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Avian sighs in relief as Vors' and Marcoul's healing energies knit the wound in his chest back together. He removes his hand gingerly, but no need; it doesn't hurt at all. The wound has scabbed over and shrunk to a mere superficial scrape which should heal completely in a night or two of rest. Thanks, my friends. he gasps, wiping the blood from his arm and chest with a spare bit of cloth in his backpack. After composing himself, he looks around the room for anything of interest.
Avian once again aims his pistol and fires again upon his previous target, hoping to spare Severus any further injuries by taking out the goblin. Then he reloads from yet another cartridge.
Having cleared and loaded his pistol, Avian steps out around the corner adjacent to Vors and aims his pistol at the goblin next to Severus. Let's kill them fast so one of you can heal me!
Then, still wincing a bit from the grievous wound in his side, he reloads his pistol with an alchemic cartridge.
I'm willing to hang in for a replacement GM too. If being a gunslinger is a problem for a potential GM (as many ban them) I was thinking Avian could be reclassed as a zen archer or ranger. His family were fletchers (arrow-makers), hence their family name, so it would make a lot of sense for him to be quite adept with a bow in the absence of the chance to learn to wield firearms.
Protected (as well as can be expected in the circumstances) by his friends, Avian turns his attention to his pistol. Still cursing, he jams the ramrod into his pistol and clears out the bits of paper that had jammed his pistol and once satisfied with the barrel, he loads his pistol from the powder horn and bullet pouch on his belt. After the work, he clutches an arm to his wound once again.
Avian levels his pistol at the goblin and fires.
Avian curses as the trigger releases the hammer and a feeble puff of smoke, but no bullet is fired. Wincing at the wound in his chest, he decides to head back behind Vors to repair his gun and (hopefully) stay out of harm's way. As he passes the paladin and cleric, he chirps in a low, hoarse voice I could use some healing, friends.
Avian holds his left arm over the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, and does a clever twist in his right hand, his pistol spinning and he strikes the goblin chief with the butt of his pistol like a hammer, spinning it as he pulls back in so it is once again at the ready after his attack.
Avian moves to within 20 feet of the chief, levels his pistol and fires, reloading only moments after the shot clears the barrel.
Severus seems to have a good handle on it. Avian says, nodding at Severus's look of calm expectance that the lock will open. If by chance he fails, I could try shooting the lock to try to break it.
Avian fires another pistol shot on the goblin 10 feet ahead, then reloads once more.
Avian fires at goblin 10 feet ahead of him, then reloads his pistol.
Why not? Avian says in assent as he heads to the doors.
Where to next? Avian says, looking out any windows . He'll search for any sign of more goblin movement outside since they entered the western tower.
What, Marcoul, there's no daemon living here, so we can torch the place? Let's not throw the forest out with the goblins, alright? Unless any of you have great power over fire you haven't mentioned before, there's a big chance of burning down the whole forest trying to set this compound ablaze, and good luck explaining that to the woodcutters of Sandpoint. Avian says simply, drawing his pistol again, having holstered it for the climb up the wall.
Avian holsters his pistol and heads over next. On seeing the dogs he speaks in a commanding voice the single word Down!
Sounds good, Pavro. Who brought rope? Avian asks as he heads to S5, behind Thandion.
Avian also surveys the area for anything notable, especially the missing guards and dogs.
Avian reloads and sends another pistol shot at one of the goblins on the ground.
Avian then reloads again.
Avian reloads his pistol and fires at the goblin accosting Thandion, yelling Get away from him!
Avian moves to R19 and fires on the goblin straight ahead of him
IMHO, The restriction makes perfect sense to me, as the cleric draws his power from his god, and if his god is a force of harm and evil, then it makes sense that that is the only power his cleric can get. But of course it's your call, GM, and I wouldn't begrudge the group a free source of healing.
Taking half+1, I don't like tempting fate when it comes to HP :) +6 HP (5+1 base, -1 CON, +1 favored class)
Sounds like a good plan. If the bridge breaks and I fall, I'm not necessarily a goner. Avian stretches his arms out like wings, and you can see that when held in this way, some loose skin tightens in such a way that his arms look quite like bird wings, other than the claws at the end. I can't gain height, but I can glide. It's a matter of skill, though. My race long ago lost the instincts to fly or glide without thought.
Avian takes a position behind Aressa again. Best to keep my threats in range of my pistol, he clicks his beak, then checks to make sure his pistol is loaded and heads behind Aressa, listening and watching for any sign of movement or threat to the group.
