Using My Monsters

Saturday, 22 March 2014

More from H2 The Mines of Bloodstone - Orcolla - High Priest of Orcus (Level 24 Solo Controller)

Orcolla is a Duergar found close to the end encounter of Mines of Bloodstone. He has a guardian daemon (A Type IV Daemon - Nalfeshnee), which is bound to protect him (I modified one, giving it a guardian aura that boosted Orcolla's defences, and granted him the daemon's immunities and resistances). 

Anyway, the group never got anywhere near this encounter, so I thought I would post his stats here for all to see. 

 

Don't forget to add +12 to all the stat modifiers to get their final value.

Tuesday, 18 March 2014

Orcus - Prince of Undeath - Level 26 Raid Solo (8-12 Man)

My stag weekend saw a number of things never seen before. It saw the birth of some new House Rules (to be published soon), the longest game of Magic the Gathering ever (3 damn hours+), and 8 22nd level characters trying (and failing) to take on this version of Orcus. Longest surviving member was a 22nd level Fighter...first to die were a Paladin and Cleric. 

Please be aware if you decide to use this version of Orcus, he is incredibly tough. The aura alone is absolutely lethal. Even potent epic characters will struggle - and that's how it should be; he's  a Daemon Lord for evilness' sake!

Anyway, enjoy. I'll publish some more stats from my conversion of H2 (an adventure that didn't in any way live up to my memory of how good it was), the Mines of Bloodstone. 

 
"RRRRRAAAARRRGH! TASTES LIKE PALADIN!!!"

Add half his level to the stat mods shown to get the total bonus, and if you beat this guy, well done!



Sunday, 2 March 2014

Ormid Et Al - Session Report - Grognob The Flatulent, Jailbreak Initiation

14:41 - 00:00: The gigorim's name is Grognob "The Flatulent" (translated from the Gigorim by Llewellyn), and he is one of several witchdoctors that serve Skrung. He is absolutely terrified, and can barely control himself (demonstrating where his title comes from) in light of the ritual he was (according to him) "forced" to conduct, the results ("He wuz my best mate, Bungor was.") and to be in the presence of a group who just massacred a major daemon and the energumen it created.

In return for its life, the monster draws the group a crude map, showing kitchens to the southwest ("Watch out for the cook, Mongoth, he's vicious, though not as vicious as his cooking"), "Prisuns" to the northwest ("Dey keep powerful enemies in there"), and after a "Gard room", a way down to the "Boss". Now completely spent, the group tell Grognob to go, warning him that if he betrays them, they will do to him, what they did to the daemon. Sobbing with relief and loss, the gigorim runs for his wretched life.

The group settle down to rest. However, a few hours later a patrol of guards begins to bang on the doors leading to the conjuring chamber. They last less than a minute, taken by surprise by the party, and hacked apart in a brief eruption of horrific violence.

12/7/51: 00:01 - 00:20: Feeling mostly rested, the group head back to the crossroads that leads from the manticore chambers. From there, they head west, moving past a partial collapse of the corridor, soon coming to another huge gigorim sized door. Veteran struggles to open this one, the wood having warped a little in the frame (although this is clearly a well traveled path), and it takes the assistance of Ormid to wrench it free of its frame.

With the door open, the group are immediately hit by a strong smell like cooked garbage, and they find themselves looking into a wide chamber, from which lead a number of corridors. Piles of mouldering rubbish lies strewn about, the nearest one exuding a filthy pool of sticky, greenish ooze. As the group's light enters the area, so hundreds of cockroaches and rats scurry away. Moments later, alerted by the tide of vermin, a vulgorim warrior begins to tromp towards the group, his pace increasing as he spots the pale, artificial light of the sunrods.

As he comes round the corner, he is attacked, his thigh destroyed by the rogue and his mace before he can even raise his weapon arm. Bellowing like a wounded bull, the gigorim is silenced mere seconds later, when the warforged steps in past the vaulting vyrleen, and plants the edge of his fiery, storm wreathed blade into its guts, bursting its belly open and sending it to the ground, convulsing and drowning in his own blood.

The group decide to head northeast, to seek the prisons, reasoning that they may find allies in there. However, they are also more than a little aware that time is running out, for it getting closer and closer to the 13th, and their meeting with the Tanners and Knife Sharpener's Guild.

They move through several more filthy corridors, piled up with more rotting waste, and soon find a huge door that bears tempered steel spikes on its surface, as well as clear reinforcements to its structure. Gigorim can be heard dully chatting from the other side, one of them coughing thickly throughout, and the group decide that a surprise attack would be best. However, the doors are an issue, for getting them open will clearly be difficult from this side.

