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  #691  
Old 12-13-2018, 01:53 PM
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Remkah`ar
left-aligned image
Remkah'ar moves to the top of the stairs with trepidation, shocked to see not only Drusilla, but Dullen, alive - although to say they were alive and well would be a stretch.

He watches as Grak'Ark races off towards the fleeing mage at a seemingly impossible pace after the fleeing witch and understands that their presence would indeed turn the time of the battle.

The past battles had drained the wishcrafter's magic significantly, but he knew there was still more to give. He looks up at the massive form of the demon gnoll coming towards them - and self preservation nearly made him cast a powerful spell at the oncoming beast. But the massive creature was working hard to get through the tight staircase, he had time to do what needed to be done.

With a flick of his wrist and a simple arcane word, Rem calls forth a massive pit encompassing several of hapless gnolls in it's wake.



 

Last edited by Squeak; 12-13-2018 at 03:07 PM.
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  #692  
Old 12-13-2018, 03:02 PM
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Round 5
left-aligned image
Right at the last moment, Drusilla tries to twist away from the incoming blade, but it is too little too late—the rapier pierces through her right pectoral, cleaving flesh and spurting blood. Wincing and grimacing, she glances down at the hole in her chest, but her concern quickly dissipates. Just a flesh wound. She lifts her gaze, turning her attention back to the battle, charting its course with a practiced eye. Fewer and fewer troglodytes remain. Never mind the one with the axe who shouts and fights with the strength and fury of Rovagug—it is only a matter of time before the gnolls finish off the trogs and turn their attention to …

Wait.

At that instant she sees Grak hurling himself over the railing and running with incredible speed, sprinting across the entire battlefield in the blink of an eye. Where … Drusilla suddenly realizes what the gnoll is doing with such urgency.

Kill the caster.

“Hells.” she curses at the memory of her own words, knowing that the loyal gnoll will not stop until he has fulfilled her command. Her self-proclaimed biyu has already disappeared down the stairs, and she knows it is too late to call him off—but she’ll be damned if she lets him die on her account. With what must be at least a fifth wind by now, she races after him, bursting out of the shadows and into the bright, orange glow of the firepits. When she had first entered the House of the Beast, the twisted, flickering flames had seemed ominous and foreboding; now, after being temporarily blinded, they are a most welcome relief. How many times have her attacks been thwarted by dim light or thick mist? No more. She pauses next to one of the firepits, letting the end of her rope rest upon the burning coals. The twisted hempen strands quickly catch fire, providing her with an improvised torch.

She glances back at Dullen, and with a flick of her hand, dismisses the flind and guard near him. “They don’t matter,” she says, not understanding the importance of the priest’s sword. After all, her father is a blacksmith who has crafted hundreds of fine swords. What does it matter if one is lost? “We have to help Grak.” The warrior looks up, as if to the heavens. “Rem?” she shouts, hoping that he is there. Where is he? She can see Hector now on the stairs, channeling some strange spell against the demon gnoll—she instinctively files away this tidbit of information for further reference—and the plucky halfling on the other side of the scrum—though she hears the slip more than she sees him—but the sorcerer is nowhere to be found. She yells again, desperate for some arcane assistance. “Magic time!”

 


 
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Last edited by ekidnu; 12-13-2018 at 11:55 PM. Reason: changed final position based on better understanding of overall map
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  #693  
Old 12-13-2018, 05:01 PM
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Abd Al Dari
right-aligned image

He had come to the surface to be free. He had fought, struggled, paid his tolls, suffered and survived - all in the name of freedom. Yet, here he was, bracing the darkness in pursuit of a half-mad old man and a full-mad gnoll fighting the cause of civilization... somewhat. What drove him was not entirely clear to Abd, but since they had escaped it was like there was some unseen force taking over whenever he was about to make a choice.

Also, when talking about choices, he didn’t exactly have one. He was fully aware that he had little chance of surviving back to An’khadhi and unite with the other villagers - if any had survived - on his own. And if I get there? Could I heat the sea again and sit calm on the raft to haul in fish? His mind was a turmoil - just up till Hector snapped at him and he ranked his bag and flexed the hands around the rapier, Aye, cap’n. Right behind ya.

When the light dropped, Abd crouched low to take it in his hand. Without light he would be nothing and besides, he liked to be crouching more than staying close to the madness Hector channeled in the air around him. He knew gulls very well, but this was something far more sinister and magical and once again he felt how it had this calling effect on him. Like there was invisible tendrils that drifted off the darkness and latched onto his skin. Abd shivered by the thought, but drew in breath and stood again, looking over the shoulder of the captain to see how it had worked on the freak of a gnoll further down the stairs.

