Will it be one that we are likely to hear about? Not likely. I sold about 30 copies of my first book, Arcana Aeternum. (also comes in paperback) I've heard sales pick up around book 3. ;) Thank you all for your kind words.
I might have an opportunity to respond to the twins' post line by line in the morning, but let me reassure you all about Transcendent forms. We did traditional, Sentai rainbow magical girls last season. This season is about identity. If your Transcendent name is the name of your mecha, it's the name of your mecha. It would be impossible for any of the Mundane characters to Defy a room full of murderous goons, even with the help of yokai magic it would be Desperate. It might be a Desperate Lesser Group Action. In a Transcendent form, that's a Controlled situation with Greater effect. I'd offer the Dark Bargain of killing them in the process. How that looks, whether it's heart-shaped bubbles from a magic wand, or a death Ray, as long as it still kind of makes sense with the action you're rolling. But, if you want to kick down buildings or cleave the moon..
Tracy's hard feelings: The points you bring up are fair.
I'm not so sure the source material is much more positive. While the tone was much softer, Sailor Moon ends twice, and both times Usagi chooses to forget everything just to try and have a normal life. In the first episode, Usagi kills Naru's mom because she doesn't have healing magic. Every new sailor is more of an outcast than the last. 99% of enemies are possessed, brainwashed, or literally desperate to survive. (Until recent developments) Steven Universe has been one step forward and ten steps back. We could blame a sloppy creative team, but it serves to illustrate my point so I'm ignoring that controversy. Moreso than other related genres, I think magical girl stories operate in a zero sum world. The best outcome is for things to go back to 'normal'. The central theme is healing.
Chessa: You shimmy through the rabbit hole to the echos of your predecessors and come out the far end in an east-west corridor behind a secret door. The open archway in front of you spills out into an ornate altar. On the far side, there is another doorway and a corridor.
On one side of the room are the three cultists in gold trimmed robes eating a quick lunch. They crowd around a small table at the furthest possible point from the room's only other occupant. They talk among themselves in whispers while taking quick glances over one another's shoulders. On the other side of the inner sanctum, Phil lounges on a pile of gold coin spilling out of a large upturned iron chest. He's in full combat form, which is a little awkward. He's carefully scooped the gold into a shape he can lay across dramatically, splaying out his paws and framing the treasure with his leathery bat wings. His quilled stinger hangs menacingly overhead. Speaking into the air, he delivers his line: "My meal has arrived! Come, weary travelers, and accept your forgone fate. For your every borrowed breath is only a moment more of suffering." There is a pause, and a titter of laughter from the trio of cultists, and Phil clears his throat. He shakes his head and works his tongue in his mouth. "The lips, the teeth, the tip of the tongue, the tip of the tongue, the teeth, the lips."
CnA: There is a brief montage of Gremlins destroying gadgets while giggling gleefully.
Not at all, Wocket's insecurities are her own.
The Charmaign who doesn't seem to know how to skip and prance like a little girl gets to the bottom of the stairs and stops short, seeing the empty room and the single door. "Oh... So they're sort of daisy-chained, then. -or maybe, like a maze? -but they're called Lessons... -and we can't trust anyone... So maybe the pendant is in here!" The pseudo-halfling holds out a hand and closes her eyes. "Whither; Whence; Where..."
Wocket doesn't comment on the exchange with Grumblejack. She notices Charmaign hanging around him, and the fact that she managed to smuggle the giant in for a makeover, but she has no comment, derisive or otherwise, to give. She's just experienced things she'd only dreamed of after all. Although it's only been a taste, she's supremely satisfied with the direction her life is going. She tries to suppress the urge to run her fingers over her high-collared silk dress as she's lead through the halls. When they're introduced to Cardinal Thorn, Wocket throws herself to the floor in genuine supplication. She emits a high-pitched squeal, which may have been intended as intelligible speech, but instead peters off as she literally feints in exaltation.
