"Baroness" Amara's page

Honestly, after two "I'm back, you guys still here?" posts that led to literally nothing, I'm ready to just move on anyway. =/

Ramón is patient. ^_^

/wave

Amara cautiously advances. It's doubtful that there's any real danger down here at the moment, but she's still ready to punch something in the face.

So, I found a thing.

The Thing

It's designed for 5E, but it would take minimal fiddling to modify it for PF. I like it because it does two things. Firstly, it makes being an adventurer less lethal. This becomes less of an issue as you advance in level, but still. Secondly, it makes getting injured a hell of a lot more interesting. You can lose limbs!

Just figured I'd share it and shop for thoughts.

My dice rolling skills are to blame. Poor Amara just has to deal with the fallout.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (10) + 2 = 12
Int check: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (9) - 2 = 7

Amara doesn't question the halfling, instead pouring herself a large mug of tea. As Mira speaks, Amara cocks her head to the side and furrows her brow in confusion.

"Mira, what in the hells are you talking about? I don't even know how to play racquetball."

Amara gapes briefly before regaining her composure.

"I'm surprised you recognized me. My hair was much longer then. Anyway, I left that life long ago."

Amara drops her head a bit, barely perceptible.

"I'm not much for art. No talent and no eye for critique. I do like to listen to passionate speakers, though. It's what drew me to..."

She pauses uncomfortably.

Not the time to bring up your dead lover, Amara.

"Anyway, what kind of speeches does your mother give?"

Amara exhales sharply.

"No, it's okay. It's not like it's a secret or anything. There's a reason people call me 'The Baroness'. I'm not actually a baroness, by the way."

As Septima finishes the tie, Amara turns around and smiles weakly at Septima.

"My full name is Amaranta Fortunata Cassano. I don't know whether they're still important, but the Cassanos have been in charge of cultivating and maintaining Lantana Park for generations."

She sits on the stool and reaches down for the velvet slippers that were meant to accompany the dress. She attempts to slip them on, but it seems at least some part of her has outgrown her former life. She shrugs her shoulders and tosses the slipper down.

"What about you? I remember the name Gallus is a highborn one, but I don't remember anything about them."

I've not actually read the books, but I'm familiar with the series.

Amara swallows and sighs.

"For the last five years, yeah. When I first...left home...I sold off my jewelry to survive. I couldn't let go of this, though. It was a gift. From my grandmother. She died shortly after the ball it was for."

She breathes deeply.

"Anyway, not much use for a pretty dress when your day is mostly cracking skulls."

As Septima rounds the corner, Amara quickly turns around in an attempt to not make eye contact. She reaches behind and holds up the laces of her dress.

"Could you...I can't do it myself, otherwise...please."

She squeezes her eyes closed and grimaces.

You could try completing a sentence, Amara.

Oh man, I just realized that Mira is out wandering the streets. She's gonna be in for a surprise when she returns, seeing as she's never seen Amara wear a dress, much less one that could buy the four of them a few nights of heavy drinking. ^_^

Amara nods and smiles weakly.

"It was worth a shot. Thanks anyway, Biff."

She pats him on the shoulder and returns to the bunkroom. She removes a bundle of cloth carefully wrapped in oiled leather from her pack and steps into the washroom.

She sighs and stretches as she strips off her disgusting clothing, piling them as carefully as possible so as not to make a huge mess of their benefactor's establishment. She eases into the tub and sets about scrubbing away the grime of the last few days. By the time she finishes, the water is a cloudy brown-grey color.

She drains the tub, making certain that the walls aren't covered in a film of what's going down the drain, and then refills it with clean hot water. She settles into the tub again, this time more slowly as the water hasn't yet had the opportunity to cool like it had before, and leans her head back. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, recounting the events since the protest.

Things have gotten a lot more complicated than I thought. I wonder how the Flames are doing. I'll have to make contact once I get back on my feet with these girls here. Which, by the way, was an unexpected thing to happen. I mean, Mira has a knack for getting into trouble and I have a knack for getting out of it, but I don't think either of us have ever gotten others caught up in whatever was going down. I don't want to be responsible for upsetting the apple cart in their lives...

She sighs heavily again.

"Shit."

She shakes her head and gets out of the tub, draining it again. She does her best to dry off, shaking the water out of her short hair and running her fingers through it to make it at least lie flat. She eyes the bundle of cloth indecisively before shrugging and opening it up.

Inside is a soft velvet dress in a dark purple color. Delicate black lace decorates sleeves with an accompanying black lace gorget and it cinches with a corset lacing at the back. Tied to one of the laces is a silver ring bearing the imprint of a poppy cradled in the soft curve of a crescent moon.

She carefully unties the signet and slips it on her finger. It fits as well as it ever did. She raises her eyebrows and offers silent thanks that she hadn't grown enough body mass to outsize it. She holds out her hand to admire the signet. Now that she really examines it, she sees that it's a bit tarnished. She feels a pang of guilt before closing her eyes and shaking her head.

