Atia Leroung's page

Joran and Atia are just going to sail off into the sunset together. :)

I'm not interested in another DM for this AP, so I will be leaving.

The rest of you: I'm still around on the boards, so if my playstyle jives with something you're doing, feel free to drop me a line.

The next morning, Atia takes some time to prepare her spells for the day before heading out to join the meeting with the other officers. The Chelish wizard is wearing newer clothes - tan pants tucked into knee-high leather boots with her usual light blue robes with gold threading and trim tied around her waist. The robes, while faded, look freshly washed and mended. Her long blonde hair hangs in loose waves over her shoulders.

The wizard sits near Lanni and Joran, glancing around the table silently as she has breakfast: a small fruit tart and hot tea sweetened with honey.

Placing an arm around her, "You ain't kidding about that, darlin'. This is the kind of 'eventful' a sword can't do anything about." Then cutting his focus toward the departing Mateo, "I wonder where he's going? He sounds like a man on a mission and not a good one either. Why do I have a bad feeling about that?"

Atia nibbles her food and leans into Joran's embrace, glancing at Mateo's retreating form before replying, "Mateo won't do anything stupid," She says confidently, glancing up at the barbarian through thick, blonde lashes. "You just don't like the man very much," She teases, poking Joran's side with her index finger. "The sooner we get out of here and back to the sea, the better..."

Challenge rating too low. Bedbugs are resistant to everything.

Good luck, man. I really hope the treatment helps.

Atia sits at a table in the common area, breathing a sigh of relief as everything seems to settle down. She snags a drink and something to snack on from Thelma for both herself and Joran, gesturing for the barbarian to sit with her. "Well, this has all been eventful," Atia mutters to her lover, leaning against the big man while she watches the room.

"Hmm, Pegsworthy..." Atia looks thoughtful for a moment, then shakes her head. "Doesn't sound like anyone I need to be worried about, at least...I take it they're not aggressive toward us at all?" She said, crossing her arms over her chest. "I imagine Rickety will want to meet with the Captain as well, but best stay out of his way for that one. We've saved his life, but we're harboring a fugitive..."

Atia glances at Syl and Mateo briefly, an odd expression flashing across her face before she turns away, taking Joran's hand and making her way back out to the common area.

"Lanni," She says, catching the gnome's attention with a small wave when they're all back in the tavern. "Rickety says he'll double our guns. Size or quantity, our choice. In return for the help and un-paralyzing him and all," She shares, looking pleased. "What happened over at the docks with that other ship?"

Atia flushed red at being brushed off and admonished, but said nothing in reply. He wasn't wrong, and she had no grounds to push much further. The wizard stepped away to watch the confrontation, arms crossed over her chest with obvious discomfort.

Watching the old man leave, "Well, he seems to be doing alright now. That's good." Looking down at Atia and smiling, "Nice work, gorgeous. Good thing you found that potion of his or he'd be going nowhere."

Rickety doesn't pause or look back at Des. "I was paralyzed, lass, not deaf," he says curtly, walking briskly. He's not leaving the Commons, though. He's making his way upstairs. Towards the room shared by the crew's most dangerous duo.

Atia gives Joran a worried look, staring at the room where Syl and Mateo had been staying a moment. "I'm going to follow," She says quietly, darting off to catch up with Rickety and hopefully defuse any situation that might arise.

She falls into step beside the gruff man, a worried look on her face. "If I may..." She starts hesitantly, glancing in the direction of Mateo and Syl's room. Her face hardens a bit and she reaches out a hand to stop Rickety's ascent. "She's part of our crew. She saved your life."

Des is unaware of Rickety's attempts to communicate, but Atia notices the purposeful way the man is flitting his gaze up and down. It doesn't seem to be simple eye rolls. He's trying to draw her attention downwards on his person, and it occurs to her to check his belt pouch -- where she finds quite the varied array of medicinal potions in tiny vials, neatly labeled. One, indeed, claims to counter paralysis.

