AA's Kingmaker Part I: The Stolen Lands

[Winterfell]

"Hrmph," Viktor grunts at the sight of the bear. "Another beast of the wild to be slain, for these lands must be tamed. There is no time to waste," the paladin says as he draws his sword and charges forward at the bear.

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Charge + power attack!

Attack roll: (1d20+9)[18]
Damage roll: (1d10+6)[7]

Status:
AC 17
HP 21

[Blisstake]

Tireas gets into position, letting Viktor distract the beast, so the tiefling can strike where he will do the most damage.

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I'm not sure if it's possible to charge at that angle, or charge up stairs (since they're usually DT), so I'll just move forward 6 spaces and wait.

[Oh My God]

Estanos advances behind the paladin, keeping well back.from the formidable reach of the bear's claws.

[RocketMan]

"My, this is a big one," Ilya remarks flippantly. Then he pauses for a second, his head cocked to one side, as if sizing up his enemy. Apparently of the opinion that this foe will not fall easily, the young man begins to sing again, as he did at Oleg's Post, weaving his enchantments into the song so that it bolsters his allies.

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Ilya will move so that he is within 30 feet of the bear, and then begin Inspire Courage. Everyone gets +1 to attack, damage, and saves against charms and fear effects.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Zinovia's magic missile blasts into the bear's tough hide, making it roar in pain.

Viktor leads the way towards the bear followed by all of his companions save the wizardess. Ilya's bardic song fills the air, the prince's allies feeling vigour surge through their bodies. Viktor, unfortunately, is not able to reach the bear.

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Moving 40 ft (his charge speed), Viktor can't quite reach the bear. I took the liberty of not making him take a whole double-move action, though, because that would have put him within five-foot stepping range of the bear. And that would have just been dumb, considering that he doesn't get an attack out of closing.

The huge, grizzled gear closes the remaining distance to the party, roaring angrily as its snout makes a bite at Viktor. It comes away bloodied, but the blood is its own; bashed by the paladin's shield, its face drips with redness.

Round 2

Map

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The stairs do indeed count as difficult terrain.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia weaves another spell. "This animal tries my patience," she mutters as a cascade of dark convulsions wrack the creature's brain.

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Ear-piercing scream: (2d6+1)[6]. Fort DC18 for half and no stun.

[Winterfell]

The paladin grunts and groans as he runs, as quickly as his heavy, clanking plate armor will allow, towards the bear. As he closes, he swings his sword downwards in a heavy, overhand chop, at the same time holding his golden shield out on guard.

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Five foot step and power attack.

Attack roll: (1d20+8)[22]
Damage roll: (1d10+7)[9]

[Blisstake]

Tireas once again vanishes out of sight, only to appear at the bear's flank, surprising it with an uppercut that hopefully manages to pierce its thick hide.

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Ki point to vanish, then sneak attack. I think with the bear taking up 4 spaces, I can end up reaching it.

Attack: (1d20+7)[27] against FF
Damage: (1d8+6)[10] + (1d6)[6]

[Oh My God]

Estanos, unnerved by the degree of violence on display against what he sees as a simple beast, flinches.

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No one needs healing! Not, uh, not doing anything this round.

[RocketMan]

"Lovely work," Ilya says, impressed, as Tireas strikes with deadly precision. "Perhaps we might yet finish off the beast quickly," he muses, letting fly a pair of arrows.

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Rapid Shot while maintaining Bardic Music.

Attack #1: (1d20+6)[16]
Damage #2: (1d6+2)[8]

Attack #2: (1d20+6)[13]
Damage #2: (1d6+2)[3]

[ApatheticAbacus]

The party attacks the fearsome bear, putting the animal down before it can become much of a threat. It is Tireas' curved blade that finally cuts open the animal's throat with a masterful stroke. It's dark red blood pours out from under it...

All around, the leaves begin to rustle, as though a powerful gale were shaking the branches of the trees. The ancient standing stones that form a ring around the clearing seem suddenly awakened, almost humming with energy. And it feels as though the great carved stag in the cliff-face is looking down on you, observing.

At your feet, the corpse of the huge black bear shrinks, changing before your eyes as it is engulfed by a pale light. When it dims, the body is that of an old man, ancient and withered, clad in tattered brown robes, stained with blood. A gentle clink draws your eyes to the holy symbol of Erastil that falls from his neck against the stone steps.

[Oh My God]

The moment when the bear reverts back to his true form is a long one for the priest of Sarenrae, stretching itself like taffy as his deft mind disassembles what he'd -thought- just occurred, and rebuilds it into a new form, his breath head as the gears of thought turn. And with the exhalation of that breath the held moment seems to pass, Estanos pushes forward through the ranks of his comrades, falling to his knees at the sides of the presumed priest of Erastil. He'd only been defending his home... What'd they just done was monstrous.

