Beckett Foxglove's page

Beckett grinds his teeth in frustration.

"You don't know what you're toying with Karl.... You can't SEE it!"

"Stand a side Karl!"

Beckett begins to lift his massive hammer with a look of determination.

Beckett grunts in pain. Then he slowly draws his hammer.

"Put them on the ground. I'll rid the world of their filth!"

+1

Beckett pulls himself to his feet.

"I'd like a look at them, as well..."

The Inquisitor closes his eyes, breathes a quiet prayer and opens his eyes, looking at the fetishes.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14

Beckett rolls to his side, heaves and empties his stomach...

Once the reching stops, he simply lays on his back, staring at the sky.

"Whatever you say Marsh... I'm sure you're right..."

Then more quietly

"I hate this cursed land..."

girgle...

"mufufle pufil a... arrrrrrr...

Beckett screams in rage and pain...

And then falls silent...

Beckett growls menacingly...

Beckett growls at the abomination, but pulling his hammer from the ground he is off balance and can only manage a passing swing at the creature.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

It's been a tough slog recently. I have two side businesses in addition to my main job and a family. Keeps a man busy. :)

That would indeed keep a person busy! :)

I...still...live...

The DM is alive! Long live the DM!

"Of course... wouldn't want the beer and ale trade to collapse..."

Oh no! Hope you start feeling better!

Hopefully he doesn't trip over his feet the way Beckett did... :-)

Beckett stumbles forward and swings his hammer with a confused look on his face.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Beckett raises his eyes, sounds finally penetrating his ruminations.

"What? Drogan is in trouble?

Ok! Life has returned to some semblance of sanity... Getting caught up. 31 posts! Woot!

Beckett returns and tells the story of his conversation, and that we have a guide to the academy, if we wish to go.

Beckett cranes his neck to look up at Stitches, keeping his face passive.

What? I thought the half-elf was 'Stitches.' Dawn's Light! I really have no idea what I'm doing. Ah well... The Everlight will shine the way.

Tomorrow night.

Beckett allows a brief look of annoyance to cross his face. But then he quickly smiles.

Of course, Master Stitches. Tomorrow night it is.

Why tomorrow... Nefarious business? I wonder if the wizard's bird could keep an eye of this lot until we depart...

Well, if you will excuse me, I'll go gather our team and make preparations.

Beckett makes a short bow and withdraws to gather up Linkah.

Glass etching... Wow! Cool!

Beckett sighs...

A suspicious lout... seems he is not going to listen until I give him some 'angle.' As if arriving with our mutual hides intact isn't enough.

Beckett shakes his head, sadly.

"I do mean free. Free to you, and free to us. We are both traveling the same road... It just makes sense to do it together. No need to complicate matters."

The Inquisitor smiles.

"And besides... there is no percentage on our mission for you to share, my friend. Our business here was trade. Our mission at the school is spiritual. I am something of a man of the cloth, and the profits I seek have nothing to do with gold or silver."

Beckett slowly reaches into a pocket, and holds aloft the chain of his holy symbol in his fist, allowing the metal to catch a glint of light. Then he returns it to his pocket.

"Now it could be, along the road, that we may talk about matters spiritual. Part of my mission is to always look for opportunities to spread the faith. It could be that you or your apprentice might hear something that you like. Perhaps think more kindly of my Divine Lady. If that happens, I will have fulfilled my oath. If it doesn't... well, you've picked up some help for only the cost of a few hours of listening to a crazy young scrapper."

Beckett shrugs.

"Seems to be a good deal, for all of us, friend."

Beckett offers a shallow bow.

"Beckett Foxglove, at your service."

The Inquisitor shrugs.

"We're... self employed at the moment. We stopped off here for a spot of trade and need to move along to attend to some business at the school. Our little band includes some warriors of considerable skill, and a few who care for our more arcane needs."

Beckett gestures toward the outskirts.

"Honestly, when we began our journey I wouldn't have anticipated needing any extra muscle.... but we had a bit of a scuffle with those festering dogs on the way here."

Beckett waves his hand, dismissively...

"We dispatched them, of course. But it was a closer thing than I prefer, if it can be helped. Nothing wrong with some added margin, especially when it's without cost."

Karl... oh my...

I'm in Bazarro-land... :-D

"Sure... sure..."

Beckett slowly raises his hands to the side, palms up... but also calling a prayer of dazing to the forefront of his mind.

