Act I: The Beauty...

[kamikasei]

Pawn emits a low, modulating hum as he takes in the scene on the dock; it sounds somewhere between a growl of frustration and the whine of machinery running down. His hand goes to his backpack, while his left shoos the others out of his line to the fight ahead.

"Ground!" he calls to the embattled trio, and his right arm whips up and around to release a flask that arcs towards the crystalline swarm.

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Pawn draws a flask of acid from his handy haversack and chucks it at the... attacking... thingy.

Attack - (1d20+8)[19] - that's a ranged touch attack.
Damage - (1d6)[3] - acid to the target, plus 1 acid to all creatures within 5'. He figures this is survivable enough if they listen to his warning, and will get the creature's attention off them and on to him.
Miss - (1d8)[5] - to determine direction of a miss.

His intended next action will be to move towards the creature or away from its current targets, enough to get his sword and shield out, and then fight it.

[Miraqariftsky]

The flask sails through the air in an almost lazy arc and then breaks as the swirling storm of shards shreds it apart. The vitriol within splashes into the keen crystals, each melting shard blinking out into nothingness.

The storm of shards suddenly stops and floats for a moment in midair, seemingly inhaling...

klik-klik-clink-clink-clink...

...and then flows together, forming one gargantuan creature. It is a serpent, its scales of emeralds wrought, the tiniest scale larger than a knight's mighty shield. The serpent of shards looms above them, the maw parting to reveal fangs more keen than steel scimitars.

The black, pulsing portal into Dal Quor moves to where its heart should be. There it beats with an unhallowed beat of despair... Dark fumes begin to seethe forth from the chinks in its armour and these start to solidify into beasts strange and sinister...

Shivakri lies still aswound. Her sister snarls unintelligibly and tries to drag her away. Captain Dira pants heavily after the extreme exertion of holding it off. A bottled blizzard seethes in one fist and her white-knuckled hand clutches her cutlass tight as she tries to sneak to the helm of her ship...

Meanwhile, monstrosities with the grey faces of dead children and the arms of giant scorpions crawl out of the gloom in a countless throng. They seethe over Gonk's body, creeping all over, a thousand times over every space in that place where time is silent. Suddenly, the green oblivion closes in, crashes down upon the dark-hearted warforged. Strangely, it fills him with strength unfathomable even as pain courses through his blasted body.

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Gonk gains temporary 4 HP and 4 Str. Bonuses will expire (1d4)[4] posts later.

[kamikasei]

"What is it?" Pawn calls out to the others.

His mind is weighing options at a furious pace as his body moves into combat. If we can get to the ship, we can leave it behind. But if it can fly, it can follow us, and we will be more vulnerable. He runs to the side, keeping away from the creature, attempting to draw its attention away from his allies and give them a route to the ship. I do not know these people - cannot formulate a strategy. Two at least seem competent fighters, but how will they react...? He draws his blade and readies his shield, steeling himself for the attack...

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Not sure of the tactical situation, but the gist of Pawn's intentions are as stated above. Move so as to draw the creature away from the rest of the party and the ship. Ideally those not suited to fight can make a run for escape, while those who want to can join him. His best-case scenario is to fight a covering action while everyone gets aboard the ship, withdraw himself, and have them all fly away to clear skies and let Sharn deal with random dimensional monster portal things.

At this point he has his sword and shield both out and ready. If possible he will have put himself far enough away (double-moving as necessary) that the creature can't reach him in one standard move and, if it tries, he has enough distance to charge it.

Guess I'd better roll...
Initiative - (1d20+7)[9]

Status: HP 38/46, AC 22, FF 19, T13

[Glawackus]

As the creature's mouth opens, Aundair Morrs resists the urge to curl up into a ball of pain and pass out. "What in the name of Khyber is THAT?!" he yells, reaching for his hand crossbow and hoping that he won't have to fumble for a bolt...

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I'll see what the situation's like before doing anything crazy...

Initiative (1d20+3)[20]

[Ghal Marak]

Gonk

Gonk's was furious. The pain alone would have been enough to drive him over the edge, and his seeming attackers only aggravated the process. Gonk bellowed like a raging bull and leaped up onto his feet. While he activated his battle fist, he reached into his belt pouch and grabbed one of the vials therein. Pulling it out, he smashed it over his head and roared again.

