot rules mean that rolls of a 1-10 and 11-20 are processed with no modifiers. On a 1-10, the fire elementals roast through a significant portion of the inhabitants, and if it's 11-20 and explodes, you manage to use Mage Armor to protect not only yourself but the water in the atmosphere not to mention all the concomitant materials stuck on the person of Aranea.

If you roll a critical on the roll (kind of like a benny, this roll), then the creatures are pushed back, allowing for more spellcasting. If the numbers match on the second roll and the numbers are a critical, this creates a d20 situation in which the spread means:

1. Elementals move in on the priest.
2. Suffer STR and DEX hampering in the form of minus 2.

3. Elementals merge with the priest.
4. The crowd manages to put out the fire with clubs and other implements.

The buildings seem to dance with the fire, and the noise is deafening. The water sluices down from the box gutters in the form of a pleasant scene, aside from all the chaos. The buildings are seeming to lean towards the lake, where a lone mage seems to want to flood the city to get rid of the elementals.

OOC: coming from the "gathering thread."

IC: Garaxus steadied himself, it was the first time he had traveled by magic and it was like being on a tempest sea. Regaining himself he stood up. "Is everyone ok?....Eleni is it...you are most welcome."Then seeing the chaos all around, the roots and the fire-breathing breasts, Garaxus drew his greatclub.

"Let's try to find the Temple of that bastard Zeus and get the arrow we where sent for." He did not want to fight the beasts if possible, you couldn't wrestle it and what good was a club against sorcery and fire? Yeah if he had to face the beasts, he would.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:12, Tue 17 Jan 2023.

OOC: From the Gathering Thread

Eleni takes a moment to absorb the chaos around her, trying to see where they need to go and balancing that with the living flames causing the destruction they find themselves immersed in. Hearing Garaxus brings her focus to him. "Any idea which way we need to go? I am having difficulty seeing through the smoke and soot. My armor might give me a few moments of protection against the worst of the flames, but I think avoiding the animated flames is our best course of action. Just point me whichever way you want me to clear."
She armed up, drawing a short spear and a shield and settling into a slight crouch. It is clear she has had some formal martial training and knows how to use each implement.

In reply to Eleni (msg # 11):

Birahu casts two spells one after the other, Mage Armor, and Resist Energy: fire! and followed the others where they went.

"woo...mind the next step that one's a doozie" Maevre had recovered remarkably quickly from the sickness. Perhaps some fairie magic?

"Let me go aloft and see" Maevre suggested and rather pretty butterfly wings seemed to materialise around her. Mostly as though 'they had always been there but not noticed' than 'manifesting'. "That is risky, but perhaps not as risky as staying down here."

"It's going to be the one with lots of columns right?"

She spend a moment mentally concentrating before leaping aloft. Cautiously she used the roof of the nearest building: landing on it and looking around for the next high point. Fortunately the smoke provided excellent cover spoiled somewhat by her coughing and spluttering

The temple of Zeus shines magnificently, lit up during this night like a beacon in the meagrest light. It will take a solid hike uphill to get there, but there are massive rope-guided pulleys that allow you to glide over the slopes of controlled water, which would be a DC 15 Climb check, coupled with a DC 15 Concentration check to avoid getting distracted by the terraced view that collapses into a vast green surrounding the seven hills of the city.

The priest yells to you, as you slip away from the elementals' grasp, that he just can't tolerate being left behind, and you hear a desperate edge to his voice. With a DC 20 DEX check, and a Deflect Arrows spell (you all have a scroll in your pocket of this spell, level 5, with the effect of changing the trajectory either in a cone or up to five arrows fired in consecutive rounds) characters are able to maneuver them into the elementals, though they pass through to an unknown end. You also notice that your quivers dance with lines of fire, meaning the success you encountered while dealing with the riot will simply be channeled into another location. But now you have fire arrows, and you suspect that Apollo is behind the presence of the elementals, which are slowly pursuing you. But their profane forme is not permitted inside the naos of the temple, though you have before seen fire dance on the columns. The priest stumbles away from the elementals and starts chasing you, brandishing his cross. He speaks more Latin incantations and waves at Lady Maevre on the roof. There is a fairly even keel, assuming you either Take 10 or 20 on the Jump roll, which means you'll be encountering the elementals as they snake up the roof, or your companions won't be able to reach you for a time.

The rubble from some magically destroyed terrain blocks your passage. If you Featherstep (players with boots will move twice as fast over rubble [half move speed instead of one-fourth] and the elementals merge with a wooden bulwark in your path, setting it ablaze. You think it has symbolic worth, and can, you recall, be vanquished with a small amount of holy water, which the now emboldened priest runs toward you carrying.

You can avoid combat as the elementals are slow but the priest is catching up to you, provoking a glance left and right from a mysterious woman with black hair who taps her spear on the roofs (all of them flat in the immediate vicinity and as far as you can see) and shouts more Latin phrases. Interestingly enough, you suspect they cast glib tongues seeing as they have serpentine forked tongues to match the shocking grasp that they now pull over (lucky you discovered the source) from a ball of lightning now tracing the lip of the building two jumps away from Lady Maevre.

Garaxus begun climbing the ropes that lead to the temple of Zeus. It was an easy climb for the Savage and as he looked back, somewhat distracted, he was relieved by all the water. The fire elementals would have a hard time following them now.

He knew that Maevre could fly and would be right behind him, if not ahead of him before too long. He just hoped the rest of the group where good climbers.

Looking at the Temple of Zeus, he continued to move forward at a rapid pace.

OOC:
09:18, Today: Garaxus rolled 12 using 1d20+3.  Concentration .

09:18, Today: Garaxus rolled 27 using 1d20+14.  Climb check .
This message was last edited by the player at 17:40, Wed 18 Jan 2023.

Birahu attempts to follow Garaxus!

In reply to Birahu the Black (msg # 16):

As they start off climbing, Garaxus notices Birahu having a hard time climbing the ropes. Garaxus grabs hold of the mage and puts him on his back. "Hold on!" The extra weight was no big deal to the Savage as climbing was as difficult for him as walking or breathing.

OOC: Garaxus's Strength is a 21. An extra 150 lbs is no big deal to him. Considering, Garaxus has less than 34 lb of gear on him (he's only wearing leather armor)
This message was last edited by the player at 18:20, Wed 18 Jan 2023.

Ignoring the fate of the evil priest who had lightning bolted her comrades, Maevre found a good place, tied her rope to it and tossed it down. Rope made most things like climbing an awful lot easier

She wasn't even tempted to look at the view as there were things trying to kill them, and anyway this place was a little dull compared to the Glories she was used to.

"I have no clue what is happening" she called to the others "Please shout out if you have an idea what to do"

In reply to Lady Maevre (msg # 18):

Hearing Maevre's voice, while climbing with a mage on his back, he answers back to her. "Head to the temple, we'll figure our next step there!"

Aranea thinks the group progress might be well treated by less priest. She swings her crossbow around as she uses the usual number of limbs to navigate the rubble. She pulls the two triggers on her crossbow, sending a bolt through a bubble of gel that formed at the front of her bow headed toward the priest.

Aranea rolled 23 using 1d20+9.  Crossbow shot.
Aranea rolled 3 using 1d8.  Crossbow damage.
Aranea rolled 3 using 1d6.  Strength damage if dc 14 fort is failed.

Before she tries to follow along with compatriots.

Aranea rolled 22 using 1d20+4.  Concentration check.
Aranea rolled 13 using 1d20+8.  Climb check dc 15

The rope's traditional +2 should actually raise her 13 to a 15 and pass but I'll leave that to the GM and plot.

In reply to Garaxus (msg # 17):

Birahu catches ahold for the ride to the top.

Eleni sees the priest and watches the crossbow bolt leave towards him. She decides the rope is probably the right call for her, using it and her natural climbing ability to ascend rapidly.

OOC: Eleni rolled 25 using 1d20+6.  Concentration.
Eleni rolled 18 using 1d20+12.  Climb.

Arenea and Eleni succeed to mount the building, while the others fail. Those who fail, your hands skid a little bit on the rope, which is crafted of the finest hemp, and 50 feet now dangle limply from a vantage point angled from the hook ranging this way and that as the rope's anchor. The priest seems to be your friend, he keeps mouthing good-feeling preludes toward you as you occasionally turn around to see if he's actually the one shoring in your reality with mantras from all radial perspectives. The temple is situated almost like an island, a beacon from the storm that sits at odd angles from the crashing waves that the Sea of Pelluria and the Caen River divvy up the spoils of with your tourist-like selves. The magic feels unraw because you're so new to the city, but there is reputedly a Power Nexus (which range from power levels 1 through 10) and this one is a level 7. Later on you can level up to 7 in a Heroic Path and the 7th spot will offer criticals in a range exceeding the standard 20, making it 18-20. This location is sacrilized by the gods, and you might be able to use Zeus' limp power to prematurely cease the fire elementals, whose gift to Apollo is their service, their sun-like shape now in your rear-view mirror.

The lady on the roof says, "My name is Jil and the prophecies spoke of you," to Lady Maevre. "The fire elementals may pay heed to Apollo, but their arrows will be of service in the allegiance to Zeus. Summon him and he'll erupt from the center lake, causing a natural disaster which will be digressed into yet more taxation, fixing these houses up. But it can be done using just magic, usually. Go, and wile your way into a fury before the gods, or we don't help you." As she says this, two elves catch their hands upon the gutters, hoisting themselves onto the roof. They had good climb checks, with a difficult DC given there is water now treating the city like Zanarkand.

Those who fail the check end up on their rear ends, with no other difficulties non-trivial. The facade gleams against those of you whose sight is low-light, for it is dark as night. But the light from the Temple is enough to illuminate your path. Ten rioters smash its windows and say to you, "You're not going to make it inside this temple, scum!" and they appear to lift the rubble that now constitutes the Areopagus from cairn-like piles. Those who climb up are able to create a link between the words offered in prayer here to the serpentine tongues of those now jumping toward the temple from the flat rooves. They say to Lady Maevre, "Some other time the Last Laugh will meet you at the temple. For now we retreat from this rioting."

Concentration was succeed by all and warrants a moment of pure bliss that lets you communicate with Zeus temporarily, with the spell command. You feel that the word will splash its way into the lake, offering the chance to literally use a word to vanquish the priest and use summon nature's ally to bring the priest down from his elemental prison to secure the safety of his soul in the form of a phrase. Together you're able to hear that a channeler is requiring a scroll of glib tongues and that you can secure it either at Skie's Treasury or from the Church of Wee Jas, both in the northwest part of town. Then you can align the spiders of the church with the priest's babble, creating something of a tower at the top of which is a gem-encrusted staff created with Craft Magic Item. The top of the staff, the top of the tower, the minarets awaiting your presence in which fire is the password for ascension back into the library where you will re-group. In addition to the riots you are able to channel anger into the staff, unleashing it to demolish a wall and let the water stream down in avidness, surrounding the temple with water in a fashion unbeknownst to the eagles of Zeus now floating around the city. Using the staff, you can unload the shocking grasp to retain it as a future prophecy in "ungating" the Nereid prophets, who are taking the form of serpents.

Aranea wants to help the townsfolk and secure the good will of some locals. A place to fall back to or the relics they may offer could well be worth some time and a few wounds helping them.

Maevre followed Arenea. Still a little lost she tried to make sense of what she had seen and heard. Who or what was the Last Laugh? Some of the others had communed with Zeus: something she would never do.

"Did we win?" she asked

"OK let's try this" Maevre wasn't very confident about what was happening or what they had to do. She was still very very confused about it all

"I guess it's clear we need to fight some fire elementals" she continued. "I'm going to go for that one" she pointed to a fire elemental that was some distance from the others. "Let's see what happens"

While normally she liked to use her fists and feet if she was going to fight, that would be the height of folly on a fire elemental, so she drew a cold iron dagger which she kept very carefully sheathed most of the time.

"Here we go"

And with that she moved cautiously up to a fire elemental and stabbed it. It was not her best attempt. Perhaps a child could have done better. Still she was trying...

• Move action: Move up to elemental
• Standard action: Attack 31 with a cold iron dagger using Foe Hammer. Foe hammer is a standard action, ignores DR and does +2d6 damage.
• However it does a mighty 3 points of damage ( because Maevre can't use fists and similar reasons the damage is pitiful. Still perhaps we'll learn something )

AC 29.
Fire resistance 10

20:25, Today: Lady Maevre rolled 31,5 using d20+12,d4+2d6.  Attack / damage.

Trying to follow the lead of her fae friend, Aranea risks direct contact by putting her enchanted, poisonous, fangs into the fire elemental. She knew virtually nothing about such beasts from her sheltered forest home. It might not be for the best but the best learning came from doing. Bandits, thugs, and occasionally shadows were her typical fare so far and she was quite young. Next turn however she could be far more dangerous to a mortal opponent... If she could take the heat.

Aranea rolled 27,5 using d20+9,d6+1.  Attack/damage. If the poison can be effective Fort DC15 vs 1d6 str(primary, 2d6 str secondary) damage

When the combat begins, you feel like there is a rush of wind that seems to factor into your situation as a previous natural disaster prompted by the entrance of one square of fire and wind elementals. As you go into combat, it seems that black fire is rotational, perhaps the churning of a greater fire hidden deep beneath the earth. And you can see the earth blacken underneath them, like a kiln full of sculpted pottery that saved an adventurer from a fierce wind. The elementals. You are each in combat with one small fire elemental. #1 is fighting Lady Maevre while #2 is fighting Aranea. They seem mawkish but brittle and you can see warped smiles boiling through their tension in trapped air. Forming a sort of wall, the other elementals seem to be summoning air elementals as you engage the other ones in combat. Therefore they will become four-foot high strings of moltenness attached like siamese twins to vortexes that if you fought, you figure would be stung by the infinity of fibers buoying like a rictus of fanged teeth. You suspect based on the knowledge that you have of walls of fire that the combined air and fire elementals, if poisoned, would absorb that poison like a tornado sucking up a house and in essence absorbing it. Lady Maevre, step of the wind was useful to you in the past in fighting fire elementals, and would be useful to use, and you figure it would be safe to enter them as they lay dying. You recall using burning blade in situations like this as well.

You both vanquish the closest 2 fire elementals (they both had 5 and 4 HP, respectively), which are sucked into the now-becoming-giant air and fire elemental, which bristles with lurid color. It's like a giant locomotive reaching into the earth to secure some kind of mud that would slow down its diffusion into whatever realm gave it birth, likely Hades. The sky is a red color that gives the place the assumption that Hades is in some way related, and things crackle with a fury upon the death of the elemental, some kind of automatic reaction of the gods. The Auron that seems to issue forth from the faux fire and brimstone grant you a vision into the nature of Delphi, and you know from the beginning of the combat that the Crown of Eurydice is in some way attached to ghost word. You can probably speak Auron in the pursuit of the glass and might even get a free sword out of the deal from assisting in the quelling of the situation (you still can figure out where the demon came from if you ask around). You get glances from some of the passers-by, some stand gawking and others run in terror. There are now 2 fire/air elementals which were previously the line, of combined essence.

Lady Maevre rolled a 21, and Aranea a 9, on knowledge nature to recall, based on the Auron being shot off the beasts, that a dragon is in some way in your future that can be destroyed by chanting over it in draconic, the alphabet of Auron. Your wisdom is such that you are able to glance around after slaying the 2 closest elementals, and note the shape of th acropolis, shafted with a type of spotlight effect.

You continue to hear Auron melodiously over your ears, but neither of you can interpret it, aside from simple recognition.

