Pathfinder 1E IC - Tideruler: The Fall of Laholt

[Neurotic]

"No parley! Surrender! Offer yourself at the mercy of these people court. I am of The Dark. I was hunted by your demons. And we, Thunderscales, lived and learned, died and killed. No mercy was ever offered or asked. Drop your weapons immediately!"

OOC: Moss is LG, but she is still combat ready and he has experience with demons and drow. Trust is exactly at zero level here. If she doesn't drop her weapons immediately after his speech and surrender he WILL kill her.

[sblock=Actions]
Short version: total of 122 damage (each flanking hit adds 5 due kobold fighter favorite class bonus - in case the math isn't clear)

Move: 5' step next to her (P14), no OA provoked <-- this happens even if she surrenders (removing the dropped weapons)
Full attack (if needed):
Bite; Damage; Holy Damage: 1D20+25 = [1]+25 = 26
2D6+14 = [1, 4]+14 = 19
2D6 = [1, 6] = 7
- automiss
Claw; Damage; Holy Damage: 1D20+25 = [4]+25 = 29
2D6+14 = [3, 2]+14 = 19
2D6 = [4, 2] = 6
1D20+25 = [12]+25 = 37
2D6+14 = [2, 1]+14 = 17
2D6 = [6, 6] = 12
- some seriously bad rolls this round, but I forgot flanking so both hit 64 damage - these are good, magic and ghost touch

Tail; Damage; Holy Damage; shred damage: 1D20+21 = [13]+21 = 34
2D6+9 = [1, 4]+9 = 14
2D6 = [6, 3] = 9
2D6 = [1, 1] = 2
total 30 damage good and cold iron

Wing; Damage; Holy Damage: 1D20+19 = [3]+19 = 22
2D8+9 = [5, 2]+9 = 16
2D6 = [5, 4] = 9
1D20+19 = [16]+19 = 35
2D8+9 = [2, 4]+9 = 15
2D6 = [3, 5] = 8
- 1 hit 28 damage - good

[/sblock]

 

[KahlessNestor]

Laholt/Alessia
Afternoon
Round 12

“Powerful enough,” Daxio answered the woman. “Though I prefer to settle my differences with words. Drop your weapons, please, if you are serious about this.” He floated well enough away to stay safely out of range if she chose to attack.

“What is this Tome of the Dead? Hold, Moss,” Daxio warned.

[sblock=Ministats]
Conditions: Detect Magic (99 r), Message (1182 r), Fly (106 r)(60’); Smoke 20% miss chance; Sickened (-2 everything)(57r)

HP: 66/122 NL: 0
AC: 19 FF: 14 T: 15
CMD: 20
Fort: 10 Ref: 10 Will: 13
Armed: Dagger
Arcane Reservoir: 3/15/day
Consume Spells: 5/5/day

Spells Prepared
0 (9): Acid Splash, Detect Magic, Ghost Sound, Light, Mage Hand, Message, Prestidigitation, Ray of Frost, Read Magic
1 (6/7, prep 5): Burning Hands, Charm Person, Disguise Self, Magic Missile, Vanish
2 (6/6, prep 5): Darkvision, Hideous Laughter, Invisibility, Scorching Ray, See Invisibility
3 (5/6, prep 4): Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Suggestion, Fly
4 (3/6, prep 3): Charm Monster, Confusion, Greater Invisibility
5 (6/6, prep 2): Dominate Person, Hold Monster
6 (0/3, prep 1): Mass Suggestion

Spell Book:
0: All
1: Burning Hands, Charm Person, Disguise Self, Enlarge Person, Featherfall, Grease, Liberating Command, Magic Missile, Obscuring Mist, Ray of Enfeeblement, Shield, Silent Image, Vanish
2: Darkvision, Hideous Laughter, Invisibility, Scorching Ray, See Invisibility
3: Dispel Magic, Hold Person, Suggestion, Fly
4: Black Tentacles, Charm Monster, Confusion, Greater Invisibility
5: Dominate Person, Feeblemind, Hold Monster
6: Greater Dispel, Mass Suggestion
[/sblock]

 

[Archon Basileus]

EVERYONE

"I know the depravity of the drow too well," growls Batknight, barely restrained. "And while it is true that true invasions of the surface world have not been launched before, not in ages, there is no goodness to attribute it to - merely a lack of opportunity. And the 'chance' you speak of - merely a lack of imagination."

