Death en Masse

[Celticbear]

It is a bright morning in Lepidstadt, and even brighter elsewhere. That is your dream, to move elsewhere. To move away from the werewolves, the undead, the flesh golems, and whatever else is up there. You all awaken in the same inn, the Prancing Pony.

[DaOldeWolf]

Dusan wakes up to the rays of light coming from the window. He started by stretching before getting dressed up. As soon as he finishes, he begins his daily ritual to call North to his side. The ritual involved a combination of meditation as he felt the power of the nature within.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Performing ritual to summon North as an incorporeal being.

[Bothebreaker]

In the imposed darkness of his room, the sound of life outside aroused the sleeping monster. It took years to get used to the soft-skinned folk's habits. They need to walk in the light for protection and interaction with one another in their packs and exchanges with the glittering coppers, silvers, and golds. and barking. His large frame pulled from the taken bed of nested sheets and pillows, joints popping from the tight coil that he was. Slopped shoulders popped and back straightened, scars crossing striped pelt of gray and black. Nostrils sniffed once at the fresh smells of their breakfasts of cracked eggs, burning pigs and plucked chickens, and the occasional failure of milks. It made his firm gut already growl for substance. They had their merit, but a bloody meal was his pleasure.

For now...he must continue playing sheep.

Thick digits were long stained by the dozens of carcasses that he had to cut, slice, and give to the wary-eyed Humans and sub-creatures that they snarl at. Reaching, he started to slip his layers of fabrics to hide. It was hot but it must be done. Tunic. Sleeves. Trousers. Boots made just right...Leathers.

Coat. Wares ape-ron to hold his instruments. Wraps coiling his features before coat collars up to further shroud his hooded head and old weather-eaten tricorn hat. When it was done, the Hyena in Sheep Clothes popped his stressed neck and slowly filled his being of the discomforts that he must endure. Then came his ritual; slipping each instrument of his pro-fess-un into his ape-ron's pouches. Knives, a freshly-stoned war-cleaver...a gloved hand wrapped around the curved hilt of his large meat-hook and lifted it from the bed-frame to his face.

In the shroud of his hood, a red eye glinted in fondness before putting it away as well and started to stumble out as this Cutter they call him.

[theasl]

"Arghhh, get off me! I'll feed you, I'll feed you!" Hozk wakes with a start to Varga looming over him, slobbering all over his heavily bearded face. He's been with the wolf for years, but he can never get used to her morning habits. As she saunters off back to her corner, satisfied for now, Hozk stumbles out of bed towards his pack. After a bit of rummaging, the dwarf pulls out a small chunk of meat, which he quickly purifies [Purify Food and Drink, out of habit] and tosses over to the wolf; Varga immediately chomps it up. Hozk repacks his gear, dons his armor, and with a now happy Varga at his side, prepares to go out into the city.

[Mornings]

Troubled dreams, filled with fire and cries of violence. Such was the seemingly endless cycle each night. The venture through Nirmathas on her journey back home had been unexpectedly eventful and filled with pain. She hadn't been a soldier, or any sort of militant aspirant, but still she couldn't deny an old friend's request. It had been the first in a long series of mistakes which would rake her across the fires of conflict. She had delayed her return to the Principality to act as tactician for the loose brotherhood of the Fangwood who called themselves the Foxclaws. Who would have known that Molthuni rangers and the Imperial Army would have been the least of their concerns. It was all she could do to flee Phaendar when the invading forces collided with what remained of the resistance. There was little that could be done, but she sought aid from where she could traveling to Lastwall. Her requests to the Knights of Ozem to reinforce their Nirmathi cousins fell on deaf ears. It didn't take a metaphysician to know that the Varisian merchant caravans and supply lines ran from Nirmathas into Lastwall, and further on into the Principality, but it was the expectation that the regular army would route the horde of goblinkin. A tall order while still fighting skirmishes with their imperialist neighbors.