Everything was so confusing, Maevre found it hard to work out what was happening. Perhaps it was as simple as 'defeat some elementals'. If so she decided to give that a go.

She'd tried the 'defensive' approach and that had worked. She'd not been hurt. Spotting another fire elemental she charged it, radiant lines of magical energy coming from her as she invoked energies to make this a deadly attack

While they may sustain some amount of damage, it seemed in their interest to secure this dark fire by removing further elementals from attacking the city. So, she continued to press her attack.

Move and attack
Aranea rolled 18,5 using d20+9,d6+1.  Initial attack.

The elementals are positioned in the city in an elaborate clan. They are fused with the gods so any time you encounter them in the future there will be a chance to strike at them. I'm not using grids, so imagining the combat in 3D space entails fire and air adjacent to each other, forming a chance for critical specialization effect to fight them back. They are vulnerable to cold attacks and spells, so wielding a frost sword or an icy grasp spell will allow you to get better access to the air elementals, who are vulnerable to earth. In short, the cycle of elements means that barkskin and graniteskin are what they are casting. Before long they will form a giant golem sloshing side-to-side and be possessed by the gods for a time.

Initiative: 7
Fire touch,vs AC flat-footed, given that it's an extraordinary ability to merge with the gods it becomes material and your masterwork weapons, Aranea, take on a cast of flame as they bend the light in a gesture of defiance toward the creatures which are now 50' away, but your attack had you see another group on the margins horning in on you and your blade passes through them like a knife through butter. The flat-footed call is based on the notion that there is adrenaline pumping through the temple and the guards are considered fire giants who awaken from the stone like pieces on a chess board and they are 120' away from you, immediately wreathed in flames and you see the lady Jil get smacked across the island toward you, and she gets up and feels her head for trauma, some of her hair singed off.

This touch mirrors a flat-flooted aura you see around her as there is a corporeal attunement that relocates her pain, forcing her into a leadership heal from the group that gets belched out of the temple. The initiatives are:

Lady Maevre: 17
Aranea: 15
Fire elementals (4) 14
Fire giant (1) 11
Thieves: x

The group of thieves readies actions to attack the fire giant when it approaches. draw with an intense desire the tone of the bodies in front of you, fire pulsing in the hand of the giant as it rears its ugly head toward the group, Jil still reeling from the blow. You estimate she's at about half health and has around 30/60 hp.

The riot sits in another blast of windows being knocked out, several more people screaming but luckily it subdues itself, leading to another tribute towards the dark god combing the land, the color of the landscape shifting again as the black becomes fire. The elementals and the giant make noise that sounds like static upon a television and they glow with an intensity unbereaved in the world of men and gods.

"So... " Maevre asked Arenea. Her confusion wasn't really lessening. "we let the thieves and the fire giant fight it out. Because I am not going to attack something immune to my attacks, that is ten times my mass. And ... er... what else? We could attack the fire elementals I guess? Or just let the theives get on with it?"

Aranea shifted stance slightly and her face was only appreciably different than her human guise though it came apart at the middle of the lower jaw and had an almost porcelain doll look and texture, "I'm not certain about fighting elementals further but a giant at least is flesh and blood. While my venom may not be particularly effective it at least has a chance. The giants are not made of fire. The giant is too far right now anyways unless you have more magic." Two hands held the crossbow, two moved another vial into place from her bandolier, the last freed another vial and if her movement puts her close enough to Jil she will offer it, "Minor healing but often enough in an emergency..."

She took aim and fired after closing a small portion of the distance with movement.

If 26 hits then the giant needs to fort save... That was max str damage so a fail here would make fighting it SOO much easier!

Aranea rolled 5,6 using d8,d6.  Piercing, Str(Fort DC 15) damages.

Aranea rolled 26 using 1d20+9.  Taking a shot

Jil is done up with a hair tie which is caked with blood, as Aranea notes when approaching. Jil flicks a little of the blood at the fire giant who roars thunderously and claps his hands together having dropped his club. The red hair at his wrists quake with energy as the nearby square takes note of his activities and several of the town guard have shifted their attentions toward him, their longswords breathing in the air against the current and file of the flaming buildings. A +2 longsword seems to scrape against the full plate armor as they run, and for a moment, you feel the watch's energy, knowing that they must rest in their armor, as they are simply that tired. They seem to be friendly towards you, and a wizard casts something that you might be able to use Concentration on in the aftermath of the battle, and his garb strikes you (rolled knowledge(arcana) for you guys and you succeeded at 15 for Lady Maevre, 9 for Aranea, and 13 for Eoiren Fellstave, so Lady Maevre succeeds and can tell that the yellow and blue garb has a logo on it that might be one of the guilds of the city. The buildings continue burning and flank you on both sides, with a successful magic bolt from Aranea. It sings with Poseidon's strength into a flank of the fire giant, who forms and re-forms surrounded by fire.

BAB: +2 spiked gauntlets merging with spiked club, 5/10/15 damage.
ACP for mages 10% but skinned from acid frogs meaning slower proliferation should Aranea choose to attack them
"Jousting iron" is the string that Lady Maevre detects using mellifluous sound for free (you guess it comes from the mages who seem to be using primal magic, prompting reflex saves to avoid stepping on the slick pavement spell and deducing which words you can chant to summon a djinn.

"On it then" Maevre said. Calling on her fae magics she almost blurred as she flew at high speed to the weakened Fire Giant, her fists smashing brutally into it.

Action	To hit	Damage die	Damage
Battle leaders charge	30	d6 +15 (+10 from the battle leaders charge)	20

Note

• that there are no attacks of opportunity from the charge.
• A double move is 120' so that's fine (just) for the charge

Crusaders Power	Effect
Crusaders Strike	Healing d6+5
Shield block	+4 + shield AC to ally
Battle leaders charge	+10 damage, no AOO for charge

The fire giant is mixed with the new recruits to the scene and there is a gust of wind that extinguishes the stray small fires dotting the scene.

His body is a cage-like fixation warranting a brief glimpse which unveils that he is alternatively viewed in plain sight as a rocky outcropping. You believe that his masterwork club is hiding a gemstone that is valuable based on the shouted accusations of the rioters and recruits dancing on the margins of the combat zone. His hit points and AC cause the masterwork club to warp you back to a time immemorial when he was weaker, and you have a flash of vision of a "second story man," something the recruits keep shouting about. They enter the fray and a flash vision of combat occurs and you suspect people will want to use rocks whose hardness is 10 in the general purview there is a stonework that suggests that the combat will be "narrow," a sort of framework overlay that decides when enemy AC gets boosted in the neck of the woods suggesting that you'll be able to start bringing together the city but do not want to stray into the environs as on the map you will encounter those beings outside of Baden's Bluff and there is a guy with bombs who is lobbing them at the fire giant and someone is shouting something about "The Striders of Farlaghn."

The fire giant is able to use his club to slam you, forcing you through the earth and emerging in the wilderness, but only on a critical hit. His appearance reminds you of times when there were "neck of the woods" elves who allowed urban oneness to seep into the heavily fortified city, as the monsters outside are known to not be terribly intelligent, seeing as they just patrol their property for the time immemorial. The beings engage the fire giant, and they're all captain NPC guys with six or seven levels under their belt and they're done up in the grey and purple of the city watch. The certitude that you feel when approaching the giant to attack, Lady Maevre and Aranea, indicates that the giant is feeling somewhat whimsical but left to his own devices he would allow his denuded form to give him some natural armor. His natural armor is at a DR of 5, but some are now throwing rocks at him from a distance.

Natural armor ignores stance periphery, granting circle of protection from circlet of protection, utilizaed by somewhere in the magical ether.

Whirling flash by Lady Maevre allows the blade to sear the flesh of the giant, bu the wound cauterizes automatically.

Blending of the Greek and shadow worlds allow the city some breathing room when it comes to the breaching of the nest that the fire giant comes from, somewhere in the wilderness surrounding the city.

The arrows that are being shot soar through the air singing. The vorpal quality that they have suggests an expensive shop which you can tell had a presence here given the rubble's quality.

The giant, with 58 hp, is hit by Lady Maevre for 30 points of damage a boost given the cold color scheme of her persona, with a synergy from fire and ice, a slice across his chest, but as before, the wound cauterizes immediately.

Webs blast from Aranea's palms hits the giant for five damage, leaving him with about half health, but the NPCs are running toward it and deliver the killing blows.

After the combat they say, "I'm sure you've heard of the material needs of the city. We had heard a prophecy about people who looked like you providing the city with the burgeoning trade routes with the city of Highwall. The Trader is something we worship here." As the riot calmed down, they gesture towards the horizon. "It's in that direction. Can you bring us the spices from Highwall and center the economic diffusion resulting from this riot? We'll be here cleaning up."

The fire giant's corpse looms large and it has a masterwork glass dagger attached to a belt that grants the strength of giants, but you don't know how to use it.

"Well there you go" Lady Maevre said as the fire giant collapsed "We were lucky I think, but we should embrace the luck that favours us" She was particularly pleased to see the people of the town coming forwards to help

"Now that dagger looks good. I have been studying how to 'analyse' them, but it's a little beyond my ability to do so. At the very least it is Giantglass as the book said..."

"So...where should we go now?"

The glass is ruffled by a rat who makes his crawl through the upper storeys of the buildings, which are tightly packed together, moving on a slope towards the periphery where the gates stand gilded in their frames. You can see the western gate from your position and there is a watch flanking the gate, with an aquifer dispersing water in this or that direction. All in all, Baden's Bluff is an 18th century city but with trappings of the ancient past-worship, a Renaissance flavor that sips in the afternoon sun with no flags to weather its ancient posts. Some of the buildings remain on fire and wizards are present to use water spells, not to mention fighters who slice through the fire, those who are able to withstand it.

The fire giant marked a turning point in your quest to get all the glass as possible, with the spices being the newer trade good that you were able to surmise came from the other regions, with hostiles ranging back and forth outside the city but solide ground lording up the sun in the windy city, the lake in the center forming a giant dip in the earth, and in your explorations of the city following the calming of the riots, you find that the thieves' guild is marked on the southwest of the city, a celebration away from finding the newest armor that steals the mind of the current tourists to the city, although the nearest metropolitan zone is over several hundred miles away, aside from Highwall. The barrens that house the units are all a product of black fire but there is the notion that you're able to slay them with glass, preventing them from welling up as a "trapped," souls finding necromantic magic that much distant from their boxed-in reality.

The circular view is on several of the maps that are put on display in the city, and the riot has surprisingly calmed down on so many of the streets as possible that you find it difficult to believe it even occured in the first place. The rigolo that deepens over the horizon finds the entrance to the lower levels to be like bunker-like appendages, the adventuring groups in the city marked in fine regalia. The goods that you seek are to enrich the economy of those who would bed their fellows in a gold rush not unwell suited to the raiment that the lich king will maintain, his epaulettes something that supposedly grant arms to use as your followers do, a decrepit body that seams like a corpse but causes an imbroglio in space previously seen as only occupied by dragons. Hookface is his name and some type of body magic supposedly maintains his lair, which is out on the plains with a singular interest welling up in the populace for giantglass to outmode the slain bodies needing to be burnt.

"Well my first riot. And I hope my last" Maevre commented to the others as they made their way through Baden's bluff. "Now that hopefully everything is a little more stable, perhaps we can make some plans"

"Where do we go from here. I understand from the book that we need to drag this fire giant's corpse to the church or something. And that we need to get some paint. It's not entirely clear. So how do we do it?" Maevre was clearly incapable of carrying even the corpse of a human, never mind a giant

She gathered in her arms, "We may be able to assist in moving the Giants corpse from the road ways. It would require Mass to put much of it into pieces that can be removed by even common folk. There's some concern of it being safe... If more of my sisters were around we could probably remove most of the vital fluid from the body and that makes things lighter. As it is the best I can hope to assist with is lending a lot of hands, and having the webbing to make a harness some more people can haul on it. I'm not opposed to helping out in these ways if we have time." when not in her human shape her k sounds have a distinct click to them from her mandibles. So people wouldn't see those moving from more than just a few feet away unless she needed to yell.

Jack Springhill emerges from the fallen and twisted corpse of the fire giant. It is littered with several gaping wounds which seem to crust over from the poison that Aranea's fangs left in his form. There is a sickly green cast to his poisoned effulgences such that he is able to leave himself to the bier, which you know from experience is how giants in general select their death rituals from the elite castes of society. He is over ten feet tall, and his giant feet stand out in the manner of a bowler's shoes, fire-red hair erupting from his form as he breaks the veil resulting from the Sundering. He thus becomes like a burning bush, and Aranea's skittering makes the temple seem extra large from her current position, the golden formes radiating in the Blood Mother Tribe (who are like the wildlings from GoT) residual from the time when they controlled Greece, at least in their own minds. You see a slight overlay of Athens' low-rise architecture with a red and black cloud lighting up the temple with a Hades and Zeus-style rendition. Some of the NPCs start to try to hack off the hair and sell it for ropes stronger than even the finest hemp. Some of the citizens use them for dreamcatcher-esque or scalp-esque trophies, and the heads that sometimes were posted outside the city gates were a testament to the martial spirit of the city. Aranea, you are able to take advantage of your diplomacy skills. The corpse's trophies are worth a significant amount on the black market, but given the tightly-packed nature of the city, you are not able to blend in as well, specifically Lady Maevre. The riots were like a churning of the waterways that feed the city and the underground fixations. There is a chance to feed the Everlasting Rations to the giant to revive him, Aranea. This, you know from your knowledge (religion) roll, that the magical nectar and ambrosia will change the hair color of the dead (but still out there) giant, and the components that aren't used as trophies go into wands that will grant you a color spray-related ability, so you can unlock the following:

Color Swarm: If cast upon a well or at the central lake of Cauldron (as the former Spellweavers of the region had brought Shatterhorn to a climax with their red, blue, and white braids) the city's gates jump open and characters wearing the same color as their enemies are given a chance to tilt the city's space in the snow globe just so much as to grant bonuses based on the RGB scale. The bonus manifests itself as either rain of sulphurous oxide or an AOE that swarms from the caster's sumptuary form, raising from the dead someone who had passed through the gates previously that day.

The Trapped and Lost sing hymns to the death of the giant who gave birth to Jack Springhill, newest god to the table. His first words are "Hookface," and a memory of the books you read in suspended space in the library that I mentioned earlier means that Hookface is actually a work of Spellweavers' worship, their human sacrifices allowing his glass skin to prickle with energy, creating a mirror of heaven that summons the forces of Izrador to the plains, seeing as he constantly churns out disposable orcs. This is a sort of re-direction of the power that grants life, which you hear from the NPCs that the eldest Spellweaver sits on the plane of fire known as Occipitus, trying to contact Izrador. Lady Maevre, your Faerie Fire will allow you to mark the corpse for stimulating the orc morass to reunite the elements of the competing fey energy latent in the lake, waiting for the elves known as the Striders of Farlaghn to return to the forests where Faerie Fire is used as a badge of office.

Hookface is an Ancient and Gargantuan prismatic dragon who offers tapers galore in his horde, alongside the scales used for church construction.

https://www.d20srd.org/srd/monsters/dragonTrue.htm
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:11, Sun 19 Mar 2023.

Jack finds himself in the midst of a lot of things happening at once, he feels in a word tired, and feels the need to get his bearings after all that has been before....

He looks upon the corpse thinking he had heard tales of one called Jack the giant slayer, was that the Jack he is?

The corpse is being looted, but in the moment he thinks he is parched and would like to have a few pints of ale....

