I’m fine with a four-pack. If we run into a bunch of stiff opposition, we can always revisit the subject.
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"I love blueberries. There are worse things to be hit with."
Sorry to see you go, Longears, but you gotta do what you gotta do. Good luck with the sale!
Bertram sits on a log. With no attempt at humor, he says, "I will take a late shift. Darkness presents no challenges."
"But you are a cat." Bertam states that as a fact... with the hint of a question after it.
Bertie enjoys the green wood despite the hazards. On Mosley’s advice, he tries to pick his course carefully and remain attentive. But it seems every bramble catches at his robe and every log gets in the way of his walking stick with the clunk-on-clunk of wood striking. And Mosley’s complaints about all these setbacks to stealth makes focusing quite difficult.
Status: HP: 7 / 7 | AC:14 / T:12 / FF:12 | CMD:12/10 1st Spells (4):
Effects:
"Well... let's go deal with the rest of the bandits. Better to catch them before they come after us."
Bertram stays in the background, letting the others do what they do. He believed in people being their authentic selves… which was just better when he didn’t get in the way. But he begins to find the bandit’s voice intrusive and it agitates one of his phantom friends. He weaves a simple spell, picks up one of the stray short swords, and moves toward the prisoners. He plants his foot on the face of the chatty villain, making it difficult for him to speak. ”Mosley likes you. He says your soul is dark and he’d like to swallow it. I don’t need you screaming in my head, so be helpful or be silent.” He turns his head to the side, presumably listening to this ‘Mosley’. ”’Dark’ or ‘black’, what’s the difference? Either way, I have to give him the choice.” He turns his cloudy eyes back in the bandit’s direction. ”If you are unhelpful, Mosley will claim you. Watch.” He holds the shortsword at shoulder level, point aimed down, hovering over the bandit’s chest… then the oracle releases the blade with a smile. The shortsword drops toward the bandit. Before it buries itself in his chest, the blade is suddenly shunted sideways… nearly clipping the oracle before sticking into the earth some 10’ away. He observes brightly, ”See? Mosley wants to gorge on your soul. I’d be happier if he didn’t but the choice is yours.” He removes his foot from the fellow’s face.
Cool. Kizz, how many HP do you have now? I'm trying to figure out how much more healing you need.
Bertram keeps tending to the Kizzirark, trying to get the badger back on his paws.
EFFECT: or Harm
Status: HP: 7 / 7 | AC:14 / T:12 / FF:12 | CMD:12/10 1st Spells (4): xxx
Effects:
Magic was more flexible than channeling and Bertie had less of it. The day was young and who could say what he’d be called upon to do later? He feels the heavy thud as the grievously wounded badger hits the ground sending up a spray of dust. Bertram has to do something, but what? He calls upon the ancestors and floods the area with healing light, leaving their enemies in shadow. The blind oracle feels a bit torn about that but Mosley was whispering the rats should be left to die. Sometimes Mosley was right.
Status: HP: 7 / 7 | AC:14 / T:12 / FF:12 | CMD:12/10 1st Spells (4): xx
Effects:
Bertie sees the dim form of the last archer vanish from sight at a run. The large bug and several bodies stand in the way of him getting remotely close enough to ensorcel the rat. There was nothing he could do there... and the coppery smell of Kizz’s blood draws his attention. He intones, ”Amina, spirit of flesh untainted, I ask that you salve the wounds of this drunken and wretched badger.”
Status: HP: 7 / 7 | AC:14 / T:12 / FF:12 | CMD:12/10 1st Spells (4): xx
Effects:
No worries! I'll do some math and figure out if I have a chance to get in range to try to zap him. If not, I'll post another action.
How far away is he?
OK, so we can't go after the baddie who ran away?
Also apologies for being AFK so much this past weekend. We had to surrender our dog to new owners due to getting ready to move overseas later this summer and not being able to take her with us. It's been an emotional roller coaster here IRL. I'm sorry to hear that. Losing a pup, in any way, is never easy.
Not enjoying arrows whizzing past him, Bertram shuffles towards his allies and puts several of the thugs between the archers and himself. He holds the talisman around his neck and bows his head. A wave of warm light washes over the battlefield, healing allies while leaving the enemy untouched.
