DM Nagging: It's pretty much my job

[Anastasia]

So each enchantment has a bonus attached for figuring out the cost, right? I think I listed that as like longsword +2, but only paid for like corrosive and magebane or whatever and not the actual +2 to attack and damage. That'd be a +4 total cost right?

Correct.

Okay, that's quite the change in price. That puts me at... -110,980gp. So! I guess they all get no + to hit/damage.

RAW, a weapon needs to have a +1 enchantment bonus before you can add special properties to it.

[Iron Dragoon]

Okay, so all the weapons needing to be +1 puts me at... -32,825gp. I can either.. I guess cut two of them out or if you wanna give me that 50k you were considering?

[Anastasia]

Yes, I'll give you 100k more, spend it as you will.

[Anastasia]

I have to run out a few hours, so nothing this morning.

1. Eb, I need to chat with you about a minor issue about Alicia. No big deal in the least, but I just meant to catch you first thing and now I'll be away awhile.
2. Elle should follow soon after I get home, I'm just finishing her spell list and a few accessories.
3. After that I tackle the todo list.
4. Are there any other mechanical todos you all need that aren't there? If there are, this is the time to bring them up.

[Anastasia]

Elle's up, a few notes.

1. Her spell loadout is her war loadout. At heart she's pretty much a direct damage dealer in combat. It's just how she leans. She has different loadouts for work days and research days.
2. She's due a few custom spells, but this build ran long as it is.
3. She may get a few minor tweaks a bit later.

[Anastasia]

Fixed two errors on Elle's sheet, AC was 3 too low and her epic DD breath bonus wasn't applied.

[Anastasia]

[Ring 1] Ring of Counterspells, 4,000gp. Would like to check what it would cost to give this a second spell slot and possibly boost it to 9th level.

6000 for a second slot for a total of 10k. I'd boost it to 20k for a second slot.

[Anastasia]

Moving these over for reference.

The fall of Bel, part 1.

This is a series of pieces covering the current events in Avernus. Each one will show more information and get closer to what happened. Part one is a mercenary captain only involved in passing with the events on Avernus.

Yeah, it started something like this.

Me and the boys were holding Hillsfire Crag, a nasty little shit part of Avernus. More'n'usual, 'cause the fireballs don't rain there for some reason, it was full of the shit of war. Corpses, blood, spirits and more. Most of 'em don't care much for the devils, the spirits that is. So they hire out defending it from demon assholes. Do a good job and you get paid on the regular and a minimum of shit, and the demons haven't been hitting it too hard lately.

Yeah, yeah, I'm getting to it. You'll get your money's worth, mercane. It's recon for the main story, think of it like that. Or lubing up your asshole for a solid gold cock to fuck it. Preparation, you get it? Don't want to fuck this up before it's begun or we'll have to do it again and waste everyone's fucking time. You get that, do a job and do it right the first time.

Now the downside is that there's this cunthole of a devil that serves an overseer, makes sure we aren't fucking around on the job. Knows how to deal with the spirits good'n'well. Gives 'em the gaze and they back off from him. Creepy fuck, all bony and looking like he's two days dead from starvation. Screw up in front of him and you'll serve him as a corpse. Necromancer, yeah. Name's Ung, ugly name for an ugly devil.

Anyway, we're holding the crag like we always are. No demons around today, haven't been for a few days. Tossing the dice, losing too much money to my second in command. Then thump. It's the sound that gives away a teleport, 'specially when it's a horned devil. They're heavy and you can hear the ground groan. Devil's beaten half dead, bleeding and armor's been totaled. Bellows for Ung, demands he come with him on the command of some uppity up. Didn't catch the name, was probably some unpronounceable shit in Infernal.

No, I don't remember, and you'll have to pay extra to utter a single spell word on me. How much? 800. 800. Look, you're the one who wants to know some dead devil's name. 650 or nothing. Deal.

I remember now. The name was Ajojorul the Bleak, with the title spoken in Infernal. I suspect a telepathic followup, but I cannot confirm that.

Ugh. Fine. Creepy shit. Isn't natural, that sort of magic. Anyway, Ung hurries up...and fucking blasts him with a wilting spell. The one that draws the water out of you, usually leaving the poor bastard a dried out husk if it gets you. Kills the horned devil right off, dead in front of us. Now that got all of us on our feet, weapons out, because that's some serious shit. Devils don't just kill other devils like that in front of witnesses, they got rules'n'shit. Or they don't do it in front of us, prissy bastards. Like their shit doesn't stink.