 


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  #694  
Old 12-14-2018, 12:11 PM
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Gark, aka Blobog, goblin chosen of Lamashtu
left-aligned image
An average goblin would turn and flee at the sight of the giant demon gnoll, screaming at the top of his little lungs while running away as fast as goblinly possible. But Gark is not your average goblin. He isn't even really called Gark. No, Gark has bravely skulked and sneaked and hid himself in the House of the Beast for weeks on end, waiting for the impossibly tardy Grak'Ark to show up and help him kill the Carrion King. Or just kill the Carrion King without Gark's help. Really, both options are fine.

So it is that Gark bravely continues his charge down the stairs, stumbling only a little bit in his slack-jawed wide-eyed terror, tripping and rolling and smashing his face into the opposite wall. But he gets up! And pees himself. But only a little! (Praise Lamashtu!) Never mind that he had emptied most of his bladder already.

It is fortunate that Hector has pushed his way ahead, for as Grak'Ark leaps down off the stairs and chases after some unknown foe, part of the goblin's courage runs away with the gnoll. But with the angry old man acting as a convenient buffer, Gark sneaks down a few more steps, bolstered by the comforting fact that he no longer has to outrun the oversized gnoll, just the stupid human.

“Good, you kill big bug. Me kill little bugs.” Knowing that his small crossbow will have little effect upon the demonic gnoll, he turns his attention to the battle below. He rests his weapon upon the railing, steadying it, and then, after a divine consultation of eeny-meeny-miny-moe with his goddess, he
Dice Light crossbow attack and damage:
1d20+9 (8)+9 Total = 17
1d6 3
If hit, target must make DC 14 Fort save vs Blue Whinnis poison.
fires his quarrel upon the #14nearest gnoll.
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  #695  
Old 12-15-2018, 12:37 AM
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Dullen sees the flind is worried as he starts swinging the flind bar back and forth defensively. Dullen seizes the opportunity to utilize one of Irori’s gifts to even the odds a bit. “In reaching one’s perfect self, one must see the potential. Irori, grant me thy Casts Bull’s Strengthstrength to point me in the right direction.

The blue hand of Irori glows on his holy symbol as the muscles under his robes start to bulge and become more defined. Dullen continues his defensive Sense Motive
Dice Roll:
1d20+15 (19)+15 Total = 34
maneuvers with his Snake Stance style of fighting and moves up Moves to ad40 5’ stepcloser to the flind to exalt his presence letting him know his time in this world is about to end.

 


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Last edited by ShinobiMaster123; 12-15-2018 at 12:41 AM.
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  #696  
Old 12-16-2018, 01:36 PM
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Start Ro6

--------Character--------Init050607
Rraelliarh (witch,#23)22xo-
Trarrguc (flind,#18)17xo-
Carrion Guard (#27)17xo-
Grak'ark17xo-
Hector20xo-
Fandrik 16xo-
Dullen14xo-
Drusilla14xo-
NPCs01xo-
o = open to post
- = don't post yet
x = posted already

DM Summary
left-aligned image

House of the Beast: Day 2
Gozran 12 4710 – Sunday

Sunrise 6:30AM | 8:00PM Sunset
(12:55PM)

Light Bearers
Hector, Fandrik's Stone (20' normal / 40' shadows)

Darkvision
Grak'ark (60')
Remkah'ar (60')
Gark-the-Goblin (60')
Fandrik (60')




House of the Beast: The Middle Temple
[DiCE]
Nil


 



13: Vault Room

The goblin's mist spell, a gift from Lamashtu, expires and the Vault Room where all of this started is suddenly wide open and clear, though cloaked in total darkness. Vermin crawl out from holes and insects squirm from the ground to feast upon this pile of fresh meat. A rat climbs down from the large rock in the center and uses Drusilla's blood-encrusted bardiche to bridge to the ground when it falls over and clatters loudly, making them scatter momentarily. A large dire rat squeezes out from his hiding spot, taking one of the few hapless halfling slaves and begins dragging their small bodies to his feeding spot, the halfling's insides dragging out over his hairy and cold feet.

Rovagug's face, molded into the vault to the north, watches all of this with mouth wide open. Spiritually he is feasting with them, wanting everything to be destroyed, even his own devotees. Rovagug swallows it all up. You might be fighting him but, in a way, step by step, you are always feeding him the more you fight him. His hunger is great.


1: Lower Dome


And the mounds of murder continues in the Lower Dome to the south east.

Grundmoch kills another gnoll as they, in turn, kill the last of his troops. He takes a gnoll by the head and squeezes until he screams and his eyes and eardrum pop in blithering pink paste. The trog watches with a gore splattered face as Rraelliarh, the Witch of the King, races to the stairwell. “Tell Rokova, or whatever he call-self, I am coming for him!” calls the trog after the fleeing witch in broken gnoll. Ten an onslaught of weapons try to take him down and he returns his attention to battle.

