MelvinBison posted:

Let me get this straight though: how does sealing the door-sized holes on the godbox with doors shut it down? And if the holes in it are door-sized, were you just unable to go inside the godbox and fiddle with it? You said people were sticking their arms in it, which is why I'm wondering.

Heliotrope posted:

I'd be interested in hearing about what's going on, even if you just talk about what happened instead of fictionalizing it. I'd actually prefer it to be honest.

CeallaSo posted:

I'm not sure how, as a DM, you can get that far into a game that's going that poorly and not start throwing out some heavy-handed hints. Like, how was the DM not just as miserable as the players by the 3 hour mark?

quote:

The journey from The City of Seven Score Thousand Smokes to the Tomb of Blood Everflowing is just over 30 miles to the northeast and finding the tomb didn’t pose much difficulty to us, thanks to the directions and descriptions of it provided by the Sages in the Great Library.

After several day's travel from the City, we reached the low foothills of the Bone Hills and followed landmarks to a pair of blood red stone obelisks that flank a dark hole in the hillside. No trees grow on the hill's jagged top and no animals call this place home. The air was still and quiet but smelled deeply of copper.

We approached the open entrance of the cairn and took the simple marble staircase going down, arriving in a largish foyer or vestibule of some kind. Immediately we spot what could only be blood pouring from a stone skull mounted in the ceiling, completely filling a well beneath it. The blood overflow pours through a spout into a channel in the floor that runs down the hallway to a pool at the opposite end of the corridor.

Snakeeyes: “I wonder if this is the place.”

Also of note are the walls which are carved with writing in some form of ancient Sulouise. I could sense, with an attempt at attunement, the blood pouring from the roof is magic and radiates a moderate necromantic aura. I heard the ringing of Snakeeye's katana being drawn from its scabbard as I readied my quarterstaff and moved into the room to give the walls a closer look.

With my limited knowledge of the Suel written language the writing was difficult to understand, but it appeared to be an account of ancient Suel necromancers who settled in this region ages ago. It listed the lineages of some Suel families interred within, and scanning over the names I did not see the name van Neuman. I wasn't sure if I was glad or disappointed.

As I attempt to read the writing on the wall, Snakeeyes moves though the room, searching for anything out of place, and turns up a section of wall marked by a series of irregular indentations. Indentations identical to the bumps on the back of the pendant given to us by Altarnaic the Calm. Placing the pendant over the indentations, Snakeeyes gives it a turn and a submerged door in the north wall of the pool opens, allowing the blood to drain down a flight of stairs.

Ilor posted:

That was the opening scene of the campaign.

Tsunami posted:

Conjuration (Creation) [Water]
Level: Druid 9
Components: V, S, M
Casting Time: 1 round
Range: Long (400 ft. + 40 ft./level)
Effect: 20-ft./level-wide, 10-ft.-long, 40-ft.-high wave of water; see text
Duration: Concentration, up to 1 round/level (D)
Saving Throw: Fortitude partial (object)
Spell Resistance: No

This spell creates a towering tsunami and sends it forth in a powerful wave to smash all in its path. The tsunami starts at any point you select within range of the spell and then moves at a speed of 60 feet in any direction chosen by you. Once the direction is set, the tsunami cannot change course. The tsunami deals 1d6 points of bludgeoning damage per caster level (maximum 20d6) to all in its path. Anything struck can make a Fortitude saving throw for half damage. Gargantuan or larger creatures that fail the save are knocked prone. Huge or smaller creatures that fail the save are picked up and carried with the wave. Each round a victim is carried by the tsunami, it takes the bludgeoning damage again and can make an additional Fortitude save for half damage.

The Glumslinger posted:

There is something liberating in being a Chaotic Neutral Cleric. Anytime someone gets in our way, I can just suggest we kill him and I'll resurrect him later if we need to

Need to rescue a princess from a dragon? Why worry about keeping her alive, I can just bring her back later

Meatbag Esq. posted:

Murderhobo.txt

Doc Hawkins posted:

You'd think a world with perfectly reliable resurrections would use them more often, for instance to reduce the cost of long sea voyages

Doc Hawkins posted:

You'd think a world with perfectly reliable resurrections would use them more often, for instance to reduce the cost of long sea voyages

Yawgmoth posted:

If I were to give this story a title it'd be "oh god it keeps happening". Our heroes:

-snip-

Next week, the party is going hunting for the other group of interest, a barbarian tribe that has been kidnapping the townsfolk and stealing their identities via magic. I'm expecting Len to call up another tsunami and lay waste to the town entirely, because roll20's RNG seems to pick a value on a given table and add +50 weight to it for laughs.

quote:

The heavy scent of blood taints the air as the short corridor opens into a large ledge at the top of a vast open pit. This natural chasm drops over one hundred feet to an underground lake of blood below. Countless skulls line the walls of the pit shaft, each of which drains a torrent of blood into the lake in frothing red coils. Off to the left a small corridor slopes down into the darkness.

