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Lol! Nice.
Yes! And they say I have s$+! for luck...
+1 Spell Points
I'm kinda indifferent to Wound/Vitality points. Seems neat but we'll get a better idea when we see it in action. Figure, if we hate it then we can just switch back to hit points. Character sheet is saved on a flash drive at work. I'll grab that tonight, edit it a bit more, and have it online by Monday/Tuesday. I'll also have my fluffy stuff posted there, too.
I thought you loved bears. I remember that time you told me that you met a bear at a bar and he was the sweetest guy. Didn't you go home with him that night? May as well roll a reflex save now:
Neat! I spent all my vacation time at music festivals/camps this summer. A Cajun/country camp, spent a weekend at an old time camp in the Catskills and some random festivals here and there. Do you play or are you just going to listen and dance?
Alright. So, I'm switching Cecil up to make him Vanguard // Linnorm Bloodline Sorcerer. Vanguard is the closest thing I can find to an Arcane Archer base class so it should be a pretty neat little mashup. This thread is looking really good! Can't wait to get (re)started :-D
That makes two of us, Gambit. Fringe was SO good but there's a bunch if it that I've subconsciously forgotten to make it seem better in my memories. As weird as season 5 was, I'm thankful they got a chance to toss together a hodgepodge ending for it. To your point, I can definitely see some parallels between the Observers and the Eridani. Marc - watch Fringe! You're welcome. :-)
Well, did ya? I ain't forget!
Cecil surveilled the marvels of the great Sky City with appropriate mystified awe. In comparison to the city, all the bits of tech and weapons the Master Race allowed the humans to witness were fallen pebbles chipped from a mountainous marble sculpture. He stood in his ward for what seemed like hours, absorbing the foreign sights and smells; of course, the dizzying speed of the Eridani only magnified this feeling. Somehow their movements added to Selest's appeal. The colorful runes reflected prismatically against the towering constructs while each personal jet stream that chased the Eridani intersected with mechanical precision producing an animated light show as beautiful as Selest itself. Realizing that he could walk the streets without fear of being trampled by Eridani, Cecil apprehensively begins his walk to The Temple of the Outer Beings to seal his place in the history books - for better or worst - as the first human Dragoon accepted by their mysterious overlords.
Still waiting to hear about that sword.......................... ............. ............................................ .... . .............................................................
Cecil followed dutifully behind with a childlike pace; two steps to match each one of Zellec’s impractical stride. His boots made a light tearing sound every time he lifted them from the floor of the deck. He always felt the sound was reminiscent of a whetstone grinding at a sword; only the sword was composed of flesh instead of steel. Some had speculated that the deck was equipped with an enhanced gravitational pull to keep everything grounded outside of the craft. The thought had merit though the atmospheric differences in elevation could easily be at cause and there were too many arcane auras to pinpoint any such function aboard these vessels. It came as no surprise to find Vincent waiting by the fell-ward. He watches his Sergeant closely as the Dragoon impersonally directs his orders. What will you tell them, Vincent? "I know I probably do not need to tell you, but I'll be debriefing the Zorashti. For now, you are supposed to await me in a room provided for us within the temple, it's not hard to find. Most of the city is off-limits to humans, so don't go wondering if you don't know where you are going."
”I have a decent idea of where I’ll be going. How could I pass up a chance to explore the Sky City of Selest, if only for a short while? You should be happy they’ve brought you here too. Not many can honestly say they’ve spoiled the enchanted earths of Selest with their grubby little human feet,” he smiles. "And try not to hit the ground hard. I'm sure that is something I also don't need to tell you...” ”Hard to forget when you tell me every g%$%@+n time I step into that thing.” ”See you in a few hours, Mace. When I return, I will no longer be your sergeant anymore. This has been fun, Mace.” Cecil gives Vincent a firm handshake in reply. ”Fun. A subjective term but I guess it’s the most fitting. I’m more than a bit jealous of your opportunity, Vincent,” he admitted. ”If you play this right you’ll be looking at more gold than you’ll know what to do with. You can buy yourself a new life. Forget about the wars and the senseless bureaucracy of the Corps and just live life. I’ll keep your battle going until I ready to join you.” Cecil clenches Vincent’s hand tighter and pulls him in close. ”Just be careful, brother.”
At that, he releases the magi and, with a solemn smile, watches him take the fell-ward down to Selest, the council and the ultimate decision on his fate.