"Marr's contract is yours. Not after your trade."

"But here's the thing, friend. We also have business at the school. Now, normally, I wouldn't be sticking my nose in your business..."

Beckett shrugs.

"...but your tenderfoot bumbling about makes it difficult not to notice. And once I noticed... well... It seems that a stronger group on the road will stand a better chance of making it in once piece."

Beckett gestures slowly toward the human's sword.

"I can tell you're a hard man, used to moving swiftly in the wild. But... you've got baggage friend. I'd like you to think about the advantages of making this trip with a more... experienced crew."

Beckett drops his hands slowly and nods back toward the hammer strapped to his back.

Beckett turns to return toward the shanty, pacing himself to meet the forester at the door.

Well now... a generous man... Tossing silver and giving away other men's barrels. I could grow to like you.

Beckett doesn't smile.

Sadly, time is short. St. Antoinette's isn't to tend to itself, eh?

Ah ha! Sneaky DM!

Very sad. I've enjoyed playing with you Jason! I will definitely keep you in my prayers. Thank you for keeping Beckett on the right side of sanity during his self-destructive phase... :)

After regaining his footing, Beckett glances sheepishly toward Karl... then, red faced, moves away from him.

"At least one of us can be out of sight... Fah! Sneaking about... Not the way of the Inquisition...

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

Stealth: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (8) - 4 = 4

Beckett focuses on the pair, trying to discern as much has he can fro, their manner and movement.

I wonder what...

"Oooff!"

His foot catches on a gnarled root, and the Inquisitor stumbles, the pieces of his armor banging together as he regains his footing.

Beckett's eyes narrow as he takes in the crowd, glancing at a table:

That lot... Rumors and tales of St. Antoinette's. May be truth about it, but they don't know anything but the gossip. Can pick that up anywhere.

His eyes fleet past a second table:

More stories. Troubles with trade. Rumors. Any mid-level merchant can likely confirm. Not urgent.

Then he look toward the door at the departing form of a human and half-elf.

What's this? Could be nothing. But were they listening to the stories of the Academy? Sudden exit. Maybe nothing, but won't have a second chance. Yes. Them.

Beckett sets his cup on the bar and heads to the door with as much speed as possible without drawing too much attention. He tries to catch the eye of at least one of his companions and nods toward the exit.

Beckett needs multiple castings of "clone self" so that he can follow all of the leads at once...

Beckett orders himself a drink, and feigns taking a sip.

"As foul smelling as ever... but it is prudent to look the part."

Discretely, Beckett starts some conversation with some locals and tries to learn more about St Antoinette's Academy.

Beckett walks in behind Drogan, smiling at the Dwarf's antics.

Then he removes his hat and makes an exaggerated, sweeping bow at Karl.

Beckett smiles at Linkah as he stands, briefly placing a hand on the halfling's shoulder.

Then he turns, toward the dwarf, with a smile which may not be entirely for show.

"Thank you Healer McCree. We'd be honored to take our ease with you."

The Inquisitor opens the flap and holds it for the group.

"Perhaps we can take the opportunity to become better antiquated. I fear that the pox did not allow us to make a very dignified first impression."

Beckett faces east, and falls to his knees, his back straight.

Silently he begins his devotions.

Would you believe... today?

Sorry again for the absence. Long, and not very interesting, story.

Ok! I'm back at it. Catching up on the story and will have something to post tomorrow.

Will get caught up soon. Filling in for the wife.

Oh my gosh she does a lot!!

Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Thank you, Everlight, that I might be...

RRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG....

uggg... foul wrenching...

Thank you, Everlight, that we were...

HHHRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG....

oh... light...

RRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGG....

Beckett rolls on the ground, desperately avoiding the creature's attacks and swinging his hammer wildly.

Attack: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 - 4 = 15
Damage: 1d12 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

Beckett smash!

"By the Dawn!

Radiance of the Dawn, guard us against these dark spawn! I beg your protection in our time of need!

Swift Action: Judgement of Protection, +1 sacred bonus to armor class.

Beckett grunts in pain as the beast tears into him. But his mind continues to work feverishly. The ears... Nothing... The nose... No... The eyes... Pupils large... Very large...

The Inqusitor kicks at the creature's head, trying to keep it at bay.

"Light! They are not used to bright light!"