As we head though this room with blood swirling around our boots, I accidently set of a magical rune, setting off some kind of sonic detonation, like a thunder clap, that staggers both of us and leaves us dazed and deaf for several moments.

Snakeeyes shrugs and shakes his head to clear the ringing in his head. He says, way too loudly, "Well if the waterfall of blood down the stairs didn't alert everyone in the cave below, that nonsense certainly did."

It was at that moment I realized that the weird shrug thing that Snakeeyes did wasn't so much of a shrug as a rolling of the shoulders, like a boxer before entering the ring. I was dripping with blood having lost my balance from the spell trap, but Snakeeyes maintained his calm poise. Unflappable.

We headed down the spiraling stairs.

To almost immediately run into a half dozen skeletons coming up the stairs towards us. Each of the skeletons clutched a scimitar in their right hands, and missing their left hand at the wrist and having the right eye socket fused shut.

I hefted my quarterstaff, but Snakeeyes moved forward to protect me, "Whoever is down there is boned."

I looked at him strangely but answered, "Those skeletons seem pretty calm. I wonder if anything will get under their skin?”

He smiles. “Maybe their hearts aren't in it.”

“Maybe these guys should take up a life of piracy." A pause. A beat. "Like a skeleton crew.”

Snakeeyes moves to engage them and his sword moves like an extension of his will. I fire a shock bolt into one, knocking it off the staircase, but Snakeeyes' positioning on the staircase prevents my rendering of assistance with my quarterstaff. Btu in the end he defeats the other skeletons with only a nick or two for his trouble.

The staircase ends at a small ledge overlooking a lake of gently rippling blood Far across the cavern, broken columns protrude from the lake. The sound of splashing blood falling from above echoes throughout this vast space. As we make our way around the lake, we are met with skeletons rising from the blood and several cultists commanding them and though we are sorely tested, we win through to a final chamber. Neither Snakeeyes nor I are without wounds and I rely on my quarterstaff, saving my arcane strength for Veltargo who surely must be behind all of this.

The vast chamber rises up to a great vaulted ceiling forty feet above the black marble floor. Two silver braziers flank a large pool of blood on the far side of the chamber, both emitting a thick red smoke. A black basalt statue stands in the center of the pool. Nearly twenty feet tall, the statue depicts a rotting corpse wearing fine robes, and IS m1ssing an eye and a hand. Each wound pours forth blood to fill the pool below. An ornate bookstand before the statue contains a single large tome, its pages open and on display.

"The book!" I cry and rush to collect it, but before I can A gaunt, blackened man in bloodstained robes of Boccob steps out from behind the statue, points a wand at me a cries "tiltawait!" and a bolt of energy, similar to my shock bolt, strikes my side, burning me and knocking me to the ground. I smell my own burning flesh and I swoon.

Snakeeyes charges Veltargo and the battle is on, a weary and wounded Snakeeyes against the steel breast plate and mace of the mad priest. I wake up to see the end come: a battered Veltargo, disarmed in front of a bruised and bloody Snakeeyes, just before his katana slashes an unprotected leg, severing arteries and dropping him.

I pull myself up onto my staff and hobble over to Snakeeyes who waves me off so I walk over to the book. Snakeeyes begins to plunder the corpses as I examine the book. It looks like it was caught in some kind of explosion, maybe the same blast that had colored Veltargo so. But it is in a language I do not understand.

Snakeeyes has finished looting corpses and comes over holding a melted cracked something.

"Is that the book?" he says.

"Yes, is that the key?"

"What's left of it. It doesn't look like it survived opening the lock. Can you read this?"

I rotate the book over so it faces him and he gives it a glance.

"Yes, it is written in the language of dragonkind. It is a book of undead. It looks to be a cookbook for the creation of soulless creatures."

Nevermind a book about creating undead for a moment. "You speak the language of dragonkind?"

He turns away without answering and continues going through the gear on the corpse of Veltargo. He finds a note that reads:

"Veltargo, remain here
and guard the temple.
We shall return as
soon as we gather
the necessary components
required by
the book. Soon, all of
the unholy secrets will
be within our grasp."

Agrikk posted:

I hefted my quarterstaff, but Snakeeyes moved forward to protect me, "Whoever is down there is boned."

I looked at him strangely but answered, "Those skeletons seem pretty calm. I wonder if anything will get under their skin?”

He smiles. “Maybe their hearts aren't in it.”

“Maybe these guys should take up a life of piracy." A pause. A beat. "Like a skeleton crew.”

Yawgmoth posted:

Yawgmoth posted:

quote:

Player One: “I could use some healing.”

