The power to control a person's body against their will should not be so readily tossed about. I will remember that face, and one day I won't have only parlor tricks to face it with.
Malaswyn, I would give you some of my good rolls if I could D:
Also, Tower, do you know how many rounds of bardic performance were used? Cedric only has 6 per day.
Heligar used her turn to stand up switch to her bow. In case you need an action in advance, please fire away! Longbow 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21 Damage 1d8 ⇒ 8
Warren rises shakily to his feet as he tries to shrug off the remainder of the paralysis. Taking in the situation he slowly moves forward, sword raised. "Let's see what you can do, gnome-boy." Move action to stand up, move action to F34, swift action to change judgement to resistance (2 electricity resistance).
Markov's bolt follows close behind leaving a thin slice across his cheek.
Heligar lets loose with her bow, the arrow embeds itself in his shoulder.
Hotshot attacks: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12 1d8 ⇒ 8
Hotshot stands up, pistol at the ready and takes a shot, putting a small hole in Norig's chest.
1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 3 + 2 = 12
Norig rushes towards Alma, his face frozen in a ghastly mask, clawing at Alma's armor ineffectually. Lightning arcs from Norig to Alma, giving him a painful shock.
Electrical damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4
Warren may make an AoO. The party may take another action.
Warren silently curses as the zombie ignores him as rushes to his less-armored comrades, and curses again as his blade cuts only the air behind the creature's passing.
Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Seeing that his allies are blocking a straight shot to the enemy, Cedric decides he would be better off encouraging them than attempting a shot. He runs forward, calling to his companions.
"Come on now, he's like three feet tall, stomp on him if you need to! This is eight against one half, destroy him."
Through his words, Cedric's allies feel a rush of confidence and courage.
Move action to I-34, Standard action to restart Inspire Courage. Cedric actually has 7 rounds a day of Bardic Performance, though he'll probably one use it for 1 round this time.
Irina comes to look over Alma. She pulls back his sleeves to reveal some of the electrical burns, then mashes up and applies some herbal goop to all visible wounds. Once done, she rubs it in, activating her healing hex.
1d8 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
"These burns aren't too bad. My herbs will take care of them. Nice job on knocking out Norig, by the way. That must have felt good to give him what he needed like that."
Init: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Warren follows Cedric, checking to see if Derig is still around as well as to spot for other dangers.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Derig still lies unconscious on the sun baked and dried mud. The sounds of life in the marsh continue unabated, but nothing threatening can be seen anywhere.
Malaswyn searches around the large room. Looking at the east wall it appears there was once a functional hidden entrance. Opening it at this point would let in the water and mud of the marsh, if you could force it open. You also note Norig's backpack resting against one of the back pillars and the discarded hand axe and crowbar.
The lower level isn't actually low enough to be underground, only 4-5 feet of it would be, as the whole thing has been slowly sinking into the marsh. So the hidden entrance would simply lead in to the marsh. ie, F26 on the upper level map.
Markov you could try and force the door open, or use the axe and crowbar. The door would open inward if forced.
Norig didn't have any cash on his person. There are 8 days of trail rations left in his backpack, and his spiked chain and holy symbol lying on the floor.
Heligar retrieves the rest of her gear from outside. She looks around. The silence is unsettling.
"The silence is unsettling. Did you guys here what they said about someone or something called "Grays"? They collected fabric from our clothes....perhaps to provide a scent for something to track us. I think we are not safe here...
Heligar stands watch by the entrance.
Is there a high point or a wall nearby with a vantage point over this place or a view over the terrain?
Male Elf Cleric 13: AC 25, Hit Points 99/99, Perception +21, Initiative +8 Channels left 5/5 Current buffs: magic circle of PfE, comprehend languages
You're right Heligar, this chamber is a bit of a rat-trap.
I look around one last time and start the head up: We need to ask Derig a few more questions, I think.
Hotshot grabs the hand axe and assists Markov with getting the other door open. It takes them several minutes of chopping and prying at the door before most of the door shatters, opening up an entry into another storage area. Like the other room many of the shelves are broken. At the west side broken glass litter the ground and the floor is stained with whatever used to be contained in the bottles.
On one remaining but crooked shelf are two vials that are tipped on their sides wedged against a small silver gilt box. The vials contain a dark liquid. The the silver on the gilt box is tarnished, but a few small gemstones set into the box glitter in the light. The box is about a foot long, eight inches wide, and five or six inches deep.