He takes in the people seeking a familiar face....

Finding yourself at Skie's Treasury, the blonde woman with green eyes and a supple mouth presses you on the issue of helping her restore her stall. It exists on the dividing line between Ash and Lava Avenues. The glass litters the street, and she beckons to you to help her with the cleanup. In her shop is a man named Keygan who has a salt-and-pepper goatee which is ultimately part of the appearance he gives off as well, a lanky tall guy with odd-looking pants. You do wonder what's up with the pants, whether they're magical or not.

"If you help me restore the shop, I'll grant you each one of the best items at my shop, well okay, maybe not the very best, but approaching that." A scream peels and she appears to ignore it insofar as she is able, just as the riots are dying down. "we can take the latest batch of swords to the gates of Highwall, where it will cost 1 gp to bring goods into the city. You might again be able to vanquish the guards with your newfound magic items, though," she says with a wink.

Please feel free to browse:

Ring of Power: 500gp +2 STR
Greaves of Fortitude: grants extra movement speed, 200gp
Scimitar of Cunning: attack an enemy at a distance, and if you throw the scimitar, it returns like a boomerang
Box of worms: reaching in allows you to summon a worm onto your enemies, although this means your hand gets stuck on the slime exuded by these creatures, 1000gp
Key of Destiny: acts like a magical skeleton key, 1000 gp
Rope of Impenetrability: infinitely long rope with which you can perform tricks, charm 3/day 1000gp

"I can show you the swords," she says as she spreads the above weapons out on the counter which is made of glass. "We can split the cost 50/50 if you return with the goods promised by the brother of my friend here, Keygan Ghelve. His name is Teribaum Ghelve. If you wish for it to be a one-way trade, for the time being, then we can do 25/25, like the 50/50, that much up front and on the way back, seeing as the coins are different."

"A welcome distraction Mistress Skie...."

Jack finds a place to set aside his polearm, taking in the damage to the shoppe first, and then he finds himself drawn to the magical key.....he inserts it into a nearby lock watching in fascination as the key alters itself to fit the lock....

"A chameleon of keys!!!  Can you hold this item for me, mistress?"

Obviously I must have this...

The spiderling chittered softly, "There are a number of magic items in play around here that would benefit folks looking to free the world from tyranny. I'm sure we can make a round trip. It would give time for improvement here to be accomplished."

She would frown at some of the problems she considered but her natural form and hybrid had no true lips. Her current form was almost like a mask that opened at odd hinges through the mouth and jaw to reveal her fangs or allow sound and food to pass. She shook her head ruefully.

The night seems to fade in and out around you, offering a glimpse at the true nature of Nyx. Nyx is well-known to be the ventriloquist who operates outside of the city.

Skie turns to you and offers a brief and perfunctory greeting.

"If you would like, I can show you the list of things to take with you."

You are able to store the goods, about fifty pounds worth of gear. "I can give you the rest of the goods when you return, and as I said, it's half the promised 5000gp now, 5000 after to split between you, or if you don't return, 2500 and 2500, with a small portion of that 2500 going toward my contacts in Highwall. The city takes its name from the pallisades there, and you'll find they have some powerful practitioners of channeled magic, but notably quiet sullen types like rangers and rogues who operate in the shadows. You might be able to facilitate a meeting between you and the Striders of Farlaghn and create a magical link that allows you to traverse the cities more quickly in the future. Such is their magic. Vorstuk is on the way"(see map). So essentially you are traversing the interspace between the environ of Cauldron but with the overlay of Midnight-esque locations. All of it takes place in reference to Erethor, with a massive body of water separating you from the Andals just a continent over.

Jack's insertion of the key into the lock yields a fortuitous chest with magical goods. "Here," gestures Keygan, and he props the door open with one foot as the magic surrounding it might have otherwise been a trap, but with your Search roll it comes up as just another closing door. But it seems the perfect place for a trap; do you trust them or not? as they were just recommended by one of the chorus.

The chest contains rubies and a small ceremonial dagger whose weight belies its power. "Chest shows different things every time," he mutters. "This one most suits you. This'll be my contribution, but I'll be headed back to the Lantern Street Orphanage later to wrap up some of the recent kidnappings. If you bring the dagger to the lady Shellorn at the center of Highwall's dock district, you'll be able to pay for a wish spell to discover the source of the kidnappings.

You set out toward the highwall on a southeasternly route, finding the outpost of Vorstuk on your way. As you approach the tower, a spectral and wavy vorpal-like apparition phases into consciousness just short of the watchtower. The garb worn by the watchman is similar to the garb that Jil wore when observing you, and you figure the sumptuary laws in the region sort-of and sort-of don't apply to bandits.

Several cross their pole-arms in ritual before pointing them forward and running. "A phantome," one of them cries. His charge is interrupted by several more shapes appearing by the Gloom Hounds that are possessions of the astirax, four of them total.

Will:
23 Aranea
19 Lady Maevre
19 Jack: your saving throw totals are off so I assumed for now you had a +10 to your Will save.
18 Eoiren

Initiative:
27 Aranea
21 Jack
18 Lady Maevre
17 Eioren
16 Astirax
11: Bandits

Several of the bandits are scared off seeing as they haven't before seen an astirax. Warped flesh meets mangy dog for this region's astirax and you suspect they smell your dagger, as immediately, they seem to want to get it, you feel it pulsing as their four legs bend beneath them in full attack.

All of you resist fleeing from the astirax and one bandit chases after them.

You never know if you might attract more attention if you speak to them words other than what the dragon keeps secret, for you still think of Hookface, wondering how he has survived so long despite his magic hoard.

Jack springs into action, as he notes the potential for danger, his polearm and spiked gauntlet already in hand, though he takes his lead on Aranea....

Assuming we are going by initiative order???

"Ware my magic blade."

Maevre had spent some time at the magic shop before selecting the ring of power and the greaves.

She'd been quiet thinking about things and trying to make sense of what was happening, only snapping out of it when she saw bandits. She flew to the one that was nearest to another and unleashed a kick at the bandit's head.

• Move action: move to a bandit. Can move 60' in a move action.
• Standard action: deathmark

To hit total 16
If it hits
1> Unarmed damage d6-1 str + 7 dex +1 mighty fists => d6 + 7 => 10
2> Fiery doomy blasiness an aoe 10' around the target (but not me). 19 damage ( I accidentally added 7 in the die roller)

Total:
Assuming I hit ...
10 hps to the bandit I hit
19 fire damage to all in 10'r , Reflex Save of 17 for half

Vorstuk becomes the site at which you find yourself reuniting with the landscape.

The tower looms above you as combat begins, inducing a maddening din as the dogs' legs strike the ground and there seem to be three parties, you, the bandits, and the astirax. You see one of the dogs' teeth rip into one of the bandits and one of the bandits beats a metal plate to gather the men to battle and you can see several from the lip of the observation tower preparing for combat as they descend the ladder while the fight goes on.

Lady Maevre manages to duck in and out of the darkness before slicing upwards through the entrails of the bandit closest to her before landing a kick on his head, who frantically assesses the situation before landing a couple of blows with his spear against the totally abstract-looking dogs whose body seems to be of ripped fibers.

The technique allays responsibility for the dark god and you feel his energy coursing through you, Lady Maevre.

The sky is beset with a wound-like sun whose colours bleed beyond their requisite stature, and a notable silence is what you anticipate after the battle, as the surroundings are such that the isolated outpost heeds no distractions except for the full-to-bursting tower in which you could probably dominate the bandits, but you're not sure exactly how many they are aside from the aforementioned glances.

Bite +4 and slam +4 from the dogs which are now charging toward the other members of the party given Lady Maevre's stout stance. They, if they latch on, are able to drain your strength, but they are unable to put their teeth through Aranea's full plate and they make desperate clicking sounds as their canines fall upon grating metal.

The dogs all seem to want to team up on Jack given his possession of the dagger and your pulse, Jack, seems to align with the dogs' gait and their powerfully throbbing image. Several bites in, their master seems to push you towards your goal but you detect the fear on the dogs is not shared, instead the dogs pursue you with a lush vanity prior to pushing their scent-driven selves on the plains of some other place, which you feel with a strident tug left beside the horizon's sun. Bridles would once have seen purchase upon their flesh, but the fire-breathing horse seems to channel the energy of the astirax, and you never know if a legate might be hot on your heels, busy as they are. Several gusts of wind tug at the grass, and the rolling fields seem to sharpen the lonely stabs that accompany the dogs.

The bandit falls over in crippling pain and is attempting to stand but several dogs latch onto him. One other bandit seems alarmed by you and charges but you're able to deflect his spear. Your goods sit tight on your person, with little encumbrance. Certain ideas fill the space as one other dog heads toward Jack, but overinvests.

Fire resistance takes effect in 3D space, pushing the methods of attack into a fully-fledged multiple combat round scenario. So everyone attacking does so with their BAB highlighted and the dogs are worth a hefty amount of experience. They are considered a level 4 combat as there are 4 level 4 dogs but the bandits are also a CR 4 encounter.

One spell per day matches up with one spell given a distinct DR, so fire spells are highlighted for this round as the fickle dogs are highly elemental, and the XP is standard.

Typical 1000xp in a hyberbolic curve, or bit terminology regarding advancement, so you have to achieve around 60000 total XP (approximate) to level up to 7.

Lady Maevre's AOE means that several of the dogs bounce off of each other in some other realm before re-materializing in the combat, snapping one of the guards' spears, who is burnt by fire magic.

Speaking with plants finds shinto-esque recognition here, and you suspect it's from the bandits' private religion.

Whetstoning your swords you find they are keen against the bandits, who probably fear fire given their bearded nature, something of a stereotype of rural peoples in this region.

The rain is such that you receive a bonus to movement as the magic bleeding from the astirax grants a +3 to evocation spells that can be ridden in lieu of attacks of opportunity.

Herbalism secures fire tilting (AKA a minor bonus), and smoking the herbs re-aligns Izrador's shape and disposition towards the region's wandering monsters.

4d6 damage is selectable from the lightning energy dancing about the feet of the tower, and if you harvest some, you are able to for 1000 XP per spell level to re-orient the positions of the elven beacons which are lit by neverending light spells and whose black magic aligns with the elves of the forest nearby. Snow of the Danisil marks a tilt toward the geographic alignment of the power nexuses.

A literary interpretation of the above post:

Lightning and fire dance around the feet of the dogs who are AOE'd before reaching you. The power nexus surges with black and highlighted energies, wells of blue liquid within them offering a dance with tellurgic materials. You suspect that the guard tower is perhaps a power nexus disguised as a feedery for the blink dogs' and astiraxes' metallurgic thirst. If you drink of the arcane energies, you will find that you are able to boost your stats for a bit. Also, bottling them up would be an option as there was obviously a sciency bottling process going on, the extent of which you don't know for certain. The bottles are of a slightly different make than the ones you brought with you (each one) from Baden's Bluff.

Lady Maevre's fire magic receives a +3 bonus to damage for the upcoming combat as a result of the power nexus's energy.

The corpses of the dogs re-animate into blood hounds whose fangs drip with a sickly arcane cast, They are positioned about thirty feet away from you. You can hear the cries of the Fell as they skate their way to the surface of the earth, the spinning of the power nexus growing louder.

Enemies vulnerable to fire magic.

Water dances on the bottles if thrown at the dogs and the legates, which is part of an ancient ritual in myth. And you suspect that there are more bottles to come from the next outpost, as they are almost always outside city limits.

Inordinate amounts of breath weapon mean that the hounds' teeth are magical and valuable.

They seem to be charging you.

A CR4 encounter: Dogs go first and are moving toward you at a brisk pace.

Animated dogs and human Fell
Maevre
Aranea
Jack

If they bite you you will need herbs from the nearby woods to counteract the venom but until then they dance like spiders. Their AC is lowered; in its' place, a power attack shifting focus to their jaws. Several of you in a line means you're able to hit them once before they are upon you.

Each dog with 10 HP and each guard with 10 as well constitute 2 CR 4 encounters. They will attack you with their breath weapon on the next turn, allowing you one round of attacks and they'll vary the breath attack with bite.

The landscape is flat all around leaving fire-scarred grasses, and as Lady Maevre, Jack, and Aranea poise for battle, one of the Fell starts gesticulating an absorbing some of the fire done by Lady Maevre.

Aranea fires her crossbow with poison application via the chemical bow at the Fell because an uncertain spell is always a larger threat. She then moves 40' to spread out their own little band so that it is less likely to have everyone caught in each burst as she anticipates their fire breath.

ooc: 12 to hit, 5 damage if hit, con dc 17 vs 2 str damage, next round same vs 3 str damage... And 40' move.

Jack channels shocking grasp through his weapon and initiates the whirling property of his polearm attacking all the dogs and the bandit.

Polearm attack on the bandit...
Today: Jack Springhill rolled 26 using 1d20+6.  attack roll bandit.

Today: Jack Springhill rolled 8 using 2d4+3.  Damage, natural 20 triple damage.

Today: Jack Springhill rolled 10 using 3d6.  shocking grasp damage.

Finishing that attack on the bandit, he moves on to the dogs themselves, still whirling his guisarmie....

"Bad dogs!"

Jack misses the first dog...Assuming a 14 misses...

Connects on the second one...
13:46, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 7 using 2d4+3.  damage.

13:44, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 22 using 1d20+6.  attack roll dog 2.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:48, Sun 20 Aug 2023.

Jack's elemental fury rages just beyond the point of impact as per the whirling dervish technique he employs. It's almost as if he's using cleave to get at the snarling dogs. His miss turns into a hit given the dog's susceptibility to being too reliant upon its fellows. Little did Jack know that he had a streak of silver in his guisarme that kept the nearly rabid dogs at bay. But they do seem to be fusing with the astirax and all this occurs as the sun sets in the west, pushing the diagonal directionality towards the road curving to the southwest.

There's a significant distance between the channeler bandit who unleashes a barrage of fire-driven torment toward you, which demands reflex save rolls from the players. Jack Springhill seems to be the target of the hatred pouring out of these creatures. With Aranea's strength damage you can see the true form of some of the astirax, wet flesh flapping its wings.

Initiative:
Animated dogs and human Fell
Aranea
Jack
Lysias?

Aranea's attack combined with Jack's swings push the creatures into the hands of the Fell caster whose channeled spell changes from orange to green. You never know if he might unleash a poison fireball. Jack rolls an 18 on his Reflex save, and Aranea, I don't have saves for you, though I may have just missed them on the sheet. Rolling at a +1, you got a 17. This shifts the group towards a more linear formation (since we're not doing grid combat). Several of the rabid dogs' shouts jack up some of the melee Fell who continue charging you. Jack, after the combat, we can do some character interaction on the road. Until then, there's a chance you may be spotted by the silent shout of the Fell.

The sun sets as the guisarmie Jack wields connects with yet another Fell. The zombie dogs, some licking their wounds, somersault into a solid matte of bloody fur. Tomorrow it may even be that Apollo will bless your journey, but for now, your vision strains against the backdrop so bannered, a glimpse into a new-fangled world in which the gods cannot defeat you but you are unable to ascend unto their level. The Fell spin stories of their trials and tribulations, focusing the attention on the afterlife into an obsession.

Rolls: Astirax automatically flat-footed, vulnerable to magic. 16 19 15 7 to attack, 13 10 9 5 damage for anyone who crosses paths with the 4 Astirax
undead Fell give off a paladin vibe, you suspect unholy valour would be the motivating factor here, the astiraxes level their constantly morphic cloud to penetrate any invisiblity clouds, forcing a saving throw to not be compactified by their bizarre lovecraftian geometry.
Fell: halberds at +6, 22 9 11 10
damage 13 6 10 18.