None of them notices as a little halfling flints by and a small ceramic object slides past a few feet to settle next to Grundmoch, a fuse burning. "Ha-HA!"

left-aligned image
Ryrgia, the demon gnoll, winds up her axe to chop Grak'ark in half when (very unexpectedly) he jumps over the edge. "Grey muzzle, come quickly. Your sword is needed" A whole parade of others follow in his steed so she gets ready to chop the next one... this next one some weak human slave (she barely remembers from the many others their tribe has burned through). He's carrying a sword so, again, she winds the axe when the old pale man drops a light enchanted rock and grips his sword. Craaah! A raven follows him into the Dome and Hector calls back to the line, an ifrit coming to a stop and spotting Drusilla in the very distance. He freezes, red sleeves clenched in his hands, as he sees their leader still alive.

"Abd, with me." calls Hector and the bald, tattooed man scoops up the lighted rock as Remkah'ar is already muttering a spell, pulling from his genie magic, and his right hand begins to glow a pale white. Already he has made up his mind on what to do next.

The little female halfling whirls her sling and is about to sling it at the giant demon gnoll when she sees that Hector is taking care of it. She instead turns her attention onto an out skirting gnoll in the battle with trogs. This poor fellow (#14) is already weak from the Mama Spider that riddled him with bites, sapping his strength. Yenwrick yipes at him to call his attention, he looks over, and BAM! a rock slams into his eye and making it into jelly. ”Whaaaa?" yipes the gnoll and Gark, far away and high above, barks a laugh at him. It echoes, ugly, on the walls and can be heard even over the battle (such is the laugh of a goblin). The goblin draws up to the edge of the wall as the gnoll warns the others that their "guests" are back. The words are leaving his mouth when Gark-the-Goblin puts a bolt in his heart, still holding his right eye, and he falls dead to the ground.

right-aligned image
Remkah'ar completes his spell and the ground drops from below the group of gnolls even as the goblin's crossbow kills one of them. They look about, confused, when the floor of the Lower Dome divides into a pit and spikes unfold like porcupine needles. Two plummet while another two, Carrion Guards who are trained to keep their wits, dart back and avoid falling. The two that fall, a lone murin and one of the witch's Rovagug clerics, try to cling to the spikes along the wall but end up slicing their fingers in pieces. They are both enfulfed into darkness and die on spikes, bodies withering as the blood pools in the bottom. The ifrit wishcrafter drops his hand, the pale light ending, as Grak'ark chases the witch down below. He senses Hector pouring with sweat and pain and looks to see the old man thrust an arm at the demon gnoll that blocks their way. What is he up to? Then Rok flies in above, black wings abroad, and black feathers formulate around the slave fist. It sounds like leaves in a sandstorm. What dark magic is this slave in command of?

Abd al Dari watches Hector with newfound respect, fear, and awe. Gark-the-Goblin, behind, makes another ugly and wicked laugh as he loads another bolt.

right-aligned image
Grak'ark, meanwhile, hears/smells all of this as he races by the chaos of war. His hadis already has him on to the next pray: that spellslinging/hadis/bitch. He hunts her down like he has done with all the other Rovagug gnoll followers, marching onto their heels and cutting out their hears. His deformed legs only help as he races down the stairs and comes up behind the witch. Rraelliarch throws up an arm to protect her self, confused, when she sees who is riding her tail. The lone eye tells all. "Grak'ark the Jackal" she spits in his face and it dribbles down his peeling fur in a drop of white foam. "You think we are like the Kulldis? We will destroy all of you. The Carrion King is like no other enemy you have ever faced, fool hygera."

Dullen is not without his own defenses. The Man of Irori prays to the Perfect God and his muscles brim and swell like Grundmoch from his own god. Dullen confidently approaches the flind and Carrion Guard glowing a feint blue. The magic glow passes and Dullen clenches his fists, showing that he is not ready for defeat and will continue to turn the tide of this battle.

Drusilla leaves Dullen and yells over her shoulder to him, “We have to help Grak.” She has no idea of the worth and importance of Sharpen, trying to get him away from the engagement as the gnolls break away their battle from the trogs that Dullen helped put forth. She follows Grak'ark when the warrior slides to a stop and dips her rope into one of the fire pits to light it like a wick. The flames circle and climb the dirty fibers to burn new light. Never again will she be blind in this darkness. Never again will Drusilla get caught unaware.