"Once more, we are accused of injustice." - the man retorts, glancing at Alice. "But we were plundered this time around. Why are our incursions so much worse than yours? Because you send your feeble burglars - Forgive me, 'adventurers'! - to invade our temples in silence and steal away our treasures? What justifies your actions above ours? If you're so inclined to cry injustice at our exploits, deliver us our tome, then, and show that justice of yours instead of declaring it! Otherwise, at least admit we're the same and consider a deal." - he waves around, showing the unsheathed weapons and bloodied hands of the heroes.

"Or, if it pleases you, kill us! No one asked for mercy. Strength does not allow such a thing. The winner takes the spoils. The strong leads and ravages. The weak suffers. Such is the way of life, cruel as it may be." - he looks the Darkest Knight in the eyes as he proclaims. "Why don't you show what you're made of? At least the Dragon is honest about his ways... Like a true underdweller should be!" - he points towards Moss.

[The Darkest Knight remembers the Tome of the Dead. He learned a great deal about it, after exhausting lessons and countless prayers repeated its name and its words. It's the sacred book of the lower planes, where the nameless dead dwell. The Tome serves as a guide to the lower planes, being crucial to anyone willing to navigate their twisted geographies. Also, it speaks of the cthonians - demons, for some cultures - denizens of the dark and servants of the dark gods. The book is known to serve as an invocation guide, a planar map and a conduit for negative forces, intensifying the power of mages and priests alike. Most importantly, it is pivotal to burial rituals and religious celebrations, as well as political investitures.]

"I am unwilling to accept the parley after being attacked suddenly, without warning under the condition favoring you so heavily. The only reason you seek parley is to delay us, confuse the issues and maybe gain the book peacefully for which you came with conquest in mind. This is far from whole scale invasion of the surface, but more than enough power was here that you would easily succeed without heroes here to thwart you." Arduniel speaks after careful deliberation.
"You are drow. Or thiefling. Or whatever you are. Lying is your nature. Would you willingly submit to truth magic?"

It's the woman that turns, now.

"Yes, we are the Dark Ones... We may have cthnonian blood within. As your allies do..." - she points out towards Alice. "And, yes, we sought success, as any army of yours would. If these are crimes, we're both guilty of them..." - she points out pragmatically.


"Surely, you've defeated us. After all, you were here to surprise us. Such a lovely coincidence... Isn't it? Almost as if the priestess could foresee the future and use it in her favor... Do what your heart says. Refuse us, if you will. Strike. Death is no strange to us." - she speaks on a rough, matter-of-fact tone.

"No parley! Surrender! Offer yourself at the mercy of these people court. I am of The Dark. I was hunted by your demons. And we, Thunderscales, lived and learned, died and killed. No mercy was ever offered or asked. Drop your weapons immediately!"

“Powerful enough,” Daxio answered the woman. “Though I prefer to settle my differences with words. Drop your weapons, please, if you are serious about this.” He floated well enough away to stay safely out of range if she chose to attack.

“What is this Tome of the Dead? Hold, Moss,” Daxio warned.

She sees the resolve in Moss' eyes, and even Daxio's apologetic tone reinforces the command. Her eyes roll between the two of them, as if calculating their reactions. Finally, she relinquishes the lance and the sword, dismounting. She takes off the helmet and unveils her face, much like her companion did, not long before.

"There" - she glances at Moss. "You are of the Dark. You know what I speak of. Turn us to the Green Elves and we'll die at their hands. After they robbed us. We quaerreled with the Thunderscales many times. But we respected each other's strength. They... They hide behind their weakness. You know it to be true. Turn us in if you will. Invite them to plunder your people, in the future, as they have and as they inevitably will. Deliver us to their 'justice'. You know the end of it: an army of cowards killing two warriors outside of combat. It is their way. Not the way of the Underworld."

She then turns to Daxio, leaving Moss to pass judgement.


"Our Tome of the Dead is our sacred book. It holds secrets of wisdom and religion, the names of our gods and our dead. It allows us to merge with the sacred realms of beyond, settle disputes, bury our dead... So, you'll see why we're so desperate to have it back..." - she glances at the Arcanist - "... and why the priestess interest confuses us so. After all, why would someone who abhores our gods and shuns them as aberrant entities wish for a book that allows them to be known, to be seen, to be spoken to?" - she turns directly to Zyara, knowing her origins for her robes and techniques, no doubt.