Ung turns around to us, tosses us a bag of holding full of gold and tells us to get out of here. Head to the portal five miles west, the guards will let us through for free and that our contract was concluded. If we stay it's on us what happens to us. Then he's gone, but not before saying that devil loyalists will be comin' to hold the crag in an hour's time, and won't tolerate anyone who isn't loyal here.

So we did the only thing we could - smelled shit in the air and took his advice. Had to break camp hard, leave some things behind, but we got out of there. Now the fucked up part is the fireballs. They weren't there. Never fucking seen that before there. Never. Creepier than the rest of it, it's like they weren't aiming for us. Isn't right, you ever been? The fireballs in Avernus have a way of aiming for you. Like they want your blood. Not that day, though.

What's worse is that a good chunk of the band got sick on a fucking five mile walk, isn't natural. Some real mage shit, shivering and burning up at once after feeling fine not five minutes ago. Started dropping weight fast - Fat Chuck must've shed a good 50 pounds on a 5 mile hike.

Gate's also fucked up and wrong. Now I knew the devils holding that gate, heard it's a 90 year posting. So it's the same faces - but not that time. Different squad was holding it, lead by a fucking pit fiend. Oversized unit, 900 holding it instead of 90.

Yeah, ain't sure about the number, but that's how devils do it. I'd bet my nuts that it was 900 of the fuckers on the dot.

So as I was sayin', different squad and they'd seen some fighting. Wounds, damaged gear, all that shit. Yet they just let us through, no questions asked. Didn't even try to give us a hard time. Right on through the portal and it dumped us in the fucking Astral instead of Acheron, and then closed behind us. Devil move, but they paid damn well to get us out of there. Best part is that the sick people got better right off in the Astral. Looked like shit but they weren't sick no more.

Now a few weeks later we're back home and I do some pokin' around, hear about what happened in Avernus. Contacts are fucking spooked - the ones of them I can find, the devil ones aren't there to be found. Word is Bel's gone and done. No one really knows for sure, but that's the big rumor. Can't get a devil to talk about it - most aren't around, few I did stumble on got real nasty when I even brought it up. Plus I heard 'bout that Aurora thing. Heard ol' Bel got his face pushed in there. Got demoted, bet you he did.  So what the fuck happens to Avernus?

Yeah, that's it. 'bout all I know about it.

Yeah, sure, you're paying so I'll answer.

Don't know. Had a Tempusman with us before, couldn't do anything about the spirits. Didn't react like the undead. Guessing it's easier to pay us than solve it, but it could be bullshit. Just guessing.

Didn't catch any names. They were decent about it but ready for battle, tense. They weren't gabbing, none of that like nervous human soldiers. All steel and iron. Even the pit fiend seemed on edge, never see one of those red bastards anything but smug.

No, none of them died from that sickness or since then. Not even Fat Chuck's put on the weight he lost, though. Shit, think he's still losing weight and the fuck can eat an entire pig for dinner.

Lixer? No, Ung never mentioned a name like that. Think he's oh...damn, an Archduke one of the fancy nobles? Prince of the Undead? Sure, sounds right.

Undead? Didn't see any besides the spirits there. No, they were about the same, annoying but you get used to them.

That it? Great, where's my money?

[Anastasia]

The Fall of Bel, part 2

You must understand the gravity of the situation. My faith does not approve of my methods, hidebound and traditionalist fools that they are. There must be absolutely no risk of my name being connected to this inquiry of yours, mercane.

Pretty words, beautiful words, wonderful things to put on my crypt should you not keep your word. Yes, I insist on a contract. Nay, I demand one.

This is acceptable, the money is adequate and the lore will suffice. I have no further objections - but know this, those who are oathbreakers will die. It is our way, one of the few things my countrymen and I agree on.

In my many and sundry researches, I sometimes summon devils and exchange various goods for aid. Vainglorious things that they are, yet powerful to match and they appreciate the value of an oath that is taken seriously, rather than as something subject to the whims of change. A vile thing such liberty is, mercane. The dogs of Kabath know such things, barbarians more concerned with their whore of a queen than any concept of honor.