Atia plucks out the vial in question and administers it to Rickety. "Sorry it took us so long to figure it out," She mutters, tilting his head up so that he doesn't choke on the liquid.

She waits for the potion to take effect, smiling in the most friendly manner she can muster. "Do you need a hand anywhere?" She asks gently.

Atia squints at Rickety, trying to follow his seemingly-purposeful eye movements.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

--- In the Tavern with Rickety ---

"Destinie, do you have any kind of spell that can help with this?" Atia says, examining Rickety while offering a sympathetic smile to the man. "We'll get you free of it, sir," Atia says reassuringly, patting the man on the shoulder awkwardly.

Atia slides up to Destinie, shooting the oracle a look for warning. "Be careful whose name you drop, Destinie..." The wizard looks annoyed at the woman before glancing over at Terry and Joran, letting them work out who will help them take care of Rickety.

When the decision is made, Atia will nod at whoever is helping, gesturing impatiently. "I don't want to be seen by a Chelish vessel. Let's get Rickety inside."

just a reminder that folks need to be mindful of throwing Syl's name around. paralyzed doesn't mean Rickety can't hear things. at this point, any violent, stabby reaction from Syl over it would be very justified.

oh hell no

hell freaking no

burn everything down

i lost like everything to bedbugs so godspeed on that one

asdfyapsoeriyasrh

Atia will pull out the little pouch and candle and prepares them swiftly, using the smoke from the candle to fill the little pouch and then pull a celestial giant frog from its home plane to assist her here.

The frog will appear near one of the wasps and launches itself at it, biting.

froggy bite: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 going to assume that doesn't hit

frog lasts 6 rounds; AC 12; touch 11; ff 11; hp 19/19; resist acid, cold, electric 5; fort+8; ref +6; will -1

Atia glanced at Syl, her mouth set in a grim line and moves to stand near the woman's fallen body--just enough distance from the wasps not to provoke, but enough that she would draw attention from the bugs. "Alright, bugs. That's enough," She mutters to herself, tossing out more Magic Missiles at the nearest wasp.

Magic Missiles: 2d4 + 2 ⇒ (4, 4) + 2 = 10

Sorry for the hold up...I thought I posted, but I just had it in my drafts. *facepalm*

Atia makes a quick assessment of the scene: wasps all over, Syl standing over Rickety...they were coming in to save the day, something she was certain Rickety would be grateful for, even if Syl were recognized. The wizard frowns and rolls up her sleeves a moment, speaking the trigger word for her memorized spell to fire off two Magic Missiles at the closest wasp.

Magic Missile: 2d4 + 2 ⇒ (2, 2) + 2 = 6

17 AC w/ mage armor -- cast before engaging in a previous post.

Atia walks alongside Joran, hand in the barbarian's, while they make their way back to Rickety's, the naga child in tow. The wizard pauses a moment when she hears the screams and buzzing at Rickety's, brows furrowing in confusion. "That...can't be good," She mumbles, glancing up at Joran with a determined look on her face. She pats a bit of leather over her chest and mutters the trigger words, setting off her Mage Armor spell in preparation for the fight to come.

I will post tomorrow - am sleepy and work has been long. Atia will have the same prepared spells that she had the day before when she wakes up. <3

Atia shuffles around the area, looking for the least muddy looking spot to set up a makeshift camp, not looking forward to the prospect of sleeping outdoors after several days of luxury in a mattress in a covered building.

"Someone should talk to the kid," Atia suggests, not wanting to involve herself in it. She had no idea how to talk to small children. She found them creepy, and small naga children even worse.

Atia shrugs, quirking an eyebrow at the dwarf. "Probably talk to it? Tempt it with food?" She shrugs. "Terry had some luck with it...maybe he can talk to the thing, tell it we want to bring it somewhere safe?"