Ryrgia does not see Grak confront her mother across the battlefield. All she sees is this pafe with black feathers circling his arm. "Come at me, pafe!! Are you scared?" she taunts and the man stops as a furry of black raven feathers twirl around his right arm, still clutching Draagonwing in the other hand.

"You think a few-" then the black feathers flood at her like a janni lord’s wrath. They, at first, tickle the gnoll. It's only one second when it's 10,000 paper cuts at once. Hector screams in pain as the black glossy feathers rip from his arm and cut the demon gnoll down. Her axe drops and tilts onto the stairs before tumbling to the ground. A thousand cuts bleed all at once, unable to clot.

Ryrgia, demon daughter of Rraelliarh, slumps dead on the stairs. She is defeated.

They are winning the battlefield. What do they do next?





DM Notes
left-aligned image
  • In Round 6 Fandrik's grenade will go off.
  • Some areas have light, but the darker ones are in dim light.
    In an area of dim light, a character can see somewhat. Creatures within this area have concealment (20% miss chance in combat) from those without darkvision or the ability to see in darkness.
  • Drusilla has been cursed with a -6 strength from the Witches' Curse.
  • Drusilla has no equipment at all, nothing but her clothes.



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  #697  
Old 12-16-2018, 05:14 PM
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Hector Grimm
left-aligned image

The tremor when the demon fell was enough to make Hector clutch the railing and divide his attention from the searing pain in his arm. He looked skyward in the moment he realized how effective his surge of feathered death had been, Only fitting to feed this first soul meal to Rok with a death caused by the feathers of Eiseth. ROK! Come taste this. He sped forward down the stairs, two steps at the time. He was curious to see how it happened. He knew the soul had been caught in his grasp and was leaking from the dying demon figure in the moment, but he had not seen Rok feed on the souls before. When he came to the giant mass of the gnoll, he jumped over it and continued, hearing the flapping of wings behind him, he thought that he would have time to look back once he reached ground floor.

At the end of the stairs, he found the darkness to be too encroaching. Abd. Light. He looked back and saw the man tumbling down the stairs, slower but nonetheless eager to bide his command. It granted him enough light to see Rok hit the prone form of the gnoll and the essence of its demonic soul start to flow and cluster around the raven. It was a terrifying thought, but Hector felt it only just.

There are more, over there. I feel their death. He pointed, the beak following his outstretched arm before digging back in the fur and flesh.

Hector’s attention was on the immediate area around him. He glimpsed the dark figures in the gloomy darkness around him and caught them in the aetheral realm, tying tendrils of their souls to his iron grip.

He could see a man fighting one of the huge gnolls. They came in all sorts of varieties, but their weak hearts and craven ways they had in common. This one was in fact a flind, but to Hector they were all the same. The man, on the other hand, looked like a man of discipline and martial prowess. Hector’s voice grated from the bottom stair, You must be Mister Dullen? Come. Make a stand with me.


 


 


 



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  #698  
Old 12-17-2018, 12:47 PM
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Grak'Ark
left-aligned image
The battle seemed to move in slow motion as he raced across the battlefield with a speed gifted to him by the goddess herself. He winces as Grundmoch shouts out his challenge, but knows that the mother of monster's is using the heathen troglodyte to destroy themselves.

That is why Rovagug cannot win. They only know how to kill the prey that is in front of them. A true hunter knows the value of a teamwork and knows that with the right set of packmates, there is no prey too big. Not even the Carrion King. he says to himself, pushing aside his dreams of ripping the still beating heart out of Kardaswan, knowing he has more immediate prey at hand.

He catches the witch in what seems to be the blink of an eye. His teeth bare in a smile as he sees the look on surprise of the fleeing witch. He speaks to her clearly, reveling in the fear that he knows his words would put into her heart.

"I am the sword of Lamashtu, the servant of Grandmother nightmare. Know my face, you heathen bitch, for it will be the last thing you see in this life." he says, spit flying from his mouth as he speaks.

"There is only one goddess of the gnolls and she... does... not... show... mercy..." he says.

The words had an effect and it was not one he wanted to see. Both the witch and the Carrion guard fled like the cowards he knew them to be.

Grak’Ark races up with speed gifted to him by his goddess. His shield and terbutje clatter on the staircase as he races forward, while at the same time he reaches back for his enchanted spear.

Closing in, he reara back and hurls it with all of the strength he had at his disposal. The spear arcs over the head of the witch and impales the muring in front of her with a savage fury.