Sheridan holds fast as the half-orc approaches, maintaining a cheery demeanor even as his skin cools visibly. "Afternoon and well met, Big-Bull! I am Sheridan Driftwood. I suppose you could call me Sheri. My traveling companions and I came to Belhaim for work and have found it at Duchess' behest. While rooting around in that tower up north I came upon these beauties." Sheridan offers the daggers for Big-Bull's inspection. "I've been told I should know metals better, given my heritage, but beyond knowing it's got a weight no dagger it's size has a right to, and an edge that takes little honing, I must confess I'm not sure how it was done. I've been working with this shirt here for protection, and I was wondering if you've got something similar that's made how those daggers were. I'd be willing to part with the daggers in trade... or as materials, if the metal is rare." "I should be upfront. These were a key to a mechanism in the basement of the tower, and therefore may have been made here by a predecessor of yours. I don't know if that would be noteworthy to you."
Wocket rolls her eyes at Silarsha's display of pity. She catches Charmaine's gaze, then glances at the human and back with a plaintive question in her expression. Really?
Reading through the rest of your profiles, here's the long con: Talia and Crimjack are a couple toting their deaf mother, Heverly, and their two childen, Charmaine and Wocket. It's perfect. We'll be fully equipped after a brutal bandit massacre or two. Just need to escape the inescapable prison. Should be a snap.
Sheridan lets Stone and Yantri lead the way, and trails behind to speak to Sheaorlis. "Hello, I'm Sheridan. I adjust attitudes for money." It's clear the ifrit is bursting with questions, but he bites his lower lip and folds his hands behind his back. He knows better than to come on too strong with the strong silent types.
“Oh honey,” Suzu moves to leave at Ao’s request, stopping at the doorway, “ you shouldn't worry about me. I’m perfectly suited to keeping little boys’ secrets... besides, we’re friends, right?” As soon as the metagama goes under the needle, the walls burst into static. The stone is dense with information, moreso even than an inquisitor’s data store. The machine groans audibly as Ao makes the necessary adjustments to parse out some readable data from a kaleidoscope of schematics and lewd materials. When an image comes into focus on one wall, it’s of DelphicKnight sitting rather uncomfortably in a too-small chair. The chair is next to a work table covered in potted flowers. A small girl kneels over the man’s extended arm, working her hands through a cat’s cradle of magical thread. The scene shifts occasionally, suggesting regular repeated visits with clothes changing and positions shifting. In another scene, the DK stands next to the shrine of eyes. “This is that thing you were doing before. This alliance will not be a means for you to continue your work killing children.” The girl in this scene is sitting at the base of the shrine, braiding the hair of a doll. “Collecting their ki, child. They would have recovered, with time. Forgive me for wanting to elevate an inferior species… In any case, it was the trinkets which were the real tragedy. That’s why you need to steal the eggs.” “The yokai eggs?” The man sounds doubtful. “Yes. They’re essentially the same thing. Bring them together, wrap them with enough ki, and Bob’s your uncle, you’ve got a source of magical potential greater than any one trinket. Enough to match an Erohin. You’re all going to need one. This Darkness is spreading, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Perfection’s behind it. She and you-know-who.” Both of them check the door. “I keep telling you, they were not on speaking terms before the cataclysm. She was planning to kill Rhea. They are not allies now, no matter what Hades’ informant might say.” The girl tuts. “You’re going to have to learn our real names, child. All this about Greek gods will not be as adorable to them as it is to me...” The machine is getting hot. This is simply too much data to sort through. ☽⬤☾ At the hideout, Petrichor looks sheepish. “Oh, pardon. I am prone to extended metaphors. Yes. Eclipse is like when you’ve been driven to the precipice of Darkness, and the Stresses of the world are closing in behind you. You think when you step off that it’ll be the end, but it’s just cold and dark and empty and you’re still alive, and she’s still- sorry. Yes. A turning point.”