"Why in the world are you looking to add children to the ship, anyway? That's a horrible idea." Atia asks Destinie incredulously as she looks at their surroundings, trying to determine a less...muddy place to make camp.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15

"Take it back to Rickety's, and if they won't take it...we decide whether we're all going to be parents," at the thought of being responsible for a child, Atia shudders with disgust, "or if we're going to show the poor thing mercy."

The wizardess crosses her arms over her chest, exhausted, sweaty, and sticky. "I don't think this is anything other than a natural drought. Nothing we've seen points to anything nefarious."

"It could have been, but I don't think it's worth dwelling on. We didn't cause the drought, and the naga was out of her mind." Atia touched her side lightly, frowning at the memory of the naga's teeth sinking into her flesh.

Atia would be sweeping with detect magic as they walked, just in case they can find some kind of magical reason for the drought.

After they had spent hours traversing the uncomfortable, hot terrain, Atia heaves a sigh and pushes sweaty hair off of her forehead. "Well, shall we head back? I'm not sure it's going to be worth it to keep going forward."

I need to teach my phone's autocorrect to stop changing "Atia" to "Aria" and "Joran" to "Jordan"... hate noticing silly typos hours after I post. :P

Aria shrugs. "Well, we have several options. Let's look around for more, then go from there, I suppose."

"If we can't find anyone, we could always see if someone at Rickety's could take care of it...tame naga are rare, but he's young enough to be taught who the enemy is," Atia suggests. "Better than us adopting it."

Lanni shrugs helplessly at the others. "I don't know what else to do for him. He won't talk to me. Just keeps calling for his mother. Atia, you mentioned that Naga aren't any more inherently evil than any other race, right?"

"They're mean and territorial, but no, not inherently evil, I don't think," Atia replies, sighing heavily.

To Joran, she shrugs. "I suppose we should see if there are any sane naga left to take in the child, as you all said. Otherwise, we are either adopting a child, or we can out it put if its misery."

I spent all day running errands and my spouse is getting feisty that I'm still on the computer, so I will post later tonight.

"A child." Mateo said softly, letting out a deep sigh. He shook his head, looking down at his rapier, before becoming resolute. "I'll make it clean and painless, if need be. It'd be a shame to let it suffer the same fate."

Atia frowns at his comment, nodding slowly. "Depending on how things go while Lanni speaks to him...that may not be a bad idea. These things are not our friends." She glances up at Joran for his reaction--she had a feeling the barbarian wouldn't be too keen on that course of action.

Oh gosh, I'm sorry to hear that, Terry. I came down with COVID earlier this year in April and it was rough. Take care of yourself!

--- Before Leaving ---

He then ponders something else and works up the courage to quietly ask, "Um, darlin'? I don't suppose you could use your magic to get this slime off of me, could you? Please? It's...," he points to his head, "It's in my hair and I don't really like that. Please?"

Atia stared at him for a moment longer, letting him simmer in discomfort. She could let him just deal with the slime, but then the rest of them would also have to deal with it...

Her resolve broke at the bashful, apologetic expression and his quiet pleading, and she broke out into a grin. "Oh, fine. I can't stay mad at you, Joran," She said quietly, kneeling down next to the barbarian and using her prestidigitation cantrip to clean all the slime out of his hair and off of the rest of him. Dark gray energy surrounded her hands and seemed to siphon away the dirt, slime, and grime, leaving the barbarian clean.

"You don't need to explain yourself because I trust you had a good reason, you just need to give us a warning if you're going to attack a big giant reptile, alright? Give us some time to prepare." Now that the barbarian was cleaned, Atia leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on his forehead before standing up. "Let's get going, love."

--- Present ---

As they explore the river's edge, discovering more and more dead naga, twisted in agony and starvation, Atia finds herself feeling somewhat sorry for the creatures. While the naga were not friendly, pleasant creatures, and her side still stung from the fight the day before, she didn't think they deserved this long, slow, horrible death. "Sad, awful way to go..." She says quietly before the gasp and splash at the dam catches her attention.