@Charlotte of Oz @Neurotic @KahlessNestor @Shayuri @MetaVoid @Kaodi

 

[Kaodi]

Again for a moment the Bat stands motionless. "I will grant you one thing," he says, his voice quiet. "The designs of the Priestess for the Tome of the Dead are indeed cause for concern." There is another brief pause. "But... But you are mistaken about the the nature of the Tome and of the Underworld. For the beasts life is indeed cruel. But we are not beasts; you are not beasts, no matter what forms the appearance of your cthonian forebears may evoke."

"You speak of thievery and vengeance. The veil has been placed firmly over your eyes," he says, taking the smallest of steps forward. "The dark lords of the lower planes stole the hearts of the drow in ages past. Twisted them to conform to their sadistic and vile ways. And then, in their deviousness, they gave them the Tome. Not merely as a guide to their eternal 'reward' by their masters' sides. But so that their mortal servants might do the work of stealing the hearts of each successive generation for them. And ingeniously with each successive generation it took on a greater and more central role in all of their ways, until the most dire parts were protected by the mundane."

"How many of your number were bred with no purpose but serving as the martial arm of your rulers? You revere strength - but only to bury your shame." With each breath the voice of the Darkest Knight becomes more forceful, unable to contain his emotion." How many of the drow, how many of you, have been pushed to cut the throats of their siblings, stab their 'friends' in back, and if they come from lowborn stock, even tear the hearts of their own parents from their chests to sate the thirst of dark gods? Or maybe instead of taking their lives yourself you were forced to watch them night after night in the theatre of blood until you grew to hate them so much you cheered every time they came close to death. There was never anything noble about it."

"You call this the "way of the underworld", but it is so far from the truth. They have turned strength through survival into strength through subservience. The shame the drow feel for their weaknesses may return strength of arms of strength in the arts, but their strength of spirit is robbed from them and replaced with obedience to their masters."

Batknight sheathes his adamant blade, and his voice becomes quieter once more. "You may think your cthonian blood makes these perversions part of your essence, but you would be wrong. The blood of the drow that flows in your veins has been chained, but freed from bondage it is the stronger of the two."

"I know all of this to be true - because I have lived it." His raises his free hand to his head. "I have survived on the surface, where you have feared to tread, for decades, the better part of a century, living my own way of the underworld. And if the Tome of the Dead must rest with the drow..." Lowering his head slightly Batknight slips off his helmet. Underneath is a dark grey cowl hiding his head as completely as the helmet had. But with a single difference - his eyes. Eyes that under the cover of darkness only those that shared them could recognize. "...then let it rest with me: I am Bru'ekk, son of the Great House of Vaiyune! Join me and show those who would control your fate how mighty you can truly be!"

 

[CharlotteOz]

"You are drow. Or thiefling. Or whatever you are. Lying is your nature. Would you willingly submit to truth magic?"

"Ahem," grunts Alice. Then, upon the drow commenting about 'dark blood,' her mood visibly sours. She leans back against a tree, keeping her temper under control and analyzing the situation.

"If it was stolen, that'll be easy enough to figure out, though it might necessitate a visit to the Underdark and drow society to inspect the scene of the crime - and I have had heard rumors that drow hate women like me more than they hate any man. What was it they said I was doing the last time? Oh yes, 'pretending to be a woman, but my birth was my truth.' She was a spider from the waist down, but I guess it doesn't count for her."

"So, having established that I have my own problems with drow society, let me confer with my colleagues as a show of good faith rather than us all cutting you apart. Assuming I can keep my 'dark blood' under control, of course."

 

[Neurotic]

Little dragon snarls, wings starting to come down to propel him forward, but he digs his claws into the ground and holds as the lance of the woman hits the ground. He is still tense on all fours, turns only his head toward the male.

"Once more, we are accused of injustice." - the man retorts, glancing at Alice. "But we were plundered this time around. Why are our incursions so much worse than yours?

"Because you come out with an army, kill and enslave, torture and steal? People of the surface aren't one people and those who venture into The Dark are foolhardy, overconfident fools who only rarely return with anything worthwhile. You, on the other hand, come out, leaving trail of blood and destroyed lives."

"Or, if it pleases you, kill us! No one asked for mercy. Strength does not allow such a thing. The winner takes the spoils. The strong leads and ravages. The weak suffers. Such is the way of life, cruel as it may be." - he looks the Darkest Knight in the eyes as he proclaims. "Why don't you show what you're made of? At least the Dragon is honest about his ways... Like a true underdweller should be!" - he points towards Moss.

"You poor fool. Strength is exactly what allows mercy. If you can defend your tribe, you can keep around those who weaken the tribe in strength, but strenghten it in the soul. You can have clutch keepers. You can honor disabled warriors by having them teach others. Even if only by their stories. And you're STILL strong enough to survive. Strength enables mercy."