After finally extricating himself from the vines, Avian clicks his beak impatiently. Well, what do we do? Can't those shamans change themselves into animals? Even if we see him, we might not recognize him he furrows his eyebrows--or, what passes for eyebrows on a feathered creature--trying to remember what his village druid could do. All these magical threats, sometimes I wonder if I'm up to coping with demons and mages and shamans. Avian looks down at his pistol and chirps softly, then again, who but the gunsmiths of Alkenstar wouldn't think this is some sort of magic? Anyway, reckon we should check out that door to the east? The goblin is probably long gone by now.
Get back here, you coward! Avian says as he struggles against the vines, his arms caught in the bramble. Avian twists against the dense foliage, pistol leveled, and attempts a shot, then reloads his pistol. (-2 attack roll; -2 Dexterity modifier; don't know what range, if within 20 feet it's against touch AC; otherwise subtract as necessary and resolve vs. normal AC)
Avian turns on the cougar and fires his pistol without hesitation, an instinct from his bird ancestors who always had to fear cats when on the ground.
Avian then rips open a cartridge and reloads.
Avian clamps his beak in concentration, firing at the first goblin within 20 feet that isn't in melée with his friends and using moves to keep out of threatened squares.
After firing, Avian rips open an alchemical cartridge with his beak, pours its contents down his pistols' barrel, then shoves it in with the ramrod and fires again.
My grandfather told me about those things, devils' churns, he called them. Avian shudders, gesturing to the hole. Not pleasant to fall in, even if you don't believe the stories of horrible monsters inside. Let's go. With that, Avian follows Thandion and Aressa.
Once we get closer we can extract some real Avian revenge, the birdman can't keep a bit of a laugh out of his otherwise somber demeanor at the sight of the goblins' cruel game.
May as well follow Thandion. West is as good a direction as any.
Trip could have been worse, Avian shrugs, using his claws to brush away some of the foliage trapped in his feathers. Then he loads his newly enchanted pistol with a regular bullet and black powder. Well, shall we? Tracked Resources: 16/16 HP
0 non-lethal damage 4/4 grit Money on Hand 38 gp 10 sp 8 cp 24 alchemical cartridges (paper) 4 alchemical cartridges (flare) 9 doses, black powder 1 lbs 7 bullets 0.3 lbs 6 bullets, cold iron 0.3 lbs
If we're lucky, they'll just think it's a clap of thunder. How many firearms can the goblins have heard? Avian asks Thandion, his horse Monty geared up for the trip. Unlike Marcoul, Avian looks positively delighted to be getting out of the city and "roughing it" for a few days. Then, more seriously, he says If stealth is what we need, I can use my blade. That was one of the first lessons my teacher taught me about the pistol. It is a tool--a powerful, deadly one, but a mere tool. It is we who are the real hunters or killers, not the gun or blade. his claw absently grasps the hilt of the longsword at his side.
Avian leaves his pistol with the smithy a little reluctantly, never having been parted with it since receiving it as a boy. He hands it over, however, and kills some time at the beach again, drinking some mead at the Rusty Dragon scratching Amadeus' belly and later, crafting 2 more doses of black powder and 4 flares for his pistol, an idea that had struck him hearing Thandion and Pavro talk of storming the Thistletop goblins' lair. He thinks they might come in handy for signals or for blinding the goblins in battle.
I think I'll enchant my pistol, then. The best defense is a good offense, as they say. Avian will look around in town for a mage who can place a +1 enchantment on his gun.
On the subject of equipment, I was thinking about getting my pistol enchanted. Avian says, a tankard of mead in his claws, though his is about half full and doesn't seem inebriated as Pavro. I don't have enough for anything special. Just enough to make it magic and bypass some critters' defenses. Do you think it's worth it? Or I could buy some enchanted armor. Might be nice to better protect myself. What do you think?
Avian sighs at relief when the open air greets him after so long in the tunnel. Whether supernatural forces were crushing his spirit or just his tengu instincts reviling the underground, Avian nearly laughs aloud at the weight seeming to fly right off him when he exits the tunnels. No objections from me to you having the ranseur, Severus. Avian replies. Nothing in the lot is of particular use to me, so I'll take my share in coin. He pauses, and turns to Marcoul. I'm sorry I lost my temper in there. We're going to have to agree to disagree on a lot of things, but that doesn't mean we can't work together. The dwarf who gave me my pistol told me that on his ship, they have a rule: end your quarrels on the shore. Or, as he explained to me, 'the battlefield is no place for a row.' Guess I forgot that. Avian offers a claw to shake. After assuring the rest of the group he'll be back to the Rusty Dragon by sundown, Avian mounts his horse and rides to the beach reveling in the wind on his feathers. Once there, he flies his kite, imbibing the ocean breeze like ale and mulling over the events in the tunnel. Avian heads to Sandpoint Cathedral to warn the clerics of the evils lurking in the tunnels, especially the quasit still at large, and expresses his concern over the tortured souls that might still linger in the tunnels.
