Incantator Maro's page

Random bumpage.

Maro dashes up the stairs as quickly as he can navigate the obstacle-strewn warehouse, searching desperately for a way onto the roof of the building.

Hiding in the shadows he recognizes will be futile, as the ratfolk no doubt see much better in the dark than he, assuming they can't sniff him out with some animal senses beyond his ken.

Praying to the Dark Lady that losing sight of the serpentman for a moment won't prematurely end their entire mission, Maro breaks into the house, hoping to find a way to the roof inside.

'Night finds a way,' Maro thinks to himself, attempting to push past his despair. He keeps his eye on the serpentman with the amphora, and seeks a way to clamber up the side of the building to reach the Titanspawn.

"Six more over here, and the mission is getting away..." he calls back.

I have no idea what the hell I was thinking, taking longsword as my human bonus weapon. I should have taken a ranged weapon!

Maro curses the luck, having no ranged weapons, and not even a flask of alchemist's fire to throw at the serpentman. "He's over here, we need to stop *this* serpentman, not the others..."

He will delay as necessary to move to keep the serpentman in view, rushing along the streets behind him.

Reassure me ,you meant 7 rounds not 7 minutes ?

After hurling his dagger, Maro had run around the building the serpentman had scaled mentioned in the previous post, if Dusis didn't drop him , in the hopes of cutting off his retreat (or at least tracking his movements, if he leaps to another building).

From the ground, he attempts to keep track of the serpentman, ignoring the combat going on behind him.

Perception 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

Maro despairs to see the serpentman spellcaster leap towards the wall, but draws hope that it may succumb to the Albadian's rage. His own incantations near depleted, he attempts to hurl his dagger at either the fleeing arcanist (if it has not already fallen, or left view), or a random other serpentman who is not in melee, then continuing his movement to run around the house the serpentman is scaling to attempt to cut him off on the other side of the building.

Or just standing ready, if Dusis' blow took the wizard down.

Dagger throw 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15 possibly adjusted for throwing-into-melee penalties, if none remain un-engaged
Damage 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Wherever the dagger lands, it strikes with force, sinking deep into wood, or clanging loudly off of stone or metal. :)

"Blood and madness! Stop him!" Maro cries, moving as fast as he can after the fleeing serpent-man. Double-move, or full-out Run action, if possible in the uncertain lighting conditions / surroundings. Base speed 30 ft., 60 ft. double-move or 120 ft. if he can Run.

Initiative 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

Maro is shocked, suddenly all-too-aware that he knows nothing of this man who speaks Titanspawn tongues and would deliver the amphora into the Titanspawns waiting arms...

His confusion slows his response, but he finally steps forward to move a few yards behind Amon not moving in such a way as to provoke an attack from the serpentmen! and begins calling upon the darkness again. "Dark Lady, strike down all foes and traitors!"

Channel negative Energy, Selectively avoiding damaging Dusis and
Galwynn and, begrudingly, Amon. Will save DC 13 for 1/2 damage. 1d6 ⇒ 3

Maro is conflicted, the separate positions both hold some appeal to him, and his baser nature wants to remain behind to loot the fallen serpent-men as well as perhaps eradicate another threat in the confusion of the battle...

"I am uncomfortable with leaving the villagers who so generously hosted us to their fates, with the battle undecided. How do you suggest we alert the ratmen to our departure, Galwynn? If we sneak forth, they won't discover the amphora has departed until they finish slaughtering the townsfolk, and I suspect that was not your plan."

While he speaks, he walks to the closest fallen serpentman and sticks his sword into it's chest, taking his time to do so cleanly and pierce the heart. Other than a small grunt of exertion, and having to place his boot on the creatures chest to haul the blade back out, the action doesn't seem to distract from his question.

'Although it would be one worthy of my faith,' he thinks, with a small grin.

Maro is well past annoyed with the lack of appropriately impressive results from his dark channeling, and gives it one more attempt, with a muttered, "Just die, gods-forsaken snakes!" Snake-like itself, the darkness coils around the standing Asaatthi, and seeps into the dying bodies of the others, while ghosting across the forms of his allies to no affect.