Cecil found himself without an appetite to speak of since his Southlands encounter. Out of habit he broke his fast on bread and fruit while he penned his spells for the day. It was common for him to lose himself in the grimoire for hours at a time. The tome had slowly evolved more liken to a journal as opposed to the tedious encyclopedia of spells the fastidious wizard would have written. His pages were script with drawings, quotes, poems and the occasional enchantment. When he finished sketching the final details of the Oma stone into his spellbook, he rose from the table, donned his robes and buckled his swordbelt. With careful hands he closed the artifact back into its case and tucked them both into the satchel at his back, snug beside his grimoire. Aside from a few crumbs and a bowl of cherry pits, the room was bare. His armor and the rest of his belongings were neatly packed into a chest at the foot of his bed. He would be back for it when the Caryx found harbor in Selest. His steps were high and musical as he approached the deck of the great Eridani airship. He entered and smugly noted the looks of jealousy and contempt of his fellow - human – crewmen then found a space by the window to witness their progress. Unfazed, Cecil watched as Neo Ikarus swelled on the horizon and faded in the clouds. I can see why it’s so easy for them to view us as ants from up here. The hurried shuffle of men lining up heralded Xir Zellec’s arrival giving Cecil just enough time to turn and follow suit. Though the Eridani never labored to meet his eyes, Cecil kept them fixed on Zellec’s. "Your achievement: Commendable. Stature: Tall. Force of Spirit: Essential. The Valikar: A gift offered. Their power extends beyond your being. Their gifts: life changing. Your mind: juxtaposed with mind of Dragon; mind of us. Your gift: potentially unfathomable. Caution is demanded." The corner of Cecil’s mouth twitched; a smile? Nervousness? Likely both. ”Where caution is demanded, caution is applied,” Cecil replied, meekly in comparison to the monstrous Eridani. ”I humbly await your orders, Xir Zellec.”
"Turok may have escaped, but now they have a leak and we can potentially always have the advantage on the rebels." Turok escaped because I need him as an ally. A contingency plan for when I get my hands on enough dragontech to pluck Selest from the sky. ""But needless to say, I will no longer be your sergeant at the end of today. I'll be resigned before we land in Neo Ikarus and therefore, I will have nothing to report. I have to say, I'm somewhat relieved you're the one presenting the artifact..."" "A vacation will be good for you, Vincent. You would be wise to take your leave before you're in too deep." I can't have you here. You're a liability. Even now. Still, more than ever, a liability. "What about your debriefing? Doubtful they'll just let you walk away without prodding you for answers." A cool reluctance took over Cecil's thoughts. "They might try to forcibly extract some of those answers... I hope you're prepared for this." The slow decay of Vincent's psyche was the one thing Cecil feared the most. The man could be guided with the trust and friendship they shared but his mind was unhealthy and potentially exploitable.
A few quick changes to my sheet: I swapped out a trait giving Perception as a class skill for one that gives Sense Motive. Moved a rank from Intimidate to Bluff. Moved a rank from Craft (alchemy) to Sense Motive Spent 2 unused skill points on Sense Motive
Cecil enjoyed Vincent and Sibley’s short exchange as he poured himself a glass of water from the flagon left out on his table. ”Thank you for your time, Sibley, I’ll keep what you’ve said in mind,” he tells the departing archivist, raising his drink in a mock-cheer as he struggles to hold a smirk at bay. ”Well aren’t we feeling cordial this morning, Sergeant? Suppose I should thank you for getting rid of that worm. I suspect he’s now on his way back to the rest of the bookkeepers to express his opinions of us so the less time spent with him, the better.” Cecil takes a seat, skirting the tail of his robe aside to drape from the chair. ”I take it you’ve had some time to think things over. What are you planning to tell the Eridani council when we make it back?”
Cecil allows a wan smile and gestures Creon into his quarters, "By all means. It's on the table." He closes the door and steels himself with a deep breath before turning and joining Larosse for their academic collaboration. Cecil did everything in his power to keep the relationship civil and professional, however, keeping any personal ties from breaching discussion was a task that required absolute attention. Creon was good at gathering information, a mixed blessing that brought him to the door to begin with; of course this meant that Cecil was a possible subject of the rat's interest. Between his tenacity and sycophantism, he would need to be monitored with grace and, worst of all, respect. "Thank you for assisting me with this, Creon. I'm very interested to learn what it is that granted me the honor of visiting the Selest. An object of desire held by many, so I'm led to believe. Would you care to impart some of your O so valuable insights to a me?" It's sickening to have to grovel to such a meek little pissant but I suppose it could be worth it in the end.
The Oma Stone. Cecil could not fathom the purpose for the device he had won. In his quarters he turned the strongbox over and over again, studying its every mark in detail.
Cecil looks at Vincent with a noticeable worrisome expression. "Let him live. We'll need a scapegoat for the orders we've ignored. He'll likely be discharged but left with enough gold to live life however he pleases." To Vincent, "This will be for the best, my brother. You need to distance yourself from this war before it saps away the kindness in your heart." Another crash sounds somewhere nearby, signaling Zellec's advance. Cecil stands over the chest residing the well sought after artifact. "If you're going to leave, I suggest you do it now." He slides his hand over the ornate, alien inscriptions detailing the case and edges hesitantly towards the latches locking it shut. "You won't want to be here when they arrive."