 


 

Last edited by PIG; 12-19-2018 at 03:57 PM.
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  #699  
Old 12-18-2018, 11:02 PM
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Start Ro6

--------Character--------Init050607
Rraelliarh (witch,#23)22xx-
Trarrguc (flind,#18)17xx-
Carrion Guard (#27)17xx-
Grak'ark17xo-
Hector20xo-
Fandrik 16xo-
Dullen14xo-
Drusilla14xo-
NPCs01xo-
o = open to post
- = don't post yet
x = posted already

DM Summary
left-aligned image

House of the Beast: Day 2
Gozran 12 4710 – Sunday

Sunrise 6:30AM | 8:00PM Sunset
(12:55PM)

Light Bearers
Hector, Fandrik's Stone (20' normal / 40' shadows)

Darkvision
Grak'ark (60')
Remkah'ar (60')
Gark-the-Goblin (60')
Fandrik (60')




House of the Beast: The Middle Temple
[DiCE]
Nil


 


1: Lower Dome


The witch sees Grak'ark coming so she races down the stairs after the Carrion Guard. Their clawed feet scrape the old stone stairs as Grak hops behind. That's when the wonderful stench hits him. He takes a few additional steps and he can smell the Lower Temple below them and it is.. simply... glorious (Fort Save VS Stench for non-gnolls and non-slaves). What wrenched wonder await below? Screams of pain and ecstasy echo from below to his twitch ears.

Grak sees Rraelliarh descend the stairs after the Carrion Guard, no light below so his darkvision kicks in. They are getting away his lust for their death, to appease his hadis, quivers his senses.

left-aligned image
There is something beyond this curtain of darkness, beyond the threshold of battle that we are not concentrating on. Both Hector and Fandrik know of what I speak, including Abd al Bari and Yenwrick.

The Great Dome (Room 1) expands westward into a rubble of broken stone, shards of collapsed hallways, and dripping walls (Rooms 4, 6, 3) that all the Carrion Tribe slaves are well familiar with.

They were marched from their slaves pens, through corridors howling with different gnolls, up from the Lower Temple, and then up to here, the Middle Temple, by a series of metal stairs (Room 3). The slaves might or might not look around when being led from here to the mines but it's a bad idea. The slavemasters would lash them with their razor knotted whips to keep them from observing their surroundings.

So they followed the chain gang line, a series of chains led by a lead chain-leader and six conjoined followers. Hector enjoyed a month of being a chain-leader, led the group, but he always kept his eyes down. It was submission... but it was also waiting for the right moment to spring from this trap.

right-aligned image
It's time to tell you that there are two downward entrances that our PCs can now see: the metal stairway of the slaves and circular stairway the witch is currently descending... Grak following the latter of the two.

The witch runs down into the pits of the temple, cowards, with Grak'ark following in pursuit. This battlefield is shrinking.

left-aligned image
Dullen, however my Dear Readers, can't worry about such things as a fling-bar whisks the air to try and break his teeth. Easily, like walking down a path in the day under a blue sky, Dullen simply walks away from the clumsy attack. It breaks his snake stance, breaking his hold on his flow of Irori, but he's not defenseless as the Carrion Guard roars and swings his rapier.

The monk-priest raises a hand to lightly fend off the rapier, bouncing off of the mage armor. He see every action before they happen.

The flind and gnoll try to side-step (5-foot step) into a position to start blocking him in, flanking him away from the others like hyenas do to prey. He is pafe, non-gnoll, a human, one without darkvision. They use the shadows to box him in and help him miss.

Fandrik's grenade twirls and twirls and begins to smoke. An acidic and unpleasant smell fills the air as it edges toward the very corner of Remkah'ar's spike pit and fall far below.

The battle continues. What do they do next?




DM Notes
left-aligned image
  • In Round 6 Fandrik's grenade will go off.
  • Some areas have light, but the darker ones are in dim light.
    In an area of dim light, a character can see somewhat. Creatures within this area have concealment (20% miss chance in combat) from those without darkvision or the ability to see in darkness.
  • Drusilla has been cursed with a -6 strength from the Witches' Curse.
  • Drusilla has no equipment at all, nothing but her clothes.



Combat Modifiers
 

Maps
 
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Last edited by PIG; 12-19-2018 at 03:48 PM.
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Old 12-19-2018, 04:30 PM
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Start Ro6

--------Character--------Init050607
Rraelliarh (witch,#23)22xx-
Trarrguc (flind,#18)17xx-
Carrion Guard (#27)17xx-
Grak'ark17xx-
Hector20xx-
Fandrik 16xo-
Dullen14xo-
Drusilla14xo-
NPCs01xo-
o = open to post
- = don't post yet
x = posted already

DM Summary
left-aligned image

House of the Beast: Day 2
Gozran 12 4710 – Sunday

Sunrise 6:30AM | 8:00PM Sunset
(12:55PM)

Light Bearers
Hector, Fandrik's Stone (20' normal / 40' shadows)

Darkvision
Grak'ark (60')
Remkah'ar (60')
Gark-the-Goblin (60')
Fandrik (60')




House of the Beast: The Middle Temple
[DiCE]
Nil


 


1: Lower Dome


Grak'ark grabs the rolled up green rope at his hip, looking much like a whip, as he descends the stairs after the witch. It slithers to life as he jumps down the stairs three at a time and it appears to be a snake! "I am the sword of Lamashtu, the servant of Grandmother nightmare. Know my face, you heathen bitch, for it will be the last thing you see in this life." says the gnoll, spit flying from his mouth as he speaks, the snake becoming as rigid as a spear as he throws back his hand.