"Is this where you run? I don't think that egg is going to chase us. I think it's time for some chosen one-ing." Sunny takes an asian peach from his pocket and hurls it at Sean.
The rotten peach pegs Sean in the shoulder, splattering and releasing a weak burst of immortal energy.
Here's the sittuation: Brilliance and Conquest are heading a team of murderhobos who are basically doomed to push the manticore over the edge. They are on their way to whatever decorated basement that scene will take place in. The humans of the purity council are invited to participate in a gathering at the tavern. The intent is for them to socialize and brainstorm some rumors to feed back to the adventuring party (Brilliance, Conquest, et al); however, in at least one version of the future, one of the Erohin fell to Darkness, and while you may not remember what that means, it was so bad it corrupted Junpei's save states. Things to bear in mind:
My question is more or less: what are the two biggest, most obvious obstacles? Do the Hunters get involved? Is it hard to shake the agents of Darkness? Is the LARP itself dangerously realistic? Other stuff might come up, but what are you prepared to face? How do you see things going wrong? I can fill in details if you want to pick a character and just say they were a problem. Also: Chessa and Junpei may take roles in the adventuring party as part of their Erohin's entourage, but are also welcome to take roles at the tavern. You still have some downtime actions, I'm just giving y'all a bit of an idea of what you're preparing for.
Oh, hey! Social memes! I get these. They're insinuating I've had sex with the librarian. Sex with 'mature' folks gets some mixed attention, and is humorous under most contexts. It's clearly too outlandish to be true, especially being illegal, so they must be being sarcastic. Follow through with an equally false insinuation about her mother! "I'll do that, unless I see your mother first."
Yungfeng winks and clicks his tongue. Guy humor is easy. Banter is fun. Maybe i'm just a banter-bot. The banter boy cranes his neck to check out Rowyn. "Looks like Rowyn's already sitting." He actually speaks over Alex. "Now, I'd understand if this were the table of sapphic sisterhood. I mean, I wouldn't want to be where I'm not wanted. If you all want to plant that flag, I'll go find somewhere else to wet my whistle." He's never sat up from a causal slouch in his chair.
"What's this?" Sunny looks at the monitors displaying dozens of empty halls on repeat, timestamps, the recognizable view of the parking lot, and the 'rec' icon in the corner. "Nazi boxes? Didn't they lose the war? I thought this was the land of the free. Why does everyone have these? How is a self-respecting supreme being supposed to break and enter for the greater good when every backwater outfit has an army of perfect witnesses?" He grunts. "No silent watchman is catching this monkey's paw." Finding no badge to gain access through the door (and lacking enough understanding of electronic locks to try and spoon-bend the door open) Sunny finds a quiet place near the morgue to meditate, hoping to astroproject through the walls. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best. I'm the best.
Oh. This is the outfit from last night. I ditched it in the girl's locker room. This was an err borne of heuristics and poor time management. I need to recharge. "Well you look paralyzed with fear, so I'm guessing you're just lashing out." Yuji pulls down the front of their vest. "She's outsmarted you. I can see that much. Not that there's anything superhuman about that. Do I need to go whimpering at her heel, or do you want some backup when you're done peeing your pants?"
Yuji turns their back on Kelly to flag down Yumei's roommate. "Alex? Come here!"
Are you the only god running around on earth?
The west is a lot less crowded, as far as gods and what-have-yous. Not that I don't want to visit any of my old friends, with whom I have maintained strong and healthy relationships, but I haven't beaten up all the bird gods here. Yeah. Working on a cape. Gonna bring back capes. Is this your first time on earth?
People are a lot harder to defeat than I remember... Why is it a big deal if your current body gets hurt or killed?
Who imprisoned you? Why?
Maybe this was really early on in Allison's apprenticeship? Allison thawed Sunny out, huge frustrating magical combat ensues, Sunny takes a Carnwennan to the chest and storms off in a huff. Years later, Sunny shows up at Allison's doorstep complaining about headaches and talking chosen ones?