The upper level, such as it is, contains the remains of a few walls that once could crouch atop, or stand precariously on, or take cover behind.
Heligar climbs atop one of the ruined walls and looks about the area, scanning the horizon in all directions.
Heligar:
Vision across the marsh is limited to perhaps 1.5 to 2 miles, due to the many dead and dying plants so prominent across the landscape. You spot no movement of any kind nor anything that looks out of place though.
Malaswyn moves over to Derig, he is out cold still.
Derig will need several hours rest or some form of healing to be brought to consciousness.
Coming up next to Malaswyn Warren pulls his rope out of his pack and quickly ties of the gnome (DC 22 Escape artist, DC 24 str), then stands over him while the cleric brings him around.
As Derig wakes up he struggles for just a brief moment against his bonds. "Ow, my head." After looking around a moment he lays back, as best as he is able to while tied up, his whole body going limp. "Norig?.. He didn't kill you then? Like he did the others?"
Cedric walks over to Derig and grabs the rope, roughly pulling the gnome's face close to his and drawing his longsword.
"Alright, short stuff, we have exactly no time for games, dishonesty, fainting, or anything other than your complete cooperation at this point, so if you don't want to be left here as a trussed up meal for whatever comes along next, you listen closely and you answer quickly. Norig is dead, and we may be next. You need to tell us what's been happening here, everything you know about a man named Morag and his spellcasting friend, and especially any information pertaining to someone or something called Grays."
Intimidate:1d20 + 13 ⇒ (19) + 13 = 32
I would like to point out, in the interest of bragging, that the above intimidate check would scare a Dire Bear, despite the 8 point size swing.
So Cedrics display of god like powers wasn't quite all illusionary...
At Cedric's threat Derig squints his eyes shut and all his muscles go tight. His breathing stops as he waits for what must surely be the inevitable killing blow about to strike him down. When it doesn't come his breathing starts again in ragged gasps. His tale a bit jumbled he speaks, haltingly at first, ”Norig... he came back... three months ago. I hadn't seen him for twenty-two years. He left when our parents were killed in the goblin war – he didn't want to stay at the orphanage. Norig... I was happy to see him. That afternoon though he asked me to come with him... he wanted to show me a secret he said. But when we were far into the woods and it was growing dark he knocked me in the head. When I woke up I he had tied my hands and feet.” Derig's face contorts in a mask of horrific memories. ”He hurt me then. Such pain.... so much pain. I don't know how long it went on. It felt like an eternity. He said he was going to make the people of the town suffer. He said he had learned of a powerful treasure that would let us, him, get revenge. That I must help him find it. We searched the woods around the town, sometimes returning to town get supplies, or sometimes hire strangers to help us search. He said if I said anything to anyone though that he'd hurt me again. The townsfolk... they laughed at us when they discovered we were looking for buried treasure. It only made Norig more furious.”
”When we started searching in the marsh and found these ruins... there were four men with us that day. I stayed outside while they forced the doors open. I heard them arguing with Norig inside. Their shouting changed to screams and I fled. I ran as long and far as a could, but Norig found me. He said he'd punish me if I didn't do as he said, if I didn't bring more people to this place. I should not have led you here.”
”I swear I don't know who Morag is. I saw him talking to a... a rich merchant I think. He was dressed in robes. I was buying food at the market, and Norig was talking to the man outside of our... my home when I was done. But the man left before I got close.”
”The other name? Gerays?... Grays” he stutters unsure of the pronunciation. ”I don't know about that.” His eyes focus upward for a moment, trying to remember something, ”There was a farmer some years back, last name of Grays. He disappeared years ago, up and left his farm. Nobody knows where he went.”
Markov:
You detect nothing amiss with the box and pry it open carefully. Inside is an exquisitely crafted chalice of gold. Gemstones adorn the outside of the cup just below the rim. Remnants of silk cling to the inside of the box, but age has left the cloth tattered.
Cedric releases Derig, letting him fall back onto the ground.
"There now, that wasn't so hard, was it?" Cedric turns to the others. "Well, I don't think he's got much more to say, but this still doesn't make sense to me. Who were those men? Why would they leave us to a farmer? Does anyone have any idea what we're dealing with here?"