Avian chuckles in spite of himself at Pavro's levitation. Yeah, let's get out of here before we lose Pavro forever to the childlike joys of the floating room. What purpose do you think this could have held for the demons running the place? Do I want to know?
We may want to keep the dagger as a group item to overcome DR in the future. EDIT: maybe not a Tiny one. Does this mean it is a tiny item (sized for a small wielder) or actually sized for a tiny creature?
None of the family members will come asking for the equipment: they will assume that whatever army or mercenary corps the lost soldier was in will have kept the things to equip other soldiers with. It will not occur to them anyone would be willing to give it back unless they are told. Thandion would know this, and the only way to give the equipment back to their rightful owners is to seek them out, a quest in itself if the mercs came from outside of Sandpoint, and any equipment or money you might bring them might be a painful reminder to their families of who they lost and do more harm than good. If Thandion would still do that, then by all means, but first realize that the issue is not as simple as "This sword was X's, therefore the right thing to do is to give sword back to Mrs. X back home." It may be more merciful, in the end, for you to keep the sword (or sell it) to equip yourself to fight those who killed X in the first place. Also consider that the soldiers fought to defend Sandpoint, and by equipping yourself with money from their equipment, you are carrying on their mission. Would Thandion really begrudge us if he died and we kept his stuff to help with the mission rather than returning it to his family? Maybe selling their equipment and setting up a fund to care for widowed families would be the more benevolent thing to do, rather than making sure each sword ends up in the family it came from. Avian himself falls squarely in the "I can keep this stuff because I'm not using it for personal gain, but equipping myself to defend the town, you know, exactly like those who died did" camp, but if Thandion refused that option, he would urge him to at least go the "Tunnel Widows Fund" route. TL;DR: Making sure each item gets back to the family of its original owner is probably the least kind and most risky way of making sure the bereaved get their rights.
Avian stares at the goblin as the group passes him, the anger in him having dissipated and having left him strangely numb and a little dazed. He picks up the weapons as is his habit. Any of you need these? I can carry them until we get out of here, in any case. He'll put the dagger and the handaxe on his belt, if no one asks for them, and will sheathe his falcata and wield the longsword, unless someone speaks up about wishing to use it. What could they have done to this Koruvus, that he would mutate into this beast and offer without struggle his most prized possession? Whatever we shall find down here, we shall not like it.
Under normal circumstances, Avian might be willing to give diplomacy a shot, or at least hold his pistol until Severus had a chance to talk. He has lumped everything in these tunnels in the same "affront against nature and the gods" category, and until now, has generally had good reason to. However, like I said, he's itching with angry energy after his spat with Marcoul, and that is enough to overcome any hesitancy he might have had at first to shoot before consulting the group. :)
Avian moves toward the creature, avoiding the doors on the floor. Better than a quasit, I suppose, but another unnatural beast. Avian mutters as approaches the creature. He levels his pistol, takes aim, and fires.
Oh, Snake-tongue, you really believe yourself, don't you? You put words in my mouth and then have the gall to accuse me of hubris for your words. You said that I would lead my people down here to save them from the giants. I said I would not. I did not say anything about making anyone's decision for them. I still hold firm that, were the village elders to have decided on this, I would have pleaded my case for them not to go. I would not go myself, nor would I lead anyone there. But how dare you say I would make others decisions for them, rob them of their free will? Tell me, servant of the Archfiend, what hard decisions have you made in your life? What would you say in defense of your hubris of thinking you know me better than I do? Itching with angry energy and desperate to do something, Avian pushes ahead of Aressa and enters the room before her, falcata drawn and pistol out.
Avian scowls. I forget that your master the Archfiend routinely accepts human sacrifices. Of course you wouldn't have any trouble leading your best friends and family down here. Probably seems cozy to you. All that evil magic probably gives you strength even. To the rest of us, there are things worse than physical death. I've seen my whole village sacked by giants, and that was on my mind even as I said I would not lead my people in here to save them. Avian does not wait for a response but pushes forward ahead of Thandion, reloading his pistol if needed . The sooner we finish our work down here, the sooner we can leave.
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