Player Two: “How many hit points do you have left?”

DM: “Your character has no concept of hit points.”

Player Two: “Fine... how is your character looking?”

Player One: “Both of his hit points are looking great!”

Doc Hawkins posted:

You'd think a world with perfectly reliable resurrections would use them more often, for instance to reduce the cost of long sea voyages

quote:

As battered as Snakeeyes and I were, we decided we couldn’t risk waiting for whomever “we” was so we packed up the book, key, silver and whatever else we could carry that wasn’t nailed down and made the arduous climb up the spiral stairs, though the room of everflowing blood and finally outdoors to fresh air. We had a brief discussion about waiting around in stealth to see to stopped by the cairn but the area was too exposed and we were too few to risk it, so we fled the area as best we could before settling down to a cold meal and rocky beds for aching wounds.

Passing through the barren countryside was uneventful, though the air was clear enough that we were able to make out Victory Bridge at one point. According to legend, this bridge marked the northernmost point the invasion by the southern Oeridian Empire reached before being turned back during a mighty battle at the ford.

Returning to the Northwest Gate was uneventful, and it seemed strange that only a few days ago we were passing though this gate as penniless nomads while today we pass though loaded down with sacks of plunder.

We trudged down the Old South Road to the Red Axe Inn and asked Thadji for two of his nicer rooms.

“Been out ‘exploring’ have ye?” he asks Snakeeyes.

“Some.” As ebullient as ever.

“Is that orc booty?”

A shake of a head.

“Pity. Orcs are the scum of the earth and should you run across them I offer a bounty a nose.”

“A bounty an ear and I might be interested.”

“Bring me the ears and we’ll talk.”

We head up to our rooms to bathe and change into fresh clothes and have food brought up. Snakeeyes knocks and enters as I am browsing through the book. It is very old and very brittle and, unfortunately, written in a language I do not understand. We decide to return the key, or what’s left of it, to Theldrat first then return the book to the Great Library.

quote:

When he finds out the key has lost its powers, Theldrat is visibly upset but happy that it is no longer in the wrong hands. With the majority of his bigger business based on the key’s ability he is unable to reward us properly, with only a few silver pennies forthcoming, but he makes sure to offer his services in the future should we need him.

We have better success returning the tome to Greyhawk's Great Library. The librarians are disappointed that the book has been terribly damaged, but the fact that the book is now open intrigues them greatly. Altemaic the Calm is relieved.

“The symbolism of this book’s recovery is important. Thank you for this work,” he says as he passes over a purse of silver.

I ask him about the book.

“No one really knows about it,” he says as he carefully leafs though it. “It appears to be written in Thanatos, the magical language of the dead and the Underworld.” He pauses on a partially burnt page. “It appears to be a study of the various types of soulless and the nature of their existence.”

“Can you teach me this language?” I say, intrigued.

“You must join the Guild and show an aptitude and go though an apprenticeship, but yes I can teach you.”

“Let’s start now, then.”

Snakeeyes and I agree that I will remain here a week and he will sell our plunder and maintain two rooms at the Red Axe for us.

One week turns into two as I prove worthy of Guild membership - though once again I am met with confusion and bias as I try to explain the true nature of the relationship between Essence, Mentalism and Channeling as they emerge from a primal source. My discussion remains halting and fragmented since I cannot explain the origin or nature of this source. In the end, though, Altemaic takes me on as his apprentice and teaches me a list of spells that allow me to use my Talent to read and understand any language, if only temporarily. So now I have the ability to enhance my senses, manipulate objects from afar using telekinesis, cloak my body so as to make it invisible, and render others as if in a deep sleep.

I spend my free time “practicing” reading languages while visiting the book in the restricted books section, but I have been given a special dispensation to read this one book.

From the knowledge in this book I believe I can create various types of soulless, like the skeletons we fought in the Tomb of Blood Everflowing. I begin to form a plan. A plan of vengeance.

CzarChasm posted:

A red and yellow feather boa would be key too.

Zorak of Michigan posted:

Yes, and I can't believe you did not know the name of Randy "The Macho Man" Savage.

the_steve posted:

Because my character refuses to give the challenger the validation of being taken seriously, I intend to show up blasting Hulk Hogan's entrance music and coming in in as similar a fashion as the Hulkster as I can.

I'm talking rippable shirt (with another shirt underneath for comedy purposes, and also because other people don't want to see me shirtless purposes), red/yellow pants (probably gonna have to buy some camo pants from the surplus store for that), a bandana that has Stigmania written on it, the works.

Yawgmoth posted:

Your mind's gonna be blown when your challenger shows up in full 1980s The Ultimate Warrior regalia.

Yawgmoth posted:

Your mind's gonna be blown when your challenger shows up in full 1980s The Ultimate Warrior regalia.