It isn't you anymore. Amaranta Fortunata Cassano no longer exists. Just Amara.

She tries and fails to hold back the few tears that have risen unbidden to her eyes. She wipes them away with the back of her hand and sniffles, softly laughing at her girlish sentimentality. She takes a deep breath and begins to pull on the dress. It fits a bit more snugly than it did when she was younger, but it only serves to accentuate her musculature.

Gods, I was a big child. It's hard to believe that I was about this size five years ago.

She settles the dress on her shoulders and flattens the lace against her skin before realizing that there's no way she can cinch the corset lacing by herself. She puts her head in her palm briefly before calling into the bunkroom.

"Could one of you come in here and help me with something? It won't take long."

Just as a note, I very much want there to be no clothes that will properly fit Amara just so I have an excuse to force her to be uncomfortable wearing her noble finery.

Amara graciously accepts the bun and tea as she sets about removing her armor. As tired and sore as she is, she makes sure to clean the accumulated gunk out of the joints and recesses. It's part practicality (nobody wants their armor to fail at a critical moment) and part reverence. She may no longer be a member of House Cassano, but she damn sure isn't going to disrespect her ancestral relics.

As she finishes, she neatly stows the armor in the footlocker by her chosen bed. As she stands up, she looks down at her clothes.

"It'd be easier just to burn the damn things and be done with it."

She sighs heavily and wanders out in search of Biff. She spots him from across the room and waves him over, not wishing to disturb the other patrons.

As he approaches, she leans in.

"Any chance that there's a spare set of clothing about my size lying around? I fear these ones have seen their last days."

"He's obviously good with that blade. More than any of us, for sure. He'd make a better ally than enemy."

Amara shrugs and relaxes her stance.

"Fair enough. Let's go."

Amara moves between the group and the figure but continues walking.

"Is it?"

She asks flatly, barely looking at the man and resting a hand on Ramón as she continues her casual pace.

"In more ways than one. Found some important looking papers and a whole lot of bodily fluids."

Amara holds up a hand.

"Don't ask. I need to take a bath."

She hands the box to Mira and begins the search for a suitable bath.

What's the bath situation in this city? Bathhouses? Private baths? Just hop in the river? Medieval fantasy varies too much.

Okay, time to address this.

Amara looks at the rest of the party.

"Alright, since we're no longer in immediate peril, I need to let you know that I just can't scratch this f&$+ing itch since we fought those awful vomit creatures. The ones we fought before we fought the shit creatures. Hells, this place is awful..."

Amara shakes her head.

"Anyway, I'd really rather not have contracted some sort of disease from those things. Anybody got anything they can do or know someone who can check it out?"

I'm actually a little disappointed at how straightforward that is. I was looking forward to another absurd "entire city district filled with 35 tanners and 1 black market" situation. XD

As a character, aside the fact that Amara will probably always gripe that security isn't good enough, she's never been the brains of any operation.

As a player, I have full faith in your ability to break the half-formed subsystem far wider than the designers ever anticipated and that it will happen in the least logical way possible while still being the best option mechanically. ^_^

Amara looks over the haul.

"There is literally nothing in there that I really care about. In fact..."

She removes her previously acquired cloak and tosses it in with the rest of the stuff.

"I'll just take my share in gold when we sell off what we aren't keeping."

"Say the Infernal word for "nevermore" backward, maybe?"

Please don't let Amara break open this box. Amara is tired and frustrated and her usual answer is to break stuff, but I (as a player) do not want her to destroy the box and/or whatever important stuff is inside. ^_^

Man, I really though Mira's approach was gonna work. Time to work every idea for a password into one plausible sentence. Lol

Amara sighs.

"How the hells are we supposed to participate in a rebellion against Thrune and his devil lackeys when we can't even open a damn wooden box that the Silver Ravens thought they were so damn clever leaving behind? Give it to me, maybe I can bust it open."

Is...is it bad that I came here to question about whether my language assumptions were correct only to discover that they totally were? Nobody should be able to identify Welsh instantly. Lol

Amara brushes her hand over the panel, tracing the moon with her finger before turning around and heading back into the cistern.

"Guys, I found a fancy thing. Could be a trap, could be a lock, could just be fancy."

+1000 for the Poe. XD

I haven't come across any of your houserules that I disagree with. ^_^

I feel like flavor encounters would work better at the table than on pbp but that's not a complaint, just an observation.

Amara, still leaning against the wall, doesn't even open her eyes.

"I don't know, I've guarded some pretty useless places before. Sometimes it was a distraction. Move some muscle one direction so the people watching you don't see what you're doing in the other. Sometimes it was because the client was an idiot. Or paranoid. Or both. Enchanted chains, though? That sure as hells isn't my department."

She sighs again, clearly tired and irritated, and scratches her forearm.