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Actions: He stood up and activated his battle fist. Then he used an oil of light repair, though in a way that totally ruined the container. Then he activated his rage ability to further boost himself. I've added all the changes to the sheet except the oil of light repair. I... kinda forgot how much it heals.

[darkzucchini]

Lorne

Lorne tares his face away from Arza to look at the chaos unfolding outside. He carefully lays her body down on the splintered floor of the coach and bows his head, whispering "May the Holy Flame give me the strength to protect the innocent and resolve to purify that which is tainted by darkness," before rushing out of the skycoach. Racing along the walk, back bent low and shield held out to protect his side, Lorne reaches the side of Shivakri and, placing his hand upon her brow, attempts to revive her and mend her broken body.

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Cast Cure Light Wounds on self Cure Light Wounds - (1d8+2)[9] and then rush over to Shivakri.
Next turn I will attempt to revive here with lay on hands.

[The_Snark]

Saera

Saera merely watches the black flower open and the emerald snake appear to swallow it, looking on thoughtfully. The sunlight streams down, running in rivulets down towers and buildings just as the rain had minutes prior, and it paints the deck a brilliant scarlet... and perhaps Saera would have been content to watch the whole thing without moving, had a face not caught her eye. Shivakri's. A dream of her—no, her dream. Is this what she sees?

No—it could not be. She dreams waking, not sleeping. And if this is her dream, then she does not sleep and nor do I... Saera abruptly lurches into motion, flinging a hand towards the black dream-portal. Words cry from her lips in an unheard whisper: "You cannot be here! Go!"

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Casting Dispel Magic at the portal/serpent thing. Dispel check (1d20+5)[11]

[Neftren]

Once again drawing his blade, Aeril studies the actions of the others as well as the actions of the... portal thing. What would be capable of hurting it?

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Initiative:(1d20+7)[14]

[Miraqariftsky]

The comrades there stand
Swaying to the song of strife
Unknowing what blow to strike
Yet ready in valour to defend
Beleaguered captain
And sisters sickened

Forth Lorne fares
Flame's light does blaze,
Ravaged flesh, fair be once more
Fluttering eyes, a faint, faint hand
Reach up and clasp the paladin's pauldron
New life there flows through Shivakri's haunted veins

A prayer of furious whispers,
Such words of power
Cut through the still noon air
Sudden wind whips against Saera's form
Wet rags clinging to wet flesh
Dripping body ablaze with indignant valour

The shard-serpent, looming high
Shivers and shudders, splintering
Shadowspawned nightmares flee
Back to demense of dreams of despair
But still the shards remain,
The serpent hissing high

Of a sudden a crack there thunders
Its black heart stops beating
Lightning flashes from that splintered scale
Again, tis shocked and shook
Blacksteel fist shatters dream-glass

Myriad cracks run its length
The mirror of madness breaks
Tinkling glass falls, O crystalline tears
Still do fall, chunked shards, a dozen large

Into the hull they slam
And stir, bearing a shard of shadow
As spirit-seeds of sorrow
Unnumbered arms, the soarwood scratch
And reach for flesh to rip and tear
Eternal agony, a-seeking to share
The storm now parts, grey no more, the sky above
White there blazes, Dol Arrah's light
Sun's whispers, a burning shout become
Blinding intensity and wicked warmth...

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Please roll Will saves against being shaken. DC 13.
Fort saves against temporary dazedness/blindness from sudden intense flash of sunlight magnified through the shard-creatures. DC 17.
Reflex saves against being hit by pieces of the big serpent. DC 15. Take (1d4)[2] damage if ye don't pass.