"There is only one goddess of the gnolls and she... does... not... show... mercy..."
he says as he launches the magical spear at the Carrion Guard in front of the witch. The rigid snake flies through the air and peels through his thigh. The gnoll slams against the wall in pain, reaches for the spear, to find it gone! The snake is slithering back in Grak's hand.

The witch shoves the Carrion Guard forward. "Go! Go! Go!" He winces as he continues to fly down the stairs, the witch following, and Grak'ark too.

Screams of pain and fire await below.



DM Notes
left-aligned image
  • In Round 6 Fandrik's grenade will go off (on his turn).
  • Some areas have light, but the darker ones are in dim light.
    In an area of dim light, a character can see somewhat. Creatures within this area have concealment (20% miss chance in combat) from those without darkvision or the ability to see in darkness.
  • Drusilla has been cursed with a -6 strength from the Witches' Curse.
  • Drusilla has no equipment at all, nothing but her clothes.



Combat Modifiers
 

Maps
 
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Gather the troops!
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The diseased-looking Grak'ark sprinted by faster than Fandrik had ever seen a gnoll move and a pit opened under the combatants, sucking two thrashing gnolls into its dark depths.

The halfling spun about, away to the north of the gnoll-trog melee. Springing over furs and stinking garbage, his left hand slid a dagger free as he rolled in the air and landed at a light jog.

BO-O-O-OM

The mining grenade went off - smothering all sound for a brief moment until Fandrik's high pitched laugh rang into recovering eardrums. "Ha-HA! Hahaha-HA! Have at you, dogs!" Instead of ducking in reaction to the sound, the halfling continued his dance towards the bottom of the stairs and Dullen.

"You must be Mister Dullen? Come. Make a stand with me." Hector's voice bellowed from the stairs.

Sliding to a stop, the halfling twisted guiding the dagger which flashed effortlessly from an underhand throw towards the nearest gnoll, a large brute looking towards the sound of the grenade. The metal tip stabbed into the fleshy side of the gnoll's leg and Fandrik widened his stance cautiously. It was then that he noticed Drusilla had chased after Grak.
right-aligned image

"Is that the famous Mr Dullen, yonder there? Ha-HA! My comrades call me Fandrik." The recent slave was barely three feet tall and unnaturally clean with rags for clothing and a large stylish mustache under grey sparkling eyes. Indicating the stairs, he called out again while guarding against a likely gnoll to come at him in response to the dagger. "These stairs are our way out - and the people upon it are under my protection. Come! Let us join forces with Hector and dance the dance with these last few gnolls. Ha-HA!"



Yenwrick said nothing though she nodded at her own success with the last stone. It steeled her will even further.

Deadeye scooped up another stone as she hopped down a couple stairs after the Ifrit sorcerer before marching up to the railing again.

The stone whirled in the leather while she surveyed the mayhem below. She hated gnolls. Ever fiber in her heated with a raging passion to see them all die. They had killed her friends. Stolen her innocence. Poisoned her good nature.

Homing in on the nearest creature, she angled herself to aim as the grenade sounded. Though she had seen what Fandrik had done, the sight and sound jarred her with its violence and the stone clattered harmlessly on the stone floor.

Gritting her teeth, the halfling inwardly hardened herself further against any emotion or violence except her own intentions.

 

 

 
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Old 12-20-2018, 02:07 AM
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Dullen is a bit surprised that the people he doesn’t even know seem to have heard about him. They must have heard that the Red Eye Knights may be coming back. Such is a joy to behold. He sees that the Gnoll and Flind have tried to flank him and are moving him closer into the darkness to try and take advantage of his inability to see. Yet they do not know of the resourcefulness of the followers of Irori.

Dullen speaks up to the others, “This one has a family heirloom that I will not leave without. I will rip it from his dead carcass and will stand where you need me. Excuse me while I shed some light to the situation.”

Dullen takes a step ac41 —- 5’ stepback and touches the ring on his finger. “Irori, these two need to be tested to be their best self. To do so we need to shed away the darkness. Let there be Light Spelllight!”

