Unfortunately I am not seeing any end in sight yet to the ocean of work at work. I am going to have to step out until this smooths out.
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I am still present, but I normally post from work and we have been literally swamped. I barely have time to breathe in between dealing with various accounts and problems. It is starting to slow down a bit again, though.
Silas suggests heading southwest into the cavern.
Once Silas is up and is in the presence of the crunched cave fishers, he draws his short sword again and, hoping for Hugo's help, gets them rolled over to expose what he assumes is a softer part of their bellies.
Instead, Silas lets go of the rope and moves to stand next to Grizelda, watching, his breathing coming in short rasps seeing them up there and knowing there's nothing he can do to help them!
Silas, meanwhile, finds something to tie the other end of the rope to so that it is more taut and easier for Tomid to climb. He starts first by running a tight circle around the object and then pulling it hard before knotting it off.
Wily Silas, knowing his limitations against the weight of these Cave Fishers, looks around for anything he can tie the other end of the rope to in haste...
And I've been DM'ing for yeeeaaaars on a Neverwinter Nights server based in the Forgotten Realms. :)
Looks like an intriguing game, but I'm about at that good point in the amount of games I am in.
Silas just barely maintains his grip, and fearing for Hugo's safety - and by extension, his own - he wraps the rope twice around his right wrist while lifting the rope with his left to hand back to give back to Zinny. "Take hold, Zinnia!"
That's an awful lot of gold... "That's an awful lot of danger," Silas cautions, while helping secure the rope around Hugo's waist, pulling the rope taut to ensure it is tight. "I'll help Zinnia with the rope. Tomid, why don't you be ready to cut the thing to pieces when it falls down..." Silas takes hold of the rope and, if Hugo allows it to catch him, yanks quickly to use Hugo's gravitational momentum as an extra "tug" on the Cave Fisher, trying to aid Zinny in her strength check.
He doesn't appear to be much use to Zinny!
The baritone in one of the performance quartets I sing with had a corgi that had been with him for many years, named Cecil. Cecil got cancer and he made the decision to pay for chemotherapy treatment. I saw the expense and watched how he had to nurse that dog after every the treatments. Seeing Cecil have so much trouble afterwards was sad and scary, but everyone could sense that he knew his owner was taking care of him and was helping him feel better in spite of the dizziness and sickness. He beat cancer, too, and lived a couple of more great years. I hope you felt the same experience of a closer relationship with her afterwards.
Sorry to hear that, Griz.
"Just how valuable are we talking?"
Welcome, Gren! Don't worry, I'm not the kind of priest to run a witch out of town. :)
"Be at peace, Zinnia," Silas urges with a smile, placing a firm yet calming hand upon her shoulder. "We know your mother had nothing to do with this. What I believe Miss Blau means is that she wonders what it is about the caverns beneath her basement that draw such large creatures. Those were dire rats back there, rats that hang around big city wharfs and eat small dogs, or live deep in the woods. You don't usually find them under houses in peaceful villages like our Daggermark." Silas looks wary about the ledge where the giant Cave Fisher has been. It might still be lurking up there, just waiting for the first person to poke their head up, and then with its massive pincers it will just squeeze their head off like a grape. "...well, it was a rat that came up and bit your mother, and I think we exterminated that rat's nest. I don't know if we should bother that thing any more. Maybe its a natural predator and eats the rats."
I think he gave us better, ot at least me. Self-Sufficient is a full feat.
What sort business does your mother conduct to make everything grow so big down here?" Silas cocks his head to the side at Grizelda's observation. It takes all of his priestly resolve not to laugh, because the very heart of Madame Holbern's job is to make things grow bigger down below. Having nothing with which to snipe, Silas instead steps up near Hugo and readies an action to attack the Cave Fisher's lure if it swings in their direction.
While they discuss which rathole to go down, Silas makes a disgusted face and turns one of the dead rats over with his short sword, inspecting it.
Round 3 "Pardon me, Hugo, m'boy," Silas says as he slides between the rat and Hugo, winding up on the opposite side of the rat from Tomid, in yet another flanking position.
Haha, a much deserved tomato!
USA Up All Night was even more awesome. Particular American television station carried by Turner Broadcasting, I believe. Came on about 10pm on Friday and Saturday, hosted by Gilbert Gottfried at first and then some hot and busty blonde named Rhonda after him. They showed the greatest movies ever made (The Toxic Avenger, Nuke 'Em High, Porky's, Caged Heat (1 & 2!), Car Wash, and Sorority Babes at the Slimeball Bowl o' Rama just to name a few). This was before the days of MST3K on Friday/Saturday nights, when hormones were just beginning to rage.
I'm always in a bit of a "blue" mood, bluedove. Could have something to do with growing up watching USA Up All Night, Red Shoe Diaries, Dream On, and other samples of quality programming.