It's the woman that turns, now.

"Yes, we are the Dark Ones... We may have cthnonian blood within. As your allies do..." - she points out towards Alice. "And, yes, we sought success, as any army of yours would. If these are crimes, we're both guilty of

"There" - she glances at Moss. "You are of the Dark. You know what I speak of. Turn us to the Green Elves and we'll die at their hands.
After they robbed us. We quaerreled with the Thunderscales many times. But we respected each other's strength. They... They hide behind their weakness.


She then turns to Daxio, leaving Moss to pass judgement.

"Do not compare us to you. We didn't respect your strenght, we feared it. As you learned to fear ours.But where you destroyed, we only fought to live! As anyone is. We moved into the painful light of the Scorching Eye and we didn't run over the communities around us, but protected our forest and lived in peace. You will be tried. Even such as you deserves a chance however minuscule."

"Our Tome of the Dead is our sacred book. It holds secrets of wisdom and religion, the names of our gods and our dead. It allows us to merge with the sacred realms of beyond, settle disputes, bury our dead... So, you'll see why we're so desperate to have it back..." - she glances at the Arcanist - "... and why the priestess interest confuses us so. After all, why would someone who abhores our gods and shuns them as aberrant entities wish for a book that allows them to be known, to be seen, to be spoken to?" - she turns directly to Zyara, knowing her origins for her robes and techniques, no doubt.

"Why don't you have many such books? The knowledge within cannot be limited to single item, can it?" Moss partly raises on two legs confused, his head tipping on the side birdlike. He is powerful, but seemingly naive about such things.

OOC: He also heals 1 HP of damage (per round if we we stand here longer)

 

[jmucchiello]

Zyara says, "I am not pleased by a parley after an initial assault. You friends cowardly left you to die. Or they are summoning reinforcements. We should not delay in dispatching or capturing these Drow or we may find ourselves outnumbered. Dismount and lay down your arms."

(If we are out of combat, Zyara moves to be in reach of both 6 and 7, in case hostilities resume.)

 

[Archon Basileus]

EVERYONE

"...then let it rest with me: I am Bru'ekk, son of the Great House of Vaiyune! Join me and show those who would control your fate how mighty you can truly be!"

Both dark elves look aghast at the revelation. The woman steps forward, holding back a mixture of surprise and sheer hate. Most Drow had been brainwashed into obedience, after all.


"We've heard of Vaiyune's shame, and how it led others to follow! We considered it impossible to a fugitive to survive beyond our own cities, above the roots of the land... And yet, here you are." - she approaches, hostility and admiration clashing within. "You refused your sacred duties, abandoning your purpose in favor of... of what? Our gods have shown us the one way, the true way... They've shown us to become strong, not only in skill, but also - and above all - in spirit! Thank to them we do not fear! You know it..." - her clever eyes narrow as she studies the Darkest Knight. "Alas, you must hold that very same strength, that same unquenchable thirst for greatness that we ourselves hold... Otherwise, how else could you survive up here?" - she exchanges a quick glance with her companion. "Very well. Perhaps this meeting wasn't for naught after all. We shall watch your ways as long as you hold us prisoners."

"If it was stolen, that'll be easy enough to figure out, though it might necessitate a visit to the Underdark and drow society to inspect the scene of the crime - and I have had heard rumors that drow hate women like me more than they hate any man. What was it they said I was doing the last time? Oh yes, 'pretending to be a woman, but my birth was my truth.' She was a spider from the waist down, but I guess it doesn't count for her."

"So, having established that I have my own problems with drow society, let me confer with my colleagues as a show of good faith rather than us all cutting you apart. Assuming I can keep my 'dark blood' under control, of course."

The man glances at Alice, looking puzzled at first, but summing up the parts of Alice's observations soon enough. "There are places below where you'd have your fair share of gold and glory. And your taste of revenge against those who opposed you. Why not take it?" - he insists.

"Indeed, your defense of these woodland bands is hard to understand. They have nothing to offer. Nothing. Their relics are the remnants of a lost past. They are a faint shadow of what the elves once were... Their cities are gone, their settlements are hunting camps, their knowledge is lost... Only we remain to retain what the elfic race once was! And yet you choose to protect the decadent offspring of a lost age? Even humans are fighting for them, for those that raid their own cities!" - he points out towards Daxio. "And you" - he comes back to Alice - "...you ally one of the monk-hunters? Do you know of their crimes against your blood? Against our blood?" - he points out towards Zyara. "No... You serve out of blindness and you are robbed of your strength. Not us. I besiege you, forget this, join us. Let us have what's rightfully ours."

