Angvar Thistlecritt's page

Mordecai is sure he can hear cynical laughter from somewhere.

Sorry to pop up here, but Angvar was the slave Mordecai mentioned. They had a truly bizarre relationship .

"I think you'll find the offer of free medical advice will pave our way nicely," suggests Angvar, amused at Mordecai's surprising ineptitude.

"Let's go in. Openly in your case, humbly and hidden in ours. Ask about any cases in need of treatment. At least find out who arrived recently and with what vile diseases. We're after a man calling himself "Beltias."."

Spot on Ozbadin (1d20+1=15)

Normally as self-centred as a hurricane, Angvar's ears are alerted to a certain familiarity in the lurking figure. He taps Mordecai's shoulder. "I believe one of our colleagues wishes to join us."

Angvar pulls his hood up over his head and follows Mordecai. At the mission he looks out for someone known as "Beltias".

Marzielle is in her room, cleaning herself up. I just read back a few posts.

"St. Caspierian's Mission, from what she said. Just make sure I don't die before we get there."

"More muscle can only help - I'm under-endowed in that area." Angvar takes in Dank's imposing bulk. He nods at Brandy. "Certainly not a goblin. An imp perhaps."

Quietly, to Mordecai, he adds, "Acting now will increase her sense of gratitude. Deliberate prevarication is pointless in this case. You won't have her whole attention until she's dealt that death blow."

"She wishes to kill her father. The symbolism is a little crude, but I think you have to give her credit for her directness. It's important that she strikes the killing blow herself, but she would welcome help in arranging that."

Angvar idly traces pattens in the air with the beer drops.

"I have warned her of the void that will follow the accomplishment of her single desire. I doubt she believes me."

"Elementary magic, much like your own. The simple things are so often the most astonishing."

Angvar matches cantrip for orison, catching and moving falling drops back into the tankards.

"A case in point. Our offering to the Gold Goblin staff needs help in order to move her life along. Some unfinished business and then, I am sure, the need for a new passion. A familiar story. Recklessly, perhaps, I have committed myself to the enterprise."

He smiles at Mordecai. "As a cleric, it may appeal to you. A man needs to die so a girl can live. A fair exchange I think."

Angvar smiles. "I think I know where to start at least." He takes her hand in return and raises the workstained fingers to his lips. "That's a salute between comrades Marzielle. We are on a mission now."

Then he goes to hunt for Mordecai, keeping his head low and face subservient.

Angvar snorts slightly at Marzielle's description of him.

"You think I'm good in a fight? Marzielle, my life hangs by a thread and the benefits of Mordecai's healing. Nothing more. Let me think a moment and talk to my master. You will strike the death blow, I promise you that."

Know (local) - Beltias. Does the name ring any bells? (1d20+8=17)

Marzielle

"Yes. That is Mordecai and he is my master. Oddly enough, I have the same scruples that you do. He gave me a place to stay, a job and my spellbook as well as the promise of more white light. I am his slave but the bondage is ... curious. I sleep in his bed, he on the floor. He heals my wounds. He needs me and I think he needs you. He must have someone to care for and tend to. It is his weakness.

I want him to show me new life, new passion, Marzielle. I do not want him to fail and I will work to make his plans succeed. If he fails, then I will have to kill him and I would regret that. I want release from the fist in my guts, not more fists churning.

And yes. In this strange fellowship, I will work to make your plans succeed too. We will find your father, you and I. And I will help you in any way I can."

Angvar follows her, absently removing bloodstains as he does so.

"Not silly at all. I had a plan and worked for it, seeing the white light. It drove me. Two days ago, I could taste it. The white light was shining for me and the pain would stop. Thuvalia and I were ready for that..."

He kneels beside the woman. "You know what happened? It went wrong. Now my guts still twist, but they twist to the dance of the man who murdered Thuvalia. I call him "master" and I am not joking. He holds me. He offered me a new light and I will either see it from him, or make his destruction my new light. I know exactly what you mean Marzielle. Exactly."

He takes no notice at all of the disruption around the door.

Angvar

"Bereft? What'sat? Like, all alone or something? I'm all alone anyway. I never even met the guy, so I hardly think I'll be missin' him when he's gone. I been waitin' my whole life to meet him just so I could get the chance to make him go away for good. Kinda silly when you think about it, ain't it?"

Another bloodstain vanishes. "Exactly so. You have waited all your life to remove him. What then? What will give you purpose then? Why will you wake in the morning and face another day in this hellhole?

Curiously enough, Angvar feels a kind of responsibility for her and is reluctant to let her slip into the slough of depression he feels lapping at his own mind.

"I know." Angvar's pale face tightens.

"But killing your father is a short term goal. What will you do once he dies? You will be bereft. I know this and I'm warning you, you will need a fresh passion."