Searching for a pulse, checking for a breath, the foreigner conducts the usual medical pre-examination steps as he says," Rags. I might need bandages. One of you start tearing strips off of his robes." And even as he says it, he decides that anything conventional will do nothing of worth he countermands his own request with a sharp," Nevermind."

And with that, Estanos lays both of his hands on the crimson stained breast of the old man, looks to the sky, and pleads," Sarenrae! Restore this man, and right this wrong! Sarenrae! Light this land with your mercy!"

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That zany priest! He's casting a Cure Light Wounds on the ex-bear, whether he found a pulse or not. He's hoping.
(1d8+2)[6]

[Blisstake]

Tireas looks at the tranformation with bewilderment, but little emotion. As Estanos leans down in an attempt to restore the man, Tireas comments, "I would not bother, Father Estanos. Healing magic can only do so much for such a powerful neck wound." There's almost a hint of pride in his voice. "Beside, he looks quite old... ancient even."

[Oh My God]

Estanos does not respond to this comment from the tiefling as he is too busy trying to restore the fallen cleric of Erastil; having imparted what grace he can from above, he now undertakes the process of thrust his hands against the chest of his subject, trying to instill within that abused chest the impetuous for breath once more.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia's cold eyes look out from her hood at the spectacle of the bear's transformation. She leans on her blackened staff, watching, her appearance like a great red crow, or perhaps a visage of death stalking the land. Is it a wrong, the wizardess wonders to herself at Estanos' prayer. Give him a burial, if it worries you so, she thinks, rather uncharitably.

For myself, I wish to find answers, if there are any to be found.

Zinovia climbs her way slowly up the stairs of the ancient temple, stopping for breath at the top. Waving her hand to conjure an orb of blue light that affixes itself to her staff, she enters the cave in the stag-carved cliff.

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Knowledge (arcana, the planes, or nature) on the bear-priest, if applicable: (1d20+10)[30]

[RocketMan]

"Oh dear," Ilya exclaims as he sees the bear transform into the elderly priest. "This is awkward," he remarks, making an attempt at humour. His heart is not in it, though, and his face is contorted with concern. He kneels down beside Estanos, not really competent to help, but still wishing to. "If there's anything I can do to help him..." Ilya says sadly.

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Detect Magic on the priest.

[ApatheticAbacus]

Tireas' assessment of the situation proves to be correct. The ancient priest's lifeblood wells up and gushes from the mortal wound. He is already dead by the time Estanos' healing energy washes through him. Estanos' further, frantic efforts are met with the stoney, silent stillness of a corpse.

Ilya

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There is an overwhelming aura of transmutation lingering around the priest's body. It's far more powerful than anything you've ever seen in your training. You're not even sure any human can create an aura like that...

Zinovia

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Your magical luminescence lights up the inside of the cave. Its ceiling is high and vault-like, your every footstep echoing off it. The walls are a brown stone, glittering in places with crystalline gems. A stone plinth serves as an altar, you suspect. On it is a tablet, and chiseled into this is archaic writing. It appears to be an ancient alphabet related to the common tongue. It takes you a long while to decipher what it says:

The faith is broken
Bent is the stag's bow drawn back in wrath
The betrayer, corruptor of covenants, derelict of the holy
Shall be in form fitting with his sin
A beast, forever bound to the temple he destroyed

[Oh My God]

Taking to his feet once more, Estanos dusts off the knees of his now-bloodstained traveling clothes. Looking down at the corpse they'd just created, the words," That's that, " are the only things he seems to have to say about the passing of the other priest.

The dead, however, can wait. He realizes that Zinovia is alone further up the steps, within the shrine proper, where there is the potential for hazard, and he hurries after her.

[Leviathan]

Zinovia scans the tablet's ancient words. Then she begins to laugh, the noise echoing through the cave-temple. "Estanos," she calls, stifling her laughter, her usually-pale cheeks flushed slightly pink; "your innocent priest appears to have been a vile man, transfigured into a beast as punishment." The wizardess appears slightly smug. "A cruel fate, to be sure. But he did deserve it. If we are to believe Erastil." Her brief chuckle at the final sentence is all that need be said of her own opinion.

[Oh My God]

Estanos absorbs this factoid, takes a moment to process it, and then shakes his head, saying," Out of respect for that which calls, or called, this place its home, I will say nothing on that topic. Suffice to say, the north is a very different place from my homeland."

[Blisstake]

"Does that mean I broke his curse by cutting him open?" Tireas asks in jest, "I suppose I'll have to keep that in mind next time we come across a cursed individual."

[Winterfell]

"Barbaric," Viktor says, scowling, as Zinovia tells the priests fate to the party. "Give me a clean death any day; pray that Abadar never resort to punishments as cruel and capricious as this. This," he says, stabbing a gauntleted finger at the corpse, "is not justice, it is torture." The paladin glares up at the engraving of the stag on the wall, as if it were the one at fault.