“So there I am, so many lives the number’s all broken, fresh out of space samurai to bust, and this little dude is like: take the pebble from my hand and you will be the master. So I dunk that rock so far out into space I had to mark the territory. Drain the main vein? You know." Sunny whistles for emphasis. "Then--and this is the part that blew my freaking mind--little dude tells me to smell his finger.” The podgy little man in the gold suit leans in, planting a calloused hand on your knee. “Smelled like piss.” The man leans back, pushing his rose gold glasses up the bridge of his nose and nodding conspiratorially. When you met, he introduced himself as Sunny, and handed you a copy of one of those Japanese comics as if it were a business card. “So I finally figure out this ‘middle way’ thing, get double-super-extra immortal, and then the world will know who’s boss.” Sunny whoops and slaps his knee. The celebration is cut short when he bolts to his feet and flags down an elderly woman with his cane. “This is them. Has to be. Always the odd little old folks.” To the older woman’s horror, Sunny picks up her wig and shouts down into her wig cap. “Can. You. Hear. Me? Earth to Venus, this is Monkey Bro! I found the chosen one! This is definitely the right one! Much less accident-prone than the last one. Good job picking this one out!” The woman wrests her wig out of Sunny’s hand and begins beating him with her purse. When the carnage ends, Sunny mumbles petulantly from a heap on the floor. “You’re lucky I’m still doing the Buddhist thing.”
1) Low magic: scarred mother, peace corps, sketchy blue collar, slacker reporter, former pawn
2) High Magic: Monkey King, Sorcerer's Apprentice, Better Call Oni, Doomsday Prophet, Warehouse 13
3) First Picks: Scooby, Daphne, Fred, Shaggy, Velma 4) Hollywood, Peace Corps, Legitimate Businessman, Reporter, Special Delivery
Cleared the acid-eaten outfit to make room.
In the weeks following your first mission, the Purity Committee is thrown into complete chaos. You’re all subjected to conflicting directives on behalf of both Brilliance and Perfection. As a result, you haven’t had a chance to debrief at the hideout. You’ve hardly seen each other at all, in fact. Petrichor, who has taken up residence somewhere behind a pile of furniture, assures you each that the others are still alive and coping with their personal challenges. Tracy:
Your run-in with damage control was stressful, but it hardly bears mentioning after Brilliance is put on suspension. Around you, everyone becomes more sensitive and agitated. Questions are being asked about the inscrutable monolith of Brilliance’s school. Friends are taken in for questioning, and those left behind try to piece together a narrative of rumors and hearsay. It’s one thing to watch the paranoia from a distance, but soon, as positions in social circles are left vacant, people you’ve never spoken to start striking up conversations in hushed tones. You’ve tried to back out politely (you’ve got reports to file for both investigations!) but it’s met with suspicion and ridicule. Soon you will have to present your findings to the Purity Council, but you have nothing to report. Nothing is not an acceptable report. The pressure is mounting. Chessa:
Suspension, as it turns out, is largely voluntary, like house arrest. Brilliance is being held under surveillance by Conquest. It serves to prevent any hostile action against Brilliance, but it’s made any private contact with them impossible. Publicly, they have told you their hands are tied. Sora, along with most of the re-education staff, has been taken in for interrogations, and in addition to your own Purity Council case work, you’ve been in and out of Junpei’s office. So close and yet so obviously monitored by Avis the spaz. Soon you will have to present findings, but you have nothing to report to the committee. At least, nothing that wouldn't turn this pantsing into an actual witch hunt. You’ve never felt so alone. Junpei:
Most of your time and energy has been bled out of you managing Brilliance and Conquest’s marathon LARP campaign. You would compare it to herding cats if you didn’t know, in vivid detail, how different the two tasks are. Any time you have to sit is spent in your office with Avis, interrogating Brilliance’s yokai. Knowing where things go from here is little consolation. You just hope this is the last time you have to fit that centaur for wizard robes. Among your suspects is Sora's nekomata, who you could swear is hiding something. Soon you will have to present your findings, but there is nothing to report. (Nothing you should know at least.) You try not to think of the consequences of failure. Ao:
It has been difficult to keep your uniform clean. Malice playing both sides of this ordeal has left you and your coworkers in the weeds so to speak. Dividing your time between your regular duties and these committee responsibilities has left little time for grand heists, although Suzu has managed to secure the Shuji egg Temerity had. Progress is being made, but far too slowly. Soon the eggs will start hatching, and that will make things all the more complicated. The pressure is on, and maintaining your composure only serves to redouble the strain. Soon you will have to present findings, but you have nothing to report. At least, nothing relevant to the committee's petty prerogatives. Something will have to give.