The wizard narrows her eyes and gestures toward it. "Looks like something's there." She will cast Detect Magic as they approach (if they are approaching) just in case.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17

Atia stepped carefully toward Joran, sporting The Look the barbarian was so terrified of. She stops near his feat, looking down at him with her arms crossed.

She would wait until his conversation with Mateo was finished, face still sporting that terrifying expression, and then catch his gaze. "Joran. Dearest. Darling. My love? Please warn us when you are going to go charging at something." She sounded pleasant enough, but the glint in her eyes was dangerous.

Sorry my posting has been erratic and slow. The holidays are not a very good time for me this year because of grief and all the struggles that has been bringing. I probably won't get anything up tonight. Thanks for your patience.

(If you see this more than once, I'm copy-pasting it to my other games!)

Atia mutters a string of curses under her breath and makes a frustrated sound, rushing forward a bit to make sure she gets into range of the allosaurus and fires off a burning, searching beam of fire at the creature grappling her lover.

Scorching Ray to hit, ranged touch: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
Scorching Ray damage, fire: 4d6 ⇒ (1, 5, 3, 4) = 13

"Joran...why?" Atia called after him, exasperated. The wizard made an annoyed sound and tapped herself on the chest, casting Mage Armor.

AC 17, MA lasts 4 hours on her.

"I'm for moving along," Atia says quietly, in awe of the creatures. She shares what she knows about them, moving carefully along to avoid the fight.

Atia walks along beside Joran, a sour look on her face. Picking through the mud and decay on a good day was not her idea of a good time--it was even less so with drought and overbearing heat. She gleamed with sweat, hair sticking to her face despite her attempts to pile it on top of her head. "I'm this close to cutting all my hair off," She mutters to herself moodily. Asmodeus sails above them, not so much as a scout, but to give Atia a break from his claws digging into her shoulder and his squawking.

She pauses when they approach the large creatures, raising an eyebrow, sifting through her mental cache of knowledge for what these things might be.

Knowledge: Nature: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Atia continues to look confused, brows furrowing at Destinie's commentary. She wasn't bothered by Mateo's display, although the sight of his surprisingly smooth legs and backside were...unexpected. She had been sheltered most of her life, but it has been some time on the ships, exposed to death and chaos and all manner of indecency. She broke into a bemused smile, taking a last drink of her hot tea. "Oh, Destinie, it's fine. I'm a bit desensitized at this point. Cheliax wasn't an innocent place, and we've been at this for a while. And I would never ask Mateo to do such a thing. It would only make him double down."

After any more discussion, (and Joran chiming in when he can :P), Atia would rise and head out with the rest of the crew, ready to chase down the root of the problem with the naga.

[Dice=Bluff]1d20+9

Des in the meantime took good note of that Mateo's chiseled thighs... while casually mouthing the rest of her soup. It's rude to oogle... but it's also nice not to get caught while doing so.

She did notice Atia, where she eventually found a seat to sit next too. "At least that's one benefit of being single," she smiled. "You don't have to worry about someone looking behind your back."

Atia snaps her gaze away from Mateo and looks at Destinie, brows furrowing with confusion. "I'm not sure I follow your meaning?" She says, frowning. "Kind of hard to avoid a look when it's...right there." She gestures vaguely to where Mateo had been standing right in front of her and raises an eyebrow.

Atia looks up from her breakfast just in time for Mateo to prop a leg up on their table, putting himself on quite the display for the entire taproom to see. Especially Atia, who happened to be at just the right angle to see up his skirt. The wizard chokes on the pastry she's eating and averts her gaze quickly, lightly tanned skin flushing bright red. She tries to cover the reaction by taking a huge drink of her tea...

bluff: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (7) - 1 = 6 perfect

...and ends up choking on her tea, as well. She coughs, very pointedly looking down. "Nice butt, Mateo." She says quietly, breaking into a fit of the giggles before looking pointedly away from Mateo's stance.

In the morning, Atia kisses Joran and shoos him out of their room with a grin, clutching her spellbook.