Status: HP: 7 / 7 | AC:14 / T:12 / FF:12 | CMD:12/10 1st Spells (4): x
Effects:
Bertam cautiously stumbles around the corner of the building, muttering. ”Xochitl, First Father of the furred tribes, aid thy children! Make blades in concert strike true!”
Status: HP: 7 / 7 | AC:14 / T:12 / FF:12 | CMD:12/10 1st Spells (4): x
Effects:
Bertie pulls open the door and steps through and out of the way for the real warriors.
In the mouse-sized building, Bertram stands by the door, ready to pull it open for the mousemaid Dahlia. He strains to hear the sounds of the approaching intruders through the nearby window. A witness might think his darting head is a sign of nervousness. In truth, he’s vexed with his unseen companions who are bickering over what his strategy should be once the fight begins. He hisses quietly at the unseen presences, ”Do kindly shut up! I’m trying to hear when they come.”
"Hope they don't have bows."
Bertie scratches at his ear. ”If we can’t risk closing the gate, you won’t need to be on the catapult, Oleg. You should hide as well. Umm… have you ever had to fix a wagon wheel? For this to work best, we’ll need to break yours.”
The madmouse considers the fort's layout. "There is room for everyone to hide inside. If they don't all come, then some of you must be ready to get them."
Having been at the fort for a couple of days, Bertram is familiar with the layout. He considers if there are any good hiding spots for the large badger.
Bertram seems buttressed by the team’s resolve. ”I think I can draw some - or most - of them in. If the rest of you are hiding inside and out… once they come for me, you can slam the gate and deal with them. You will need patience... they may get rough with me.” ”Master Oleg, do you have pulleys and rope?”
Bertram enthusiastically taps his cane on the ground at the bird’s zeal. ”Well said! But… uh… you are a bird with a sword and they are rats… expecting mice. You might make them leery. But a blind and clueless mouse could draw such bullies in easier, eh? I’m no warrior but I can be good bait.”
Bertie’s smile never falters during Oleg’s tirade. What was one more screaming voice when his head was frequently full of them? The mousemaid’s explanation and plea does garner a reaction. He frowns as he listens, then nods to his left, speaking to the empty space. ”Good question.” He turns back to the mousemaid, ”Wuh… I would like to help. Three questions: Do these ruffians come into the fort to take your goods? Can the gate be closed and barred? And…” he points to the wrong tower, ”Does that siege engine work?”
”Siege engine?” The other mouse squints hard at the sky. ”We’ve never sieged anyone.”
Bertram has the feeling they are talking about different things. ”I, uh, came by a different path… I don’t know ‘what is happening’. Will you tell me?”
”Are you joining us on our adventure?” Bertie strokes his ear, considering. ”That is your question to answer. Am I joining all of you?” He points his nose in Kizzirark’s direction, ”If you want to say ‘no’, say ‘yes’ instead. You will be less irritated tomorrow.” ”What can you tell us about the fort and its inhabitants? Are they friendly?” He listens carefully for a moment; one mouse is still hammering away and the other is scraping around the kitchen. He pitches his voice not to carry. ”They are not friendly, not unfriendly. We thought it might be me… but maybe not. They are nervous. Both look east and west, a lot. Expecting you or someone else? I don’t know.”
”Bertie, is that you? What the heck are you doing here? If you're supposed to accompany us why didn't you come to the feast?” Thankfully, Bertram was skilled at recognizing familiar voices, so he didn’t have to squint at the cat. ”Hullo, Tawny. Yes, I am me. The feast?” He parrots the question and pauses, puzzling on the best answer, ”We, I had… to leave sooner, maybe because it took longer to get here. Was the food good?” ”I can’t tell you how much of a privilege it is to finally meet.” The mouse peers at the bird then steps a little closer swinging his head a slow circle to gather more details. When he spots the wing extended in greeting, he quickly extends his own paw until he touches a feather. His head bobs, somewhat overwhelmed by the effusive greeting. He was used to trepidation, sometimes teasing, and often poorly concealed mutters. ”Ours is the privilege. Thank you.” ”I think he is on 'shrooms.” ” Well, you're possibly drunk, so...” ”Chickpeas. For dinner… I had chickpeas. No mushrooms, sadly.” Clearly the mouse is blind to the subtext of the conversation along with mundane objects. ” I'm Rowan Brunk. Looks like some of us have heard of you?” He wrings his cane, embarrassed. ”Hullo, Rowan Brunk.” He repeats the name, trying to set it in his memory. ”Yes, some know me. In the Abbey, some say I am ‘odd duck’ among mice. But we know healing and things. I am a helpful odd duck.”
