Bhaakon's Brinewall Legacy IC

[North_Ranger]

"Not to mention tell Sheriff Hemlock about this place", Eirik suggested as he quickly left the cave, yearning for the fresh-by-comparison air of the marsh after being exposed to the mind-numbing attack on his nose in the wrathspawn's den. "I mean, if that creature killed someone I knew, I'd like to know where to get their head and give it a proper burial."

[Thattaman]

"We should give it to father Abstalar Zantus. He'd know what to do with it and who it might belong to." He looks discusted at the rotting face, "But we better get going before a horde of those things come to kill us!"

[Bhaakon]

You're glad to leave the rank lair of the wrathspawn behind and make haste back to the path, pausing only long enough to mark a trail for the proper authorities to follow at some later date. With the memory of battle fresh, you take extra care not to fall into another ambush on your way back out to the main road, constantly scouting ahead and scanning the undergrowth for an attack that never comes.

You breath easier once you clear the swamp, at least a little. The stubbly grass of the high moors make it easier to spot an enemy coming, particularly at the head of the Old Fish Trail, where a number of goblin-sparked spot fires have left little but blackened earth.

But your goal isn't the goblins' village, not yet, so you continue on past the Old Fish Trail to the Witch's Walk, a narrow pathway winding its way precariously down the bluffs on the western end of Brinestump Marsh. You pick your way down the steep descent and once more disappear beneath the swamp's lush canopy.

Survival DC 15

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This path is far more overgrown than the New Fish Trail. You doubt that anyone has traveled this way in at least half a year.

Your passage is slow and careful, but ultimately uneventful. By early afternoon the path opens into a clearing containing a sagging one-story shack, its walls dingy with age and encrusted with lichen and fungus. A partially collapsed shed sits just to the northeast, while small pouches, twisted knots of feathers, and dangling wind chimes made of bones hang from branches and roof edge alike. Most of the macabre totems prominently feature dog skulls, perhaps an attempt to ward off goblins by exploiting their well-known fear of canines.

[Bad Situation]

If Kasuka is impressed by the macabre assortment of lawn decoration he makes no vocal indication and instead surreptitiously draws his wakizashi. There was really no telling what the old witch would do to them if she found that they were encroaching upon their property. Better to be safe, he reckoned. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches the party and lets them make the first move.

[stack]

Lethos strides forward. "Let us proceed as before." He has spoken even less this leg of the journey, embarrassed by his wound in their first engagement.

He knocks firmly on the shack's door, "Hello. We are from Sandpoint, we come seeking your knowledge of the goblins."

[North_Ranger]

"I'll come with you", Eirik offered as Lethos strode forward. "I have druids in my mother's side of the family. If this Megus is of their kind, perhaps I can help in procuring her assistance", the young Ulfen said as he followed the elven swordsman. Deciding against pulling a weapon, he stood behind the man when he knocked on the door.

"Just remember... we're the ones on her turf now. Being polite costs us nothing."

[Bhaakon]

Lethos raps on the stout portal, but no answer is forthcoming. The half-elf notices that the heavy door doesn't even rattle as he strikes. Between the hardwood bloating in the damp and the settling of the ancient-looking shack it has jammed in its frame.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban looks at the strange building in front of him. It doesn 't look like anyone is home.

"Seems empty to me. I will have a look around."

Caleban proceeds to check around the house, looking for tracks or any signs of activity.

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Perception take 20 for 27
Survival (1d20+6)[24]

[Bhaakon]

As Caleban picks his way around the shack, the signs of disrepair are increasingly obvious. What was once a small garden is now an overgrown tangle of weeds, vegetables, and herbs.

A short footpath around back--really more of a subtle rut in the knee-high grass--snakes to a small pier. A closer inspection reveals a small row boat hauled out on shore. The hull seems solid enough, once the rain water collected within has been emptied. It would be a tight fit, but you're confident that it would seat the five of you.

As he works his way around to the side of the house with the collapsed shed, Caleban notices a profusion of large rodent tracks, an obvious game trail between the witch's shack and the collapsed outbuilding. A particular print near the shed catches his eye, and the half-orc bends down to examine it in detail. Not only are the rat print unusually large, but some of them bear the unmistakable 5-fingered print of a humanoid hand.

Caleban gets back to his feet and is about to inform the others of his conclusions when he hears something moving in the ruins of the shed. He turns to see three rats the size of small dogs scampering from the wreckage.

Map, etc.

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Lethos acts first, then the rats. ONLY LETHOS SHOULD POST NOW. No surprise round, this is the first full round.