She rose from the stiff bed, surrounded by documents and parchments of every conceivable origin. Sometimes her heart led her away from those things she cared for most. She had fought, she had killed, for her friends and for her country's well-being. While the impact of loosing Nirmathi trade would heavily influence the country and could cripple expeditions or proper defense of Virlych, the ripples would barely even be noticed in the Palatinates. This far north in Vieland, there might as well have been no war to even speak of. There was little she could do for her friends of the Fangwood now, but hope that the reinforcements she arranged for on behalf of the Foxclaws would come before too much damage disrupted trade and relations. Regardless, she couldn't stay. There were still things she had to do. She'd come to Lepidstadt in hope of gaining an audience with Acciani Viacarri, headmaster of the university, regarding the breakthroughs in her research. The University of Lepidstadt was perhaps the best place to start her investigation. Regardless of what her Korvosan colleagues had thought, she was now walking proof of legitimate and successful creation of Panoptic Implements. Pseudo-science or no, it was real, and turned everything on its head in the world of modern magic. She'd sent letters to Headmaster Viacarri, but after almost a week still no reply was forthcoming.

Gathering her documents, she begun to pack her things. At this point, she had nothing to loose just barging into the university and demanding a moment of his time. It was better than wasting more time and receiving no response. If worst came to worst, she'd have to turn her attention to Carrion Hill... She'd hoped it wouldn't come to that, and there was no mirth to be found traveling through Versex, but the records maintained between Elm Way Church and Crove's Asylum possessed a great wealth of knowledge into haunts and other unexplained ghastly things which might shine light upon her own circumstances. She'd never actually visited that particular mental sanitarium, but from what she heard from Dr. Trice during her time visiting the Havengard Lunatic Asylum, there were extremely rare and potentially valuable documents pertaining to haunted or otherwise possessed patients, among other things.

Checking that her traveling equipment and tools were in proper order, she set about to cleaning all her weapons. Disassembling, cleaning, brushing, oiling and reassembling each firearm with meticulous care before loading each of them. After she was sure they were ready and serviceable, she moved to the door. She'd changed so much. No longer the bookish woman more oft found in a study. Battle had steeled her mind and resolve. Before this venture, she had never wielded weapons, killed another creature, or been exposed to such tragedy. In eleven months, she'd become someone else.

Opening the door to her room, she placed the massive 7-ft portable cannon over her shoulder, and ducked through the entrance. She was only a head shorter than the gun she carried, but her unusually lithe and long frame gave her a height which quite literally made her stand out and above her peers. Moving out, she navigated through the Prancing Pony to the tavern's counter for some service. "Good morning..." The words came as she stretched and found a seat near the counter. "Food and ale if you've something prepared."

[Celticbear]

After each of you eventually make it out of your rooms, you notice a man shouting in the main hall. You can't quite hear what he is shouting about, but it seems to be important.

[theasl]

Varga perks up her ears at the sound of the man in the main hall. The duo were headed down there anyways, so they continue to the door, but stop just outside to listen in.

[DaOldeWolf]

Dusan considers the situation. He decides to check out what is going on. He heads outside his room and looks for the source of the sound. He approaches the man and he speaks to him in a concerned tone. "Is everything alright, sir?"

[Mornings]

The tall studious looking woman spared the man a glance as she passed to find her seat, but didn't bother trading words. This wasn't the countryside at night, and this wasn't some poor shamble of a town in Canterwall. This was Lepidstadt, the jewel of Vieland. She couldn't imagine what the man was babbling about. Unlike in the east or west, you didn't have to worry about a shambling corpse breaking down your doors. The last time she had even heard of such a thing was after Dr. Mortiz's blunder with the Dipplemere Horror, and that was a tragedy of his own design if she recalled.

