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With things finally looking up, Amber finds her singing voice. While she was nary the equal of any bard, she knew she could ring her own notes just fine, now that there was reason enough to sing. "no chimney smoke, no hammers peal,
As someone who so recently was computerless, I'd be quite the dick if I complained about this. Hang in there, DM.
"careful now lad; I aim to raise my own tavern. You keep that up I might just chain ya to the tavern wall and make ya sing for my guests."
"Agreed. We didn't come t'this land to hunt frogs, satisfyin' though that might be. Let's rejoin the caravan before something even MORE rude decides to ruin our trip."
Well I can confidently say I know your pain...very recently, in fact.
Yeah no. You wouldn't catch me DEAD on that side of the planet. I have no shame in admitting I literally wouldn't last a day. I'd be a hardboiled egg by nightfall. Oh, also: I'm FINALLY up and running again, albeit with a failed SSD so I had to install windows on ANOTHER ONE aaaaaand we're back to scratch. time to redownload and reinstall EVERYTHING. Again. SO annoying.
The temperature is sitting around 100F during the day. Not heat index, mind you; actual thermometers at 100. I take a shower at 3pm, get in my jeep to go to work by 4, need another shower by the time I clock in at 5. I'm clearly not evolved for this biome...which is frustrating because I grew up here. Though I guess it would explain the delays; if the drivers are in those sweatboxes they call trucks, I wouldn't be surprised if they had to pass out from heat exhaustion a time or two themselves. I just hope the damn motherboard doesn't start deforming in the heat too.
"I've just a little magic for wounds; not enough to tend a whole group; just maybe enough to save a life in a pinch. Nevermind that though; are we SURE that trident's a demon's tool? Doesn't look so hideous now that the frog's not clenching it."
New motherboard was SUPPOSED to be here today but "delays due to weather." I'm just gonna take that at face value because otherwise I'm gonna be IRATE.
Guess I'm not the only one who had a rough week, aye? Truth be told, aside from HP and possibly fatigue, I'm good. I don't exactly burn through spells currently, which feels REALLY weird, to be honest; I'm a sorceress who charges in with a handaxe and a 20 STR score--that's like, NEW to me.
Amber coughs, sputters and nearly retches on the stone as the unclean water makes its way out of her. "Gods, that's foul..." She gets to her feet, quickly scanning the scene. Upon finding no more immediate threats, she begins searching the water to retrieve her axe.
Well, I'm on a borrowed computer at the moment; slow as hell but still more practical than a phone; I seriously cannot stand typing with thumbs. The stone(s?) passed but the effects still linger; I recognize this new sensation as severe dehydration, which makes sense considering I probably filled that bucket with the contents of my stomach (yes, it hurt THAT bad) sooo... Better? Yeah. Not great, but...better. At least I can still go to work and now I can get back to the campaigns, so...woo!
Amber looks for her next target, but crumples as the blow lands outside her peripheral vision.
Apologies for going AWOL, everyone. I have had... Well lets just call it the week from hell. PC is out of commission, shits been going all wrong and just FYI, kidney stones are the purest definition of agony i can think of. I hate posting from my phone but life hates me right now so i guess were even.
With her teammate under assault, Amber makes a snap decision to turn on Krystid's assailants, swinging for frog flesh.
Seeing the anticipated reaction from the frogmen, Amber advances and brings the sharp end of her axe into the nearest offender, looking to hear that satisfying wet crunch of steel biting into frog flesh.
Picking up on the party's initial gambit, Amber casts her cantrip and flings a firebolt at the ornate ritual leader, pulling her axe afterward.
Sorry about the short hiatus; thought my hard drive borked out on me couple nights ago; turns out it was likely just overheating. Damn Texas weather...
Amber's eyebrows lift at the revelation. "A weapon that can control fungus? Seems like an...odd choice." But what could I DO with that kind of tool? Hmmm..."
Amber eyes the fungus creatures as the prisoners depart, casting a quick cantrip and tossing one more little flame into the mound of fungi. "Come then; we've got frogs to dissect." She waves the party on, then starts down the path.
Amber turns to look over Morkam's shoulder as she's wiping her axe. "Hmmm. Shame we can't take one back with us; be nice to have such a quick supply for stews and brews." Suddenly her eyes light up and a smile spreads across her face. "Think I might've just named me tavern, lads..."
With the rush of battle finally ebbing, Amber at last belts her axe, exhaling. "Right then...we all done here? Is that everyone?"