00:21 - 00:23: Calling on his shadow powers, the warforged becomes less than solid, and slides through the doorway and into the chamber beyond. It is large; a diamond shaped room, with doors set in each point, barred from the inside. In the middle of the chamber yawns a vast pit, 20' across, and the gods only know how deep. Around this stand three vulgorim, each bearing a huge spiked club, hide armour and a sack of shaped throwing rocks. The room is warm with their heat, and reeks of their flatulence, and the living construct has to wipe the sudden condensation from his eyes that forms there. With the brief magics holding him in the shadow plane fading, he prepares to act, reaching up towards the beams (for there are two) blocking the door.

Suddenly, the magic ends, and with a roar Veteran throws off the bars blocking the door, the massive portal being kicked open a moment later by the artificer. Utterly shocked by the light that has suddenly filled their chamber, and confused as to what is going on, the vulgorim do nothing at first other than look around stupidly. Things change when Llewellyn darts in, and shatters the knee-cap of the nearest brute, sending it stumbling back towards the pit. It manages - just - to keep its wits about it, and drops to the floor before falling in. However, the battle is on, and the group pile in.

Two of the guards attack with their clubs, meeting deadly resistance. The third stands back and repeatedly fails to hit anyone with his thrown rocks. Realising they may be in trouble, one of the monsters backs to the northern door, and throwing off the bars, bangs on it, screaming out (in vulgorim) "Oi! Boss! We's under attack! Get up here and help!", From beyond the door, a deeper voice, filled with irritation replies, its words lost in the tummult of battle.

Moments of bloody madness pass, with the warforged taking a heavy blow from one of the vulgorim, his head dented and bent to a strange angle, his internal systems screaming at him that he has been seriously wounded. Then the northern doors swing wide, revealing a huge gigorim clad in a heavy apron of fire-blackened leather; a brutal over sized axe in one hand, a crude shield of melded bones, covered in primal glyphs, on his other arm. At the same time, the rock thrower piles in towards the party, raising his club with a battle cry.

Uznoor the jailor, a potent enemy, strides to destroy the invaders, but misses badly several times. He roars in fear as one of his allies is brutally shoved by a wave of artifice into the pit, the screams of the falling monster stopping briefly as it is heard to slap wetly into something far below - the agonised cries recommencing moment later for a while, until they are suddenly cut off, a slimy slurping sound and low level fizzing the only sounds to follow.

The downed gigorim is slain, his throat opened brutally, and the jailer becomes desperate to destroy these potent enemies. He tries to cleave the Veteran in two, but instead suddenly finds himself tumbling sideways towards the pit, a wave of magical force having caught him in the side. He bellows in fear, only too aware of the monstrous and ancient Gelatinous Cube that waits hungrily below, and desperately twists, smashing hard to the ground, winded.

The Veteran receives another hefty blow, the club of the vulgorim that just joined the melee sending him flying through the air, to crash, dazed, next to the jailer. This brute is taken out moments later however, screaming as he plunges into the pit, knocked almost senseless by the vyrleen, who vaults off the wall, and smashes him in the skull with his mace. With a roar, Uznoor rises to his feet - only to get smashed in the belly by the rogue's deadly mace, and slashed by the Veteran's snarling blade. Gasping and soiling himself, he tries to slash the warforged twice with his brutal blade. However, so pained and off balance is he, that he fails to hit, the warforged catching the heavy edge on his adamantium plated forearm, deflecting its force, and further off balancing the brute.

Ultimately, this is the Jailer's undoing, for it leaves him teetering precariously next to the deadly pit. Seeing an opening, Ormid shouts out his oldest spell, and a shockwave of thunderous energy erupts from the downed warforged, smashing Uznoor in the face, splattering his nose and snapping his massive head back. Shocked, Skrung's jailer steps back, his massive foot slipping on the edge of the pit. Time seems to freeze as he hangs there, arms flailing, awkwardly looming over the darkness, and then, with a shriek, he is gone - paralysed and devoured by the blind horror in the pit.

From the southern door can be heard (and felt) the approaching tromp of huge booted feet, and the group move to quickly dispatch the last surviving gigorim. It tries to crush the vyrleen, but ultimately, perishes as Ormid, his massive artifice arm spitting steam and sparks, punches it in the throat, and sends it to join its comrades as the oozes feast.

The southern door explodes in a shower of splinters as a vulgorim kicks through it, the hulking brute's lower leg bleeding badly from the spikes. Behind it, another two filthy behemoths can be seen, their eyes widening in shock as they smell and sense the extreme violence that just filled this room.

From the northern corridor, a deep voice, sounding more like slabs of granite rubbing together than anything else, cries out in base gigorim; "H-help...."