1d6 ⇒ 4

Item one on the agenda is some sort of masterwork / enchanted holy symbol that adds +2 damage to channel energy uses! 1 pt. channels (save for 1/2) stink!

"Die, damn you!" Maro says, having snapped out of whatever state he was in, and begun to appear concerned that the creatures are not dead yet. The darkness pulses forth from within him again, like a faint surge of black blood from a dying heart, again, sliding around his companions to harm only the serpentmen.

Channel negative Energy 1d6 ⇒ 1 DC 13 Will save for half

More crazed ranting and channeling of negative energy (still avoiding harming Dusis, Amon and Galwyn).

"The darkness courses in your veins, the cold seed of your death growing within you!" Maro cries out, spittle flying from his mouth as he loses himself in his enthusiasm. The energies resemble shadowy souls of the damned, clutching at the flesh of the Asaatthi.

1d6 ⇒ 1

My rolls, oh how they suck. He gets credit for enthusiasm, I guess... Three more channel energy uses available today.

Limited access to internet this week, but I'll try to keep up. Barring any reason not to, Maro intends to channel negative energy like a cackling madman.

Perception 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

I don't see any mention of getting the shaken condition from it, though. At least, not in the Channel Energy section of the cleric class.

Maro steps to be within hands-reach of Amon, although not in such a way to risk an opportunistic strike from one of his pursuers. He calls out again, "Feel the night seep into your bones and consume you from within!" and another wave of darkness pulses forth, howling past his allies and seeming to coalesce around the Asaatthi. Amon, in particular, feels a chill and the sensation of skeletal hands scraping along his armor, sensing great frustration from whatever forces are being summoned, as if they hunger for his soul, but are being denied...

1d6 ⇒ 2 DC 13 Will save for 1/2

Oh emm gee, post got eated!

Hopefully still within five feet of wherever the Amphora ends up so that he can AoO any snake attempting to lean down and snatch it up , Incantator Maro silently calls upon Belsameth the Trickster to enshroud him in layers of deception move action to activate Copycat, 1 round of a single mirror image , while holding shield and sword at the ready and saying with soft conviction, "Death! Death upon all who defy the will of the gods!" Channel Negative Energy, 1d6 damage to all living targets within 30 ft., DC 13 Will save for half damage, using Selective Channeling to avoid damaging Amon, Dusis or Galwynn (free to not affect self).

An oily wave of darkness that feels chill and damp howls forth from his body, sluicing harmlessly over Amon, Dusis and Galwynn, and seeming to concentrate on the bodies of the serpent men. 1d6 ⇒ 6 damage, the spellcaster should be Shaken this round and have a -2 to his save

Maro steps towards the Amphora and stands over it, to take a strike at any serpent that attempts to seize it from the ground, while muttering an invocation to Belsameth. "Night be upon you." he says confidently, towards the serpent-man who spoke aloud.

Cause Fear, Will DC 13 or frightened 1d4 rounds, shaken 1 round if succeeded. 1d4 ⇒ 4

"A sensible plan." Maro accedes. "If some fools attempt to burn us out, jumping out a window may be our only recourse, as well."

"It might be necessary to attempt a river crossing at night, if we are overwhelmed, although I am loathe to steal the rivermaster's barge..."

Maro gives it a cursory look, but is not by any stretch of the imagination a scholar.

Knowledge (religion). 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6

"Another vote for calling you crazy, I'm afraid." Maro says to Amon. "I don't believe that this item should leave our physical grasp."

Destroying the contents does sound like a very practical 'Gordian knot' style solution, but I suspect that the adventure wants us to go Veshwards. :)

"I would prefer not opening the vessel. Whatever is contained within, could be dangerous to the town if released." 'As well as to our own immediate health...,' he thinks to himself.

Maro looks at the inside of the warehouse and sighs. "Not nearly as warm as the accomodations I was hoping for after the festival..."

His gaze falls upon the single entrance, and the walkway in front of the closed offices and he points, "It would probably be most tactically useful to sleep up there, so that anyone with a foolish notion to take the relic would have to run up the stairs to reach our position." Looking at the boxes, he adds, "Stacking these smaller boxes in front of the door, to create a temporary stop-gap could purchase us a moment of advantage as well, as they clamber over the boxes."