Still, habit had a strange way of changing a person. When there was a ruckus in a tavern, there was usually a fight which ensued. A well-worn double-pistol found its way into her hand as she found a seat, keeping it under the table as to avoid drawing further alarm. Getting involved with some fool who couldn't find a guard was her last intention. In a place so well defended there was no need for some random adventurer to save the day, this wasn't Versex, thats what the law was for. It was exactly for those reasons that she was likely the only Pathfinder this far north of the Shudderwood. Their proverbial theater ended in the southern half of her ancestral home of Lozeri. A Chronicler, sure, but a Pathfinder none-the-less. Loosing her wayfinder while fleeing Nirmathas didn't change that. She took a look about. "So... about that drink..."

Spoiler: Actions

Show

- Perception around the main lobby after finding a seat (1d20+2)[20]
- Ready an action to shoot if approached by a hostile creature (within 10-ft)

[Celticbear]

A fight! There's two men in a fight down at town hall! cries the man once you all have gotten closer.

Spoiler: Mornings

Show

Specify what kind of drink? They got pretty much everything except the Elven stuff.

[theasl]

Hozk's curiosity is piqued. A fight at town hall? Sounds important, if the man is here shouting about it. He trots off towards the building with Varga in tow, completely ignoring the rumble in his own stomach.

[HappyMerecat]

Pannar

Pannar wakes, dresses and taking his holy symbol prays for his blessing from the dawn flower. Hearing an apparent confrontation in the main hall he heads there to see if he can be of some help.

A fight at town hall? And a man here shouting about it? It sounds like a serious issue. With that he heads out and makes his way to the town hall.

[Bothebreaker]

Cutter dwelled through the inn’s hall, the hollering about something and the closer he got, it became obvious that it was outcry about a conflict at the dwelling’s central heart called ‘town hall’. It almost didn’t interest him, but a good scrap was a pleasant wake-up view. His big shape passed through the people, brushing some aside as he made for the short trekking to this fight.

[DaOldeWolf]

Dusan decides to check out what exactly was going on and he decided to head to the town hall. At the very least, to satiate his curiosity on the matter.

[Celticbear]

The sun has just peaked over the horizon, but there is enough light to find your way to the oaken door of the town hall. The doors open, and you are greeted immediately by sounds of shouting and jeering. There is a large crowd gathered in a circle, and to get a better view, you will have to make a strength check.

[theasl]

Hozk can't see over the crowd to get a picture of what's going on inside - one of the most annoying parts of being a dwarf, for sure. He briefly considers clambering onto Varga for a bit, but he'd rather not anger the wolf, and their combined height probably isn't even enough anyways. Pushing through the crowd would probably separate the two - also undesirable, in case there's some sort of danger - so Hozk approaches a fellow on the edge of the crowd and asks, "Oi, what's the ruckus here? What's going on in the center there?"

[Celticbear]

Some Pharasmite is calling one of the council members an "unclean undead abomination", the council member disagreed. They're having themselves a duel by the laws of Ustalav. Should be legal, they instigated it a place of law, and trial by combat is always a crowd pleaser.

[HappyMerecat]

Pannar

Pannar sees the wall of people and moves forward to make his way through and see if he can help. He prays to the Dawn Flower and does his best to push his way through, taking advantage of the wake of anyone successfully making it through.

Spoiler: Crunch

Show

Guidance for +1
Strength check (1d20+3)[20]
If possible he will follow anyone who is clearly successfully making through, basically stealing an Aid from them.

[Celticbear]

Pannar moves up to the front and sees a man in a chain shirt wielding a shortsword failing to swing at a man in robes waving his hands and summoning fire in his general direction.

[HappyMerecat]

Pannar

Pannar watches the duel. He has always despised duels, raw violence was a fools way to solve anything when there is another way.
He speaks in a clear and load voice meant to disrupt the fight. "Rather that wallow in foolish violence, why do we not simply test the idea that the accused is undead rather than violence that proves nothing and leaves only death and doubt?"

Spoiler: Crunch

Show

Diplomacy (1d20+6)[26]

[Celticbear]

Spoiler: Setting the dc

Show

Setting the DC: (1d20)[9]

The fighters stop fighting, and the crowd stops roaring.