Sheridan would be inconsolable. Ngai was the only one who's name he could remember.
Without speaking, Sheridan backs out of the room. "That's like a code, right? A password? Oh, Bookend, what's the pass phrase?" Sheridan looks to Kane excitedly, genuinely expecting him to already have all the best words and therefore this pass phrase. It also seems Kane's acquired his nickname, and is therefore, henceforth and irrevocably, part of the party.
Also poke all the nouns. That's how XP is born.
Brilliance slides onto a stool and tucks their heels, placing their knees, like prison bars, between themself and the double-secret tribunal. It’s a tribunal Perfection has managed to hack together between Maturity and Malice, and no one present expects it to be fair or ballanced. “You’d be a proper council of Heathers if Maleficent could crack a smile without turning my stomach.” Malice snears, scoffing as if they had better things to do than play witness to this highschool pantsing. “Gallows humor never suited you, Brilliance.” From the depths of a voluminous red silk shirt, Maturity pipes in, affecting a laugh so high pitched and awkwardly persistent that it becomes a painfully obvious plea for Malice’s attention. A silver croquet mallet taps against the altar, and Perfection wrenches the attention back from the odd couple. “You’re here, Brilliance, to answer for some spurious accusations.” Brilliance rolls their eyes. “Spell spurious.” Perfection’s eye twitches, and they grasp the head of her hammer “Brilliance, I will hold you in contempt of court. You’ll be suspended!” A serious look passes between the tribunal. The Erohin perched on the stool laughs incredulously, rolling into a seated position on one calf, and supporting theirself with a hand on the other knee. “It’s your bird! Your ridiculous ‘parting lips’! You should be suspended for dealing with the Darkness behind our backs.” They punctuate the accusations with wide, sardonic gestures. Maturity doesn’t bother to feign impartiality. “And your evidence?” Brilliance looks away, drawing back up into a tight ball. “I’m working on it. Still, they need to be quarantined.” Turning, and inspecting their nails, Malice complains under their breath. “Aren’t you the one programming these monkeys?” Brilliance’s toes touch the floor as they lean in to clarify. “Uhm, actually… that’s a gross oversimp-” “Yes! This could just be you harpooning my character.” Brilliance mouths ‘lampoon?’ (with an expression that suggests that still wouldn't be correct) as Perfection continues to pick up from where Malice left off. “You could be planting sleeper agents in any of our entourages. Then, whenever you want to take one of us out, they start popping when they’re left alone with one of our charges!” Maturity is once again eager to speak from the highest horse. “None of this will proceed without evidence! We must perform an investigation.” Brilliance tisks and raises their hands in surrender. “No problem. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” “That’s it, suspension!” Perfection slams down the silver mallet.
Sheridan takes his position at the start of the ledge and waits for Kane to join him. "Should we hold hands, or, uhm..." Heat blooms in the ifrit's face and he turns and starts down the corridor.