Weaving with the monster's clumsy movements, Amber spies her opening as the ungainly thing overextends itself, going for the kill.
Amber shifts 5 feet to get at the minotaur's flank and swings for the meat.
Spotting Ienmar's headlong charge, Amber refuses to be outdone, brandishing her axe and following suit, joining Ienmar's assault on the gruesome aberration as she follows up his hammer blow with a biting chop to the monster's midsection.
"Oh I don't know," Amber muses, "I can see a certain charm to it. Plan the stonework around it and ye might get some lovely patterns out of the deal. Not so enamored of the croaking; THAT we can cut away." She hefts her axe and trots to keep up.
Amber fiddles with the haft of her axe as she follows the group, eyeing the moss and fungal decor. "Wonder if moss would make a good lawn..."
Amber keeps up, her axe still in hand. "No chance they took our people for food if they've gone so far underground. You don't s'pose they're using 'em for more of their frog magics, do you? If they're keen on sacrificing them to some god or other, we're about to offend someone's religion."
Amber steps up to the door and takes a look herself; her eyes widen a moment at the sheer quantity of fungi. "That's...a LOT of mold..." She looks at her open palm for a moment, pondering. Her eyes light up as she reaches into her pack to pull out a torch. After working to light it, she opens the door and tosses it into the mold, watching to make sure the mold either catches fire or at least doesn't extinguish the torch.
"If they've gone underground then they've done half the work for us. We'll see how well they jump with stalactites just over their heads, aye?" Amber tosses away her conjured flame and tests the door, pulling or pushing as needed.
"aye, aye; history is all well and good but we've still got kin to find." Amber steps up and casts a cantrip, lighting a flame above her hand. "There. See well enough now?"
"Better a little walkin' waterspout than us, I suppose... but if the traps reset 'fore our return or our kin might face a nasty surprise." She nudges Morkam with an elbow. "Now what was that about wedging' somethin' in? Think it'll keep it from sprayin' again?"
Amber watches as the others check for dangers but perks up noticeably at the mention of fruits. "Well I wouldn't mind pluckin' a few but let's not dally; we've still got kin to find. Anyone bring a map we can mark for later?" She looks longingly at the tempting vines as she follows Ienmar over in.
Amber pulls her axe from her belt and ignites her cantrip in the other hand. "Let them bloody come, then. Had about enough slogging through their droppings."
"Damnit, Ienmar's right; we haven't all day for a proper funeral. Just roll the bodies together then; I'll set them alight and hope that's good enough for the gods. Just don't touch 'em barehanded." Amber reaches into her pack, pulls out a torch and casts a quick cantrip to produce a flame upon her hand, using it to light the torch. Once satisfied it won't go out, she then places it on the pile of dwarf corpses, holding it in place to make sure it catches despite the moisture in the air. With a solemn nod for the lost Dwarven lives, she rolls her burly shoulders and starts off. "Let's see to it there're no more funerals today, aye?"
"Bloomed inside 'em? Remind me not to serve that mushroom in a stew... as for the bodies, might want to cremate them so what's left of 'em don't try to get up again or infest someone else. Mushrooms tend to throw spores to the wind; last thing we need is a new patch o' zombie fungus sproutin' on their graves after some fool walks up to search their pockets."
Amber moves to flank the remaining fungal corpse and sinks her blade into it.
Turns out, well delivered constructive criticism is one of the biggest kindnesses we can offer each other. For my part, I find the best thing to do with PBP is to let everyone find their pacing and style and give it time for everyone to adjust slightly to each others' wavelength, so to speak. The posters who are too short find ways to beef up their descriptions a bit and those who run long-winded learn to be a little more succinct until everyone finds a nice rhythm and it just flows. Setting a tone with example post lengths and desired descriptive "volume" can help get the ball rolling at the intended speed but then it's just a matter of making sure everyone's still feeling the flow.
"Less yakkin', more whackin', lad!" Amber presses the advantage as the enemy ranks dwindle, her axe blade biting into her foe once again.
Studying her ambling kinsmen as they engage, Amber sighs in resignation. The empty eyes, the shambling, jerky movements... it all tells the tale.
"Be mindful though! There's a single will controlling the lot of them!"
"Rest? Now? What d'you think we are? Halflings? We'd be giving the froggers time to rest and regroup besides, if they're not already cooking our kin. I say we press on."
"don't know if anyone's tried to make a drink out of 'em but I'll damned sure try."
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