Do you see any priests here? Look around! I am dispensing Pharasma's justice in this lawless land! The rule of the Dead shall never be advocated! argues the man in the chain shirt.

[HappyMerecat]

Pannar

Pannar raises his holy symbol, the angelic ankh. "I am a priest of Sarenrae and a devoted enemy of the undead unless they truly repent. I would be happy to intervene."

[Celticbear]

The man in the chain shirt grins, and looks at the robed man.

I would not bet on this abomination repenting. Reveal thyself, sum of evil!

The robed man scowls. I have nothing to hide! Do your tests, holy man.

[theasl]

As Varga quickly loses interest and curls up around his leg, Hozk listens on intrigued as the duel is interrupted by a priest of Sarenrae. An undead councilman in Ustalav wouldn't be much of a surprise, but this man sounds confident that he's actually alive.

[Mornings]

The woman begun working on eating the pork omelet that touched down on the table as the other patrons milled out of the tavern. With so much attention she resolved that the authorities would at least likely be aware of whatever situation the man spoke of. Some of the lot seemed goodly enough, so she finished her meal before cleaning off her mouth with a handkerchief. Grabbing the tankard she took a long draw before motioning to put the cup back down and pausing, she quickly took one more pull and placed down what remained of the ale. Slapping a few coins on the table she rose and holstered the weapon in hand while picking up her things. It was about time to see what all the commotion was about.

Shoving through the door she stepped out into morning sun. She could hear the sway and roar even from a distance. It looked less like a crowd and more like a mob; she wasn't a fan of mobs. Keeping at the edge of the crowd she listened intently to the banter and declaration of this holy man. A dual was it? This wasn't just Vieland, this was Lepidstadt, such a thing was commonplace. Men fought for less, why not for honor or justice? She moved away from the edge of the crowd, finding a perch to sit on by a near by building. It looked like things were starting to find their own measure of control, so she decided to watch how things unfolded.

[DaOldeWolf]

Dusan decided to remain in the back. There were too many people around and he didn't want to attract unnecessary attention to himself. At the very least, he would wait for the crowd to go away to find out what had transpired.

[HappyMerecat]

Pannar

Pannar moves towards the robed man, holy symbol in hand.
"I am Pannar, humble servant of Sarenrae. May the light of Sarenrae burn any undead in my presence."
He raises the angelic ankh and a holy ghostly flame of light bursts forth from it.

Spoiler: Crunch

Show

Channel positive energy to harm undead. Two abilities impact this. First undead do not get their channel resistance and 1 is added to damage. Second all 1s are rerolled.

Channel Damage (1d6+1)[2] DC=15

Re-rolled damage in OOC for 6 damage.

[Celticbear]

Spoiler: Will Save

Show

Will save: (1d20+5)[25]

[Celticbear]

Spoiler: d' percentile

Show

Forgot to make a roll in the original post, here is a d' percentile roll for an ability: (1d100)[10]

At first, the positive energy has, well, a positive reaction, but then the man doubles over and starts to dry heave. The robed man looks stunned, muttering, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster. over and over again. The man in the chain shirt raises his shortsword, and declares, Under the Judgement of the proxy of the Dawnflower, I sentence you an undead abomination in front of all present. In the name of the Lady of Graves, I deem this judgement just, and wil carry out the sentence myself.
While the robed man is still muttering, the man in the chain mail walks over, and slices his head clean off, causing a spray of blood to cover the floor. The crowd cheers.

[HappyMerecat]

Pannar

Pannar tries to react to stop the man, but is too slow. Upon the robed individuals death Pannar looks disgusted. "You ... are no deputy of mine nor the Dawnflower. You are nothing more than an assassin. This man was clearly not aware of his condition nor did he seem evil. By his words, it seemed clear that he did not know or accept he was a monster and yet you jumped to the opportunity to simply kill him."

Pannar seems oblivious to the crowds support of the death. "It seems to me you were more interested in killing him than serving any form of justice or law. It seems to me the true monster here is you."