Twelve misshapen creatures of crystal are now lashing about in blind fury.
If the number turns up even, yer hit for (1d3)[3] damage. Also, since they're still lashing out blindly, they miss on a low roll...
Aeril (1d2)[2] (1d100)[36]
Aundair (1d2)[2] (1d100)[69]
Gonk (1d2)[2] (1d100)[85]
Lorne (1d2)[1] (1d100)[26]
Saera (1d2)[1] (1d100)[65]
Travis (1d2)[1] (1d100)[73]
Shivakri (1d2)[1] (1d100)[63]
Daivakri (1d2)[2] (1d100)[53]
Captain Dira (1d2)[2] (1d100)[5]

[kamikasei]

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Will - (1d20+3)[4]
Fortitude - (1d20+8)[14]
Reflex - (1d20+5)[21]

Is the fact that Pawn was left out of that big list o' rolls an oversight, or intentional?

edit: crap - shaken and temporarily blinded/dazed.

[Glawackus]

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Saves all around!

FORT (1d20+3)[21]
REF (1d20+7)[8]
WILL (1d20+1)[8]

[Ghal Marak]

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Will- (1d20+2)[8]
Fort-(1d20+7)[22]
Ref-(1d20+3)[15]

I still haven't figured out how much I heal from that oil (if I even do). I can't find it anywhere. Anybody have an idea what the CL for the oil is?

[darkzucchini]

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Lets see how this goes:
Will - (1d20+10)[25]
Fort - (1d20+10)[22]
Refl - (1d20+4)[16]
Roar, tremble in awe at the awesomeness of my paladin saves.

[Neftren]

Easily avoiding the shards, Aeril was not at all scared by the abomination towering above the party. He had seen his fair share of monsters to be sufficiently calm enough to face another one. After all, he did just fight a demented shade...

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Fortitude:(1d20+4)[19]
Reflex:(1d20+12)[17]
Will:(1d20+4)[18]

[The_Snark]

Saera

The splinters of light take their toll on Saera. She staggers backwards, wincing and bloodied, shielding her eyes from the bright spectres of sunlight that dance before her eyes. Golden serpents slide over golden towers beneath her, bright stars mirror the sun before her eyes. She cries out, throwing a hand skyward for aid.

Something answers. A gleaming spine of light flickers through one of the sun-mirrors as it flails, striking as if wielded by unseen hands.

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Casting Spiritual Weapon; I don't think I need to be able to see to have it attack. (1d20+8)[24], damage (1d8+1)[3]

[kamikasei]

Pawn attempts to block out the blinding flash from the crystalline creature but is too slow, and the world whites out as his eyecrystals absorb the shock of light. The gesture of warding does bring his shield up to block the hail of shards.

The Cyran emits an incoherent warbling sound as he sways in place, unsteady on his feet, unable to think of what to do next, feeling very lost.

[Miraqariftsky]

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One set of rolls against everyone...
(1d20)[18]
(1d6)[2]
Yuck! Sorry, people!
Dagnabbit, why can't I roll like this as a PC?! *grumble*

The shadeshards act as one, their jagged tentacles lashing out in one unified motion. The assault breaks over Captain Dira's cutlass, the brass guard marred by teeth of glass. Daivakri screams in pain as a crimson gash opens along her back.

Threvick, the plucky professor no longer blustering, squints against the sun's glare and then pulls the trigger. His bolt screams from the bow in his hand and crashes through two shadeshards, shattering them right before a tongue of glass dips in and slashes across his belly, making him thankful for the fat that was spilled instead of guts...

Aeril leaps into the air to meet a thrust, taking the jagged tongue of glass across Black Lotus' blade. The keen tip hisses against his cheek right before his powerful legs push off the ship's mast, running vertically and then launching himself off, the sheer strain of the move shattering that aberrant foe. He lands lightly on both feet, scattering the falling shards with a sword-sweep above his head, finishing his opponent off with a smashing, two-handed strike with both hands, directed at the base. The shade within escapes the ruin of its mortal shell and flees into the dark blade and there lies cold and silent...

Another tongue of jagged glass glides through the air and passes through the homespun cloth of Saera's right sleeve, scraping away skin and flensing away flesh like an opaque cheese-grater. Suddenly, what was white-hot pain now turns cold as a cloud passes over the blazing sun and no more is its fire channeled through the crystal killers... A sapphire spear stabs down from the vault of Siberys and purifies one shadeshard of the vile spirit within, turning it into naught but a hollow statue of grotesque glass.

Several shadeshards lash at the two warforged and the armoured paladin but shatter to unmoving pieces against their solid mass...