I had a dream in the less lucid hours of the early morning that Zinny's weapon was an iconic one on the level of a Grecian myth. It went basically like this: when Zinny was a child, her mother feared for her chastity, and so she built a wooden fence around her womb that the advances of no man could breach. And then, one day, she fell in love with the son of a blacksmith and with the might of the gods pulled the biggest of the fenceposts out and wielded it as a weapon to knock down every other post in the fence. And then she embraced the Herculean blacksmith and... ...and then the dream just kinda devolved into stuff I won't get into! But I was amused.
Indeed! Looking forward to reading them.
Round 2 The priest puts his right foot back and then launches himself forward, first sliding under Hugo's backswing and then vaulting over the blue rat to his side. He tries to plant his heels behind the blue rat, in a flanking position, and again steps on its tail (apparently thinking it won't be able to run away) and sweeps the blade near its head.
When the rats swarm Hugo, Silas undelays and slides up behind the orange rat behind Hugo, flanking. He looks like he makes an attempt to stomp on its tail and then slash it with his short sword!
A moping Silas cannot even concentrate at first on the silver ore stuck in his bag, silver ore he conveniently forgot to offer to the people and, well, now would need to barter. But having bartered for his life with Erastil - laying good works on the line for the promise that he wouldn't die of the plague - earthly profits just didn't seem to matter. For days after their return from Duvik's Pass, Brother Silas remains shut into his church. Those who come to him seeking his guidance have their times cut shorter than usual as he complains of a bout with ague, or cramping, fainting spells, night sweats, fatigue or other ailments. And for the record, he looks the part; so troubled is he by the lingering prospect of his possible death to a grotesque plague that the anxiety makes him pale to the eye and clammy to the touch. By the weekend sermon he is hoarse from unnecessarily coughing at every tickle of phlegm. He puts his treasures away in his locked chest and spends restless nights tangled in his bedsheets. Alone. Though he barely has the dream again, he keeps fearing he will every night. Because each time he tries to answer the mysterious voice and say, "The God of the Fields, who brings rain to grain and arrowhead to hart", a much more resounding voice thunders from a dark recess of Silas. ME. The echo of his answer jolts him from bed one early evening, and unable to put himself down again, he dresses in his fur and a dons a nightcap and heads to the Dancing Whip. It just so happens that along the way, he crosses paths with a desperate-looking Zinny followed by Hugo, Grizelda, and Tomid. Only the halfling seems like he might have an inkling as to where the priest's feet were taking him ("to kneel before the altar of womanhood", as he had drunkenly confided in Tomid one night years ago). To Zinny, he just listens to her troubles and nods. Sagaciously. "Of course. Anything to help you and yours, Zenaida." Following them down, his blade as drawn a the first sign of a rat. When they are surrounded by rats, he delays his action until some of the rats have repositioned themselves...
Dark years, indeed. I was alright with the changes from 3.5 at first. I was willing to give it a chance, at least for the reason that I really enjoy the Forgotten Realms setting. And I actually didn't have any major problems with the evolution of the Forgotten Realms setting...except that it seemed a bit obvious the lore was a round peg crammed into a square hole by the mechanics changes WotC was so desperate to make in order to create what was effectively a tabletop WoW (or a tabletop card game, depending upon how you interpret it). So I ran a 4th Ed homebrew FR game for several months until my patience ran out and every encounter felt exactly the same. The mechanics just seemed to lack enough variety to keep it interesting. Frankly, it was like the game was pitching itself to the lowest common denominator and my players were well above that. So then we went to Pathfinder, and all has been right with the world. I ran Carrion Crown, and now I'm playing in Shattered Star, then we'll be doing Skull & Shackles run by another player and then I'll be running Wrath of the Righteous.
Wow, no, I didn't even know there was a Mobicon. We're about to have a first annual Pensacon down here in February, but I think it is more sci-fi oriented than actual gaming. It has been on my mind to contact the organizers to see if there is an opportunity for that. So it's in May in Mobile, eh? Only about an hour away from me, really.
I am around, but I usually post from work and work has been exploding with high volume lately. Just a time of year thing. My out of work time has been some rehearsal for a performance this Saturday in Mobile. When I am needed to post, I'll be posting. :)
Silas continued to progress as a rogue, but the fear bug has been put him in for a possible rangery change in the future thanks to the dreams. He gained Evasion, now has +2d6 sneak and gained the Rumormonger ability. A rogue with this talent can attempt to spread a rumor through a small town or larger settlement by making a Bluff check. She can do so a number of times per week equal to her Charisma modifier (minimum 0). The DC is based on the size of the settlement, and it takes a week for the rumor to propagate through the settlement. If the check succeeds, the rumor is practically accepted as fact within the community; succeeding by 5 or more over the DC decreases the time it takes the rumor to propagate by 1d4 days. A failed check means the rumor failed to gain traction, while failing by 5 or more causes the opposite of the rumor or some other competing theory involving the rumor’s subject to take hold. I assume Daggermark is a "small town", which is DC 18. Large Town is DC 20. As far as skills go, he got better at most of the things he does, but thanks to gaining the Self-Sufficient feat from his time hunting with the brothers, he invested some skill ranks into Survival, as well Heal. And a little bit in Acrobatics, too, because of the belt.