The tower is flammable recalling the fire giant you all slew in the city of Cauldron, but there is always room for improvement as far as solar positioning goes, this part of the world uses a dual lunar calendar. The sun domain is emphasized in the slave-ridden Sea of Pelluria region.

Jack takes in the solar position of the sky seeing something that reminds him of the void and the dragon's eye he had seen before in a dream when he met the dragon in that far distance, so far that the star buring so near at this point makes him wonder where it was he encountered the abyss and how far away it must have been from the place he had come to just a few days before....

Jack twirls his polearm overhead, ready to continue the fight....apparently he does so poorly that making any sort of attack would have failed....see dice roler

"Someone remind me that I should recall the sticky floor spell."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:49, Thu 07 Mar.

As the Astirax seems to generate significant problems, Aranea moves to take advantage of her chill touch spell. Her species has a particular distaste for fire but cold magic she had a little of... and magic was needed against such creatures. Chill touch might cause them to break ranks if struck. She is fairly good at striking.

Aranea rolled 21,3,6 using 1d20+9,1d6+1,1d6.  Accuracy, damage, rounds undead panic if will save(14) is failed.

The chanting of his followers still rung in his ears as Quil's mind drifted along on the empyreal pathways. His psyche was drawn along a winding path of destiny to a destination he could not guess. But upon his arrival he found two minds, they were in distress and they were perhaps in need of his assistance. Drawn by the winds of the fates. Quil pushed his mind through the empyrean and into the physical world. His body followed along and he stumbled onto the battlefield only a short distance away.

In a moment he took stock of his situation, putting a hand to his face to center himself. He felt the smooth serene face of his crystalline mask even as the hardened ectoplasm of his bulky blue grey armor tried to cover it. In his other hand he felt the weight of his Psicrystal, a fist sized chunk of amethyst he would have been heart broken to have lost in the transition from the empyrean.

His eyes burn bright as he glares at the Fell the bass rumble of dozens of men chanting fills the air for a moment before Quill swings the arm holding his crystal and a bolt of lightning fly from his hand. (maybe hits with a 12 against touch)


OOC:
Move: Gain Psionic Focus
02:44, Today: Quil Blighteye rolled 31 using 1d20+12 ((19)).

Standard: Manifest Energy Ray (Electric) on the Fell. Linked Power Synchronicity (to cast Energy Ray Next round)
02:42, Today: Quil Blighteye rolled 12 using 1d20+3 ((9)). Hit?
02:43, Today: Quil Blighteye rolled 17 using 5d6 ((5,6,4,1,1)).
6PP spent

The cohort continues diving and hurtling towards you, having solidified their waves of potent blood coursing through their veins, in a way, protecting themselves with the sense of a channeler about them. The milieu, blood-red, and the magic, in other words can be felt with a sense of gratitude. The formations seem to separate, waves of magic filling in the gap for the sense of channeled magic, blue light re-arranging the web of cold that Aranea's strike uses, causing a prismatic colour. Dashing forth, Jack's beam of light from his guisarme resettles upon a linear trajectory, napping one in the bit just as their ranks close over yours. The formation is now scattered, leaving truths about their inner workings vacant. From a distant point Quil emerges and touches down upon terra firma, leaving second guesses as to how the creatures had been working. Did he work for the enemy or perhaps uproot himself to serve a valiant cause? Answers are few and far between but the raw physicality of the enemy suggests that this might be an isolated group cut off from the seeding hand of Izrador. Maybe they work for the greek Gods, maybe not, but judging by their shimmering there was some kind of planar healing bringing Quil into the mix.

The tower remains steadfast in the background as you hear several grunts by the charging legates, with the one caster hovering in the awning of the misty landscape ever so far distant but still reachable by magical outlets, bends in the raw frameworck of things. Their beards seem to swing like pendulums as they charge, shouting in the Dark Tongue, with the astirax starting to swivel about the legates, apparently attempting to heal them from the ranged attacks (with Jack up against 2 of them, and I imagine you guys in a triangle formation until corrected). The purple-grey cloud, saturated, of Quil's blasts a center hole in the Fell legate, dropping it and stitching the next attack to the cosmos, allowing its radiation to inflect the next beast to pass. Though hit, the weakness of the attack (being as it's a 9) is instantaneously regenerated, leaving speculation as to how they will armor themselves next round, but Quil is able to target them from the vantage point of the blast which now seeps like a gaping wound. The smoke blasts Jack's white and hardened face but he manages to de-arm one of the 2 legates on him, with Aranea at an angle, feeling a Kafka-esque drift toward the enemy, and a poison-tipped bow is what you are able to sense that the magic user is now utilizing, this granted by your primal nature. (Trying to play it more by the book than this description merits, so bear with me).

The gnawing bites inflict 3 damage upon Jack, the psionics thrown by Quil maintain their potency but deal no damage, and the sixth sense of a poisoned arrow seems to seep into a hoarfrost settling upon things, damaging the caster legate by 3 points on one charging legate, and 6 upon the other.

Initiative: (the enemy has already attacked, dealing just the 3 damage to Jack). So Aranea's up again.
Animated dogs and human Fell
Aranea
Jack
Quil

The young spider-girl now takes advantage of all her limbs now that her spell was cast. She unleashes a barrage of claw attacks and finishes with a terrific bite.

Aranea rolled 26,10,19,15,20,22,29 using d20+7,d20+7,D20+7,D20+7,D20+7,D20+7,d20+9 with rolls of 19,3,12,8,13,15,20.  6 claw attacks (last has cold), bite.

Aranea rolled 30 using 7d6 with rolls of 4,4,6,5,4,6,1.  6th die is cold, dc 15 fort save req or bite causes d6 str loss.

Jack notes the new arrival but continues to push the attack, seeing the fell before him he attempts to trip the lumbering opponent, hoping it takes some time for the creature to regain it's bipedal footing....


Hooking the fell he yanks and pulls to disrupt the balance...

Today: Jack Springhill rolled 10 using 2d4+3.  damage.

16:33, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 18 using 1d20+6.  attack roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Fri 15 Mar.

Quil Watches his attack falter and refocuses himself steading his feet and drawing power up from the earth. Then he casts his mind into the future grasping glimpses of possible futures and using them to guide his actions.

Feeling more confident about his odds he draws energy to his fist and casts it out at the Fell once again. Every hand of fate turns against him and the ray of electricity flies wide of his target. But the power riding along on the manifestation will allow him to try again in a moment when the time is right.


OOC:
Move: Regain Focus
16:39, Today: Quil Blighteye rolled 22 using 1d20+12 ((10)).

Standard: Offensive Precognition. 3PP +2 to attacks

Synchronicity Standard: Energy Ray with Linked Synchronicity 6PP
16:43, Today: Quil Blighteye rolled 6 using 1d20+5 ((1)).

The creatures having been struck spill some blue blood yet again, this time their wrinkled and hoary skin seeming to take on a watery cast as their forms seem to be joined by some kind of wire or taut string, something like sinewy intestinal flesh smeared with folic acid.

The melee-oriented legate Fell is down to 0 of 12 hp, and Jack drops him right there, tripping the next one to come at him (so as it resolves Aranea and Jack are positioned next to melee guys and Quil is by the casters. Seeing as there is no grid, there is an armored Fell now near Aranea and Jack, with the more distant caster being the third, a ranged one ten feet from him (left and right respectively) and they are by the watchtower. Quil is somewhat above the ground still having just arrived and unleashed his energies to a good end. Melee number 2 drops from 23 to 19 strength, and you see this fault taking over his arms. His strike falls short and his arm actually breaks off, axe from this now ogre-seeming "oni" now at his feet, and with a successful trip, causes him to slide unnaturally towards Aranea. This one must have changed form at some point and Aranea forces him to flee with some finesse, perhaps that's why he changed form. He is now thirty feet from you and thirty feet from the ranged cadre. Quil's strike, on the caster creature with 23 hp, engages a ranged touch attack, which succeeds, dropping him to 18 hp. The link seems to radiate energy between groups, separated by color.

The caster sends a bolt toward Aranea and the ranged guy a longbow shot, (he is near water at this point from your perceiving just now) toward Quil. Aranea is hit for 8 damage, as if your cold worked back against you. Quil's energy cloud easily absorbs the arrow, which he thus deftly avoids. Before dying (as this was the initiative order,) Jack nimbly, with a quick bendy dexterity, avoids the recently conjoined form before it is forced to flee.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:48, Sun 17 Mar.

Aranea went into motion again, more feral seeming perhaps this time as accuracy was clearly not the strong point. The icy magic she had invoked now faded from existence. With an enemy fleeing and not wanting them to get reinforcement, she decides this is a prime opportunity for using one of her limited webs per day.

Aranea rolled 22 using 1d20+7.  Web. 16 escape dc, 20 burst

Aranea rolled 3 using 1d6.  Strength damage dc 17. – 7

Aranea rolled 12 using 2d6+2.  Critical bite damage. – 12

Aranea rolled 20 using 3d6+3.  Claw damages total. – 20

Aranea rolled 9,10,18,13,20,14,29 using d20+7,d20+7,D20+7,D20+7,D20+7,D20+7,d20+9.  Last claw has cold, full attack on close enemy.

Jack seeing an opening and more than one enemy within range of his gusairme sets the magic to whirling, allowing him to attack each within range, once......

The shaft hums in his hands as he slashes....
I am assuming 3 are in that range....


Today: Jack Springhill rolled 9 using 2d4+3.  damage 1.

21:13, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 8 using 2d4+3.  damage 2.

21:12, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 11 using 1d20+6.  attack roll 3.

21:12, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 22 using 1d20+6.  attack roll 2.

21:12, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 17 using 1d20+6.  attack roll 1. –

The first two attacks seem likely hits, but the third one is just out of range of the slashing death.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:15, Tue 19 Mar.

The aberration formed from two sources stumbles from having its arm removed, staggered, before resuming a gnarled and fastidious approach. Aranea is able to secure its immobility before it starts generating a large cloud of confusion. These creatures have DR/slashing so I would assume that applies to your guisarme, Jack. You are able to approach and attack the legates in the distance with a cinematic dash that compliments your rapid manual dexterity. In a flurry of blows-esque ritual, you're able to flay their meagre and dessicated skin with several blows and the melee composite seems like it's attempting to chase you before Aranea secures her web. The creature fails to wiggle its way out, making sense, 'cause it's a stodgy undead. (15+3, 4+3) from arrows and one casts a dark wave spell with a paralyze touch but you're able to wave your guisarme into it to absorb it, having focussed on your approach so distinctly. Quil remains in the middle space. Daelamin makes a similar entrance before being noticed by the lich casting spells. He sensed a deep undead presence, and entering a similarly deep meditation, allowed the greek Gods to convey him into the milieu with a stride unheard of outside even those humans who ford their way across the scarred landscape on a daily basis. When he arrives, he faces an arrow, having failed his dexterity roll for targeting as a flat-footed approach. An arrow nicks your cheek, causing 1 damage, but you'll be able to find a fountain in the city that will heal the scar courtesy of the greek Gods, otherwise, it will attract "shark" attention. Aranea is able to bite off the arm of the construct and it falls to the ground hissing. So there are two enemies remaining outside the one in the net, caster and ranged. The River El will wind its way into a proper corkscrew shape, attended as it is by water-bearers the most of whom are halflings and the water you saw will reflect the dying sun with a not-too-distant ride to Highwall.

Aranea falls upon the entangled foe with her claws and fangs.

Aranea rolled 11 using 3d6+3.  Damage. – 11

Aranea rolled 22,22,23 using D20+7,D20+7,d20+9.  Attack rolls fall upon the webbed foe

"Dang things are impossible to cut, looks like another tactic needs to be used..."

Jack changes direction to put some distance between himself and the creatures to see if others can engage them in that way....

As he does this he takes aim with the minor spell to see if they are undead.....

Ray of disrupt undead....


13:15, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 2 using 1d6.  damage.

13:15, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 24 using 1d20+6.  Ray attack roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:16, Thu 21 Mar.

The form of the entangled warps in and out of reality, and you can feel a connection to the forces at large; a watching Izrador. A minor prick on Izrador but yet the Greek gods, if in bodies, are able to witness in the flesh. The entangled nature recalls Izrador's days as a slave, as all the boarding schools in this world relay, rare though they are. In the second age, schools were more common and amongst the elves they would take recesses in the shadows of trees, enjoying the glades and meadows yet being overcome with trepidation of the world's condition.

You see the twinkling of the gesticulations of the caster; he probably has some kind of bone jewelry, and bone is very common in Erador, especially amongst the Sarcosans. You suspect, Jack, having approached the caster and ranged group, that due to their weight they have come quite a long way. Your slash at the caster causes him to leap back and he attempts to duck under your bolt but it blasts him in the chest.

Aranea's stab strikes true, essentially a coup-de-grace and he is thrashing about trapped in the net, but the astirax, floating around him, are like flies to the meat.

Daelamin falls in an arc from the sky having recently completed his prayers. Apollo's vessel upends a splash of Dionysian water, allowing you to coast into another wave of Apollonian energy, essentially charging the ranged enemy. There remain two enemies left, the caster and ranged. Your sun domain would allow you to gain the advantage of these enemies, but you can feel it in your bones when the highland desert night begins just south of the Sea of Pelluria.

The natural weapons of the lichy caster allow for ice crystals to materialize on his hands, followed by magical conveyance through the awning of the tower and his flight allows him to spin around much as the entrance of Daelamin. His Levitate spell, brings the ranged up with him (enlarged) and they blast towards Jack who had nicked the lichy one's icy hand when he holds his arms up in defense.

A clanging of sun upon sky leaves you aghast as to why there are so many twinklings on the lake, as they barge into your frame of reference. Halfling assistance is rare in combat, being as they are more thieve-like. But the flat terrain allows you to gaze just beyond the tower at the inverted river. You'll need a good drink and can maybe replenish your skins. Certifiably, the ranged arrow (this one with his poisoned arrows, luckily there are herbs aplenty around here, aside from the terrain seeming blasted) knocks against Jack's armor. If secured, this bow takes on a living form metaphorically and is often used to create musical instruments, which is popular around Erenlanders. Entrails and wood are common linaments and are the most common baisc materials, and are often sacrificed to the gods to improve life, just not during the tithe. In the tithe, people are often drowned, maybe you'll meet a spectre up ahead who refused to tithe.

The phylactery of the lich seems to shine with an iridescent glow prior to Jack's whirlwind of attacks.
d20 paralyzing touch, with burnt-out eyes and and languages from his past life: against Jack's touch AC of 11, rolled 5; INT increases roll to, with Weapon Focus (familiar hammer) to 12, which hits Jack, who envisions a horse when struck. Will save plus CHA +5 on Jack's sheet yields 16, enough to triumph over the clear unmechnical nature of the weapon which re-merges with the astirax around the lich.