[stack]

"Rodents of unusual size? This swamp is truly a lovely place. What's next, geysers of flame? Quicksand?" Lethos quips darkly as he draws his blade. A simple incantation forms a shimmering ward around his and a gleam of light again leaps to the tip of his blade.

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Magus POWER-UP round!
standard - cast shield
move - draw weapon
swift - arcane pool to add +1 enhancement
5' step to G6

status

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Lethos Far-wanderer
M N Elf magus (black blade), Level 1, Init +6, HP 10/10, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 14, Flat-footed 17, Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +2, Base Attack Bonus 0
Black Blade (not yet awakened) Elven dueling saber (rapier w/ Slashing) +4 (1d6+1, 18-20x2)
studded leather, shield spell (+3 Armor, +4 Shield, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 12, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 8
Condition None

[Bhaakon]

The battle-hardened Lethos acts first, whipping out his sword and activating a protective enchantment before the other even register the danger.

But all that preparation is no aid to Caleban, who quickly finds himself unarmed and off-balance against three sets of filthy, snapping jaws. His chain mail proves itself even against over-sized rodent teeth, but it doesn't cover everything. One leaps up and latches on to the meaty part of his hand, leaving a shallow wound flecked with bits of the disgusting creature's past meals.

@Caleban

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1 damage, DC 11 Fort save

Map

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Everyone is up.

[stack]

Lethos steps up, flourishing his blade before striking down beside Caleban, trying to fillet the overgrown rodent. "If they prove troublesome, step back and I will neutralize them."

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move to G5
attack (1d20+5)[11]
damage (1d6+2)[5]

status

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Lethos Far-wanderer
M N Elf magus (black blade), Level 1, Init +6, HP 10/10, Speed 30
AC 21, Touch 14, Flat-footed 17, Fort +3, Ref +4, Will +2, Base Attack Bonus 0
Black Blade (not yet awakened) Elven dueling saber (rapier w/ Slashing) +5 (1d6+2, 18-20x2)
studded leather, shield spell (+3 Armor, +4 Shield, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 12, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 8
Condition +1 weapon for 9 rnds

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

"Just be glad it isn't giants. Or pirates", Eirik quipped at Lethos's worry about the swamp's natural hazards. For a moment he considered using a minor trick to turn one of the rats purple, but he discarded the idea. Such tactics worked better against opponents who were more easily confused.

Instead, the dark-haired Ulfen pulled out his sword, ready to defend himself if need be. And once again he brought his bardic magic to bear, this time a jaunty tune he had once heard in Magnimar, about a meat pie vendor whose tasty pies were the toast of the town, everyone guessing whether it was pork or mutton or veal in her pastries. And yet, it was rat all along.

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HP 9/9
AC 14

Bardic performance: 12/13

inspire courage on; everyone gets +1 to attack and damage rolls and +1 to saves against charm and fear effects.

[Bad Situation]

Blade already spinning in his grip, Kasuka launches himself at the filthy vermin with gusto, eager to prove his worth to the team however possible. Silently, always silently, he heedlessly charges into range to attack the creature while it is distracted by the much more imposing half-orc.

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Status
Hit Points: 11/11
Ki Pool: 0/0
Armour Class: 14
Ongoing Effects: Charge, Bardic Music

Actions
Full-Round Action~!
Diagonal Charge to H4 and attack the Rat in G3.
Attack Roll: (1d20+7)[20]
Damage Roll: (1d6+1)[6]

[Bhaakon]

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G3 rat is dead

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban was absorbed in watching the tracks when he heard the squeals. Too late. He was about to call the others, when he felt the bites under his armor.
Cursing, he swings his axe in a wide ark.

"Rats? I hate rats!"

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Atk with power attack G4 (1d20+3)[21] dmg (1d12+8)[10]

Save Fort (1d20+3)[16]

[Thattaman]

Theodric lets fly an arrow at the closest rat (F4), inspired by Erik's music.

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Attack: (1d20+4)[19] Damage: (1d8+2)[7]

[Bhaakon]

The fight is over almost before it began, with the three dire rats filleted, rent in twain, and pierced though the vitals, respectively. Such efficiency in the face of overgrown pests is almost enough to make you consider forming an extermination company.

XP

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81 each

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

"Huh... so that happened. Strange, I thought rats only got that big in cities", Eirik wondered to himself after he let his song and his magic fade. His blade unbloodied, he slid it back in its hilt as he wondered that conundrum to himself.

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Bardic knowledge... are such R.O.U.S.es common occurrence in swamplands?

(1d20+2)[17]

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say they were called here", he added almost superstitiously and started looking around, as if expecting Old Megus to summon something else from the marshes at them. Probably something bigger. And nastier. With bigger teeth. Bigger, nastier teeth.