The holy symbol on his chest glows blue as a bright light emanates from the ring on his hand, the darkness fading away as they see the cleric, rippling with muscle and a dour look on his face as it appears that they will soon be in the fight of their lives. He shifts into a defensive Snake Stance 22 or Sense motive check whichever is greater.
Dice Roll:
1d20+15 (7)+15 Total = 22
position and awaits their attack.

 


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Old 12-22-2018, 05:10 PM
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Round 6
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The tide is turning. As Drusilla waits for her improvised torch to fully catch fire, she quickly surveys the battlefield. Hector kills the demon gnoll by himself, with but one magical blow—she adds a mental asterisk to her previous footnote on the old man's abilities; Yenwrick and Gark, like two halves forming a whole, team up to down another gnoll; and Remkah`ar does what he does best, bringing about the literal downfall of another pair of gnolls. On the other hand, there is only one troglodyte left—their buffer is fading quickly.

She glances towards Grak's rapidly retreating form—now that she is closer, she can see that the stairs leading down are as narrow as those leading up. There is only enough room for one to fight on those steps, and with her breath stolen periodically by the Sinister Cleave, she knows that she won't be able to keep up with the one-eyed gnoll. Dullen, on the other hand, seems to be in trouble, switching from attacking to casting what appear to be two defensive spells. Given that she won't be of any help to Grak, the choice is clear. Grak will have to take care of himself.

Sprinting towards the cleric, the warrior calls over her shoulder, partly as a warning, but mostly to keep the druid informed as to the situation. “Grak, I need to help Dullen. You're on your own.” Indeed, about a dozen gnolls remain by her count, and they will need to be cleared in order to secure her biyu's safe return. She charges towards the flind, swinging her rope in what proves to be an ineffective attack.

 


 
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Start Ro7

--------Character--------Init060708
Rraelliarh (witch,#23)22xx-
Xiakyx (initiator,#21)17xx-
Flinds17xx-
Carrion Guards17xx-
Gnolls17xx-
Hyenas17xx-
Grak'ark17xo-
Hector20xo-
Fandrik 16xo-
Dullen14xo-
Drusilla14xo-
NPCs01xo-
o = open to post
- = don't post yet
x = posted already

DM Summary
left-aligned image

House of the Beast: Day 2
Gozran 12 4710 – Sunday

Sunrise 6:30AM | 8:00PM Sunset
(12:55PM)

Light Bearers
Hector, Fandrik's Stone (20' normal / 40' shadows)

Darkvision
Grak'ark (60')
Remkah'ar (60')
Gark-the-Goblin (60')
Fandrik (60')




House of the Beast: The Middle Temple
[DiCE]
Nil


 


1: Lower Dome

left-aligned image
The Lower Temple
"Seal the Haaall!!" cries Rraelliarh as she shoves the Carrion Guard further down the stairs. The Carrion Guard yaps in pains, spins, hits the wall of the stairs, and continues to go down further before Grak'ark can catch up to them. The hadis calls from somewhere above. “Grak, I need to help Dullen. You're on your own.” Then she is gone.
right-aligned image
The Middle Temple


Grak'ark feels the spear-snake slither around his hand as he follows his prey in the tunnel leading a floor further below. The heat and rot of the next level is like slamming into a brick wall but, as a gnoll, he is able to break through the stench (Fort Check not needed from gnolls or slaves). He sees the robes of the witch flicker around the curving edge of the stairs with his darkvision and is pursuit of her shrill voice. "Seal the Haaaaaall!!" she calls once more to someone below.

left-aligned image
And then they comply. A gong is sounded somewhere in the Hall below and instantly the stone grinds around Grak.

DOOOOOOooooooooooooonnnnnnnggggg

He glances about his self as he descends the stairs, confused for a second. Is he growing or is the tunnel shrinking? The tunnel is shrinking it appears. The left wall is closing in on inner wheels, sealing off the tunnel to the 'Hall of Whispers' as the slaves called them.

He glances behind. The light and his fatara are above. The druid looks forward. The darkness and enemy lie below. The stone grinds. What does he choose?

[*Grak'ark must either move back up to the other PCs or continue to pursue the witch down below. Either way he will closed off. He could try to stop the stone from closing but misreading the strength needed to hold it back might mean the death of him. Which does he choose?]



DOOOOOOooooooooooooonnnnnnnggggg

Xiakyx, Initiate of the Carrion Tribe and fatara of Rraelliarh, hears the gong ring and knows his life is sealed. They have been abandoned by his hadis, the witch, and there is only one alternative now. He looks at the raging troglodyte, Grundmoch, is heaving breath as he fends off another attack. Ryrgia, the demon gnoll, lies in a heap as some old pafe and a black bird descend upon them. Their prisoner passes by with a burning rope as is she was fully armored and weaponized. No. Nothing is left. All that is left is nothing. All that is left is the destroyer.