He paces, angrily, as he tries to fit the pieces of Derig's story into what they had experienced.
Given the number of people who are expressing interest I'm going to actually close recruitment posts on the 25th (meaning you have up to the 24th to express interest).
Those who have posted interest but are still working on back stories can use the 25th to also work on their back stories.
Those who have posted back stories already are free to make tweaks and refinements to them if you wish.
I will start going through the classes and back stories (and determining how those back stories can be hooked into the story line) on the 25th and hopefully be done by the 27th to select players.
Because of your metamagic house rules, Kenji is particularly keen, since he specializes in metamagic.So:
Magical Lineage falls into your allowed traits criteria mentioned in the first post.
Kenji has that for fireball ( so not coming into play till level 6, the trait lets him subtract 1 from the adjusted metamagic level of Fireballs. For example if he were to Make an Intensified, Elemental Fireball (Normally a 5th level cast), he can cast it as a 4th level spell.
The direction he's going is at higher levels he'll be using Dazing Spell alot. This is so he can soften foes up with damage whilst dazing them, so the party fighter can safely murder them.
For his second trait, it is a REGIONAL trait called wayang spellhunter. Basically does the sameas Magical Lineage but has to be for a low level spell. If he is allowed this trait, he'd like to take it for Burning Arc
This comes online at level 4. This is a great spell because he can cast it with abandon, without hitting allies. If not allowed I'd go with Scorching Ray instead.
He'll be a Fireblaster (but grabs extra utility spells with human) early. Later combining Burning Arc and.Firebll with Dazing for Battle Contolrol
This would work as follows:
As a sorcerer you wouldn't be able to select a metamagic feat at 3rd level (since you can't cast 2nd level spells yet) - except the merciful metamagic.
At 4th level you'd of course pick up Burning Arc (I'm fine with you taking that spell at that point).
At 5th level you could take any metamagic feat that is +1. You could apply that feat to burning arc or any of your 1st level spells.
At 6th level you learn fireball. You can now apply your metamagic to fireball or any 2nd or lower level spell.
At 7th if you took a metamagic that was +2, you could cast fireball with only the +1 metamagic, or you could cast Burning Arc with either the +1 or...
Garion Tathos is a tall, slender half-elf with long brown hair and slightly elongated ears.
Can you give me some indication of what Garion would hope (or fear) to find upon finding his father?
When he first began his travels, Garion planned to demand an explanation from his missing father for leaving his mother to raise a half-breed child on her own. His journey has taught him much, though, including tolerance for the ways of other peoples. Now, when he finds his father, he still wants an explanation but he is willing to ask politely.
I've already put up a character background for my Religious ELf, I was thinking cleric but he could be an inquisitor or oracle and still have the same background, if that suited the group better.
Bolgard Grimbeard has never been a particularly smart dwarf. Picked on as a child for his slow intellect, he learned to shrug off pain from insults as well as physical beatings. Oddly enough, he grew to enjoy the pain and welcomed opportunities to prove that he could endure situations that would cause a lesser dwarf to crumple to the stone floor in pain. Those that took notice called him "unbreakable."
When he was of age, Bolgard enlisted in the local militia. Though their days mostly consisted of patrolling the tunnels and warding off random goblin attacks, Bolgard was always the first to fearlessly charge into battle. No foe, it seemed, could manage to hurt the dwarf.
Bolgard eventually fell in love with a gruff dwarf bard named Rolgna, whose music filled the air of the pub he frequented in his spare time. After a brief period of courtship, the two became betrothed. Their lives, it seemed, were destined for happiness. Until one day, while Rolgna was out on patrol, the city was raided by a band of orcs and Rolgna was kidnapped. Returning from his patrol to find the city in ruins and his lover missing, Bolgard gave chase to the band or orcs with a few of his closest companions who had also been on patrol during the raid.
Eventually finding the orc stronghold several days later, Bolgard immediately charged in to fearlessly liberate Rolgna from her captors. His companions tried to convince him that after such a long journey they should rest and devise a plan of attack, but their words fell on deaf ears. Greatly outnumbered and exhausted from their travels, Bolgard's companions fell one by one as they hacked their way toward the central encampment where it seemed they were holding the kidnapped dwarves.
Bolgard made it close enough that he managed to catch sight of Rolgna (to this day he believes that he could even smell her) before he was knocked unconscious. He doesn't know how long he laid there on the verge of death before he finally came to, but when he finally awoke the band of orcs and his beloved Rolgna were gone.