He then looks to the better armed and armored members of the group (Dusis and Amon), "But I am hardly a tactician. Do you have any suggestions?"

At Dusis' commentary, Maro nods. "I wish the Veshian had not made such a public arrival myself, but our accepting of his charge was, by force of circumstance, public. I would have preferred more discretion as well, but the situation is what it is, and, if nothing else, perhaps we shall flush out some unworthy elements when they attempt to seize the relic from us."

"It's hardly the best tactical position to be in, but at least we won't have to look for enemies, if we know that they are alerted to our presence and coming right for us..."

He casts a sideways look at Amon, "I suspect subtlety is out of the question, in any event."

Maro will stop by Quimby's shop to purchase a week's rations and a waterskin, complimenting the man once again on his strong competition.

Maro has no response to Radraan's withering rebuke, and listens to the Rivermaster's words with relief.

To the Rivermaster, "Thank you indeed, sir. I fear my fellow priest is not thinking in the long-term, that such an item would only invite Titanspawn to your town. Better to take such a lightning rod far from here. There is nothing to be gained from trying to tap it's unwholesome power, for we who serve the gods."

He accompanies the others to wherever the Rivermaster intends for them to remain the evening, glancing around warily as he does, for he expects that they have not heard the last from Radraan, or his flock...

Incantator Maro sees his opportunity and steps forward, voice raised.

"Certainly, that way might be safer, but the night holds no terrors for such as we, does it brother?" he says.

"The Tyrant's rule has not been kind to we who respect the ways of the Slayer, and to reward the Calastians for their ill-treatment is the way of the dog, seeking the approval of an undeserving master. I would rather take this thing away from under their noses, and bring it to the followers of another of the Victors entirely, and so prove that the followers of Belsameth have not lost their courage, or rolled over and shown their bellies to these thugs."

He smiles unkindly, "It would be a spiteful thing to do, to pluck away a treasure from these unworthy would-be overlords and carry it off into the night, and I feel that the Dark Lady would approve."

Maro's not just attempting to convince Radraan, which he suspects will not be possible, but to stir up any Belsamites in the vicinity to agree with him, by suggesting that this mission would strike a subtle blow against the Calastian overlords. And a Diplomacy check. 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (12) + 7 = 19

Incantator Maro steps slides backwards a pace, letting someone else stand between himself and Radraan, as he does not wish to answer the priest's questions himself.

Incantator Maro ponders the advantages and disadvantages of bringing a horse, but also keeps his own counsel, distracted by Radraan's unseemly enthusiasm for the visitors death. It's perfectly acceptable to look forward to a man's passage, but shows questionable discretion to be so transparent about it...

Maro's eyes narrow at the newcomer, and he steals a glance at the crossbow bolts he's retrieved, to see if they match the style of gear in anyway that this Paladin bears.

Seeing no crossbow on the man's person, nor any other ranged weapon but a throwing axe, he keeps his suspicions to himself.

I won't make you waste another use; we'll use the previous results of 21. The man will survive, though it will be some time before he's up and fighting again.

As he finishes binding the man's wounds, he turns to Galwynn and says, "The Slayer is as opposed to the return of the Titans as any other Victor. I would accompany you to see this item sealed away, and would not trust it in the hands of the servants of He whose mark is already upon it."

Maro returns to attempting to save the man's life, now that he's in no position to push him away.

New Heal check if needed, using healer's kit for the +2, although Maro is less than thrilled to have already wasted one use.
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

He doesn't look up, but says, "Put that thing in your pack, or otherwise cover it, scholar. The night has many eyes."

"Nay! Whi-While I appreciate you-your assistance... I... can't leave my charge with a ser-servant of an evil goddess. I must speak with a priest of a god that does not wo-work evil in the land..."

"Be still, man. I do not seek to steal whatever it is you protect. You are poisoned, and I must work to prevent the venom from claiming your life." More loudly he says in a mocking tone, "Is there another priest present, one of a less intimidating patron? Our friend here finds our faith frightening..."