[Ghal Marak]

Gonk

Laughing madly at the fragile nature of his opponents, Gonk leaped at the nearest crystalline creature and threw a grand punch.

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Assuming that there is another within reach, Gonk moves to attack.
To Hit-(1d20+12)[31]
Damage-(1d8+7)[15]
Additional Electricity Damage-(1d6)[5]

[kamikasei]

Pawn tightens his grip on his weapon, still unsteady but with more purpose in his stance now. "Dis," he hollers instinctively, then: "I cannot see," he calls out. "Guide me. Tell me where to strike. Someone take Tala..."

[Miraqariftsky]

The deck is now strewn with chunks of broken crystal as well as the bodies of the slain crew members. Eerie emerald light slowly leeches away from them, shadowy slime staining the soarwood.

One last shardserpent remains, the song of madness slowly fading from the air around it as the haze of despair is slowly replaced by the hope of victory. Seeing no other recourse, it coils in upon itself, trying to pull in as much of the other fragments to its shuddering form.

The shards on the deck quaver in the air only to fall once more, bereft of power, bereft of will. The song of madness slowly seeps away, turning into naught but a tinkling in the breeze.

TRRRIIII-AAAANNGGGGGGGG!

A sudden note of absolute discord rends the ears of all who hear, the song reaching a crashing crescendo. The shardserpent, infused with powers of madness and despair, lashes forth, seeking weakness, seeking chaos...

Swifter than any of the warriors arms could strike, it shoots through the sky, lunging for the ruined skycoach still on the lift. Barely pausing at the railings, seeking out the troubled heart of the newborn sorceress, Tala, half a moment passes before it charges in once more...

...only to be arrested by the flesh of the courageous Khoravar, the tragic Travis. The halfelven reporter drops his still-flashing camera and leaps, his right foot slamming into the cracked bow of the How Bad Can It Get?, his left arm twitching, the useless dagger now dropping from a nerveless hand.

The jagged head of the shardserpent bursts from Travis' back in a spray of gore, his spurting blood flowing into the body of emeralds. Blood bursts from his mouth in a final silent scream. Captain Dira yells the name of her lover hoarsely.

At the moment, silently, her bloodied gown a serene shroud over her fair form, Tala rises, her eyes hidden beneath darkened brows. Thunder rumbles from a now-clear sky. Lightning roars from her bare palm and crashes into the shardserpent's snout, blasting through the beast.

The spawn of nightmare shudders but does not shatter. Instead, it withdraws into Travis' ruined chest, becoming denser and darker...

The lightning stills. No more is there a serpent of shards... just one sharp jagged black gem stuck in Travis' chest. Lifeless eyes stare blindly at the ship that was to be a vessel of salvation before he collapses onto the death-carpeted deck...

[Glawackus]

In the light of the final blast, recognition dawns on Aundair.

"Travis! NO!" He runs to the Khoravor's side as he falls, but even the unusually fast legs of Aundair Morrs--trained by countless Type 4 Xen'drik Rolling Boulder Reverse-Escarpment Boulder Traps deep in the jungle--aren't fast enough. Travis drops to the ground, and Aundair whips his hat off, flinging it to the ground and falling to his knees.

The wound is massive, raw and red. Aundair pulls at his beard, and the tears flow. He sits, feeling unable to move, even as the winds of the heights buffet him.

[Ghal Marak]

Gonk

Gonk abruptly came to a stop, having no more shiny things to punch. He deactivated his battlefist and looked around once more before sitting down where he stood. "Ugh! Gonk hurt." Laying on his back, he reached into his beltpouch and grabbed the remaining vial of oil. Pulling the stopper, he just dumped the contents on his chest and dropped the vial next to him. "Good fight!"

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Ammount Healed - (1d8+1)[7]

[kamikasei]

Pawn stands impotent as the sounds of disaster reach him, unable to tell what is happening or what he should do. Slowly his vision begins to return, the scene that appears only adding to his confusion. The pilot is down, that is unfortunate but not critical at this point, but...

"Tala?" the Cyran asks, as if uncertain that the figure before him with outstretched hand is really her. Had that thunderclap he'd heard come from her? Was she... herself?