The ranged who is like a ranger brings the bow taut to a high degree, shrill force quivering into a latent chaos in Aranea's heart. Her several attacks from earlier leave her mandibles and legs slashing (since you said transforming was rare; did you mean human form or arachnid was the default state?) at vacuous air. The surfeit of poison in this combat generates a certain Glint which seems to diminish the blight of the land, which sinks at the ascensions of Quil and Daelamin, certified to become deities in this cursed land. Aranea's natural armor would stop poison but the herbs that are around here take nutrients from a dying sun. The moss upon the rock by the base of the tower pulsates slowly with a blue light; it is obviously something interesting. And it can be scraped up with anything even resembling a common pocket knife. It is said that the sources of mosses in this world lend credence to the notion that the earth goddess Demeter will always be with you. In fact, the goddess directs you onward, sensing the end of the battle nearing, and eating the moss will allow your fortitude to be boosted by +5 for the next 24 hours, seeing as it is something like "green fodder." The woods seem to quiver with ecstasy as they bend before the sculpted shadows, highlighting a world in which the moss is often used by minotaurs to harvest peat.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:52, Thu 28 Mar.

Jack seeing that the press of attack was the wrong course of action continues into a second round of creating distance between himself  and the others he is battling, the chronocharm of the horizon Walker helps him to move away even more swiftly than is humanly possible, being  low on spells to even channel he switches to the longbow, though not magical in nature, it is masterly crafted....

He fires off an arrow at the encroaching dangers....

12:56, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 6 using 1d8+2.  damage.

12:55, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 8 using 1d20+7.  confirm critical. no critical

12:55, Today: Jack Springhill rolled 22 using 1d20+7.  Bow attack.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:57, Thu 28 Mar.

Aranea tries to cover Jack's regrouping. She will launch web at an enemy she can't reach. Assuming there are targets she doesn't have to chase down she can make 6 claw and a single bite attack each turn.

Aranea rolled 22,15,14,23,21,11,10,8 using d20+9,d20+7,d20+7,d20+7,d20+7,d20+7,d20+7,d20+7.  +9 is bite, last +7 is possible web.

The song of the fire giants echoes in the ears of the lich as it deigns to fire off the last little bit of life force it has. Do recall, that if its phylactery is not brought to a pround, a type of magic item dealer similar to a blacksmith, then there are consequences. Generally prounds will submerge the phylactery in acid to force the lich into dissolution and the singular Highwall pround that you recall reading from your time spent at the library yields a certain amount of satisfaction that the lich will not respawn, this time in the tower. "If you bring the tower down, they will emerge from their graves." Such spoke one of the thin lines of memory that bandy about in your mind prior to feeling the last little bit of chills from the cloaked dweller. His frosted main fades into the abyss as he blasts at you, before his skull clangs with the guisarme, bending inward like plates of copper finding a field vacant but for the sun peeking out from behind the tower. With this image is the execution of the ranged Fell. Both he and the lich seem to dissolve into nothing, the Fell being eviscerated by Aranea. The swirling clouds of astirax seem to dhriek as they become denatured and even blot out the sun for a moment before returning the landscape to its stillness.

The enemies vanquished (and the arrow now chopped and broken before Aranea), the clouds roil in formation as though begging you to heal up the wounds of this Eredane. Perhaps there is a watercraft up ahead that will permit you to cast off towards more sundry and bleak shores. Certain alignments of creatures say that there is a cursedness to the lake shared by those whose fingers skim its waters. Ultimately the water will mark you as a target for crucibles beyond your reckoning, tattoos from sources unclean.

The yellow grass bends a bit in the wind before winnowing from some kind of sky horse soothes its seething. Phylactery upon the ground, the enemies you thought might be in the tower hadn't demonstrated for sure their presence.

"Frost Tangle" fails against you, Jack, and even with a critical when he attempts to bring the power back around like a boomerang. Aranea's target's arrow gets ripped to shreds when she dives towards him, ensnaring his corpse in webbing now red. His low roll means he just fired it off.

Jack seeing the foe vanquished, and some need for speed to get into a better position out of the badlands and not in the depths of the waterways either...

He uses his senses to gather information quickly.....Quick reconoiter feat

21 using 1d20+15.  spot check. / 20 using 1d20+13.  listen

......and then searches for the phylactery so the life force may be sedated or forced away from the material plane for a long term....

"Aranea, we should leave this place of chaos swiftly."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:48, Wed 10 Apr.

She began gathering her silk threads to her, "There is something to be said for threads pulled tight and skein woven closer to chaos. Indeed these will likely be among the best to enchant though I would like to consider all my works worthy of such... Not as good as my big sisters' though.

Let us move on... Are you injured? I keep some healing potions on me and maybe I can find good reagents for alchemy out here..."

"You are correct of course, the mitheral links of my chain is muffled by the finest silk, making it even more silent than mitheral is usually.  Soon I intend to enchant it to make mistmitheral."

Jack grabs the phelactery and readies to move to a safer location...

Aranea nodded, though it would be clear that she didn't understand something of what the other adventurer was saying, "We should dispose of that sooner than later, I don't want a crazed dead mage forming from shadows when we are resting or trying to use stealth to get around key opponent positioning," she seemed to soften and shrink in her robe as she returned to human form. She could only change once more before getting significant rest. She clicked her tongue and wishes a little wistfully, "I wish I were more grown up before I had to leave home."

"You are speaking rightly, I do not understand this land very well and it seems like things are known to me in some unaware ways, and the path forward becomes clearer, though I am disoriented to this place I have come to.  Let us return to the town and deal with the heart of the monster."


Exit the badlands swiftly.....

Jack's successful (and you're good at searching and spotting) search leaves afterimages on your eyes with a twinkling of the water sending chills up your spine, the water seeming almost red to you, Jack, but when you look closer you can see images overlapping with the turtles on the shore, and you expect there to be eggs of some magical nature. Also, somebody carved something onto one of the foundation posts of the tower and you suspect that it's some kind of murder count, with the general notion of a brute race vying with both internal and external pressures for domination. With your level of fatigue you can only suspect that the warmth you feel from the sun is as ephemeral as the energies suffusing the lich and his cadre. Change for the better seems to sweep over you as a warm wind, encouraging you to find a way over the waters in which time you won't have to wait for a ferryman. Listening carefully, you become attuned to the bell-like chiming that floats over the waters, but you're not sure how far away or if it's even real. Ruptures in the cosmos always end up with light and sound-related hallucinations, especially once you're thirsty enough on the road.

You can hear a faint scratching in the tower, and your position when you listen puts you straight below it. The wind and the wood make a unique sound that seems like an enchantress elf is making love to a halfling and perhaps it was a different place back then, but the lake (sea, maybe) has other practitioners. Maybe the voices of wind and water sing of the fallen lich turned to ash, which keeps the bending blades and stalks on their tippy-toes. You estimate based on your directional skills (assuming you all have good ones) that the maps you selected from Skie's point you south, while the sun over the water seems west (needless to say).

The gods seem to be unreachable and Izrador's voice inside your mind is sapped out with a guzzle of water, just the same as poison ebbs from a wound. The barricades that you sense made up the senseless perception of space leaves you tumbling mentally, with clouds drifting lazily overhead.

Somehow Jack found some interesting things, and a place near the water, his counsciousness seems to swim as if he himself is falling into some sort of unknown slumber from which he is struggling not to fully succumb to the lure of the ethereal music some cosmic lullaby played by Thanos himself.

Jack struggles over and over to not fall into whatever sirens call is attempting to overtake his facilities, will it be that he again awaken in a new world even stranger than this one.....

"Aranea?"
He croaks weakly

The lullaby passes as dulcet tones are wont to do, with a certified flash of images indicating the gods. You vaguely recall getting a free ride from a gondolier gnome. As you begin to awake further, he plys you with questions.

"Where would you like to go? Chances are good we'll run into some patrols but I had heard through the wind that 'the tower' was in full aspect, and so I found you."

He propels the boat further with just a slightly glowing paddle. The sun is setting and you can recall, based on the patterns on the water, that your dream began with sloshing water around your boots.

"The highwall pround so that the lich doest not respawn, good ferryman."

Before he falls into a fistful slumber, he asks
"DId you get my spider lady friend or did she wash out?"

Aranea prodded the ranger with a foot as she sleepily muttered, "I'm still working on the knots Patrice. Some people only have to wear a blindfold..." then she sits upright and clicks her teeth, "Oh, where are we now?!"

She physically drew back into herself but relaxed a bit with a sigh as she realized her transformations may only be a few in number each day but they were still of excellent duration and didn't require her to remain awake anymore.

Jack takes in the sky lights above the swirls of energy, reflected in the surface of the lake below...

"Highwall to destroy the lich for good.  I do not share the burden of your knots, perhaps it is something I can help with..."

"Are the knots the tangles of light in the sky?"

He wonders who Patrice was in the background but is not curious enough to ask, perhaps another man she has known maybe we all look the same...

Aranea let out a puff of air before clarifying, "There was a time where my sister wove a robe of comfort and allure for a gorgon. The customer's petrifying gaze is particularly a problem for spiders who have little choice but to look all around. We have adapted somewhat, being more than spiders, but still...

Patrice was in her human shape and I was in the middle so that I could lay my early silk and still have hands to work with. I was dreaming about it. I had to wear a hood to be safe if the gorgon was in the room. Every female wants to be both comfortable and pretty... and alive.."

Jack enjoys the boat ride the time of lethargy passing away from him as the boat rocks gently to and fro.

Jack looks back and smiles at Aranea
"You are a pretty girl."
Right now I am imagining her as a jumping spider as they seem the friendliest sort of spider...

Not sure what to do with the statement she turned her head clockwise with her nose as the axial point. She often felt her spider fur was luxurious to touch... but to have her humanoid form praised was... unprecedented. "Ah... Thank you... I'm sure that for a... human? You are rather attractive yourself."

Then again, she had little to do with other races before leaving the home nest. An adult would have been less prone to such things and stayed in her home forest.

Jack looks back to the sky....

"I am not sure how much ones form should be used to define something as fantastic as the self, though many limit themselves in definition to the limitation of statements of what they are not, a poor way to define anything...better to define my self in the affirmation of I am."

"Greenham's my name." The Ferryman engages you with a raise of the eyebrows. He lifts up a golden gleaming object which even outstrips the sun in its fervor. The curves of it seem to make time stop and your fugues ever-more interesting and feel-good. Aranea can see some kind of web-like nature to it and Jack recalls the metals in which his blade was forged, opining that there must be some kind of ore that would permit you to shore up a small area, made of the self-same ore in the object. The object is a sextant and they're pretty rare. They're worth 500 gp in Highwall and Baden's Bluff, or approximately. Elves taking to the sea are pretty common and they are able to find replacement leisure within their demenses, worried more about who is coming and going than manufacturing at the ever-rare forges. It weighs 5 pounds and the Ferryman hoists it with aplomb: "Shows me where to go." He brings the mechanism back around, and hitting the light seems to awaken some kind of eye on the water from which emerges Mongo. The hundred-handers of yore seem to give him a boost into the sky and the Ferryman (whose name you figured out was Ferris) spins the device a little an it appears like a spinner. (Sextant, p. 159-60, Goods and Gear +6 checks to Profession (navigator) checks). He proffers it to Jack: "Bring your friend in, he was much anticipated." The mirrors are demonstrably good for the glass furnaces of the palace of Izrador.

The Ferryman drones on: "I can get you to the shores of the south in no time, but it means you will need to provide for me a shard of Poseidon. I can wait here in the sea to have it delivered or I can find you later, your own choice. But gnomes around here are always looking for ways to avoid capture, so our meeting will have to be fleeting." His skin seems to bend with the refraction of the light. Mongo is incarnated upon the ship by the dreams of Jack and Aranea. "Know that your friend's soul will ever be stored in this sextant, so that his image will be with you though not his body." He hefts a plank that he seems to treat with some deference. (Woodcarver, 56sp/month). Would you like for me to try for the wooden sextant? It can be cast in the same light as the metal ones, and I can show you back to the river El to carry you to the next destination. He has a salt-and-pepper goatee with a mop of black hair and unsteady footing despite being a seagoer. The mission now is to start shoring up regions that you might improve the lives of some of the dignitaries throughout the villages.

Group can determine whether to bring the Ferryman with you after his having gifted you a sextant.

Jack listens intently to the words of the ferryman and the demonstration of the sextant, taking it when offered, he attempts to repeat the process that had revealed a giant moments before and brought him from the incarnation of dreams, a dream within a dream, what is that Jack wonders to himself, thinking it is like going back and incepting an idea into someone else and it coming to pass because it had to do so.....

"Thank you for the instrument of navigation, now I just need to obtain the skills of a proper navigator."


The man had mentioned a god and a shard dealing with the water, a being called po seye den, a being named po whos' eye is in the water or den where he lives.....what a shared might be he does not know so he asks....

"What is a shared of Poseidon and how might we provide one to you?"

Aranea supplies a nod of greeting as she works to ensure the new fellow on the boat doesn’t destabilize the small craft. “Stranger, welcome! It would seem you are a gift from the waters themselves. What would you that we should call you by? I am Aranea.”

The goliath grunts "Name is Mongo. Mongo feels strange. Is Mongo still drunk? What did they put in that dwarven wine? They said made from crushed diamonds for diamond juice but that seems wrong. Not crunchy enough."

Jack was looking at the sextant, and imitating what the ferryman had done, when he noted a sudden sinking in the boat, and turns around just in time to see the arrival of a very large gentleman....

Whom Aranea spoke to....
"Greetings Mongo, I am Jack, I have just recently come to this world as well, the main town is called Cauldron, and is set within an old volcano....I do not understand this world very well as of yet."

"Hello Jack. Cauldron, huh? Placed inside a dormant volcano? Weird, but I've seen weirder. Giant hamsters on a treadmill powering a gnomish vehicle, now that's weird. Why is Mongo here?" the large warrior asks. He is wearing a metal breastplate armor that he moves around in as if it were made of cloth, and carries several oversized weapons, the worst of which is a massive 60 lb hammer.

"Sorry lad, I do not even know why I am here, or how I came to be here, or even really where here is.   For a while we were battling things and I thought perhaps I was in some sort of afterlife, or purgatory limbo, but decided that was a bad series of thought experiments to go on, so I have been gathering knowledge and trying to understand this place better, before seeking a way home."

Mongo turns to the lady. "Aranea is a pretty name. You are also a visitor here?"

“I am spider-folk, there are a few varieties of us, my kind tend to hide in our home forest and simply cause people to forget about us to get by. I am somewhat uneducated to the ways of outside races. Other spiderfolk tribes have other ways of ensuring survival. Some are quite brutal, savagely assaulting others.” She made a gesture toward her medicine pack, “I planned to blend in as a traveling doctor to see the state of the world.”

The shores seem to bend around each other as they approach, yielding a view of the sun as the sole absentee in thi twisted landscape, filled as it is with black and grey. Those of you with Nightvision feel it clicking into place and your eyes take on a different cast. The Ferryman's do as well and he knits his brow, offering the newly arrived (and yes he crashlands into the boat) a moment before raising his knitted brow. "It's not too rare to see the gods changing things on a large scale. They are like the wogren, always on the hunt for those astral parasites, the astirax. You might learn a thing or two about the damn dogs in Highwall, or perhaps you have other affairs." You all shift a little as the boat ends up on the black-sand shores, witht he sound of clicking into place matching your Darkvision, which is sometimes gifted by Jack's Ioun Stone, depending on where you are in Erethor. The item is otherwise mundane, but the rest of your magical equipment is hidden by your patron god, if you have one. You can see smoke rising from the city as the Ferryman sloshes out. "The sextant is yours to keep, its mirrors might be of use to the glass Drow or perhaps a glass shipment proper from the city of Highwall. That's what's rumored to be needed for the populace to slay certain of the vampire-esque creatures. Silver does no good around here, I've only heard its use could be determined by roving orcs who guard the mines."