Bolgard now searches endlessly for his long lost love, who undoubtedly was traded by the orcs as a slave. Should he ever find her, he hopes that they can pick up where they left off and live a long and happy life together. Bolgard's only fear in life is that day will never come.
Nostos, a traveler at heart, listens to the wind like others listen to their gods. He knows that ancient secrets and fresh rumors fly along the wind, and he gratefully accepts the magic the Spirit of the Air grants him.
Notos was abandoned during his tenth summer, and fell in with a group of street urchins and guttersnipes to survive. It lasted for a few years, but after they came back to their hideout one day and found it trashed, they decided to move on to a different town. Nomadic guttersnipes now, they stayed in each town, city, or village long enough to get what they needed and move on. Notos kept them from getting caught time and time again with his sharp ears, and if it wasn't for “Jackie”, a half-orc capable of picking any lock, he would probably have been the group's leader before long.
Ah, Jackie. Notos' first crush. Jackie was the kind of person you could get along with easily as long as you respectful. Disrespect Jackie or any of the others, and you were in for a world of pain. Had his crush not stayed behind one night to distract a guard dog everyone had failed to spot, Notos would have made his feelings known.
The gang left that town quickly, despite Notus' best efforts to convince them they should wait for Jackie. They knocked him when he tried to go back, and carried him out of the city.
He left the gang around the same time he heard the voice on the wind for the first time. It told him many things, one of which was that Jackie was alive. Knowing this, Notus started traveling between towns again, looking for his lost half-orc crush. He'd hoped to speed things along with the promised pay from Bendon, but the man was just as silver-tongued as Notus himself, and the half-elf found himself drugged. At least he was in a new city he could search...
The backstory for Notus. Alias and character sheet coming soon.
Backstory for Rufus. Sorry for the length, started writing and it just kept coming. Descriptions/stats/etc some other time, I wrote this before work. Going to use the Mysterious Stranger archetype.
Backstory:
Rufus Cullen. A whisper in the breeze. A name hidden by a cloak and a bullet. A name that goes unknown by near everyone. Those that know it are either dead, or will soon be wishing they were.
Born the son of a village blacksmith, Rufus lived an extravagantly ordinary life. He was apprenticed to his father, roughhoused with his friends (Timothy, Chester, Rorsch), explored the forests, made fun of Old Man Jenkins, and stayed clear of the alchemist's house on the hill.
Superstition and legend surrounded the alchemists house, aided by the fact that the man rarely stepped outside, and when he did he was clad in strange flowing garbs, his hair always unkempt, striding straight towards the forest or some other equally isolated place. If anyone tried to talk to him, he would often mutter about "Important projects. No time for imbeciles," before pushing them out of his way and carrying on. His infamy was only furthered by the unkempt state of his house and the periodic explosions and strange noises that issued forth from it.
Rufus would always play with his friends, daring each other to see how close to the alchemist's abode they could get. Rorsch had actually gone up and touched the house, and Rufus, not one to be slighted, took it upon himself the be the first to enter it. They waited until the alchemist had left on one of his trips, and immediately set out to his house afterwards. Trying the front door, rufus found it to be locked. Spending some time looking about, he found the entrance to a cellar, under a fallen tree and obscured by bramble. Clearing a path, he managed to create a passage for himself, disappearing beneath the house.
Being the only other person to ever enter this house, Rufus took it upon himself to explore. Walking past shelves full of strange chemicals he'd never even heard of before, assorted organs in sealed glass jars, and various instruments he'd not want to guess the uses for, he came upon the work bench of the alchemist. A thick black powder covered the area, some of it scooped into a bowl. On the bench he saw a strange device, a curved tube with a handle and trigger similar to that of a crossbow. He picked it up and twirled it about, the device feeling strange, yet oddly at home in his hand. Having all the dexterity of a blacksmith at the time, it finally slid out of his hand, clattering to the floor. Once it impacted, an explosion echoed the room, smoke emitting from the device.
Rufus yelped and turned around, only to find him face to face with the alchemist.
"You're not supposed to be here, young one." he said, his head cocked slightly.