Bertram squints and swings his head, using his peripheral vision to pierce his opaqued vision and confirm that he’s seeing what he thinks he’s seeing. Yes, it IS a large badger swinging an even larger sword. Cripes! ”Uhm, I’m Bertram. The journey is the journey - into the Deep Green... the beyond… maybe beyond the beyond.”
After two days of wandering about within the palisade, Bertram was becoming familiar and somewhat comfortable with the buildings in the modest fort. The proprietors felt a little standoffish, but Bertie was used to being the cause of some apprehension… as if his blindness was somehow contagious. Still, he kept his senses open, trying to determine if their ill-ease was his fault or some other concern. They doubtless had many worries on the edge of the Deep Green. Ferreting out which one this might be was a good distraction while he waited for the next steps in his journey.
But patience requires practice… so the Oracle perks up when old Xochitl is the first to announce ‘guests’ are coming. Unlike mortal friends, the spirits have clear priorities. Who is whispering in his ear is just as important as what is being said. The First Father delivering this news meant these were people with which Bertram needed to establish a good footing. To relieve his anxiety, he straightens his burnoose and adjusts the lay of the hood a half dozen times. He finds a spot in the sun and lightly leans against the palisade’s inner wall, his clothes blending in with the wooden structure. Then, he waits and silently practices his introductory words…
Standing to one side, near the rough-hewn wall, is a light brown mouse in a dark brown traveling burnoose. Beneath the burnoose are glimpses of medium brown leather armor. Even his walking stick – more of a cane really – is a rich brown. Brown seems to be a theme for the slender mouse. The only pop of color on him is a liberal splash of white around his nose and whiskers that goes down his neck before vanishing beneath his attire. At first glance, it looks like he sloppily guzzled a glass of cream and didn’t bother to wash up afterwards. The far more startling pops of color are his milky white eyes. The pupils are difficult to see, making it nearly impossible to determine where – or if – he is actually looking at anything. But, as the group approaches, the angle of his nose shifts until he is generally pointing in the explorers’ direction. He wrings the neck of his cane a little nervously and offers a quick half-bow roughly towards the team. ”” jumps out of him a little too eagerly before he masters his nerves. ”I’m, um, Bertram Bricabrak. We… I’ve been asked to accompany you on your journey. It’s an honor.” He bookends his abrupt statement with another awkward half-bow. Redwall Abbey Locals or Frequent Visitors: With his white eyes, cane, and odd mannerisms, you recognize this fellow. Bertram or ‘Bertie’ is a known character in Redwall Abbey. The locals debate whether he is somewhat unhinged or if he argues with actual ghosts and spirits. Despite his eccentricities, he is regarded as a skilled healer with a somewhat unorthodox bedside manner. It’s generally accepted that he has a good heart as he regularly treats the destitute for free. Some Redwall citizens also rely on him as a soothsayer.
How far is Oleg’s from Redwall Abbey in terms travel time? Are we talking days or weeks?
Not a worry! It'll be a good read.
Sounds grand! I'm looking forward to it. Feel free to take some liberties with Bertram if it makes weaving him into the story easier. He doesn't have to be an official part of the quest. His spirit friends could have told him to meet the party on the road after all the celebrations, gifting, and prognostications are done. I'm happy to improvise around your storyline.
Hi guys! Delighted to be playing with you all! Obrigado pelo elogio, CaioCC.
I've added a quick and dirty version of his backstory to the profile. Let me know if you'd like to see more detail. Thanks!
Here is Bertram the Sighted (often called Bertie the Semi-Sighted) oracle and soothsayer. I still need to work on his description and backstory, but his stats should be all there. Bertie's role: Bertie is a solid healer. As he goes up in level, he'll do both Skill-based and magical healing quite well. However, he'll be far more than a healbot. His FCBs at every level will expand his spell list. And with Spirit Guide, he'll be adding more useful offensive (arcane and divine) spells to his list. |