Heal check to treat poison, using healer's kit for an extra +2. 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (12) + 9 = 21

At Radraan's request, Maro humbly accepts the honor, and turns back to the festivities until they are interrupted by the arrival of the wounded man.

Moving towards the man, he attempts to use his medicinal skills to assess the man's condition, and staunch any bleeding, but is unwilling to risk magical healing yet, as the portentous omens give him cause to suspect that an attack of some sort may be imminent.

Heal check 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (14) + 7 = 21

To the rugged individual standing nearest the wounded man, also clearly a visitor to the community, based on his foreign looks and dress, he speaks softly as he pushes his way to the wounded visitor, "Titanspawn do not often use crossbows. Ware men on horseback."

As he attempts to staunch the wounds, he tells the wounded man, "Speak quickly man, are you pursued? If so, you must convince us now not to turn you over to those who come..."

Maro nods agreeably to the unpleasant woman's comment and keeps his thoughts to himself, taking the opportunity to sample yet more of the local fare.

Looking for anyone in particular?

Attempting to lighten the mood, Maro smiles at Paransala's last comment as he raises a bit of meat (not pork, unfortunately) and says, "Indeed, the only pig I'd welcome at festival is one that's been salted and then smoke-roasted for six days."

On the one hand, he seems genuinely interested in the conversation, but his attention wanders, as his eyes dart over the crowd, as if perhaps looking for someone.

Maro had been distracted by a combination of stuffing venison into his mouth and eyeing one of the young women across the way, who was flirting openly with one of the other losers of the archery contest, but at Galwyn's comment, turns to regard the man.

"For a wandering scholar, you seem quite skilled with the bow, which is no trivial weapon to master." His head leans back as he speaks, receding further into the shadows, to get a clearer look at the man next to him, casting more of his face in shadow. Gesturing with a piece of roasted venison that he has been eating, he asks, "Do you hunt game?" before finishing this last piece.

Arcery competition next, followed by a horse race, the feast and the bard competition. Let me know if anything is of interest.

Dusis is surprised by the speed of his opponents but this last one is too much for him and the sweep of his opponent weapon against his head send him unconscious directly. 18 subdual damage = ouch

Cure Light Wounds, will heal equal subdual damage to real damage, and Dusis should be at -2 ish (having taken some real damage once he ran out of nonlethal). 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

That should heal all of the lethal damage, and 9 extra points of nonlethal, leaving Dusis at 9 hp, with the remainder nonlethal.

Maro helps Dusis to his feet, and gives him time to recover his weapon and clear his head before speaking. "Well fought, sir, but it appears that the local champion is also quite formidable."

Maro smiles at the man’s question, showing no sign of displeasure at the man’s mention of finding Madriel’s faith more to his preference. “First, perhaps we should step into the shade, for it seems that the sun has been unkind to your skin.” He says, solicitously, placing his hand on the farmer’s shoulder and escorting him into a shadier spot, keeping his hand on the man’s shoulder as he speaks, in the vaguely creepy / intimidating / overly familiar way that some people do, “Every one of the Victors, Belsameth and even terrible Vangal, we are assured,” he adds the last with a bit of a conspiratorial nod, as if relating a confidence, “have served us well saving us from the mad whims of the Titans, and, as you say, all are worthy of some measure of respect, in appreciation for that great deed. It is true that Madriel and Tanil are more strongly associated with growing things and the way of the farmer, but Belsameth is just as important. Three specific examples come to mind;” Maro begins ticking off his points on his long fingers as he details each point.

“Firstly, the dark soil in which crops grow most healthily is soil made fertile by the life that has been lost before, whether from turning crops under the soil, or fertilizing them with the wastes of animals. Secondly, if you raise animals for their meat or hides, again, death is an integral part of your life and your work, as the lambs and swine and chickens most go before the blade to sustain our own families. And, thirdly, every farmer must deal with the creatures that come in the night, the fox or weasel who raids the henhouse, the moles and gophers that nibble at your cabbages. These are things that we can face ourselves, with hounds and traps and sharpened sticks, but there are other things in the night, true horrors that even the most fierce and loyal sheepdog can keep away, Titanspawn and other horrors that hide in the shadows, goblins and ghouls and worse things besides. While Madriel, in her grace,” he says, gesturing at the sunlight above, “rests from her daily activities, it is up to Belsameth to stalk the night, dagger in hand, and remind the night terrors that no matter how fearsome the Titans may have made them, there is one who is more terrible and deadly yet. The Dark Lady has accepted her role as not just a monster, but a monster *to* monsters. The Titanspawn have no love for Madriel or Corean or Tanil, it is true, but Belsameth is the one that they truly fear, for she has walked into the night they thought their safe haven, and hunted them were they dwell.”