"We should bury this man," Viktor says in a low growl. "Or burn him," he adds with a nod at Estanos. "I would leave none for the beasts of the wild, no matter what fate Erastil would condemn them to. We can take his amulet for Jhod."

[RocketMan]

"I've never seen magic this powerful," Ilya says, describing to the others the results of his spell. "It does seem to suggest the truth behind the inscription, wouldn't it? That he's being punished for something? Heavens," Ilya says, looking down at the dead man with sympathy. "All this just because he wrecked some dank cave with a deer head on the wall?"

[Oh My God]

" I concur, Viktor. I'll see to it," he agrees, and goes back down the stairs to begun the process.

Removing the symbol as suggested by Viktor, Estanos begins to prepare a small pyre for the ex-priest. He works slowly, thinking as he drags pieces of fallen lumber in to position.

[Leviathan]

Do what you wish with the body, Zinovia thinks. I do not think it will matter much to him.

She traces a finger over the smooth rocks of the temple. "A pity that there was nothing of any use to be found. I wonder also at what it was the condemned the man to his torment." She shakes her head. "Time conceals many things, and I do not think we shall have an answer."

[RocketMan]

"Well, in any event, we should search the temple while the pyre is being prepared," Ilya says. "If there's nothing else to be found here, we can hold our little funeral and then move on. We'll tell Jhod we've done as he asked the next time we're back at Oleg's Post."

[ApatheticAbacus]

There is plentiful wood to be found in the forest surrounding the ancient, monolithic temple, and soon a suitable pyre has been erected.

Hissing and crackling, the pyre ignites into a blaze. The cursed priest's body sits sombrely atop it, concealed from view by the walls of fire that climb high into the air around him. By the time the conflagration burns itself out, only ashes remain.

And the air seems all the clearer, despite the smoke. The sky is bluer. The trees greener. Where before there was only silence, now the sounds of warbling birds can be heard. Over the temple has fallen a palpable aura of contentment and tranquility.

Ilya

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Your search doesn't turn up anything of particular value. You surmise that there is nothing to find.

[Winterfell]

"There is nothing left to be done here," Viktor says as the pyre burns down. "We gain nothing by lingering here longer, nor can we do anything for this man's soul."

[ApatheticAbacus]

You leave the ancient temple behind, with its cliff-face stag looking down on you with all the austere judgement that the image can offer.

18 Gozran, 4708

The next day comes, once again clear, the fresh air crisp but warming as Spring marches onwards. It is sunny, though much of the light comes in the form of rays that penetrate the dense green canopy of the pine forest, shooting down to speckle the forest floor.

The woods are still quiet in the early morning, its creatures still waking as your horses trot along a narrow hunter's trail. Soon, thick tangles of vibrantly green and red bear-berries line the path, while, above you, nestled in the upper branches of the tall pines, sits a strange sight: a large nest of twigs and creepers, festooned with blossoms and brightly coloured flowers.

Then the silence and stillness of the Greenbelt is broken by a light humming, thrumming noise. The path is suddenly surrounded on all sides by twinkling motes of white-blue light, as though the air itself has been infused with stars.

"Do they come to play? To dance the night away?" The voice that meets your ears is ethereal and female, playful, almost, but inhuman. It has the pitch of a whisper, and yet is loud enough that it seems to be spoken directly into your ear. "Or are they bad ones, who kill and steal? We'll play with them too, but make them squeal." The voice ends in a happy giggle, that nonetheless has a menacing quality to it.

[Oh My God]

" Do we anticipate returning to the Post any time soon? " Estanos asks as they break camp. " I should like to fetch some items that I'd left there, before we pay a call on the Sootscales if at all possible."

~

With the appearance of sparkling light, the eyes of Estanos narrow. Gnomes! They've been surrounded by gnome illusionists, again! Truly, the infestation in the north was worse than he'd feared. But when he hears the tenor of the voice, he briefly reconsiders; gnomes, in his imagination, have voices that are husky and cracked with ineffable age. Then again, he notices the rhyming.

Definitely gnomes. This... will be unpleasant.

" We number ourselves among the good, you who call to us whilst hidden in the wood. We name enemy those who insist on doing bad, in ending their evil plots find that which makes us glad. This humble servant of light is called Estanos. Zinovia, Tireas, Viktor and Ilya are the rest of us," the priest finishes the sentence, the rhyme not -quite- working there at the end, but pushing through it with the game abandon of someone who knows it already, calling up the hidden grace of Sarenrae to embellish his words with elegance.

His own hand filling with a lambent gold, Estanos presses it to his breast as he bows deeply to the unknown. " What, and who, and where are you? You who colors the air with sparkling blue? "

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Diplomacy: Taking 10 which gets me a Diplomacy result of 24, or if not allowed (1d20+14)[18]