The floor moves and the Hall of Whispers is sealed off. Something is spinning to a stop, scratching against the stone. Xiakyx, with his goat head mask, looks at the source to see a ceramic flask circling to a stop with a fuse burning, right on the edge of the magical pit and threatening to fall in. Isn't that-

BO-O-O-OM

The slave miner's fuse grenade detonates and a few gnolls hold up their hands before the blast blows off fur and shreds skin. A scent of alchemy rises in the air as more of their tribe lie dying on the floor, Fandrik taking down a good count with his trickery. Even Grundmoch, who was closest to the bomb, lies in two halves. The trog giggles as he tries to get up, his insides falling out from his torso as he props up on both elbows to search for his axe. He looks back to see Dullen fighting the flind and Carrion Guard, light blasting from the monk's neck as a human with a burning rope runs into the battle, and shrugs. "I die with destruction." His lizard eyes grow distant and he dies looking at the top of the Lower Dome, following his god into nothingness. his large back slumping flat to the ground. It is his last words in this world.

Xiakyx, behind his goat head, remembers the lessons of Rovagug. All must die. Self, care, love, hate, pain, life, death... even un-death. There is no room in Rovagug's belly. All must die and as cleric of the Beast he must make sure it is on the Carrion Tribe's terms.

The stone to the Hall of Whispers closes with a slam. The raven, Rok, befalls upon the daughter of Rraelliarh and breaths in the demon gnoll's spirit as Hector leaps across her bleeding corpse. "You must be Mister Dullen? Come. Make a stand with me." The green mists suck into the raven's beak even as Hector speaks.

...---Places Parallel----------
Souls: 3

The Headhunter and Slavemaster have clawed at the wet roots and raw earth for half an hour before giving up. Their souls are slaves to this coven in Cheliax and there is no escape to this eternal hell. Then green mists blast in and they are joined by the large red eyes of Ryrgia. She finds her self within encapsulation and roars as she tries to free her self. The other souls try to calm her from this inescapable trap but her rage is impossible to contain. The devil behind Rok laughs within the dirt and hopes this Hector, in his nonnegotiable rage, will find more for these grounds.


The gnolls are lost, so Xiakyx calls to his fellow tribesmen of the Carrion Tribe, breathing heavy behind his goat mask with the implications of his transgression against life and light. It's now he makes his stand. "Fellow fatara and tribe alike! We are lost. I call... WITNESS. Stop your fight. Show these betrayers of Rovagug awaits all of us, including them, in the end."

"I am your Witness to your Final Sacrifice."


The result is almost instant and so, very, bloody.

[*Knowledge Check (Religion) DC15: Rovaug's Final Sacrifice and their Witness]

Every gnoll on this battlefield hears the Rovagug cleric and does not hesitate to be witnessed as they plunge their own weapon into their own neck. It's one shocking plunge as every sharp blade is used for instant suicide. Even the flind who held Sharpen used Dullen's own sword to slit his own throat. He bleeds, gagging, Sharpen clanging to the ground as the gnoll falls heavily to the ground. They all fall.

The hyena (#36), a bolt in it's butt from the goblin, looks about confused when Xiakyx kicks the the poor animal into Remkah'ar's pit. The hyenas yipes loudly, it's head slamming against the edge and it tries to scamper to the top before it slides off the edge, scratching desperately at the edges of the magical pit before plunging deep below. No one can last, no one can matter. It all ends in the end.


Xiakyx, the dead goat head firm on his face, stands alone as he regards these intruders. All of his fellow gnolls fall dead upon his cry and he grows stronger. Blood pours from his mask and his voice becomes course as if something more powerful is speaking through his throat.

"I am Witness of this great sacrifice. I choose my self as the mouth of our great lord, the Carrion King, to speak to you. May you all die and feed the Enemy of the Gods."

The skull then just stares ahead, blankly, as blood continues to pour from the gnoll hidden behind.


Rovagug
The Rough Beast
The Destroyer
Enemy of the Gods
The Great Destroyer
The Unmaker
The Worldbreaker




DM Notes
left-aligned image
  • In Round 7 Rok feeds upon his first soul. There are four more rounds to feed on the dead or dying.
  • Some areas have light, but the darker ones are in dim light.
    In an area of dim light, a character can see somewhat. Creatures within this area have concealment (20% miss chance in combat) from those without darkvision or the ability to see in darkness.
  • Drusilla has been cursed with a -6 strength from the Witches' Curse.
  • Drusilla has no equipment at all, nothing but her clothes.



Combat Modifiers
 

Maps
 
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