Updated character sheet in file, will get to the bylines as soon as I am able.
She shoulda called it Woody.
Will do my lvl up when I am home from work today. Also still eager to find out what our completely not random at all d100 rolls were for!
Good God. Same Hit Die roll as the last level up. The dice roller knows what a schmuck Silas is. But I get to reroll that, I think!
Aaaaah ha ha ha! Divine intervention once again!
Dead Man Walking. When they emerge from the mines, this is all Silas can think about. The warmth of the sunlight does nothing to warm him after the cold depths of the cavern - at his core, he is certain, more certain than any faith in any god, that his time has come. A miner who died from the plague bit him upon the neck, and that illness must now be coursing through his veins. On the way back to Duvik's Pass, he stops at times, reacting to twinges and aches and waves of anxiety that feel suspiciously like a coming fever. He is enveloped in a daze during the town's brief celebration and gratitude. Most of the trip through the mines had been trying to deny the possibility that he was infected, but after being infected by the zombie, denial no longer seemed adequate. And there didn't seem to be any reason to be angry. When he comes to, he is standing in a line with the others, between Hugo and Zinny, a sack of coinage in his outstretched hands. The dirty, downtrodden people of the pass stand in thromboidal clumps. Silas' blood pressure rises. Their hard-earned money in his hands as a reward. The only person who can save him now is... "No!" the priest shouts suddenly. When the crowd quiets, he smiles anxiously. "I mean, no, no, I couldn't possibly accept this. It is you who have been ravaged by this plague. You haven't even the livestock to send us home. This money would be better spent putting your community back together again. Old Deadeye worked through us to slay an orc who brought this poison upon you. Guided the brave halfling's arrow. And now he guides my hand, too." Silas' hand extends the money back to the townsperson who gave it to him. "Please, take it." Erastil, please see my generosity. My goodness! Forgive me. Spare me from the black death festering my insides! "Use it to buy seed to sow. To purchase new livestock. Use it to pay backwages. But this is put to much better use by your people than by my hands, stained with blood." Unbenownst to him, as he speaks, his eyes have begun to water and small streaks of wet dirt have coursed down his cheek.
Back in the day, we used to have a house rule called the 20-20-dead rule. If you rolled a 20, and then confirmed with a 20, then you rolled a third time. If you at least confirm the third roll, it was instakill.
"Truly, you have the aim of Erastil himself," Silas is the first to say, standing next to Tomid when the arrow pierces the orc's skull and he tumbles from his perch. "Remind me to place a bet on you the next time you join an archery competition." After which point Silas goes and leans against the wall of the cavern, looking sick and wounded in spite of his healing. He holds his bloodied hands up in front of his face, constantly threatened by the possibility of his impending death if he, too, is diseased with the plague.
Round 1 Not yet in a full panic, Silas is sure to have his short sword in hand. He steps out in front of Grizelda and Abigail, standing next to Tomid (N3) and looks around. It seems unusual that one orc would challenge the whole lot of them alone...
"Aaaaaah!"
The only religion Silas can concentrate on is his personal dogma: A man is only as faithful as his options.
Silas does not look good, not at all. After the zombie fight, he falls to his knees and stands over the downed zombie, his own blood running hotter, quicker, and redder than any of their foes. Both hands are clutched around his throat and he makes no noise. His mind races, taking inventory of how he feels (light-headed from blood loss? feverish from sudden sickness?) to determine how likely he is to die anytime soon. Not anytime soon with Abi's aid, and when the blood ceases gushing from between his fingers, he rises up, looking perhaps the worst of anyone. Steeped in blood, he is a grim reminder of the brutal tragedy that brought them all together in the first place. "If we turn back now, all of this is for naught," he says. Silas stares at the water when they enter the cooler chamber, worried, however irrationally, about what may be lurking below the surface.
Sure is, Tomid. I went out this morning and autumn was in the air. Plus sunny all weekend here in northwest Florida. Organized Play Characters
Aliases
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Mentek
Accessia
Dracothis Antemar
Sir Karse
Alexia Whitemane
Muluk al-Zadari
Nomotah
Shareeta Sunnymeadow