A lightning bolt (caster level 6) dances upon the water (Zeus' presence int the spear of Ares allows you to intuit the caster level), levelling the ripples that die on shore. But the Ferryman ignores them, making his motives a bit more unclear. You can see shrubs in this scrubland (think more grasslands of Africa) waver with the wind, like the receding impression of the shores. No one mills about, but the city stands squat before you. You still have the weapons to deliver from Skie's Treasury, a MW rapier and stone of fire giant summoning to recall your battle in Cauldron. Who knows what dialectic there is between Highwall and Cauldron (or is it Baden's Bluff)? Sizing up the city, you can discern that wizards of Shatterhorn met their end against Ares' forces here based on your past readings. "Did you enjoy the ride? If you saw me, then you are still under the effect of Eagle's Splendor. If ever you see me again and tell tales of the flights of eagles, do not fail to crush the clavicles of jackals who no longer favor the sky."

Mongo shakes his head. "I see you, yet I was under no such spell. You are addled perhaps. I've little magic myself, simply superlatively crafted equipment, mostly done by myself. Where came this symbol on my skin from? Have I been marked by the gods that brought me here?" questions the warrior.

"Master Greenham, yes the ride was illuminating in many ways, but lead to more questions, so how might you be summoned in the future should we find ourselves upon some distant shore and what is a shared of Poseidon that we may properly pay for future passage?"


@Mongo
"I am indeed addled in the sense of trying to make sense of the world as it is or it appears before me.  I will likely need to start writing things down for the benefit of us all."

Tempted to ask the DM to open a "Jack's journa"l thread, just for all those notes.....

The sun sinks lower, offering a fresh glimpse of rosy-fingered Dawn. Eos itself is caught up in the magic, Helios seeming to tinge the sun red with effulgence. Other more distant continents had leveled deserted connections to the distant stars, astronomers branching out even with tools like the sextant. The ground before you is cracked and uneven, reminiscient of an Earthquake spell. Chances are good that magma would tear through this earth in ages past, before Highwall's most initial stakes were set up. It's a town of considerable import, classed as a "City," but some wish to make it a "Metropolis." Which is to say the town is growing, as it has outstripped its origins, replacing wood with magical black glass, some of which you're carrying. Alien creatures flit about here always, tinged with Dancing Lights to make the city stand out in bold. A deep darkness resides here, and not just in the dark glass. Rangers set up shop here, striking out into the nearby woods, which is maintained by Shadow overlords; several of the rangers in Cauldron make trips between the cities all the time, which you know from Knowledge (religion) checks, as they bring sextants into trips across Pelluria. Jack's journal had a colophon suggesting a circular pattern similar to Mongo's mark, and the Tree of Shackled Souls is but a front for deeper machinations, ancient symbols glowing with potent red light. Several rangers on horseback are entering the drawbridge at the same time, and are three of the most powerful people around (level 6 rangers, tracking prey in the King's Woods). Primal forces suggest Perfect Body applies to them, and they all bear the same mark as Mongo. This lets you view them as creatures of Light. Dual-wielding katanas, their belts sag with the authority of Warriors. They possess shields that are slightly larger than usual and sheaths of black glass. The attendant of Izrador sits twiddling his thumbs at the entrance to the city, a half-orc-looking guy.

Cart passing through contains: ten red rubies, bullets +1 for slings, ten panels of black glass, a thunderstone, tanglefoot bag, bag of holding, and quarterstaff +1, scroll of Disguise. It's really dangerous to have these but you will manage. With a Disguise spell, which you all memorized from its sister Jack's Journal, you will be able to make it seem like you're bringing an oxen into the city. Several Izradorian servants mull about aimlessly in the periphery of the city.

Melf's Acid Arrow supposedly strikes the river El from the muezzin/belltower at the center of the city every afternoon, when the water clocks dip down into their tanks. The river runs green around the city, striking throughout the Highlands/Badlands, with mighty gusts of wind caressing the water. The AC of the pallisades is such that it is hard enough to pierce even the thickest armor, and several militia saps seem to be the cargo of the group entering the city behind you.

Jack looks back hoping to catch the ferryman before he leaves, perhaps the details of the city had drawn him in and he had not turned back fast enough to question the man, he added the notes to his journal about the questions still stacking up in the world at large...

He finds himself looking into high wall and noting that it is strange to see the auras of good and evil manifest with just the magic in the air making casting of the spells unnecessary, but how and why do both dwell together in a land of chaos, perhaps there is an abscense of law in this realm, and it is mostly chaos or it far outweighs the law.....


He shakes his head......

"Aranea, Mongo, what do you guys make of this place?"

"Extraplanar, no doubt. Bordering on the Chaos Realms. In viewing the surroundings I am filled with knowledge of types of magics though I have no training in such. Reactive environment as well." Mongo theorizes.

Turning to the ferryman, Mongo asks "What does Shackleborn mean? I am told by Ares, who has never spoken to me before, that the marking on my arm declares me as a Shackleborn. Is it part of some prophecy?"

The questions for the Ferryman tinkle in your ears as you take stock of the new terrain, and as the drawbridge settles up, you are able to get into the radius of the gatekeeper who seeks to inspect your shipment. You find that the Ferryman had transformed your ship into a cart, which hides his invisible form beneath the items. If you don't succeed at a Hide check your presence might cause a fight to break out, but from what you can tell, the Rangers would fight with you, based on the raised eyebrows (albeit those with caution) and their general aura. You suspect they are agents of the gods. Three of them: tall, short, and squat, all human, and indeed, it's largely a human settlement. Nary a lick of the presence of other races here, but potent magics pass through here unobserved at all times.

Their dual-wielding would come in mighty handy in the event of a fight. The usher (gatekeeper) gestures with his hand for you to approach and the rangers pause to take note of it. The rangers: "Boy is it rare to see types like you in a place like this. I take it you observed the proper rites of burial for that which you have slain? With violence everywhere and something like that [he prods a finger toward where the phylactery would have been, but it remains deftly hidden]. "Bring out your dead, and all," the same man says, eying the cart for just a moment. "Perhaps once you are done depositing these goods, good travelers, we might share a drink." Despite his insouciance, he levels his large head toward the city, which is of epic stonework. The throughfares are cobbled but sidestreets looking muddy from your perspective.

The salt in the air is almost choking with its potency, and the phylactery may yet have drifted onto the Ferryman, both in some kind of limbo post-Sea of Pelluria. "And a spider woman? The tithe is occuring tonight and they might be looking for some silk, rare as it is. In any case," and the usher, who looks somewhat spiderlike himself, gestures for them to enter the city. He issues: "Welcome, and what is your business in Highwall?"

Mongo grunts. "A drink? Not a good idea for Mongo. Last drink Mongo had was in dwarven bar in Ironmound, drinking Diamonddraught. They made it from squeezing the juice out of diamonds, they said. Next thing Mongo knows, he is here with Red god whispering in his ear. What does Shackleborn mean?" Mongo was fairly confident they might know, as he had already observed that some of the Rangers had the same 'natural' sign on their arms, like a mystic tattoo.

Aranea was taken a bit aback by seeing someone else, particularly one who saw her openly despite her shape change. It was not comforting if you took into account that it was illegal to be a magical creature in the lands controlled or claimed by the Dark Lord maybe it should be reassuring though as it meant they could pull it off too. It would only be the outskirts of Darklands anyhow.

“We hope to get bottles specially made for some bitter wine we plan to produce back on the vineyard,” she tried to be subtle. “We also hoped to look through a library to look for techniques that might make our next batch a little better. I also think I might find family a bit distantly related here that I would look for.”

Aranea rolled 28 using 1d20+12.  Hide check.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:49, Sat 04 May.

"Thank you good man, I have only recently arrived in this land at all, and I have business with the  proud as it were."

Obviously yes to  the library as well, but since A already said something..

Jack Shrugs
"A drink sounds nice, when and where do you propose we meet?...I of course cannot make plans for my companions."
Jack Springhill rolled 28 using 1d20+11 ((17)).
This message was last edited by the player at 13:52, Sat 04 May.

Mongo chuckles. "Not cold at all for me. Feels like home for Mongo, high up in mountains. Beer Mongo can handle." the Goliath smiles, broken teeth a testament to many hard fights.

Jack walks past the bored looking green eyed guard and offers a greeting to the striders....

"Well met, Striders."

Jack keeps moving forward wanting to be into the city proper, and past the guards to gain his bearings on the places to stay, the library and the pround...and later the power nexus, whatever that is....

Aranea too, moves into the city so as not to hold up anyone at the gate. Trouble invites trouble. Less standing out the better. Her human form was important for that.

In the bar, over a beer (which cost 10 cp a piece), the warm visages of the Striders meet you in flickering ambience. Icarus, Brett, and Katherine toss between them their own Ioun Stone and the Stone of Fire Giant Summoning, and the group as a whole would be EL 16 given they are of considerable power in the region and can summon assistance from disparate cities, and the Shadow's blight across the land is such that the port cities register more traffic of the ghost ship variety. With the Striders, in fact, you discuss cities shrouded in green light that bleed into the very horses themselves, which are taxed to the max to augment the Shadow's blightful spread over the land. Thus the bone steed with a ribcage glittering with metallic implants courtesy of the powers of nature (for here the gods start to blend in) and the wind is crisp with blood of the ravens which transport messages far and wide but many in the service of good attempt to waylay the routes of the ravens such that the sepulchres (which is where the Striders want to plan the ambush on the shadow) divvy up the bodies which are summarily burnt to prevent the spread of disease (kind of like the stereotypes about Mao's China). This will test your hide skill and even now Aranea's form seems to flicker as though camouflaged. The rangers are able to hide in plain sight and the very black of their sabretaches means you will be able to use the town's mules with the naive villagers' expectations that their village will undertake a blessing.

The pround walks into the bar and bears a coin purse and a mirror which seems to reflect the katana held by Icarus and create a sort of watery effect akin to a Wedge of Salt, which Brett whittles into his pewter mug that he seemed to bring himself.

One of the bartenders attempts to Erase some magical writings on the wall as if to hastily cover them up (13 vs DC 15). This fails, and with your language skills, you are able to tell it is written in Auran, which you may wish to pursue at the library. Only four hours until the scheduled tithe and many in the bar are groaning about the fallow land. They are like slaves to the shadow. Devouring the Stone of Fire Giant Summoning, water and fire dance against the wall, seen as a cheap trick in this neck of the woods. Some day the wose would allow you to wick a roped village about them and help build up the society.

"Fellow pround, what markings shall precede the demonstrations of the crop? And fellow adventurers, what say you to our initial plans?" Icarus glares at you that you might want to maintain secrecy, for almost all prounds are considered traitors. "The fire and water united will carry us through should we discover Skie in this place."

Jack notes that the group is very powerful so he has no desire to engage them in the bar, he also sees a message on a chalk board, that he recognizes immediately as Auran, an language he knows and he takes in what it says, hoping for a new nugget of information about the world...

His ears perk up when the new man is addressed as a pround, because he can perhaps destroy the last vestage of the lich.  However he will wait for the pround to not be in conversation with the other group....

He finds a vacant table for him and his companions to sit.
He holds up three fingers and says "Pints of beer."

Mongo frowns. "Friend Brett, you use a term Mongo has never heard before. Pround. It is a new word to me. What is its meaning? And what is a scheduled tithe, another term Mongo has never heard before?"

Jack also looks around the area for carvings, markings or other sources of secret signals that may be part of the underworld or coded specifics.

in his own world such marking could be useful to get by.  The carving of a shovel meant there was sometimes work there, and two shovels meant there is always work here.  The traveling workers had such signs, to warn of bad places, good places, good water and bad water...he was sure he would see such marks along the way....

Aranea moves quietly and shuffles into a seat by the other two. It was good to have adequate to exceptional guards… it was bad to seem like an unreasonably wealthy itinerant. “Religious form of taxes generally… the tithe that is…”

Mongo asks "religion Mongo knows about. But what are taxes? Is it related to the hard tack that soldiers sometimes take with them on campaign? We do not carry such things in my mountain home."

“Taxes is how money is taken by cities to make walls and roads, and other things. Some places don’t use them that way but it is what they collect treasure for. I’m more than happy to part with some of my coin to smooth things over but if they try to do a detailed search of me or my belongings… then there will probably be problems. As a healer, I keep poison to make antivenin. Poison and herbs to fix other poisons…” she felt like the more she talked the more she would have to explain but she let it trail off there.

She came from a village too but education was important to blend in among more civilized folks best odds for survival. If this was a common thing, she would begin wondering where a village with so little exposure got metallurgy sufficient to silver weapons. It was more apparent Mongo was from a different world.

"We may not know but one of my favorite ideas is that, I don't think that word means what we think it means.   Who knows, we are here, the tax or tithe collectors may come and ask us to pay them.  I suppose we will if they ask."

Jack has opened his journal again and waits for service...the three pints to arrive

Rare as it was to have someone with extraordinary abilities, it was still something special reflective of the times of Aryth. People sometimes had auras and people could use magic to detect evil, but that tended to be done by the gods. Many claim it is unfair that the Veil and the Sundering [the Veil is the distance between god and man and the Sundering is the distance of Aryth from ever more powerful entities, those whose motives are totally unclear]. The bar gets to see a couple more people file in and arrange their belongings on the floor. The tables are made of mahogany and come from the nearby forest, small as it is.

Some from another table are talking about the drastic reduction of power that Izrador can undertake, a level drain that can drive a man mad. You watch as a man nearby takes on a certain cast, becoming famished and receiving a message from another man, and prepares to tenaciously place a ring on his finger to warm himself against the night. You see it because he makes a big show of it, even asking people nearby if they have seen a traveling salesman that he wanted to identify.

A bard enters the bar, and the flowing garb he wears indicates several past obsessions that had allowed him to wrap his body around some kind of beacon and he thus shines with an inner light. This is the general mood you get from your eyes, now glowing with energy.

He waves his hand in a provocative way, sleeping one of the Striders but does so subtly so that you don't notice. It does stand out like a sore thumb, however. Icarus perks up, "That's the messenger from Erenhead, it's always the same guy. We've spent some time over there and need to deliver something subtly. I noticed that wagon you came in on; is that of the make of Southern Erenland, the home of some of the more provocative Erenlanders. Thieves through and through, but good people. Word has it they have developed a technique to nearly eradicate one's power with a simple gesture. Perhaps we can load some of the goods of the Tithe on the wagon (which now sits in the town square) and take them to Erenhead. But the glassworks is also still burning and the gimmicks they make seem to have a connection to some kind of dreamcatching. The scythe of Jil and the return of the mad Splintershield are like a trademark, sorting through the petty trade as though the whole world had taken notice." He wipes the beer foam from his mouth before proceeding. The water and fire seem to reunite prior to returning through the bard's head as though he were memorizing spells. "This beer's some of the most classical shit around. There's still ample time until the Tithe." He lowers his voice. "We are able to find truths out there in the barrens, so are we able to sort through the treasures that are so few and far between?" The man with the Stone's belly seems to be widening.

"Eradication of ones power with a simple gesture, are you referring to magical power and like a mage's dysjunction, or do you mean like will power such as when a mindbender dominates the psyche of a person with no defenses, or do you mean physical power like a person in a plane like this one cast into the void?"

“Nearly eradicate…” she repeats softly, “the bard is suggesting that our wagon can hide magic auras. My sisters had magic that was good for changing minds and hiding auras. I’m not so grown up yet, nor is our magics exactly the same. I think they either want our wagon or think we should offer to take the Tithes of the city somewhere else. All these civilized folk are harder to understand than biggest sister made them seem. She would be frustrated and confused for anyone with half an eye to reading people’s body language.