Yes, mercane, honor and your word are the one thing we own in this world. Fools like the dogs of Kabath toss it aside, while Umberlants and Aurilites use it only as far as it is useful to them. Wretched things, pitiable things, following winter breezes and ocean foam. I follow something much stronger - the unmistakable solidness of iron and the burning purity of fire. Mark those words and mark them well, for Baator turns oaths and honor into blades of iron and armor of steel, strong indeed.

Don't think I missed your feeling of exasperation, mercane. You are an open book to one as well trained as I. You think this tedium, the self indulgent words of a wizard. The know this, not a single devil I have summoned has ever failed before this.

Fine. I will deign to lower myself and 'get to the point', as you so barbarously put it. The summoning was as any other. The sacrifice was laid out and the spell circle was correct, as well as the pentagram within. In this case I sought to contract with Maladramar, a skilled erinyes war sorcerer of no little power. I assure you that the summoning was precisely correct - Baator values preciseness.

What happened was...catastrophic. The circle burst into flame as I heard Maladramar screaming. I was taken beyond, away from my workshop through magic dread and unknown. To this magic the nine gates opened with a tremendous scream of iron and the snapping of chains. In that moment Maladramar's screams were drowned out. It is only my skill and foresight that allowed me to cast a spell to keep planar energies at bay, for I was surrounded by green hellfire.

Yes, green.

I routinely have that spell ready whenever I contract, in case of unexpected situations or unplanned planar travel. Only a fool would do otherwise when dealing with things beyond reality, mercane.

A sea of green hellfire, in which the vast armies of Perdition waged war on one another. I could not look away from it and there are no words for such a dreadful thing. Strength! Such strength in them! Spinagons fought one another in smoldering sky, while barbazou rent each other asunder with a ferocity that bordered on the orgiastic. Cornugons clashed, steel against steel and claw against claw.

Such a battle was incalculable. Incomprehensible. It stretched from horizon to horizon, yet my eyes were drawn to one thing.

Maladramar lie on the ground, broken yet breathing, war raged around him. His wings were melted to ash, as if by fire or perhaps acid. A leg was gone and his blood stained him, yet he lived. Only the iron strength of Baator could explain it, a lesser creature would be dead a hundred times over. His gaze found me and he tried to speak, but no words came over the din of battle. His voice was heard in my mind, but was incoherent. I merely watched as he slipped into death's looming embrace, surely dying but not yet dead.

I know because had he died, I suspect whatever sorcery or fluke that brought me there would end. So I watched, unable and strangely unwilling to think of my own ways to escape this. My mind was...placid. Horrified and yet unresisting, a degree of which I cannot adequately explain other than the result of the same force that brought me to that hellish battlefield.

It was then I saw the tide of the battle turn. From the green hellfire the living dead emerged. Skeleton and zombie, ghoul and ghast, vampire and lich. They attacked one side exclusively, cooperating with the devils. And...my eyes were drawn to a few of those winning devils now. I saw them emaciated, withered things. Ill fed or perhaps sickly, with wands aglow with green radiance. To them the living dead fought with relentless strength and unstoppable vigor, crushing the resisting devils between them to the last. How long I watched that massacre I cannot say, for I grew empty of mind, watching without thinking.

I awoke.

I awoke by my summoning circle, whole and returned whence I came. I dared not summon Maladramar again, knowing him as surely dead...or worse. Other summons since them have been normal, but none have been willing to speak of what happened or why, even on pain of the final death or compulsion magic. I know not why or how, but Hell's strength is marvelous, a unity that can resist spell and threat both.

Yes, that is all.

Yes, Maladramar was from Avernus. He served in a Blood War unit under the Lord of the First, the 323rd Spell Support Battalion.

Very well. At first, the two forces fought with the same coordination. Lines and rows, symmetry even as warriors on both sides fell. Orderly, rigid. In this both sides were matched, until the living dead fanning out and using the varied tactics of them. The skeletons and zombies attacked as shock troops, while stronger forces engaged past them. Oh, the other devils adjusted. I heard cries of, "Orcus formation!" from the various commanders, adjusting, trying to funnel the undead, using fire even more against them, sweeping the undead away. Yet they were caught in a devil pincer, the hammer of the other devils smashing them against the anvil of the undead.

No, nothing of the sort. My mind is stronger than that, mercane. Nightmares are the domain of the weak and undisciplined.

No, no sort of sickness or wasting disease. My studies into magic have rendered me beyond mere illness. Let the weak waste away under the yoke of the Adversary's illnesses. Baator fears no disease, nor do I.