Confusion overriding caution, he strides towards the injured woman to get a closer look. At the same time another part of him is thinking that he may shortly need to keep her from falling.

[darkzucchini]

Lorne

Lorne scans the battle field, taking in the situation and noting how critical everyone condition appears. After making sure Shivakri is still breathing, he rushes to Aundair's side and bends over Travis to take a closer look. His slowly moves over the body's face, closing the lids upon sparkless eyes. He turns to Aundair, and says in an emotionless voice, "I am sorry, but there is little I can do for him."

[Glawackus]

"It's alright," Aundair says, standing and placing his hat back on his head. "Let's get to the bottom of this garbage." He spits on the ground.

[The_Snark]

Saera

Saera stares upwards, reaches up; the shimmering splinter of light nears her hand, glow fading gently until it resembles a blade made of glass, visible only by the sunlight reflecting off its transparent frame... and then that too fades away. Saera sags, and looks about into the sudden silence. "We all must wake from dreams someday," she murmurs, and hoists herself to her feet, climbing from the skycoach's bloodstained deck to that of the skyship. She is clearly having trouble supporting her own weight, much less helping to carry the others.

"Blood and glass," she goes on, this time in a normal, almost conversational tone of voice, "and shattered dreams; I can mend but one of these, and the other drown in ink." She gestures, a soft white glow appearing in one hand, and looks about to the others, watching. And waiting.

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Dropping Confusion for another Cure Serious Wounds; Saera will use it on the first seriously wounded person to come to her.

[Miraqariftsky]

kkksssshhhffff

As the two newfound comrades try and tend to the fallen hero, the body with all its clothing and gear begins to harden and petrify, turning into a statue of a Khoravar wrought of grey glass. Lorne's hands descend to close the eyelids before he realizes the sinister transformation.

Hardly have the paladin's ironclad fingers touched the ever-staring eyes than a spiderweb of myriad minute cracks spreads from the point of contact. Travis' body shatters and then dissolves into sparkling dust. Slowly, it hovers on a gust of glittering, whispering wind and then it solidifies into a single black gem that falls with a dull thud onto the ruined timbers of the How Bad Can It Get?.

"Oh... whuh? What happened?!" Tala screams as she awakes to the horror wrought by her hands. Shrieking most shrilly, the young d'Orien suddenly flashes white and a clap of thunder roars from a now blue sky, coruscating down towards her. In an instant, she vanishes with, leaving naught but the smell of ozone...

...just as Captain Dira stumbles toward her and the cutlass in her hand clatters to the stones below in an empty clangour. No word escapes the trembling lips of the grieving lover as she stumbles back, unwilling to handle Travis' remains--- if that gem could be called such--- and buries her flame-maned face in Saera's shoulder, now sobbing openly.

Suddenly, her sobbing stops and she steps back from the former Phiarlan. Her gaze grows dark and her voice is laden with suspicion and anguish when she asks, "Why'd ye smell like Travis, merrah? Wh... who're ye lot, anyhow? Y'all're 'ere fer th' madwoman's cure? What's up wid 'er an' WHAT IN KHYBER'S CRAP WAS ALL THOSE GLASS... THINGS?! Ye got me crew killed, ye got me lover killed DEAD... SOMEBODY'S GOTTA PAY!"

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Will saves all around, please.
Lore/Knowledge: Planes/Psionics to determine whaddaheck happ'd to Travis' body.

[kamikasei]

Will - (1d20+3)[5]

((Let me know if I've forgotten any penalty Pawn may still be under. Knowledge checks are not going to happen for him...))

((edit: Ah geez, well, the poor 'forged has been through a lot just now, I suppose it's only fair he freak out.))

[The_Snark]

Saera

"Shivakri's dreams walk in the waking world. It is her gift and her curse," Saera answers, surprisingly cogent in the aftermath of such madness. "Today it is a curse."

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Will save (1d20+10)[28]. Knowledge (the planes) (1d20+9)[23], and lore (1d20+8)[26] if applicable.

If Saera is still sickened (from the carriage ride), subtract 2 from all those rolls.

[Neftren]

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(1d20+4)[17] for the Will Save. I'm too tired to post anything else. Will elaborate on this post tomorrow.