Amara, tired and still frustratingly itchy, exits the pool and sits down, cleaning her dagger and retrieving Ramón for the same purpose.

"Is this increasingly shitty day over yet?"

She leans against the wall and closes her eyes, sighing heavily.

Minimum results always warrant the reroll, if available. Am I to assume whatever lurks behind that spoiler tag is my reroll?

Currently, I am lifting a devil-tit...

That said, a 1st level encounter with DR and energy resistance is a bit unusual, but nothing we can't handle. Creativity, ho!

Though not a Brit, I'm quite fond of "Happy Treason Day, Ungrateful Colonials". XD

Amara cocks her head.

What the hell is a lemure? Mira said it like we all should just know what it is...

Self-Imposed Int Check: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4

Why couldn't she have offered more information? Well, Ramón clearly isn't going to cut it here.

Amara tosses Ramón out of the pool and pulls out her 1d6 ⇒ 6 YAY! silvered dagger, swinging it at the now flanked lemure.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7
Damage: 1d4 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

T_T Are we using the Critical Fumble Deck?

Oh, cool. A charge it is, then. ^_^

Now that I'm home and can see that the pool is larger than I'd initially thought, I can't get to the creature in a single move, so I'll just move to the edge of the pool and ready an action to put Ramón through the first one to get within swinging range.

Amara barely suppresses a gag before wrinkling her nose and bringing Ramón to bear and moving forward to strike at the nearest creature.

I'm assuming that the pool of shit is difficult terrain and that the creatures are far enough into the pool that I can't charge. If I'm mistaken, add 2 to my attack and subtract 2 from my AC.

Attack: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Damage: 1d8 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

I mean, even though Mira's other saves are low, her average is still higher than everyone else's. Mira-2.667, Alexis/Amara-2, Septima-1. Honestly, I don't care who ends up with it. I just don't really want it when my share of the loot could be better put to use sexifying Ramón. ^_^

"Yes."

Amara says, trying to scratch her shoulder blade under her armor.

"Awful, wheezing, itching things. This place better be worth all this, because I'm starting to get pretty pissed off."

Honestly, Septima has the weakest saves out of the group (Mira-Total +8, Alexis/Amara-Total +6, Septima-Total +3), so it'd be best mechanically for her to have it. Amara doesn't know that, though.

Amara shrugs as she scratches her neck.

"It's not quite what I'd have hoped for, but you know what they say; "Never kick a horse in the mouth."

She dons the cloak, completely oblivious to the mangling of the proverb.

"We'll see what else we get out of this and figure out who should get what after we get back to base."

In my experience, party size has a lot to do with the slowdown as far as combat goes. Like, in real life optimal party size is 4-5 but online that optimal spot is closer to 2-3. It's just the nature of play-by-post, which is why I try to avoid PBPs with 5+ players.

That said, the typical semi-decent solution to combat is to just have everybody post whatever it is that they intend to do and then have the GM collate the data and figure out what the hell actually happens. In all honesty, for the sake of streamlining, the GM should be the only one making rolls in a PBP. Players keep up-to-date character sheets and state their intent. GM works their magic and relays what happens. Less fun if you're the type of player that enjoys rolling, but certainly more efficient which keeps people interested in the story.

As far as Overkill, I feel like Intimidate is really the only logical path to go down. Dealing more damage or getting extra actions after an overkill can make sense from a mechanical viewpoint, but within the confines of the fiction is illogical. You can't even use the excuse of being "pumped up" by your success because your character has no way to determine just how much overkill was dealt.

But a bonus to Intimidate for an overkill makes sense. Maybe have an overkill trigger stuff that happens on a critical hit? I can't think of any decent examples off the top of my head for that. OR (I am currently laughing at this idea) you could make it more difficult to raise someone who's been overkilled. /shrug

Amara quietly approaches the others.

"Sounds like we've got two...somethings...down the hall. Sounds like they might be having a hard time breathing. Hopefully it's not more of these things."

She absentmindedly kicks one of the corpses.

Amara, who had been leaning against the wall next to the gate while Mira worked her magic, scoffs.

"Mira, we kicked in the front door, fought a large deformed dog, dropped a barrel of horseshoes down a trapdoor, and took turns violently puking our guts out. I don't think that creaky gate is the thing that will have given away our presence."

She peers past the gate, looking for any more signs of trouble.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Way to waste a 20 on the empty corridor, Amara.

"I, uh...I think I'm okay. Are those awful bastards just hanging back in that room?"

Amara glances back at the door and leans against the wall, trying to regain her composure.

"We need a plan of attack..."

Cool. I was far enough down the initiative list that I was just waiting for you to point at me, but this works.

I'd forgotten about that. If it was dark at the bottom of the ladder and nobody produced any more efficient lighting methods, Amara would have lit a torch whilst examining the room. If it didn't get sufficiently dark until inside the room we just opened, she is lightless.