"We need to handle our business here and get out as soon as possible.  The wagon from here to Cauldron sounds good, another bit of time with Skie might be a good source of trusted information, getting answers to any questions we have."

Mongo asks "should I awaken the Strider that the bard put to sleep? Seems a rude gesture to me. I cannot say to the disposition or origins of the cart, you'll have to ask Jack or Ariana. But what purpose is there in putting a portion of the Tithe within, if I may ask? Is there a reason to keep it hidden?"

“Anyone with significant wealth generally wants to retain it. Just as I imagine you would not want to give up your well practiced weapons to a stranger, or even a comrade who might have no use for them…” the smallest of the adventurers spoke softly and tried to be less exposed.

She nodded to Jack, “I think that we could well offer to ensure the Tithe gets to the appropriate hands and be on our journey with the pround. These are dangerous times on the wild roads. The weak all to often become prey.”

AC: 20
HP: 100
Acid and fire attacks - Helshem's Kikoichimanji and Mellowtone Pursuit Spike - count as extraordinary attacks
The wall is split up into three sections, some of which are the reinforced steel portals made of wood which cannot be burnt down based on the cryptic messages written nearby in High Elvish, also known as Nomadil. The fire causes, according to the waterfall at the tavern in Highwall, the magnetic adherence of fire to air which settles up the score between the viscousness of acid and the volatility of fire. This wall functions as a trap which can be loaded on your cart and later resold under the guise of magic weaponry, and you suspect that the enemy is on the lookout for pieces such as these. The pround, black and white beard with scaled hands and a death wish, is sapient enough to be considered humanoid but he can also cast Merge (level 3 spell) to gain control of other people's summons.

The extraordinary abilities cause certain highjacking effects, such as language spilling out of the minions of Shadow to indicate their mindset, and these can be ground as per mortar and pestle, these being tangible and intangible effects. Seeds are the most common and many of your influences used ropes made of artificial plants to heighten their climbs. Acid and fire have a hardness of 7, which in this game reduces the damage done by this amount but has no Bulk as in Pathfinder, instead, just a magical overlay similar to a gate, but hovering in midair depending on your angle. The magic is enough on this waterfall-in-a-wall to indicate that the immediacy of power (as per Jack) can channel primal energies and allow a shortcircuit of enemy forces spilling into the tavern to take you unawares, as the nervous glances from the Striders should indicate.

"Maybe we can dip our weapons in the falling 'snow,' divesting the wall of its Shadow Essence. Destroying the wall will collapse the enemies in the channel who are able to inscribe their Tithe upon the unwary villagers (who will upgrade their village by gaining the yarns that are spun in your honor). Several onlookers getting increasingly nervous indicate that they are fellows of the pround, but the fire and acid upon the waterfall suggest that there is a solemnity that you can place in a crenellation in the ruined tower of Wogren Moor. And, in fact, you can hear barking, and as the Striders trounce the magic portal (high magic of the Erunsil, very temporary and unidirectional), you discover that Wogren start to disattach from their mundane selves (CR 4) and take on the elements, transforming the encounter to a CR 8 unless you act quickly and combine forces with the so-aptly named militia of the boardroom. The man who got charmed (see Mongo) starts to spasm and his light begins to be drawn into the portal of fire and acid and if you trust the Striders aren't Shadow agents you can join them to reap the spoils. Otherwise you might encounter some of the good guys are whetting their blades in anticipation of usury.

The Acid and Fire Waterfall: Causes flat-footedness unless entered with magical boots. The energies are Grease spells and the hobnails are clanking in anticipation of the Chinese finger trap-esque portal. The gods might've taken notice. The trap between rooms  has a DR and ER (energy reduction) similar to a cleric but one who is inanimate. The material and ethereal plane are the barrens or central square of the village and the ethereal the magical wall whose relations to the animate remain unknown.

Jack approaches the pround carefully...
"I have defeated a lich and have brought you his phylactery, I will pass it on to you to destroy.  I have no notions of the proper custom or what you may expect in payment or that I may expect in recompense, if I am wrong let me know how this foul thing may be destroyed."

Lightweather Place, former owner and proprietor of Skie's Treasury, facilitates transfer of power to the lich Byron, whose phylactery (shaped like a ribcage) becomes denatured when placed in a sopping giant plain of acid, which resembles peat. The Test of the Smoking Eye is the text that is hastily scribbled on the air by an unknown god, runic Abyssal that summons yuan-ti from the seas of acid and they as water-dwellers have been fiending away at fire weapons in their underground lairs in Shatterhorn, which is near the Demonskar. The feeling you get when the phylactery disappears signals a broach with the man pround himself, friend of Byron and legendary hopeful monitor of the waves lapping up on the shores of the pureblooded, halfblooded, and aboomination yuan-ti, the abominations being smaller but brighter. One man befriended to Byron and Lightweather notes the passage of Carceri to the feeling dipped in the pool by the pround Aldous who greets you after having sealed up his magic boots with a feeling of archery seeming to surround the acid fields. The magic boots materialize from the fields which align through the cylindrical trap as though shot like so many airdarts. There is a pair present for each one of you, and the pround Aldous' voice bends a ribcage like the phylactery with bone crunching sounds aligning in the waterfall through which bursts Mongo's cold steel dagger which acts like a Blink spell, travelling through the now vertical plane of acid and fire and added to it, water which recalls Wogren Moor's fountain.

You are able to pick up the Mark of the Smoking Eye template by allowing in the sights of the fountain which now collapse back in on themselves, the steam bending around the Striders who have returned to normal following the alignment of the sealing of the trap, which now appears as a mannequin suit of armor, and the ritualizing of the phylactery, causing the grass to magically grow longer, piercing through the windows in the tavern. All in all, an elemental conjunction recalling the bashing of skulls by Cauldron's fire giant, whose ray burst through this terrain in ancient times, fracturing the earth and releasing the spellweavers.

A small lizard-like creature writhes in the pocket chiseled by the vaporous beam generating a mirror effect that is called by the locals a glace. To those in the know that is. The concealed one (one of Pelor's destroyers) has influence in this area and his abyssal remarks show up in your dreams that night as a giant sinful lustbag with beholder's glacey gaze, a basilisk rummaging around in this or that chest, which a detect evil spell cast by the Rangers solidifies in the corner, the sealing of the line of sight to the ethereal plane temporarily fudged.

Another dream you undergo makes you visualize a demon barking commands to an underling, with a Craft Staff spell in Abyssal tearing through matter to settle in one luminous photosynthetic drop upon the wands of control water. Flooding of the land under Cauldron recalls this spot that Wogren Moor embodies, having settled upon a man named Zenith Splintershield whose writings to Alek Tercival appear muddled and dangerous. The Striders bring them up in conversation:

"Now that the lich's pact has been sealed, the gods can ignore this area with their wards. The astirax are afraid of water which is what the spellweavers figured out early but they also hated the Sign of the Smoking Eye despite its lucrative power."

"The pround is none other than Khorophon from Bhal'Hmaghn, disguised and then again as that rogue Vhalantru. He seeks to bring power into the city, forcing the residents' tax worries into a revolution that would cripple the elven kingdoms' monopoly over the forests scattered cold and warm."

"Did you figure with your new boots (which have small divets on them the color of prairie), would lend itself to pastoral nomads in the Shadow's campaign of old-growth forest and woses in abundance? Settlers in Cauldron actually favor Izrador, having seen what the gods' power drained from their life's blood."

OOC: Sorry it took me so long, hope you guys are all still game.

Jack feels himself changing as some magic from an outer plane not good and not evil seeps into him the power does not seem like corruption but it moves from his hands and feet through his entire body, he sees things in a strange way of a moment and finds that one of his eyes has shifted into some sort of living burning ember that smokes from his eye socket....

He watches a similar change come over his companions, as he finds the boots meant for him and he slips them on, moving to the waterfall and the power that seems to come from it, he pulls out an arrow at first, dipping the single arrow in and inspecting the results of the action, he repeats it with the entire quiver and his other weapons as well.


"I believe this change would be hard to undo though the benefit seems to outweigh any harms."

Waiting to see the details of the template (the smoking eye),  the boots and weapons....

Mongo wades in, ignoring the slowing of his reflexes. As the Striders have done, he too takes hold of his weapon and starts absorbing some of the power streaming by, confident in the quality of his workmanship to absorb power. Any lasting effect on his movement, he dismissed with a moment of concentration, until footwear appears and he slips them on. He tells Jack "if your bow is your primary weapon, have you ever used or crafted blunt or slashing arrows?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:16, Fri 12 July.

Aranea dons the provided magic boots and strides to place her amulet into the font of power hoping that it will work as a medium to spread the new enchantment along the enchantment of the amulet to empower her natural attacks.

She wished that their missions allowed more time to study these kinds of magics… enchanting silks and venoms might go a long way in her future though these specific enchantments maybe… not so much. Replacing her amulet she tests her theories by trying to scrape into a nearby tree’s bark with her nails.

"Ha! I should indeed get some blunt arrows, that is a great idea, those too can be dipped before we leave the area."

"The shoes at least seem to be a good fit, I suppose we will discover their use."

Stonebiter arrows +1 (adamantite, 30, 6gp per for 180gp total, 90 if sold ) This projectile, which glows with a faint blue light (as many magic items do when in proximity to the Shadow), are ridged using mithril on adamantite, both of which are mined in Wogren Moor with a magical technique which is similar to prounding, i.e. the prounders are in close association with the miners of the quarries. They can be fired like grappling hooks and seeing as Wogren Moor has peat bogs that tower over the outpost like colossi (they are sometimes used as Power Nexus, like a candle with the bog dwelling on the top of the towers. To locate the pround, [this combat versus those of the Tithe seemingly automatically won, but you never know if the wepaons you found and made could be cursed or blessed]). You would need flying equipment to harness the towers and the peat might act as an Oil of Mending. These remind you of the trap you have, which can be sold for 1800 gp (price 3600gp).


Snakeskin boots +1, knee-high. These boots are immune to change from without, and spin with a perfidy similar to Rorschach's mask from Watchmen, green and blue patterns swirling together and are thus known as Springy Earth Boots. You get the impression someone left them here when trvaelling by bone strider, which creates a tear in the magical fiber, changing the nature of magical combat. The shops set up in Highwall sell these and so you suspect those making the Tithe are attempting to hide from the gods by travelling through crowded spaces. But now again it's just the bulwark of the luminescent stone from which you were able to dip the Highwall arrows.

The Smoking Eye Template is as Jack mentioned,

At all times, you gain the following attributes:

-- +1 to all saving throws. Occipitus is subtly watching out for you.

-- +1 to all attack rolls.

-- +1 caster level for all spells and spell-like abilities.

-- Evil spells affect you as if you were evil, not good. Thus, an Unholy Blight won't hurt you.

-- Lie in State: If you die, after 1 minute your body disappears and reappears dead but intact in the Skull's eye socket in Occipitus.

-- Appearance: Your right eye is replaced with a magical flame that gives no heat and does not burn the surrounding flesh. When your eye is open, it gives illumination as a candle. Your vision is unaffected -- you can see through the eye normally. The eye also gives off wisps of bitter smoke, which will make you easier to track by scent.

Peat in the eye gives birth to new landscapes, part of a healing process in which blighted landscapes are restored. So like Madeye Moony you can comically detatch the eye from its socket. If the eye is present, then you are in a state of transformation. You could view that the pround has a similar affixation to his eye based on glimpsing him in the portal. Add that to dolphin glass and you have a boulot of items to trade to the next city you visit in your attempts to purge high magic from the lands and maintain your own prerogatives (according to the GM, your alignment is highly volatile). The Striders will join you in a mercantile quest to enrich the blighted lands and compete with shadowselves. You might convince the Striders, whose brief possession has ended, to bard horses which could bear saddlebags and thus keep warm when the undead come out at night.

Jack casts detect magic and makes a spellcraft check on the boots...
Today: Jack Springhill rolled 26 using 1d20+11.  spellcraft.

The dagger and the boots suggest a certain affinity, with an inscription that becomes clear when you wave your hand over them. The dagger, fresh in Mongo's hand, emits a cerulean glow matching the reflections on his green and mossy beard and the mood of the scene suggests a salamander's scuttling that perhaps has future significance in a riddle or two, written in Abyssal, which is the tongue Izrador and the gods wage war over. Almost to the point, Izrador is a traditionalist and the gods try to force through their program with more overt effects, like auras that shine from the horizon. In this case the room takes on the salamander's glow as though a warm fire sits on the horizon. The elements are out of favor in this region, suggesting the magical presence you feel, Jack, makes your hair stand on end and your alls boots feel light as a feather, improving coup de grace, assuming your characters partake of such torrid techniques. Coups de grace ignore magic items based on where the attacker strikes and the gods current magical fields (their Black-and-White grasp over the world implies the pround is but a decoy).

The arrows are freshly feathered and fly true like birds. The act without quivers as though Abyssfiends whose language you're speaking (which gods enabled it?, but it only happened for a second) had joined battle with their ancient ancestors. The tracks of the Striders can be tracked, they quickly stormed out on some other business. But you hear them speaking Abyssal and you might learn a thing or two about the outer planes if you hunt them down. What is their relationship to the pround, can you trust anyone? Or maybe skeletons in the closet will re-unify when the sun goes down.

Mongo moves into a meditative state, concentrating on making sense of his surroundings. As he studies the landscape, he uncorks an empty waterskin and fills it from the waterfall. The water might come in handy later. He tries the mental exercise of Adaptive Style to see if it would acclimate himself to this strange world's rules.

19:28, Today: Mongo rolled 14 using 1d20+13.  Concentration . – 14

"It seems that many unexpected things have happened in destroying the phylactery, and the price appears to be this change to my eye, I guess that means a living being cannot destroy such evil without paying a price." 
Jack feels something strange with the eye but he cannot put his full awareness onto the whole change, perhaps it was a dream within a dream or an inception and he would come to understand more later on...

Jack with his boots arrows and other weapons now more ready than ever, seeing nothing else to be gained here, suggests


"Should we go and take the wagon of tithes back to Cauldron?"

Privately he wonders as the world becomes more confusing, not less as he adventurers in it, though his knowledge of planes tells him there are places where he would lose his sanity in the voids of nothingness....

He considers wearing an eye patch until he knows more, though waiting for the reactions of others may give him the knowledge he craves.....

"I'll talk to them. Cover me, just in case." Lionel says to his companions and walks outside the cover that a big rock provided to his group.

He calmly walks to the two men, with his hands open, in sign of peace. "Greetings, strangers. My name is Lionel." He says, noticing one of them is writing in a book. Lionel is a tanned man with brown eyes and blonde hair. His body is covered in an armor of a golden color and it seems to have some silver wings protecting his shoulders.

Jack looks up from his journal as the man steps forward, the two most noticeable things are that one of Jacks eyes burns like an red hot ember, with smoke rising from the socket where the one eye would be, the second is despite the man's silver hair, he is still a young adult...

"Greetings Lionel, I am Jack and this is Mongo, we have just finished our business in  High wall."


Are you guys going to pick a picture to place by your posts?
This message was last edited by the player at 16:53, Tue 27 Aug.

After donning his boots and retrieving his dagger from the waterfall, the plate-armored Goliath turns to appraise the newcomers. He asks Jack "writing has appeared on my dagger. I do not recognize it, and I suspect it has something to do with the changes wrought within it. You know what it says?" he asks as he tries to take the measure of the new strangers.