Is that all? Very well.

...

...

Wait.

There is one more matter.

Before I chose to focus on summoning magic, I learned a few simple necromatic spells. Trivial cantrips, spells foreign to me after the ritual to focus my magic towards conjurations. Were I to try and read those old spells, I would be unable to make sense of them. Such is the sacrifice to master a single school of magic, mercane. Now....three days ago I reviewed my first spellbook and glanced over those spells.

They are no longer foreign to me. They read as easily as any other spell in my spellbooks, nay, more. As easily as summonings...which...grow more complex to me, less comprehensible.

But that is impossible. Not even Mystra could change such a wizard's dedicated focus once chosen and practiced. Yet...

I know not what happened on Avernus and now I fear to ask.

[Anastasia]

Preview of the Fall of Bel, part 3.

You are correct, of course. Most devils would not dare speak of what happened on the Evening of the Dead.

Hm? That is the name of the coup. You do not even know that? Unsurprising, we are the best. We are disciplined! No boasting vrock or sweetly babbling succubus are in our ranks to spill our business to you, mercane.

But I will. After all, I have nothing else but to secure a place in the Consortium. I will continue once the contract is signed.

So be it.

My name is Eligaas, former Earl of Bloodfall, 1st circle general in Bel's armies.

[Anastasia]

So Neph, let's try this since you want some work.

The task is simple - write spells. Any level, preferably epic but you can do cantrips if that's what strikes your fancy. Just write and post spells, see how they come out. Interested?

[Anastasia]

Pollyanna's up, more of a just in case since I had her build ready and done from awhile ago.

Except for saves, which I need to convert. Fixing.

[Nephrite]

So Neph, let's try this since you want some work.

The task is simple - write spells. Any level, preferably epic but you can do cantrips if that's what strikes your fancy. Just write and post spells, see how they come out. Interested?

As long as you don't rag on me for formatting issues, sure. :)

[Anastasia]

So Neph, let's try this since you want some work.

The task is simple - write spells. Any level, preferably epic but you can do cantrips if that's what strikes your fancy. Just write and post spells, see how they come out. Interested?

As long as you don't rag on me for formatting issues, sure. :)

Sure, I'll fix those myself, no big deal.

[Nephrite]

Greater Snowsong

Spoiler: ShowHide

Enchantment (Compulsion) [Mind-Affecting]
Level: Bard 10,
Components: V,
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: 30 ft.
Area: 30-ft. radius centered on you
Duration: 10 min./level
Saving Throw: Will negates
Spell Resistance: Yes

This spell functions as Snowsong, except as noted here. Allies gain +8 morale bonus to Charisma and attack rolls, and a +8 insight bonus to Armor Class. They also gain fast healing 3 and resistance to cold 30 to all affected allies. All melee attacks made by allies in the snowsong deal an additional 2d6 points of cold damage. Enemies designated by the spell have a 40% chance of spell failure if they fail the will save.

Sonic Shattering

Spoiler: ShowHide

Evocation [Sonic]
Level: Bard 10
Components: V
Range: 80 ft.
Saving Throw: Fortitude partial or Reflex negates (object); see text

With a scream and a gesture, you create a cone of sounds powerful enough to shatter magic. This spell does 15d6 points of sonic damage to creatures and 1d6 points of damage per caster level (to a maximum of 30d6) to crystalline or brittle creatures. This spell also stuns affected creatures and deafens them for 1d4 hours. In addition, this spell also functions as a greater dispel magic against creatures caught in the area. Any spell shattered in this way causes an extra 1d6 points of sonic damage to the creature. This damage cannot be reduced via a successful Fortitude save.

A creature in the area of the cone can negate the stunning and halve both the damage and the duration of the deafness with a successful Fortitude save. A creature holding vulnerable objects can attempt a Reflex save to negate the damage to those objects.

Lliira's Joy

Spoiler: ShowHide

Level: Brd 11, Clr 13, Joy 13
Transmutation
Components: V
Casting Time: 1 standard action
Range: 60 ft area burst, centered on you
Duration: 1 min/level
Saving Throw: None
Spell Resistance: No

This spell fills those affected with a wellspring of joy, as if they were in the presence of Lliira herself. Creatures affected by this spell are immune to any fear, despair or similar effect. This spell also rids the target of the same sorts of effects that heart's ease removes. Creatures also gain fast healing 10 for the duration of this spell.