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Paranoid Perception check! (1d20+5)[11]

[Bhaakon]

@Eirik

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Yes, it is a bit odd to see them so far away from an easy source of food like the refuse found in a city dump or sewer. Rats are mostly scavengers, and it's hard for ones this size to find enough to eat in the wilds. The three corpses look to be on the lean side.

Your nervous search of the are reveals nothing new.

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban

Caleban cleans his axe with disgust, and cleans his bit with some alcohol, grunting at the sting.

"The damn things bit me! But I wanted to tell you, they were not alone. Before the scuffle, there was a clear humanoid print here. Something has happened.

And the old lady leaving here should have come out by now. I fear that something has happened to her. I think I will take a look inside."

With that, he puts words to action and goes inside, forcing open a window or a door. He will wait if someone wants to join.

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Perception (1d20+7)[13] inside the house if necessary, or take 20 if there is time.

[Bhaakon]

The sodden door is no match for Caleban's greataxe, and its decaying timbers give way after only a few blows to reveal the shack's dank interior. He takes on last breath of the relatively fresh swamp air before stepping over the threshold, intent on searching Megus's home completely.

The place is a shambles. It's obvious that no one has taken care of the leaking roof since the previous winter at least, allowing the rain water to collect in the house and turn it into a nursery for molds and fungi of every stripe. The floorboards, quickly rotting in the fetid atmosphere, squeal and creak with every step. The dust and mold coating the floor reveal a plethora of rat tracks, most featuring the tiny little humanoid hands that Caleban spotted outside.

A sheet of slimy green growth clings to the walls of the entry way, while smaller colonies of stringy black filaments hang from more of those macabre bone mobiles. An overstuffed chair sits moldering in one corner, a mushroom cap of the size of a platter springing jauntily from its seat cushion. A closet on the right reveals a collection of brooms, mops and rags, cleaning supplies now just as noisome as the rest of the residence.

To the left, Old Megus's bedroom. Her bed lies in one corner, still made, though now leopard-spotted with a dozen different colors of mold. The spores in this room make it difficult to breath, but you manage to hold out long enough thumb through the avalanche of books scattered about the room when an old bookshelf gave out. They've all been ruined by the moisture.

To the rear of the house is the kitchen and pantry. You can tell because Megus's stores, once neatly ordered on shelves covering the entire back wall, sport a density and variety of fungal life that might take a diligent researcher a lifetime to catalog. To the left, a small entryway leading to the back door. To the right, a lavatory (which has survived quite intact, perhaps thanks to its copious ventilation and tight-fitting door).

Beside the lavatory is the most interesting room in the house: Old Megus's alchemical laboratory. The place is a shambles, with most of the chemicals either gone bad or spilled and left to dry into crystalline stains on the workbench. On the floor is a hideous skeleton, still contorted in its pained death throws.

Even a glance is enough to reveal that some hideous transformation has disfigured the skeleton—the skull seems half melted and weirdly elongated in the face, one arm looks more like a bird’s talon, and the ribs have grown long spurs of bone that protrude both into and out of the rib cage. It was this last deformity that likely proved mortal.

As you bend to examine the body, a reedy voice intoning the unmistakable formula of a spell seeps through the walls, followed by a command in the same squeaky register once the casting is complete. "Begone, go, flee. Not your house, no. It's mine. Mine. Master died, Skitterfoot make sure of it. Skitterfoot own now."


DC 17 Spellcraft

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The spell was False Life

[North_Ranger]

Eirik Evensong

Preferring the company of his armed and armoured brother in Desna, Eirik followed Caleban into the shack. The disarray and the invasion of fungal life, however, brought an Ulfen curse from the young man's lips as he looked around.

This woman was no hag, he thought sadly when he studied the place that had once been so neat and tidy. A hermit, for sure... but no child-eating monster.

The sound of spellcasting, however, forced the bard out of his reveries, and instinctively he reached for his blade. He did not recognize the spell and expected some hellhound to jump out of the shadows. But when the squeeking voice started to speak... Could it be? he thought, a sudden realization coming upon him. Then he let the sword slide back in its hilt and stepped into the middle of the room, his arms open to show he had no weapons in his hands.

"Skitterfoot does not want a fight, yes?" the Ulfen began speaking, looking around in the house, trying to locate the source of the warning. "Skitterfoot sent the others at us, but Skitterfoot doesn't want to fight, yes? Skitterfoot just wants to be left alone, yes? If Skitterfoot didn't kill the master, we don't want to fight Skitterfoot. If Skitterfoot can tell us what happened, we can tell others not to come here, so Skitterfoot can be alone. If that is what Skitterfoot wants", he offered, hoping that his intuition was correct. If Old Megus was a witch, she probably had a familiar... and he was pretty sure what manner of a familiar that might be.