The party disappears around the corner, and Sheridan stops again to wait for Kane to catch up. "So... words, huh... d'you have a paper for cleaning that stuff off in case something-"
Sheridan stops in front of the door and looks at Stone expectantly. If he catches the cleric's attention, he'll indicate Ngai with his eyes and cross his arms, insistent on blocking the doorway until his friend is taken care of. As the seconds pass, and Ngai begins to recover on her own, he'll give Stone a withering stare before turning and stomping down the corridor without a word.
"Well, we know the stuff in here is safe, per the wards Thurin hasn't crushed into submission. Not a hundred percent on whether we qualify as stuff, but I'd take this room over the crux of a tree. We could bring goofus in from outside and tuck in for a rousing several hours of Rest and Research, my personal favorite table-top game."
Ganzorig mutters something about wasting time with talking heads. He's clearly jealous of the attention.
"You never left a kettle on the stove before, Katsa? Sometimes the difference between a strong tea and a deadly poison is steeping time. Seems to me, Kegan didn't expect to disappear on such short notice." The gnome pulls open his sack with both hands and stuffs his head inside to check his stock of blow darts. Looking up to Hob and Thurin, Ganzorig opines, "were this an equitable arrangement, I would point out that Katsa and I have each entered a room, but seeing as how the two of you wield weapons in excess of my weight and stature, I defer to your judgement." Ganzorig glances at the front door, but sees no sign of Pyrope, then returns to busying himself with his sack.
At this point in the night, Yu is just happy it got back to bed first. The questions left unanswered by the evening's events make it hard to slip into sleep mode. The induction charger under the mattress was getting a workout. If I sleep now, I'll be at 60% in the morning. I can't solve the meaning of life in one night, and I have to do Yungfeng most of tomorrow. The door opens on its unusually well-oiled hinges, and Yumei focuses on affecting a nonchalant, prone starfish posture, knit animals spilled out of a twisted sheet. The petite 'mi-mi-mi-mi' is barely beliveable, but she's been consistent with it since the start of the semester.
With a pained expression, Ganzorig orphans the illusionary dwarf. "Good night sweet prince. May flights of faeries wing you to your rest..." Rolling up his sleeves, the gnome prepares something completely different. Not sight nor sound nor the impression of force, but baking soda. A wall of chemically basic material to block the doorway and give his allies a few seconds to collect themselves. The sensation of a base in contact with semi-cognizant acid is comparable to pain, much like semi-cognizance is comparable to sentience, but it's a bit like comparing brown wax to chocolate liqueur, and leaves a similar bad taste in the bleachling's mouth. Nonetheless, Ganzorig shudders as the artistry flows forth and paints the experience over the doorway and floor. It had been a few minutes since he had cast the double, and he had been feeling wane. Mechanics:
Creating the illusion of a strong basic chemical spilled over the floor, wall, and falsely closed door, set to buckle with little resistance if hit from the inside. The chemical should inflict 7 non-lethal damage on contact with the murderous puddle.
Ganzorig takes a few steps back, stumbling over the remains of the broken statues. "It'll be stalled at the doorway. Make it count. The longer you hold it in that there, the better. It's not going to like the trap I just set on the floor."
Ganzorig bites his tongue and leans to one side until his hair brushes the floor trying to get a look at the thing so he can reach out through the shadows. Thurin's stunt double charges out of the room, stomping as he goes. As soon as he sees the thing bubbling across the floor Ganzorig flicks his hand and barbs of shadow glide along the floor in its direction. Mechanics:
There are two canonical teens carried over from Season 1. I'm honestly not sure which you should be more worried about.
Illusory Thurin follows Hob into the room. He doesn't bump any shelves because he's a badass (and because he doesn't actually produce any force). Hopefully, the thing on the floor has some awareness. The senses of the amorphous were so finicky. While the opening salvo resolves itself, Ganzorig considers his options, moving to get a decent angle on the thing spooking Katsa.