Angvar

"Not a better weapon," she corrects, "a bigger one. It's for my father. I'm going to run him through with it." She continues furiously scrubbing the floor. "Soon...as...I...save...enough...coin!"

"I knew a woman once who killed her father and raised him. He served her in unlife and she rejoiced in his downfall."

Angvar continues to point at the worst of the bloodstains, helping Marzielle as he talks.

DM Dahn

Bexilarius wrote:

Bex is more than willing to continue. He's been bored with nothing to beat but himself. ;)

That's so wrong.

I love this party. :)

Mordecai is eager to find new and exciting things to kill, eat and or get into creepy sadomasochistic relationships with in this shanty-town.

Looks like we have a Cleric, Monk, whatever the heck Ozbadin is (Factotum?) and possibly an NPC arcanist (if he hasn't died of a lingering infection after getting a splinter or something...).

I haven't seen any posts from Jal Dorak (Gierixa the 'Druid') for about a month, so he might not be around any longer.

You know Angvar just gets hurt so he can sleep in the bed, don't you?

Much as I love danger-prone Angvar and his creepy relationship with Mordecai, I'm going to have to pass. I took on a lot more games when these went on hiatus and I'm running three, so there have to be some limits.

See the discussion thread. Dahn has had to pull out of his games due to life issues.

Unable to resist the chance to show off a bit, Angvar points a long finger at a particularly stubborn bloodstain and utters a few arcane syllables.

"You have no idea how useful that is," he remarks. "Or perhaps you do. Show me the worst of these stains and in return, tell me who else you know in need of employment in this sluice pit. My master has a great deal of influence over the owner. It is by helping others we help ourselves, or so he tells me."

Contemplating Marzielle, Angvar is silent for a moment. "No doubt my master will be grateful for the return of his dagger. Tell me, to what purpose would you put a better weapon?"

Does "mend" extend to removing bloodstains from floors? If so, he'll show off a bit and clean some of the blood off.

Angvar proposes to skulk around the Gold Goblin picking up what information he can about Saul's movements and any other titbits about the other employees. He's slightly intrigued by the girl he and Mordecai rescued.

Local knowledge on Gold Goblin staff (1d20 8=13)

Since he's clearly lost his charm, he'll retire to "his" room and brush up on useful spells.

"If the bond were not deeper than anything you could understand, then yes, I might replace Iskish." Angvar is at his coldest and most patrician.

Suddenly he smiles icily and looks carefully at Mordecai. "As it happens, a possibility does occur to me. Iskish must be found and freed first however and the pit at Zincher's must be investigated."

Mordecai

Angvar accompanies Mordecai and uses his excellent local knowledge to help find a suitably cheap weapon's merchant.

As soon as Saul appears, Angvar lowers his head again.

Today, Angvar's demeanour is different. Less subservient for one thing. He looks carefully at each of the group as they enter and eat breakfast, sizing them up quite blatantly.

"Excellent. A band of brothers. United in the cause of raising the Gold Goblin from the muck. How worthwhile." His tone is quite bland.

Angvar shrugs his shoulders. "What can I say? Somebody hired me. He seems to have disappeared."

Taking in Bex's impressive musculature, he adds, "Since you already had the fun of nearly killing me, let's spread the goodness around. Alternatively, we could just remove the charming owner and run the place ourselves. My master is strangely averse to this suggestion. Do try the snake kedgeree."

"I can take care of that for you," Bexilarius cheerfully tells Angvar as he enters the kitchen. "One quick snap of the neck. No fuss, no muss." He makes a wringing motion with his hands, then laughs. "What's for breakfast?" he asks the room.

I really wanted to say, "I'm your huckleberry," in response to that, but Bex doesn't really give off that Val Kilmer/Doc Holliday vibe.

"I'll save being killed by you as a birthday treat. It would be an experience to savour, I'm sure. If my master approves of course."

"If you can bring yourself to talk to Gierixia, she might know where to find a poison crafter."

This is in an undertone to Mordecai as they rummage in the kitchen after the now ritualistic restoration of Angvar to life.

"A new day. How exciting. What, I wonder will kill me today? Barracuda and serpents have checked in. Probably it's a mammal's turn to finish me off."

Angvar raids the kitchen again for something to put the poison sacs in. In the morning, he'll convince Mordecai that it would be worth spending money on having a ready supply of venom at their disposal.

Swift contemplation of his own mortality rate suggests that going it alone is not the best plan.

Damn - he's rumbled!

Angvar notes the arrival of the coins in his hand without comment and will accompany Mordecai to the kitchen.

"Waste not, want not. Poison isn't that easy to come by."

"I seem to be living on death's loving lips at the moment. Who knows when a poisoned blade might be useful."