Managing to barely stammer out an excuse, Rufus turned and fled, bolting out the front door of the house, never to return, or so he said to himself. The next day the alchemist had packed up most of his equipment in a hurry and left town, stating to all those that would listen "Hunted. My greatest invention. Must leave now." Rufus was thirteen.
It was the eve of his eighteenth birthday. His father, now growing in age, had taught him well. He was to inherit the smithy, and his fathers sword, on his birthday. But the town was abuzz that day, a group of fifteen travellers had arrived, each bearing the same strange salamander brooch. They stayed at the local inn, asking questions about the alchemist. At mid-morning the next day, they had tried to break into his house, being repelled by every magical charm laid on the stonework. One could feel their anger and hear the screams from the village. By noon they had given up and came down to the village, gathering as many people as they could. The obvious leader of the group, a rippled man, clad in a breastplate and bull-shaped helm, approached the group. "Oy. Get us in the house, or we start lopping off heads. You lot knew him."
A rather courageous man spoke up from the crowd. "But sir, we hardly knew him. The man was a recluse, you see. He almost never ca--" The mans words were broken off by an arrow through his neck, falling to the ground in a pool of his own blood. The crowd began screaming, rushing this way and that.
The leader of the salamanders spoke up once more "You boys know what to do. Kill and burn, save any who surrender or look like they may know something. Have fun."
Rufus had managed to sneak away during the confusion, running straight back to the house of the alchemist. He was relieved to find the same cellar door, hidden under more brush than he thought possible. A few minutes of prying later and he had formed a hole through which he reentered the house for his last time. Taking stock of the situation, he began searching the workshop. Finding a battered, dusty gun, obviously one of the first prototypes, some powder and shot, and scant few pages detailing the workings of this early prototype, he fled from the place
and returned to his fathers smithy, only to find it ablaze.
Fearing the worst, Rufus climbed through a window, heading to the dining room, where he found both his mother and his father spitted with their own working tools. The shock of the scene not having hit him yet, Rufus kissed them both on the forehead, dashed to his room and grabbed his scant few belongings; some gold he had saved, his wide-brimmed hat, duster coat, and his backpack.
Rufus left and never turned back. It was only two hours later, when the screams had long since disappeared behind him, did he finally stop. He bent over, vomiting and vomiting, then dry heaving when he had nothing left to vomit. He spent the night crying. The next morning he had composed himself and carried on.
A few days of travel later, he had stumbled upon a farmer with his cart at sword-point from a duo of outlaws. Outraged, he had vowed to stand up for the poor, defenseless folk like these, taking justice into his own hands. Using the forest as cover, he had dispatched both of the men with his pistol, much to the terror of the farmer. When he finally showed himself, the farmer regained his composure and spoke. "Fancy weapon, stranger. Thanks for the help. What do they call you?"
Rufus reloaded the gun, twirling it once before sliding it into his belt.
"Hotshot."
Rufus hopes to one day find the group responsible for the sacking of his village, and deliver unto them his own brand of justice. He also wishes to find the alchemist one day, to sate his curiosity and see the one surviving member from his town.
I created this character for a different campaign, but I can certainly change the backstory to fit this one, if you have potentially open slots left.
I haven't closed recruitment yet (still a couple of hours). So you are welcome to create a new back story for this campaign. Obviously I'm going to have to trim half or so of those who have posted back stories so far.
Tower, I think I'm going to withdraw my name from the list. I'm just having a hard time coming up with a backstory that is satisfactory to me and you've already got quite a few applicants. As much as I would like to play in your homebrew, I'm going to have to bow out at this time.
Tower, I think I'm going to withdraw my name from the list. I'm just having a hard time coming up with a backstory that is satisfactory to me and you've already got quite a few applicants. As much as I would like to play in your homebrew, I'm going to have to bow out at this time.
I'm going to back out at this point. You still have quite a few good players, and my other PBP's have picked up a bit. It sounds like a good game and I hope that you guys have a good time. I might have to drop in on you guys for a good read in a month or two.
Okay, the hard part of narrowing it down to 8 is done.
The following will make up this party (in no particular order):
Irina - Witch
Heligar - Ranger
Markov - Alchemist
Warren - Inquisitor
Alma - Paladin
Rufus - Gunslinger
Cedric - Bard
Malaswyn - Cleric
Please create your characters if you haven't already done so.
Thank you to everyone who expressed interest - choosing the full group, especially among the clerics, wasn't easy.
