Sorry for lack of posts. Life has been happening. I'm afraid I'm going to have to call it quits for this campaign.
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Azgar joins his teammates in searching for secrets.
"Go on, sir knight. I'll stay back at a safe distance and cheer you on!"
Azgar joins his comrades in staring a the door.
"Aye" Azgar makes his way to the southeast door, careful to avoid the unsprung traps. He searches the door intently for antything mechanical.
"Well, this room is boring." Azgar peers around, slightly disappointed. "Where are we going next?"
Azgar sways a bit as the battle rage cools down."*pant, pant*. Whew! That was a hell of a rush! Thanks for the healing, friend."
Azgar lets out an animalistic roar of pain and fury and chops furiously with his ax. "HONK! HONK! HOOOONK!"
Umm...I'm not on the map for some reason.
Azgar lets out a woop of joy. "Finally! A challenge that doesn't involve pit traps!" Azgar's smile turns slightly feral as he lets his battle rage bubble up. He takes a five-foot step towards the gargoyle, and starts gleefully chopping at it with his ax. "HONK!
Azgar turns to the mage and mutters, "Well, I didn't hear anything, so either it's clear, or the door leads to oblivion. I'm hoping it's the first one."
Azgar searches for anything suspicious, like mechanisms.
"Stand back. I've got this." Azgar walks up to the door, draws his ax, and starts hacking away at the plaster.
"Aye." Azgar starts searching for anything suspicious about the painting.
Azgar looks to the cleric. "If its okay with you, I think I'll go first. I can look for traps as we go."
I've been busy with college lately. Still checking in, though, and waiting for my skills to be necessary.
Azgar shuffles up to the door. He looks at his companions, clears his throat, and speaks. "So how much do you want to bet that the guy who booby-trapped the entire front hall put something horrible on this door?" He stares intently at the door, looking for anything that looks like a trap.
Sorry, I'm a little busy too.
Azgar lets out a small breath. "Good to see you're still in one piece." He stops, groans, and starts massaging his temples. "...this entire place is nothing but pit traps, isn't it? We are so dead."
Okay, I'm back. Sorry for the delay.
I'm afraid I've got to go away for a bit. Just assume Azgar does whatever he can to help. Sorry for any trouble.
"Gods above! Is this whole place nothing but pit traps?!" Azgar carefully makes his way to the closed trap. "Hold on down for a bit down there. I'll see if I can't open the latch." He starts fiddling with the trapdoor.
"Well, you could help me close the other trapdoor. If we don't, we'll probably get shoved down it at some point." Azgar turns and starts fiddling with the remaining pit.
Azgar gapes at the new pit trap. "Gods above, what have I gotten myself into?" He sighs, and starts prodding at the newer, spikier trap. "A little help?"
"Yeah, sure thing. Give me a minute." Azgar Prods at the trap.
"Don't forget about me, now. I'm the trap guy."
I've been waiting for Azgar to chime in. I didn't want to step on his toes as he said he has the trap finding covered and I can only cast this spell once as that's all I've memorized it. Sorry, I've been away for a few days. I've got traps covered for now, but I wouldn't mind a bit of help later.
Azgar makes his way towards his comrades.
So, which entrance are we going for first?
Azgar shrugs and goes to the southeast to prod the ground some more.
I'm fine with any position, really.
I'm fine guarding the back.
"Hold on. Let me check for traps before we bulnder in."
"Guys? I think I found something." Azgar starts digging with his bare hands like a fool.
Haste for sure.
I'll take a stick off the ground and join Elan in prodding the ground on the north side.
It takes a second or two for Azgar to get the joke. When he catches up, he chuckles a bit and orders a glass of water.
Azgar looks embarrassed and tries not to make eye contact. "Um, sorry. I get a little worked up sometimes, and I start to ramble." "There isn't much to tell. I didn't really 'join' the circus. My dad helped wipe out a hobgoblin tribe during his adventuring days. For whatever reason, he decided not to cut my infant throat, and took me with him. Then he started a circus, and here I am in a colorful outfit and face paint. It beats kicking puppies, or whatever it is hobgoblins are supposed to do."
Azgar turns to Alaric. "I don't think I like the way you keep calling me 'the clown' and 'the jester', like it's a derogatory term. In this day and age, the need for entertainment is greater than ever, what with the lost omens and devil-worshipping empires and other nasty things. I may be talking out of my ass here, but I think my profession is pretty important in keeping spirits up. Just my two copper." Crap. You just HAD to go on one of your tangents, didn't you, Azgar? he thought to himself. This is why nobody likes you.
"Wait. Geb's teacher? As in THE Geb? I think we might be doomed."Azgar sighs and shrugs. "Oh, well. It's not like I have anything better to do with my time than fight the spawn of a ridiculously powerful, possibly undead death-wizard. Azgar turns to the cleric. "I'm fairly decent at finding traps, and not awful at messing with them. My dad taught me more than the art of clowmanship."
"Acererak? Is that who made the tomb? Huh. And I thought my name was stupid." Azgar fidgets awkwardly. "So, uh, who was this Acererak? Is he still alive?"
"Uh, yeah, I am. I was told there would be treasure, and I'm kind of in dire straights in the money department. Ever heard of Zarzalpan's Traveling Circus? I'm the guy with the axe he puts on the signs. Call me Azgar, if you would."
Here's my submission!
Azgar was born in a Hobgoblin war camp, led by a particularly nasty chief called Malgror the Elfbane. Malgror and his army had been a thorn in the outlying areas of Kyonin for years, and such it was no suprise that adventurers were eventually sent after him. They summarily murdered almost every Hobgoblin in the camp, but took pity on the infant Azgar. The party bard Zarzalpan adopted him, and retired later that year to start the circus. Growing up in a circus suited young Azgar well. Dexterous and loud, he settled into the role of a clown quite well, and the old Gnome and his performers were a surprisingly loving surrogate family. Azgar quickly became the star attraction, as news spread of a Hobgoblin jester who danced, sang, and cleaved lions in half with an axe all in the same 15-minute skit. He raked in so much cash, his adoptive father could even afford to give him magical gear, stating "You never know when you might need a quick healing potion, son. Trust me." Alas, the good times stopped abruptly. As it turns out, old Zarzalpan had unpaid debts from his adventuring days, and even selling Azgar's magic gear wouldn't even cover a small fraction of it. In danger of losing his life's work, and too old to delve dungeons anymore, he gave his son a request: go to the Pathfinder Society, ask for a job, and try to make enough money to save the circus. With his magic axe and general cluelessness his only companions, he set off in the general direction of the Grand Lodge. On his way to Absalom, Azgar began to hear rumors of an old tomb filled with treasure and danger greater than any mortal could ever imagine. This interested him greatly. After all, if an old Gnomish Bard had managed several dungeon crawls, couldn't an overly muscular Hobgoblin finish one? And thus, the completely inexperienced and none too bright young goblinoid decided to go on a little side-trek on his way to Absalom. What could possibly go wrong?
Azgar is a stocky and muscular Hobgoblin, with small eyes and a pronounced underbite. He always wears a colorful harlequin/jester outfit, and never washes off his signature clownish face paint, as he feels doing so would distance him from his family and friends at the circus. Generally good-natured, if naive and a little dense, Azgar nevertheless doesn't particularly care about other people's problems. After all, he's got a massive debt to pay off, and other people's worries seem underwhelming for the most part. He is very polite, but it comes off as a little forced sometimes. He has the peculiar habit of saying the word "honk" when he rages, and occasionally when he gets excited.. |