Ganzorig glances at the table and counter in this first room with apparent disinterest, raising his hands to present the empty room. "If all you needed was light, I can do that." The gnome's black eyes iris, and circles of sickly yellow light project into the area around him, swimming like sunlight through a pool of water. "I haven't any use for it myself--I only see light and color through others--but for you?" Ganzorig slaps illusory Thurin's calf. "Anything."
Sheridan observes the ritual with interest, following Ngai's lead on how to conduct himself. When Stone makes his comment, however, he can't contain himself. "Perhaps it is the... skeleton key?"
"Can Dwarves not walk backward? Saddly, dear sweet Thurin, I have yet to learn the secret to casting magic on stone what's immune to magic, but there's a chance this might help..."
Mechanics: Using 1 SP (6 remaining) to create a Thurin clone. This may not be able to deal damage to the stone pillar golems, but it might pull agro, and it might grant a flanking bonus, and I can keep it running past the end of the encounter if it doesn't get poofed somehow.
The illusion will take a 5-foot step to get into flanking position with Hob. Hopefully "immune to magic" doesn't mean "literally cannot see illusions". If the illusion is visible to the pillars, they'll have to hit it and succeed at the will save per Illusionary Touch.
"Maybe they'd leave you alone if you acted like proper houseguests! I don't recall Kegan having any friends, but I'd imagine he wouldn't want to disarm his whole house to have tea with his mother. I'd hate to see you break your- nevermind." Ganzorig pulls his trap sack from his backpack and gets ready to plant a pit outside the door.
"On the immune-to-magic statues? No. No one can cast magic on statues that are immune to magic... And what magic I have cannot open doors. I'm a trapper, and a bleachling. Beyond that, I'm largely unremarkable without an audience."
~~Last Night~~
~~In the Morning~~
When Kane decides to join them, the rogue nods. "Anything would be good, really. I've barely got two coins to rub together owing to a last-minute armory purchase, and I doubt this place has more than a few silver for a performer. That won't get me more than another night off the street."
"A dwarf, a half-elf, a human, a gnome, his dog, and a half-orc walk into a wizard's mansion looking for a wolf. Bartender says: 'that's enough wine for you, Zorig.'"
I thought I'd share some sweet forum tech: The code collapses any series of spaces or leading spaces, but it doesn't check any other whitespace characters. I use the quad em [ ] for spacing in my header. boop
The illusion's runes flash, and the image fades, leaving the closed door behind. Ganzorig and Pyrope peer around their tree from either side. "Is everyone done doing the Golarian standoff thing? Hammers and bows and spells, oh my."
Ganzorig's face goes slack as the magekiller proves he's more than a pretty face and a large hammer. This could be it. He might just do it! If it doesn't wake ol' man Kegan, maybe it should wake faux man Kegan... Trouble is, I'm not sure I could spook these dummies. One solid hit and a protracted investigation later... well, my prospects with Thorin will be seriously strained. It'll take some serious illusion though. Might be worth seeing... Ganzorig scratches Pyrope behind the ears and lags behind the others, roughly thirty feet from the front door.
Crunch:
Ganzorig sidles up to Thurin with his recalcitrant albeit perfectly mundane dog which has no magical properties whatsoever, pulling rope from his robe hand over fist. "Okay, big papa, the only thing you've got to worry about, I think, is what's got the place locked up. It's less a matter of locking the place tight, and more like it makes all the surfaces harder, so that includes any windows. Not that you're interested, but picking the lock is going to be similarly tough. A few of us might have some trouble with two other wards around the place, if you think you might need a warmup. Certainly worth a look if you're in the business of breaking things. Long story short: Kegan's a bit of a racist."
Sense Motive DC 14:
Ganzorig is hoping Thurin won't ask for any further details about the other two wards. A sizeable length of rope unwound from his robe, Ganzorig raises one end. "Anyone mind hauling me over?"
It's been a wild run. No hard feelings. I know how tough it is to let a game go. See you around the forums. |