Jack takes the dagger from Mongo to look at the script that is now apparent on the blade...
"Interesting, was this dagger magical before the pround, is it possible that the water revealed this rather than causing it?"

DM, please let me know what check I might need for this...

"Masterwork, yes. Magical, no. I made it myself, fashioned from Cold Iron. If it now holds magic, it must be a powerful dweomer indeed. "

Jack looks over the script and as he does so he calls upon his arcane attunement to cast detect magic....

Going to go ahead and make some rolls, Decipher script 19; Spellcraft 24

"Let me do a proper inspection and casts some magic on this thing....."


Looks over at Lionel.....
"Are you a local?  Mongo and I are not from these parts, so we are always trying to figure things out."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:05, Thu 29 Aug.

The dagger gives you a potent sense of the divine and arcane, reduced as they are here. You might need to bend it over malleably at a city forge to truly understand it. Most of the artifacts have been scattered to the winds. Ultimately you'll be wanting to become your own style of demigod, for even at higher levels the gods could crush you. Their role in the world is of ultimate power, and you never know if the mortals you encounter are actually avatars of the gods. Ox-eyed Hera and Grey-eyed Athene are common in Wogren Moor, a land dominated by Erenlanders. Here are the breeding pits where Typhon ascended to godhood, elucidating the story of the waterfall dagger. It was his at one time, and the new arrivals seem to have the option of selecting daggers as well, with mirror images of the dagger multiplying from Jack's investiture of magic. Something to sell to Skie's Treasury perhaps. The peaty substance that you can smell given off from them blurs Jack's vision for a moment, with tiny hay-like veins giving you momentary flashes of a crippled and destitute world.

Lionel keps silence about their business in Highwall. He doesn't know what was that business, but it was just that, their business.

"Me and two friends are travelling together. Perhaps we can join you, for safety. We are stranger to not only this land but also this universe." He whistles, signaling Cahur and Nisha to come with him.

As the new daggers appear, Lionel seems to be drawn by one, reaching for a golden one with the form of an eagle.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:41, Fri 30 Aug.

"I too am not from this plane and much of it perplexes me, it seems nearer the domains of the gods so their activities are nearer and not so far removed, and things are mercurial capable of rapid changes, deja Vu is often the gods resetting something, I have not the full words to explain it. Perhaps they stop time and make adjustments and set creation in motion again, I do not know..... I appeared in Cauldron the city in the bowl of a volcano, in the middle of a battle, obtained a task and set to travel through some waste land, then via ferry man to here, I had destroyed a lich and brought his phylactery to the pround for destruction, Mongo appeared on the ferryman's boat, from my point of view.   It is also the case that companions can appear mid battle and seem to wink out of existence with no warning.  I have been journaling of my experiences, should you want to read it."

Jack also pulls forth his own version of the "waterfall dagger of divine and arcane"....

Nisha rolls her eyes. "We are not dogs, Lionel." She walks to his side. "I am Nisha of Nix." She speaks, revealing an armor as black as the night that covers her body. Her helmet is more crown than a protection. The gems in it shine like stars. But nothing compares to her cloak. When it opens to reveal little more than her body, it seems as if the fabric is composed by the void of the universe.

Then she notices the weapons that have appeared. Her fingers caress a black one, and then she takes it by the hilt.

“ Nisha of Nix, I am Jack Springhill, professional dabbler, jack of all trades.”

Jack's Journal pulsates with a soft warm glow, indicating the vastness of the wisdoms within. On a different day you might speculate that inscribed in enough, it might even grant its bearer the status of Hierophant, with a solid boost to Wisdom (Wisdom has a higher threshold in the primarily Midnight world as it takes ingenuity to scrape a living off the rocks until the big boys show up, although the new guys seem like fallen gods, something that is true of the other heroes though they just didn't perceive it sooner). The tome has a scritch-scratch of Jack's handwriting (assuming Common until you say otherwise, Jack) and it almost feels like the waterfall, which disappears after everyone draws a dagger, consecrates this meeting of gods torn asunder and forced to start over as regards the Sundering. The curved blades allow you to feel the Pround and the Lich, suggesting that they might be the same deity stranded here, but as a Fell ever tormented by astirax clouds until he is restored to his phylactery by the Shadow. Nisha and Lionel can feel their hair standing on end and perhaps know more than Jack about the history of the gods (Knowledge, dungeoneering for Jack (14) and for Mongo (23, Knowledge: Martial Lore, and 21, Lionel, Knowledge: Psionics seeing as the Pround is hoarding peat in dungeons, alongside people to be saved). The party as a whole comes to the consensus that the history of peat suggests the Pround reads at the library with a psionic eye, and people have located bodies nearby his towers that suggest a fetid connection to super-trained zombies with Fellcaller aptitudes, with blades that spin like Jack's guisarme, used as drones to harvest grain for kind payments). [Until I have the sheets for the other two new players, I assume they don't catch a look at Jack's Journal].

You become aware of someone knocking at the door to the tavern and a rather placid zombie walks in with a blade. "The daggers, you know the Striders? They told me to come by to gather information about my former boss, the Pround." He pauses, then continues. "His tribe kicks about the Archipelago of the Eywulf, with stormy rocks lashing against the shore. If you can bottle the waters up, we can access one of the god's channels to the Lost by siphoning the liquid into their bloodstream." He flashes his dagger. "Or maybe, you're an enemy." His form suggest DR of 5 from pulsating armor, just the same color as Jack's Journal. "I know you snuck in here, you three, so you either join me and the Proun' or we start to flood the place again."

OOC: He bears a scroll of Synchronicity. If you get it, you might notice the Energy Resistance that his armor gives off, something that with the water of the Eyewulf, might both temper Lionel's armor and retain Jack's ability to cast a Touch attack with the energies of the Journal referenced to Korophon, the Eye. Several of the Skeleton's eyes shift into a whirlwind of potent magical fields, and he attempts to skewer his pop-out eye with his own dagger. His AC is likely high, with adamantite, which seems like the portcullis you recall.

"Take ease animated intelligence, there is no need for conflict at this time, perhaps you should consider taking our side rather than whatever side you are on."

Jack has a spell at the ready to travel through his weapon that will likely cause the undead to flee, at least temporarily...
Readies Chill Touch to arcane channel, should the undead attack....

"Parley?"

In reply to wlake.gmtn (msg # 152):

Mongo scoffs. "Think what you wish, oh rotted one. Your shell, though impressive, is as brittle as glass to my touch, should I wish it. What need have you of our daggers?" he asks.

A man 2 meter tall approaches covered in armor with . "Let's say I am your enemy, little one. What are you doing to do about it?" This place brings some memories to Cahur. It is special for him and he knows it. "In other time, he would have crushed the zombie, but this Jack person seems to want to parley. There is no harm in it. He can always crush the zombie later.

"The striders?" Lionel shrugs. "Why don't you tell us more about your old and current bosses, undead? And why should we want to help them, of course."

OOC:
04:38, Today: Lionel rolled 28 using 1d20+14.  Knowledge Psionics

"I have already paid a price to destroy one like yourself, and the price seems to be higher than I am willing to repeatedly pay."

Jack points to his smoking eye, acquired only it seems moments ago,

Nisha silently moves aside, keeping at least 30ft of the zombie. "Nice dagger you have there. Is it like ours?"

OOC:
Move: move 30ft así de of the zombie
11:31, Today: Nisha rolled 22 using 1d20+7.   arcana. 

You sit apart from the zombie, whose rictus glows like a yawning fire. His bones spark a petit grin, highlighting the teeth that are already there. For a moment you can imagine him as a dead soldier whose desperate attempts to break from this reality led him down dark and enslaving paths. But luckily he looks happy despite the severity of his expression. Jack's eye draws his gaze numerous times as though they were compasses seeking each other, Jack's eye and his own. He stands on one foot and crackles like a blizzard, though undead in this world are susceptible to fire. Perhaps in his abyss the deep cold instilled a long depth. In another century he would be wearing a diver's helmet.

"My boss is trying to observe the earth with his unending gaze, so that the prisoners being watched by others might be freed." His armor shifts as though rings clanking together. "My dagger is destined to stab out the eyes of others, should their being even connect to such things as vision. How much of a certainty the phylactery brings is up to the coven who sit now even cross-legged, speaking of visions of you around the magic ball. The very foundations of the earth shake (and the worms on the door handle rattle alongside his shield) and beckon us toward a common goal. The crystals are said to be gone, adornments in Hades' dog's bowels. In some of my bosses and my vision, several of the opuses brought our aims into Syncrhonicity. If we pierce the eyes of the spellweavers who destroyed Cauldron despite its resurgence in the Second Age, their own phylacteries would peter out into nothing, saving the city. The gods and the obsidian daggers are huge gambols, brimming to the teeth with a solid tie between cities, stuffed to the gills, as it were, with finery and precious metals. We might make a delivery and lead another Shadow outlet into breaking down the weapons, seeing as this helps us refine the true sword used to dethrone Zeus. The daggers are used to slash the sepulchral seneschal's throat, refining the blade in a peaty den, with other aromas involved in seances across the board.

"Resurgence," and his armor emits a strange scent akin to a dog's, "of the right ways to be in the realm is on the up-and-up."

OOC: If you fought him, he doesn't seem that intimidating, but Nisha's roll suggests freezing the fountain would shake up the realm in a sense that the aforementione parties would glean a scry, often done using a special augury scrying.

Mongo responds "Who, if I might ask, are the watched prisoners? If you seek to reforge the obsidian daggers, I would require a heat source akin to a fire elemental, for obsidian is forged in lava. I am a master of the forge where it comes to weapons, and can undertake such a task if need be. But to what end or purpose?"

"Wait, I too have been cast into the void in the totality of nothing and eventually perceiving not more than a mote or speck of light I moved to the light, and as I did the speck became bigger, and when I finally could see it, it was my own reflection in the dragons eye, I met this dragon beyond and she is my observer beyond.  There is no heat in the void and no air and no hope, had I stayed I expect my physical would have transformed, however she sent me here with little information.   Do we serve one and the same?

"And what visions does the coven have for us?"Nisha asks the zombie, not yet revealing the other what she knows.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Sat 14 Sept.

Cahur grunts and cracks his knuckles, waiting for a reply from the Zombie

"So, we need to kill this Seneschal? Understood."
He couldn't say more. The zombie was not his enemy yet.

"The daggers belong to those who had passed from this world eons ago. The city Cauldron had erupted prior to being laid under water in the central lake. Their visions were able to project the waters of central Cauldron and link them to the waterfall you just witnessed. The daggers permitted us to view the Shackleborn (#2 on Jack's list). who are being collected to bring from Redgorge the Tree of Shackled Souls. The Ebon Triad are fee noire who are working with my master. Having rolled Sense Motive you get the impression he might be uncomfortable in his armor.'Which digniary might he be, and does he truly work for the Pround? He levels his gaze at Nisha and Lionel and for a second admires Lionel's Tessellated armor radiating a pure white light. His own bones crinkle in response to Cahur's moment of bewilderment. <Red>"The Seneschal possesses the daggers that are the kin of your own, five of you and five daggers. Two of the Ebon Triad wield two at a time, like those strange barrels from the past. Their goal is to plunge them into the victims of the Tree of Shackled Souls, gouging a caesura into the skin of those Shackleborn.

Your Will seems to match a sense of Detect Magic, which chain reactions into a Seeming spell that you observe connects him to two ghosts, and the bulging bags of plutomantic cash upon his back suggest rumors that you heard from Jil about the mayor of Cauldron, Vhalantru. You suspect that his feral nature is lustinh after ever more cash (see No-Face from Spirited Away). The reticulus of his armor seems to bend light as though many eyes were attached to it that gazed outward, not part of his disguise but something else.

"In a sense I am the Seneschal for what goes on in my city is left for the reeves. But to become the Seneschal. The watched prisoners sit in the caverns at the distant parts of the plane gambling and whiling away their moments. The Shackleborn mark can only be laid upon with magic and to that end only graves or tumuli of their undead marks can be deduced from the dirtied hands of the graverobbers, those who seek to bridge the gap of living and dead, one of which I am. Dare you to provide for me the key to this undead enterprise?

Jack nods his head as he begins to understand at least some parts of what the necromonger is saying to him.

"Do I understand correctly that there is a group with a thing called the tree of shackled souls, and much like a wicker man, it will be used in some ceremony requiring the sacrifice of the gathered shackleborn so that some magical change in the world can occur on a large scale, that you work towards this goal with the Ebon Triad, and the daggers are a means of locating the shackleborn still needed and necessary for the ritual to be started?"


"I have heard of such rituals, those that open the mouth of hell and release the dead into the world of the living, resulting in what is often called armagedden, ragnarok and other such end of days events.  I am not sure I am able to side with you at this time, I do not see a way it benefits my life.  I assume we are required to give you the daggers or fight you now?"


"Is there something else that we might do for you at this time, so that we retain the daggers and a fight is averted?"

Lionel had little to add. Jack was making a great job. Only one thing remained to be asked. Something frivolous. "Your armor, creature. You seem to not be comfortable in it. Hasn't it been made for you?"

The mighty warrior says "Mongo sees easy fix of problem. Uproot tree of Shackled Souls. Tear it from the Earth, and thus save the shackleborn from dire fate. This has added bonus of waving genitals in faces of Gods."

"Well, now this one dagger belongs to me. And if anyone wants it, I welcome anyone to try it. And the gods have decreed that the dead and the living must be separated. Whoever wants otherwise is an enemy of the gods."

"So... you have more of these nice daggers?"
Cahur of Typhon gave him a wolfish smile.

Consider the undead aberration as something like a Morhg, who serves as those who would know of the distant god Morgoth. Topped with a hairstyle that seems to suggest snow, its cold and white locks almost aflame, streaked with rage. But it quells its anger, the creature and you can see the same daggers that you have in its hands. They start to quake gently, and you have a hazy picture of the Ebon Triad whose dark skin radiates a mental cool. A giant tongue flips around their mouths when consuming their ale. The morhg might be the source of this feature.

The Mohrg's improved grab and +12 to slam you, push you, and potentially constrict and crush you, gaining a free grapple action, and expanding his three disarms from a cloud of rotating daggers and fists to five, the entire party. He addresses Jack: "I will slam you into dust if you betray me. My armor pays no witness to the mere scrapes of the claws that those represent. If you agree to assist me, there is an entire dragon's trove that will align us with those who are lawful evil amongst the gods. We see beyond the petty squabbles of gods and Izradors. Would you agree that this armor (he shifts uncomfortably) would be a suitable trap for the Triad? If we get them all in the same place, we can undo the planar junction, freeing the bound Shackleborn."

"The lands of the dead belong to Hades but Cerberus might see us ride the dragon Chark into glorious destruction of the Pround, who holds one of the keys to the caves of the Sunken Tribes. From there the peat of the Anduin can be magically unwrapped by us Mohrgs since we are undying like the elves who simply are reborn aside from Izrador, who compete with the Triad." His huge hands seem ready to avoid just one called shot from the adventurers, since his armor is so thick (and we're not using AoOs). Several towers with a coelum of peat exist around the legendary city of Alvedara, which rests upon the Anduin.

"Easy big fellow, If you want to figure out how we can work together, we can do that, in a sign of good faith I can give you my dagger and perhaps one of the others here would likewise want to do that, give us time to get some trust going and to sort out everything that we may need to do. For all I know this entire realm is supposed to be a portion of the underworld. As you know I have not been here very long and just for some reason now have a smoking eye."

Offers the dagger....

"If you take this it is a sign of peace and we can speak again in a few days, perhaps after we get back to Cauldron."