"Do not compare us to you. We didn't respect your strenght, we feared it. As you learned to fear ours.But where you destroyed, we only fought to live! As anyone is. We moved into the painful light of the Scorching Eye and we didn't run over the communities around us, but protected our forest and lived in peace. You will be tried. Even such as you deserves a chance however minuscule."

Gathering herself and moved by Bruekk's words, she listens to Moss intently.

"Very well. Let us face trial. But we ask for proper judges. Grant us this, small dragon: that your tribe will place judgement upon us. We of the Dark would only accept judgement from our fellow denizens. Besides..." - she looks around once more. "... how can one criminal judge the other?" - she smiles cruelly. "Grant me one more thing: that Bruekk of Vayiune will be among the judges, as will you." - her eyes narrow once more, steeling her posture.

"Why don't you have many such books? The knowledge within cannot be limited to single item, can it?"

"We obviously do, small dragon. But even then their numbers are reduced, and the loss of a single volume brings great dishonor to those involved. Such is the reason for Countess Bakkdur to send her armies here." - she glances around, watching as the sky battle unfolds in the distance and gathering the sounds of conflict coming from the castle area.

Zyara says, "I am not pleased by a parley after an initial assault. You friends cowardly left you to die. Or they are summoning reinforcements. We should not delay in dispatching or capturing these Drow or we may find ourselves outnumbered. Dismount and lay down your arms."

Both knights glance at Zyara's bloodied fists, contemplating the fate of their fellow riders and their unfortunate mounts. As the monk advances through the battlefield, the surviving beasts agitate themselves, still showing their violent natures, but respecting the strength of the monk. The knights simply gesture towards the weapons, stepping away from them to reassure that they have no intention of challenging their captor's commands.

As they step back, the darkness above begins to rescind, giving place to the original colors of the sun, so very slowly. The lady knight smiles faintly in response to this. The male glances up and smiles as well.

"The Avatar of Darkness, Countess Bakkdur, departs. The sun will shine once more as soon as she's gone." - she glances at Bruekk now.

[Ok, the male's still a bit unmoved by everyone's words, but submitted as he understood the size of the threat. The woman keeps her poise, but is quite aware of her condition. She's quite accepting of Bruekk's words, though! In other words, you've managed to intimidate both of them, and the woman has also been persuaded by Bruekk's speech.]

@Neurotic @Charlotte of Oz @KahlessNestor @Shayuri @MetaVoid @Kaodi

 

[Shayuri]

Aranel clears her throat, having heard enough. When she spoke there was an air of finality to it, though she had no real jurisdiction here.

"You will be taken alive. Imprisoned, but treated civilly. The truth of this matter will be investigated and discovered, the crimes enumerated, and judgment fairly passed and executed."

She holds her hands out and closes her eyes in a moment of concentration. Radiance washes over the assembled heroes and villains; as golden and warm as the sun's will be again soon.

(Mass Cure Moderate Wounds on PCs and allies only, healing [roll0] damage)

To the drow, the draconic oracle then says, "I will see to your injuries when you are disarmed in custody."

 

[Neurotic]

Both dark elves look aghast at the revelation. The woman steps forward, holding back a mixture of surprise and sheer hate. Most Drow had been brainwashed into obedience, after all.


"We've heard of Vaiyune's shame, and how it led others to follow! We considered it impossible to a fugitive to survive beyond our own cities, above the roots of the land... And yet, here you are." - she approaches, hostility and admiration clashing within.

Moss snarls as she attempts to move, tensing.
"Stop."

Gathering herself and moved by Bruekk's words, she listens to Moss intently.

"Very well. Let us face trial. But we ask for proper judges. Grant us this, small dragon: that your tribe will place judgment upon us. We of the Dark would only accept judgment from our fellow denizens. Besides..." - she looks around once more. "... how can one criminal judge the other?" - she smiles cruelly. "Grant me one more thing: that Bruekk of Vayiune will be among the judges, as will you." - her eyes narrow once more, steeling her posture.

"If you think you might get mercy because we share the background, you're mistaken. And we're of the surface now. There are clutches of younglings that freely walk under the Blinding Fire. We are mixing new with the old, only change is constant. You...you will perish with your rigid society."

Moss looks up at the battle and squints at the increasing light.