"Meet you in a bit, love. Don't let anyone bother me."

After preparing her spells, she heads out to the commons, arriving with just enough time to join Lanni's seance.

Alphonse lets out a breath, relaxing when he sees she's alright. He's either oblivious to Joran's mood, or choosing to ignore it. "I'm relieved to hear that, my lady." He patted Joran's arm. "Good man." Returning his attention to Atia he smiled dashingly. "Should you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

He turned to leave -- or tried to. His foot caught on the tied laces, untying them in the process and hiding the evidence of Lanni's trickery. Alphonse stumbled a couple steps but caught himself before falling, then looked back. "Be careful, my lady, I believe the floorboard is loose." A little flushed, he dusted himself off symbolically and straightened his coat, then strode off.

"Mmmh," Atia hums a bit dismissively in response to Lord Tennyson, smiling and nodding politely. She glances at his hand on Joran's arm, tensing up a little bit and squeezing the big man's hand meaningfully. Don't let him agitate you... She thinks, wishing Joran could read her mind just for a moment.

When Alphonse moves away from them and trips, Atia chokes on a laugh, eyes wide, and schools her face into polite concern, biting down hard on her bottom lip.

"We'll keep an eye out. Thank you, Lord Tennyson," She says, referring to him by his title to keep the barrier of nobility up between them.

She then turns toward Joran, hand still in his, and grins up at him, visibly relaxing. "You really don't like him, do you?"

*grabs a bag of popcorn to watch the aftermath of yet another one of our crew namedropping Syl when they aren't supposed to*

When Alphonse makes his way over, Joran tenses up, his jaw clenched. When Atia takes a hold of his hand, though, he does relax... some. Looking down at her and not missing her unspoken command, he calmly cuts his focus back to the intruder. Okay, Joran, do not punch this guy in the face. Or kick him in the crotch. Or punch him in the face and THEN kick him in the crotch. Taking a deep breath in an attempt to aid in calming himself, he responds and responds quickly and flatly. "She'll be fine, Alphonzie. We'll take care of her. Thanks for asking. That'll be all. Good talking to you, now, bye-bye." Joran, with nary an expression, looks hard at the guy, who he is certain is trying to move in on his woman, and patiently awaits for him to turn and leave.

Atia squeezes the barbarian's hand and leans against his chest. She looks up at him for a brief moment and grins. "Proud of you, love."

Before a much-needed bath

Lord Alphonse Tennyson rushed over to where Lanni, Joran, and Atia were gathered and talking. He ignored to first two, a look of concern as he regarded the latter. "Atia I just heard what happened. Are you alright?" Her clothes were still bloodied enough she looked like she was mortally wounded.

Atia turns to look at Alphonse with raised eyebrows, surprised by the gentleman's sudden appearance. She straightens up a bit, her posture and diction transforming into that of a noblewoman's mask rather than the more relaxed and authentic demeanor she normally portrayed. "Oh, yes. I'm quite alright, thanks to Destinie and Joran..." She reaches out and takes Joran's hand, lacing her fingers in between his and looking up at the barbarian with The Look that says, 'play nice.'

A bit later once everyone has arrived for dinner, Lanni asks the group, "So if we are going out exploring to find more nagas, what type of spirit should I be looking for? Someone skilled would be the easiest - I can find them right here. Someone with more leadership and morale I would have to find on the ship. Unless Rickety has a meeting hall or something like that. Or if we just want a warrior, we could meet back at that boat shed. There was certainly enough of a battle there."

Atia, freshly bathed and in a clean shirt (a dark blue), sips a drink as she sits with her legs across Joran's lap. "Probably a warrior?" Atia suggests hesitantly. "I don't really think there's any negotiating with them if they're anything like the naga we fought." She shifts uncomfortably, a hand touching her side briefly. "In that vein, I wouldn't mind some input on the spells I prepare for it tomorrow." She would pull out her spellbook from its waterproof bag at her waist and set it on the table, cocking an eyebrow and grinning at Lanni.