Lightless demon spawn!

Beckett's eyes go wide as a rage over takes him.

Beckett rolls to the side, using is momentum to swing his hammer at the creature's head from a ground!

Attack: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 - 4 = 20
Confirm: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 - 4 = 20
Damage: 1d12 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Critical: 1d12 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Hammer: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Beckett eyes the beasts, looking for signs of weakness, while drawing his hammer.

Perception: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19

You type those long posts on your phone? Wow!

"Come, let's edge our way back to camp so as not to spring this trap" he whispers to Beckett.

Beckett pauses for a moment to consider the situation, looking out into the night.

Then he nods at Phedron and starts edging his way back to camp.

Getting caught up from weekend of crazy. Will get a post up tomorrow!

Beckett nods, and lowers his eyes to the ground as Karl speaks.

After a moment of silence, Beckett offers for the circle to join hands.

"I... uh.."

Beckett coughs, nervously...

"I have no wisdom of my own. But I can share what I have been given..."

The Inquisitor pauses, as if bringing a memory to the surface.

"It is written that the world without light is like a symphony with without a conductor."

Beckett raises his eyes to look at each of the gathered friends as he speaks.

"The dawn reminds us, every day, that there are new beginnings... for all of us. That there is redemption on the other side of darkness... That we can take joy in the light and despite whatever situation we find beneath our feet... the sky promises deliverance."

His voice deepens as he speaks, the insecurity fading as he begins to speak from the heart.

"In what we have done here today, we see the model of the eternal battle. The darkness was vanquished by the light. But this battle is not only a model of the eternal battle. It is also a model of our lives. We rise each day, as the Dawn, and go forth to push back the darkness. To bring the light to the dark places."

"And just as in this battle, we do not go through our lives unbloodied. There is a price in being united with the Dawn. Is the price worth paying? Is there victory in the end? We take it on faith that there is, but not only on faith."

"For we have seen the work of the Dawn herself this day. Had we fallen in this battle, the darkness would have remained... and it would have remained as it was. But in our victory, we have grown. We have grown together, and committed to each other. Our brightness grows. In the end, this is undoing of the night. A darkness remains ever as it is, dark. But lights may join together and with each new addition, blaze more brightly."

Beckett lifts his arms, inviting the others to raise the circle of joined hands, his voice rising.

"Sarenrae, we offer this light to you. Despise not our weakness, but instead find these lights within us... Stoke them and make them burn bright. Then, in the time of your wisdom, make them blaze forth, united as a weapon that no darkness can withstand."

Beckett's voice then drops, nearly to a whisper.

"And then... when our share of the work is done. Grant us final peace..."

Beckett stands and nods.

They don't understand... not really... But it is enough...

"Thank you... my... friends."

Beckett wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"But do not let your kindness be your undoing. Should the curse gain purchase, I need you to do what must be done. Do not hesitate."

The Inquisitor pulls himself upright, and looks to the sky.

"Drogan is right. We should be on our way."

Beckett makes an effort of will to regain control of his flood of emotions...

"I don't Karl..."

Beckett buries his face in his hands.

"When I was a child... There was.. an.. attack...

He pauses for a moment, then continues.

"My family. It's cursed. My great grandfather mettled in unholy magics. Tried to turn himself into an abomination."

Beckett looks up briefly to ensure no one else is close enough to hear.

"A litch. He failed. We think my grandmother stopped him. Interrupted the spell. But no one knows for sure. They were both destroyed."

"My grandfather... tried to reclaim the mansion. Restart the family line. But the spirit of his father infested everything. He went mad.. murdered my grandmother..."

He pauses for the moment, head hanging even lower.

"My father. His pride. Tried again. Became a ghoul. Terrorised the little town of Sandpoint. Killed scores of people... and.. and ate them. Turned himself into a servant of an even darker power. He was destroyed by some mercenaries that came to defend Sandpoint."

Now the curse has fallen on me. I am the last of my line.

Beckett looks up, his face streaked with tears.

"The demons came for me. But I survived. Locked my heart away in stone. In the church we are called the Cold Iron Wardens. We forsaken any power to heal. Any desire to restore. We only burn... and purify..."

A sob shakes his large frame, the young man suddenly looking very much a youth of seventeen years.

"It protected me. Guarded my soul. Slowed the onset of the curse..."

Beckett falls silent, his head buried in his arms.