Wrapping up, he gestures to the sun again, “When you plant your grains, or see the birth of a new lamb, say a word of thanks to Madriel or Tanil, as is appropriate, but remember when you harvest grains, or bring meat to your lips, or sip of wine or ale, that the animals and plants gave their lives for this bounty, and in death, there is the work of Belsameth, and, in doing these things, you are receiving her gifts. Pause to say a word in her honor, to recognize that our lives cannot continue without her gifts, that our flesh would fail, if we did not cut down living things. Each meal represents little deaths that we accept every day, as we reap grain or enjoy eggs in broth, and they are a constant reminder that death need not be a terrible thing. It is as much a part of life as birth and growth.”

Diplomacy to ‘sell’ the schpiel and make it perhaps better than this random gibberish I’m spouting. 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23 Also Heal check to offer advice about how to soothe and cool his sunburn, and avoid it in the future. Taking 10 on the Heal check for a 17.

Maro will very deliberately *not* point out that Madriel's pretty sun has scorched his skin, as he wishes to avoid saying anything anti-Madriel in the man's presence and 'get his back up,' so to speak.

Quimby gladly takes the accolades and the cup of water. "Much obliged, frien-", he stops in mid sentence when he notes your vestments, "... er, uh, Incantator? Thank you. I didn't know Radraan had taken on an acolyte, if you don't mind my sayin'."

Maro then hands whatever remains of the liquid refreshment to the winner of the race, if he's still present.

Assuming that Maro has located some ale, mead or water, he brings some to the winner and to the halfling, Quimby, as well.

"Congratulations on a race well-run, as if the hounds of hell themselves nipped at your heels."

Maro looks around for a jug of water or ale to offer the runners when they complete their last lap. He's particularly impressed with the halfling's performance and cheers him on, even 'though the Albadian has clearly secured the victory.

Radraan nods with satisfaction.
"It would be my pleasure if you would join us this evening at the Midnight Shrine for our services. What news do you bring from our brothers and sisters from the Benighted Fane? Have the Chardunites succeeded in tyrannizing the populace into the Conquerer's worship?"
He spits on the ground for emphasis; a gesture that seems quite at odds with his suave demeanor.

Maro returns the mans handshake, and makes the appropriately dismissive noise at the mention of 'enjoying the bright day,' and an amused smirk at the reference to 'darkening doorsteps,' "Greeting to you as well, prelate. I am Incantator Maro, late of the Benighted Fane of Morian, and if you speak for our Lady in this place, then I offer my assistance, if such is welcome."

Maro moves among the milling townsfolk with a calm expression on his face, attempting to maintain what he considers the proper decorum for an acolyte of the dark lady.

Seeing a fellow clergyman of the faith, he approaches and nods a greeting when the man is not busy with other matters, waiting patiently to be acknowledged, as he feels is most appropriate when addressing a fellow of uncertain rank. (Priests of the goddess of murder being somewhat unforgiving of social slights from perceived inferiors, he notes to himself.)

If he sees an opportunity to lend a hand with the man's duties, he does so unbidden, but otherwise waits for the other priest's convenience, eyes flitting over the flirting couples exchanging flowers with a somewhat amused expression.

Finally got around to making a profile.

This village doesn't sound large enough to have the sort of place where Maro was trained, so he'd be a recent arrival, and perhaps have hooked up with another recent arrival, such as Lugdro (in conversing with the Druid, he'd play up how the Albadians worship Belsameth, Denev and Madriel as three different phases of the natural world, with a hint of Maiden, Mother and Crone, perhaps).

Despite the creepy appearance, he's pretty personable with that Cha 16 and +7 Diplomacy check. :)