He will retrieve the heads and extract the poison sacs (with extreme care). If he can, he'll preserve the poison for later use on the dagger Mordecai lent him.

"I'm sure you approve of using the enemy's weapons against them. Isn't that what we do? Tomorrow we should head for the arena. My own serpent friend still calls me. I might add that Iskish would have better manners than to bite the hand that fed him. Wouldn't it be lovely if the hands that hold him hasn't fed him? Our lives would be a great deal simpler."

Then he heads very carefully back to the room and sleeps the sleep of those recovering hp in a hurry.

If he can recover the poison, how many doses and what effect will it have?

"Do what you want with the fungi and the snakes. I need a drink and some serious sleep. In order for me to do that Master, I'll need some money."

Angvar is well aware that tripping over at this point will kill him and hasn't got much to lose by asking for some cash.

"It has ironic charm of a kind."

I think it's hilarious. As a player I have no kind of deathwish, but Angvar clearly does.

With infinite caution, Angvar wanders out of range and contemplates his possibly short future.

"Who knew hunting for Iskish would be so debilitating?"

"Sod this for a game of soldiers." Poison coursing through his veins, Angvar sinks into unconsciousness for the third time in 24 hours.

Fort save (1d20-2=5). The man has a death wish. No question.

"Just bugger off. I know what you can do, you don't have to prove it to me." Kicking frantically at the snake, Angvar backs away (to K8). Once again, he jabs his dagger at the neck of the nearest oncoming serpent. Against his will, and feeling weaker, he's fairly sure his aim isn't as true this time around.

Fort save v poison (again) (1d20 1=9). One failed Fort save.

Hand of the Apprentice on the snake (1d20 4=11, 1d4 4=7)

"You really are sick and twisted aren't you?"

Despite the pain, the snakes and the murky swamp, Angvar manages to sound admiring.

"I need to learn to do that."

Will save to stop Mordecai's spell hurting too much (1d20 4=19). 1hp damage to Mr Thistlecritt.

"Wake the damned thing up and tell it to control the bodyguards. Get away you little bastards, I know about you." screams Angvar as he hops about in pain, trying to keep control of his dagger.

Fort save (1d20 1=11). I'm reckoning that helps not at all and he's poisoned.

When his turn comes up again, Hand of the Apprentice will come into play once more on whatever nearest snake is. He'll also try and get somewhere less infested.
Attack on snake (1d20 4=21, 1d4 4=8)

"Disgusting, jumped up piece of trash. Look at me!"

Angvar hurls invective at the lowlife while his dagger darts in and out, seeking the creature's throat.

Hand of the Apprentice dagger attack on goblin snake (1d20 4=17, 1d4 4=8)

Unwilling to undergo near death again, Angvar remains alert and watchful while Mordecai and Gierixia faff around with the hut and the mushrooms.

Angvar is profoundly uninterested in either nature or survival, but prompted by Mordecai's look, takes a cursory glance around.

Nature and Survival assist checks from friendly neighbourhood slave (1d20 3=16, 1d20 3=13). He's not trained in either, and I can't remember what he can assist with in those circumstances.

"My master is wise in the ways of men and fungi."

"My master has a way with people. Seven hundred and twenty four."

To an outsider the tone is flat and unemotional. Mordecai, being more familiar with Angvar, probably spots the very slightest hint of amusement at the situation.

"Seven hundred and twenty four is correct, master."

As Gierixia approaches, he moves to his accustomed place at Mordecai's shoulder and drops his head.

If Gierixia is in sight, Angvar instantly drops back to his familiar subservient posture and takes his place behind Mordecai. He keeps the dagger well hidden.

Angvar looks down at the woman with mild interest. "Did you try to rob him?"

He maintains the merry voice offering free beer a little longer. It seems to be attracting a lot of attention and the street around them is clearing rapidly.

"You know, that's not such a stupid idea for the next grand reopening of the Goblin. All you can drink for free as long as you keep it down. It's tasteless of course, but we're dealing with tasteless people, aren't we?"

"You might need this," he says, to Angvar. "Seven hundred and twenty-three. Do you think she could be prettied up enough to wait tables or something?"

Angvar looks speculatively at the victim. "It's hard to tell when she's covered in drunks. We'd have to clean them off her first."

Taking the dagger with one hand, the other traces a few symbols in the air. He takes another step. "Seven hundred and twenty-four. Let's see what we can do."

A cheery voice speaks from around the next corner.

"DRINKING CONTEST STARTING NOW! GET THEM DOWN AND KEEP THEM DOWN, THE DRINKS ARE FREE!"

Ghost sound to create a distraction.

Tapping the nearest mugger on the shoulder and keeping his dagger out of sight, Angvar allows something approaching a merry smile (or as near as he can manage) to cross his face. "Aren't you going to that?"

To Mordecai

Dahn