"Cal, put down your axe", he quickly whispered to the half-orc. "Trust me on this one."

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This is just a shot in the dark here... spell-casting, rats, a squeeky voice... and Skitterfoot giving us a chance to fall back instead of attacking outright. And no, I've not read up on witches beyond noticing they have foxes and cats and cute little ferrets about them in pictures

Detect magic on, followed by Diplomacy (1d20+9)[16]
and Perception (1d20+5)[16]

[Bhaakon]

"Other what? No send nothing, you invade Skitterfoot's home," squeaks the voice as it patters around through the walls and under the rotten floorboards. "Mistress mix potion wrong, now house is mine. Mine. Should not have used otyugh gall, but she pay for mistake. Pay."

"So go. You see dead mistress, so leave. Not want to share her fate? Then not cross Skitterfoot."

@Eirik

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You detect a faint necromantic aura in the walls, moving around as the voice does.

[Thattaman]

Theodric tries to help with Erik's attempt, "We don't want to hurt Skitterfoot, we just want help then we will leave Skitterfoort by himself in Skitterfoot's own house. Does Skitterfoot know where the nearest goblin lair is? Skitterfoot doesn't like goblins, does he? We can get rid of them for Skitterfoot, if he'll help us. How does that sound for Skitterfoot?"

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Diplomacy: (1d20+4)[23]

[North_Ranger]

The way the creature Skitterfoot described its mistress's death alarmed Eirik. No... could a familiar really do that to its mistress? he wondered, trying to see if there was another layer behind the infantile speech pattern of the creature.

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Sense Motive to see if Skitterfoot is lying about Old Megus's death. I have a feeling it might not have been an accident. (1d20+5)[9]

"Why? Why did mistress deserve her fate? Was she a bad mistress? Did she treat Skitterfoot badly? Did mistress make Skitterfoot angry?" he asked, trying to surreptitiously point to Caliban and Theodric where he sensed the creature scurrying about.

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Maintain detect magic, use Bluff to pass on a hidden message to Cal and Theodric (and anyone else of the party in the shack): (1d20+3)[12]

A simple message: "Over there", so that oughta be no more than DC 15, right?

[ProudGrognard]

Caleban


Caleban sees what Eiric does and follows suit. That was good thinking.

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Casting detect Magic

"Skitterfoot, if you want us out of here, it is time that you came out and explained things a bit. We have been patient so far. But do not take for granted our patience. We will get our answers one way or another."

[stack]

Lethos lowers his blade and allows the more socially inclined of the group query the creature.

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sorry, not much posting time on weekends

[Bhaakon]

"Yes, deserve, yes. Dumb enough to believe label instead of eyes. Otyugh gall green, not red. Fall for simple trick, deserve what she got, yes? Yes." The voice continues to move about the walls, now moving along where they meet the floor. "Dumb Megus not beat and burn Skitterfoot where she is now, no. Just ugly pile of bones... what?"

A wrinkled mockery of a human face peeks out from a fist-sized hole gnawed in the plaster. It's beady black eyes lock on Eirik, and its rat-like incisors chatter together as is sees the Ulfen bard trying to point out its location to the others. "Lies and tricks! Should have known, should have know. Don't believe the tall ones. Never!" It shrieks as it disappears back into the wall.

DC 12 knowledge (arcana) to ID creature

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The ugly little beast is a ratling, a rodent with the face, hands, and intellect of a human. They're natural affinity for spell casting and ability to use most any scrolls is valuable, but only the most corrupt spell casters will accept the insidious monsters as familiars.

Map

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Haha, no map. Because of the way this encounter works, with your opponent skittering about in the walls, floors, and rafters, a map doesn't work very well.

Anyone with Detect Magic active can spot the general location of the opponent by his aura and point it out to others, but he still has total concealment from attacks and total cover from attacks that can't pierce through to where he's hiding (ie: spell requiring line of site, physical attacks that can't get through the hardness and HP of the intervening walls or floorboards, which aren't very high given their decrepit state). If you want to make an attack, remember to also roll percentile dice (1-50 misses)

Eirik is up, then the enemy.

oh, and Lethos's armor spell is still active

[Bad Situation]

Kasuka's eyes gleam dangerously in the dark as ejects a few shuriken from their wrist sheathe. Warily, his eyes search out any potential hidey-holes, lowering his body in preparation for a pounce. In a low monotone he makes his stance on the creature known, "If things go poorly, we could try burning down the shack. That would smoke the rat out, I think..."