paizo.com - Online Campaigns - DM delmoth's Wrath of the Righteous (2024)

Straightening his cap, testing his breath, the Alchemist proceeds to bump, shove, slink, slide, tumble and Tango...
What a fine dancer you are, Cecily.

...flip, dive, duck, roll and presents himself properly to Glutton!
Ahmose, the Blue Whisper. Alchemist. Adventurer. Single.

The Blue-scaled Kobold presents a parchment list of recipes!
I'll take these formulas please!

Aroden will seek to purchase scrolls of Liberating Command and Feather Fall (25 gp each, total 50) and the inks to scribe them into his spellbook (10 gp each, total 20). Remaining gold: 3+104-70 = 37 GP.

He also attempts to learn the spells.
I believe you can Take 10 on these Spellcraft checks, making it a success.

Aroden will wear the chain shirt, and prepare spells for which the armor poses no problem (well, the cantrips he can just retry if he fails on ACP).

0: Daze (DC 14), Detect Magic, Dancing Lights
1: True Strike, Liberating Command, Feather Fall

Tandyn wrote:

"Dorek the Devious? Is that why your name's familiar? It's been a few years, but I remember seeing that act. Should we get some locks and manacles before we go? Are these ones any good?"

Dorek glances at the indicated tools, smirking. "Those ones look quite good - it would take me a w-while to get out of those. Some circuses use f-fake manacles, you know? Chains with a little c-catch you can use to escape. It's a s-shame, is what it is - the Circus Magnifico, where I performed, only used r-real ones. A friend of a f-friend of Boss Arkady knifed a Chelish s-slave-taker in Ten-Step Alley, and one of our riggers grabbed that s-slime's gear before someone else could get their hands on it. The h-honest way."

As the group approaches the trader's shop, Dorek's crimson eye passes over the stacks of alchemical junk before resting on an old lantern etched with Hallit sigils, and his brow furrows as he picks up the device, turning it around in his taloned hands. "S-strange - this symbol on the t-top's the holy symbol of A-azilash, our family's g-goddess. These w-words are written in the old way; I can read them, but they're b-backwards - if they were the r-right way around, they would r-request the blessing of l-light from the household g-gods of flame, but h-here, they request its d-departure. Who'd go to all the t-trouble to make a lamp this o-ornate?" He shakes it experimentally. "S-sounds like there's still some o-oil left." His clawed fingers turn the knob on the lamp's base, releasing the trapped fuel... but as he fiddles with the lamp, shadows seem to spill out of the lantern in Dorek's hands, covering the surrounding area with a murky haze. The first thing to become visible again as the shadows dissipate is Dorek's delighted grin. He rummages through the stacks of junk, finding three tightly-sealed vials of dark liquid before setting his purchases on the counter in front of the trader. "How much for these?"

Darklight lantern, 3 flasks of shadowcloy

Dorek wrote:

"Those ones look quite good - it would take me a w-while to get out of those."

Tandyn picks up the manacles as well as a smaller set. "Let's hope our foes lack your experience."

-15g Manacles; -15g Manacles (small)

As the party gathers near Glutton, he addresses the group "I expect demons in Kenabres - perhaps even on the way up. Be warned: it is difficult but not impossible to hurt them with normal weapons. This is our chance to arm ourselves with cold iron. It may be double the cost, but at least it works."

Part 2: Lair of the Vile and Vicious

From the hamelt of Neathholm the tunnel winds for 25 minute walk. The tunnel narrows but not so much that you have to squeeze. The walls are hand carved with either picks or chisels.

Giving you a chance to decide if you want to have someone scout ahead or not. If you do please tell me the distance you're scouting ahead.

As the group approaches the outskirts of the traitor village, Dorek maneuvers his way to the front of the group, squeezing between Tandyn's armored bulk and the cavern wall as he pops out in front of the group, holding up the Baphomet holy symbol. "I've g-got the tools to p-pass myself off as a cultist - b-besides, no offense, T-tandyn, but I've n-never met a holy warrior type who can l-lie to save his life. I can g-go ahead of the group - f-forty feet or so, I t-think - and if I s-see something, I'll s-say something."

Stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

Thawm wears a worried expression as the party makes their way into unfriendly territory.

Dorek scouts ahead rounding a corner:

Barricades made of heaped loose rocks and wooden boards bisect this cavern. Beyond the barricades, a wooden screen covers the lower half of a tunnel mouth. Four mongrels guard the barricade, one looks him directly in the eye. Perhaps it's Dorek's strange appearance but they hesitate.

Ahmose barely complains the entire 25 minutes of trudging through the tunnels.
F#~+ing left stupid kobold clan because they kept f*&$ing tunneling. Tunnels.S!&+ sticks!

When Dorek expresses his concern for what lay ahead, the Alchemist saluted the Rogue.
If you see any dragons honk twice like a frightened goose.

The Blue-scaled Kobold then walks merrily among the wounded.

Bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

As soon as he spots the mongrel sentries, Dorek's face twists in an unpleasant sneer as he frantically draws on Tandyn's imparted knowledge of Baphomet. "You there! Trader we roughed up said we'd find a few brothers in Baphomet around these parts - that you? All glory to the Lord of the Minotaurs!" He fishes in his pocket for a moment before extracting the holy symbol and motioning to the others to step forward. "We have important news for your leader. Kenabres is fallen, and our brothers in faith need your strength on the surface. These converts were in the Market Square with me when the attack started - the Storm King himself has come from Iz to reward Baphomet's faithful!"

He gives a grin equal parts unpleasant and nightmarish. "Of course, the crusaders' great dragon had something to say about that - AARGH!" At this, he clutches dramatically at his chest as he gives his best impression of a death rattle, glancing apologetically at Cecily as he feigns laughter at his morbid joke. His clawed hand dips back into his pocket, emerging this time with a scroll - his hard-won certificate of apprenticeship, as a matter of fact, though this is not evident to the cultist sentries. "Your leader will want to see this, I'm sure. Tandyn here infiltrated the crusaders themselves, stole this scroll - weaknesses in their fortifications, troop numbers, everything is here."

If one of the sentries reaches for the scroll:

Dorek sneers, jerking the scroll back out of reach as he waggles a talon in reproach at the sentry. "Oh yeah? You were going to steal this scroll and say you got it yourself, is that it? This will earn me favor among the demons - I won't let you steal my glory!"