"We're just dogs to the Eridani; one wild and one domesticated. I would imagine being bitten by the dog I trained to protect me to sting worst of all." A thin smile plays at Cecil's lip as he takes another, more confident, step in Master Turok's* direction. "I joined their army because they fight better than us. It didn't make sense to me to learn tactics in failure from the weaker side. I instead chose to learn from them their superior ways in technology and warfare. I did this so that one day I could use it to tear them apart." In full stride, Cecil advances towards the box containing the artifact. "Give it to me and I will claim that I've won it. You will have an invaluable mole in the Magus Infantry. I promise they will promote me for this. The only thing closer to the elite tier of their army is a damn Dragoon. Think of what you could do knowing the short and long term plans of your enemy."
Cecil ignores Vincent's demands knowing that associating himself too much with a soldier who epitomized the Eridani's imperial war machine wouldn't serve him well at the diplomacy table. "I want your artifact because the Eridani want your artifact," he states simply and attempts a cautious step towards the center of the room. "From the looks of your men, you know the odds that await you. Through my greed, I was able to postpone the inevitable by choosing not to lower the gate for the Dragoon waiting outside. Whatever you have is important enough for them to issue their heaviest artillery to root it out. I'll admit I don't know what their purpose is for this... whatever this is, only that it would be one less bit of power for them to hold over us."
Cornered, this one will be trouble... He's wizened and well traveled, seasoned in the ways of war. With as much treason I've already allowed myself, what could be the harm in trying? Cecil hesitantly pulls his focus from *Turroc* and scans the makeshift battlements of the main hall.
"We've done things your way, now we try it mine. Chances are it will end in blood but... As your brother I'm asking you to simply hold your sword for a moment longer." Cecil gives Vincent a weary stare then walks up the stairs in firm, deliberate steps.
Standing as straight and solidly as a spear, Cecil places a hand on his sheathed longsword, clears his throat and calmly announces: "Master Turroc, I've come for the artifact."
Cecil crouches in the stairwell watching the Orcs hustle to and fro in a vain attempt to keep intruders from infiltrating their stronghold. He watches Master Turok quizzically, examining every step and breath the great warrior made; studying his calmness in the seconds leading up what he should know to be his final battle. "What do you have in mind, Sergeant? Bastard Eridani didn't bother to give us bows so our choice in attack is limited. All we have are our swords and our wits," he pauses and gives his friend quick smile to lighten the tension. "Well, our swords and my wits."
"You have your answer, Sergeant. A worthy opponent awaits us in the main hall and an impatient Xir Zellec is holding the gate. Each second is a gift." Cecil makes for the door, speaking over his shoulder as he passes. "You can stay here if you'd like, I'm going after the artifact."
He's lost his g~$@$+n mind. The thought was more of an admission than it was a realization. Where Cecil romanticized the notion of killing someone who wanted to kill him, Vincent had been spiraling towards an addiction. Cecil knew the Orcs in this room would be slaves within the hour; slaves if they were lucky. But had he been able to dissuade his commander from coming in here, he could have gleefully ignored the ugly part of missions such as these. Unfortunately, he was trapped now. And as much as it sickened him, he was bound to follow Vincent's lead. A hint of discontent between the two of them could give the Orcs an opening to retake arms and overwhelm them. Cecil silently waited and preyed that someone would speak up before Vincent massacred another Orc.
"Tell us what we need to know and spare yourselves the bloodshed." Cecil adds urgently.
There was still time to fix this with minimal casualties. All Cecil needed to do was force submission from the enraged Orcs to further drain the morale of the others. He sticks close to the wall as he turns the corner into the room. He reels back his hand as a whirling mist of colors begins to rapidly develop in the air around him. "Hyuuuuurrrrr AHHH!!!" he screams as he releases a wave of color on the orcs in front of him, its effect ending before it reached the women and children on the other side.
Cecil knew his words meant nothing to Vincent when the maddening scent of blood was in the air. He flexes his grip on the pummel of his marine issue longsword resentfully and activates the wand in his gauntlet for a boost in defense while his commander giddily smashes open the door in question. You've got to be f---ing joking.
"Vincent, it's not too late. We can still walk away," he whispers hurriedly in their native Rha'lis, his eyes exploring the faces of every mother and child in the room. "Even if we only kill the guards we'll be sealing their deaths. I won't have their blood soil my sword. Not if I can stop it." In the heartbeat before battle broke, Cecil surveys the room in a vain attempt to find something to block the doors and barricade the Orcs in the dining hall.
"We don't have time for this, Vincent. Before long, Zellec will rip through those half-decayed walls with a host of marines at his back. The artifact isn't here so Turok isn't either. You know I'm right."
"You check the right side and I'll take the left," Cecil says decisively. Drawing his sword, he moves to the closest door lining the left side of the hall. He stands a few paces and raises an open palm. Through light concentration he casts a simple cantrip to determine if the artifact is on the other side.
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