~Clay's page

Clay sees that the 12 year old boy cutting potatoes goes pale as the monster is mentioned. She doesn't blame him in the slightest; she's probably just as pale right now. Well, she would be, if she had any blood to lose. But then, an even worse thought occurred to her - these two idiots with her would probably go hunt the damn thing down. Well, best of luck to them! Good riddance!

But wait, does she really want to stay in this town, starting all over again? And what happens with these two fools don't come back? They're literally the only people that know the truth and didn't try to kill her on the spot.

She sighed. She was going to have to go with them, wasn't she? At the very least, just to make sure they stay alive. She sighed again.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 - 1d6 ⇒ (16) + 2 - (5) = 13

"See? I told ya trouble comes to ya."

Clay looks about shyly. She does not want to be the first one to speak up, and tries to keep herself slightly hidden behind the two men she inadvertently found herself traveling with.

What the hell was she going to do? She couldn't afford a room, much less food. Sigh. Another town. Another restart. Another place where she's be forced to act like her mother (well, her not-mothet) just to survive. She really was going to turn into her, wasn't she?

Oi! F&%$ ya? Not on yer life, ya scoundrel! I jus don't know anyone else but ya, and ya look like you just miiight know what yer doing. Even if ya are suicidal.

Clay sighs. What are we going to do now? she asks in her thick country accent.

Aye. Better to leave this place. You two get into enough trouble without having to seek it out.

Clay looks to her fellow halfling; Should we stay here while he checks it out?

As she does so, she pulls out some tiny clay jars.

Clay looks up at the building Baros indicates, a handful of legumes in her hands.

Think someone is still alive? Maybe we should get out of here before they spot us. Don't want no one thinking I did this.

She stuffs her pockets and picks a few more from the plants.

Clay's stomach rumbles as the day passes by. She eyes the farm, wanting to grab something to eat along the way, and hoping that there's no one around who might see her.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19

Clay packs up the camp in silence, lost in thought for what will happen next. She walks we got the two men, not having anything better to do. Alert a while she says, How far so you suppose it is?

'unno, she said, her accent thick, clearly identifying her as someone from the lower class. I was just gunna wander and see what I found.

It's... it's fine, Clay says with a sigh. It's not th first time I've been run out of town. It's just. I really liked that face, ya know?

She pokes at the fire with a stick.

So where ya boys headed?

Clay starts for just a moment, ready to flee, but when she sees the familiar faces, she pauses. Following me? she asked.

Clay runs. She runs through the crowd, not paying attention to who she runs into or what she knocks over. She's desperate to make it to the door and escape. The entire building makes her feel claustrophobic, moreso with all the bodies reaching and grabbing for her as she flees.

Once she gets outside, she's going to beeline her way to her little hovel to grab as much as she can. Then she can leave this city once and for all. And then? She didn't think about it. She just had to get outside first.

Ow! Clay exclaims. Not that it hurt, but it was surprising. She wasn't expecting to be hit with a chair. Who expects that?

Clay eyes the other halfling woman in the crowd and moves towards her, quickly assuming her shape with in a matter of moments. She looked identical to this other woman, with the exception that she was still in the same clothes she had already been wearing.

Clay caught the flying mug out of reflex. She didn't mean to, and the iron started burning her almost instantly. She immediately dropped it and recoiled back from the mug, but it was too late. She could feel it happening. Again. She was shifting. She was so happy with this form, but soon the ugly truth was emerging.

Her face melted away first, revealing a new face underneath made of clay. It resembled an older girl or young woman - mid teens. The top of her was carved in rows to barely resemble hair. Her shoulders, arms, and torso were also a match for a young woman, but everything below that looked more like a long dress than a body. She looked like she was carved from the clay, but never hardened in a furnace. Rather, the clay was magically animated and was still malleable. She could move it around, and it shifted as she walked. Watching it was almost nauseating.

No! she yelled. Her tone of voice and accent were unchanged. It was her real voice. No, no, no, no, no!

She quickly looked around for another halfling in the tavern. Or baring that, another woman.

Clay watched Silas head back to his table, leaving her behind with a mind full of thoughts and questions. An invitation to leave. To go from town to town always on the move, just like her family. Did she want that? Could she just go like that? It would be th first time she left a town on her own free will, rather than being run out of town or forced to flee.

As she sat and thought and nursed her drink, a couple of men burst into the tavern throwing insults and accusations like mud at the two men. The taller one started to defend his own honor when the drunk took a swing at the halfling. What was going on?!

She hopped off her stool and walked over, throwing a question back at Silas, Womanizers?! You two really wanted me to go with you? For what? So I could be your pleasure puppet on the road?! I was honestly considering going with you, but if you just sleep around with every woman you meet, I think it's better if I just stayed away!

Umm... hi, the small halfling girl says. Her accent is thick; she's easily identifiable both as someone from the lower classes and as someone who lived out in the country.

Look, I'm sure you're nice and all, but I... I'm not the kind of person who looks for trouble. I. I have a job now. I'm a ceramist. I make things from clay.

The girl paused to take a drink from the beer she had in front of her. She kicked the stool out next to her, inviting Silas to take a seat.

That's what got me caught by them, you know. They had an order, and I made it for them. Then they kept me down there. Probably to kill me like they did those others.

That's... that's not something I want to experience again. But I do. Every night. Every damn night. How do you do it? How do you handle the nightmares?

It had been a long hard day. Clay had been pushing herself in her work; focusing deep in a vain effort to quell the memories of that night. It hadn't worked.

Finally she silently screamed into her hands and got up, walking away from the mess of wet clay and tools. She needed a drink.

She'd been drinking more and more as of late. It wasn't something she normally did. Hell, it wasn't something she had ever done. But she heard that it helped. So she walked to the Frozen Sparrow. Again.

Another night to drown the pain.

She'd seen them. Of course she's seen them. How could she not? They were famous for their deeds. Rescuing the entire town from a demon. No one even looked her way. She wasn't part of the stories. She liked it better that way. Yeah, that's it, it's better that she wasn't recognized for what she'd done. It'd probably get her in trouble. She always seemed to get in trouble when people started to notice her.

But then, one of them noticed her. The halfling. She looked eyes with him for just a second, before quickly turning her head and pretending she didn't see him. F$*!; he wasn't going to believe that for a second.

Event 3.

All the stress of trying to find someone to buy was rattling her. Twice she ended up with half of what she expected. And the damned Swords of Astrid were just making everything harder.

She decided to just play it safe for a while and work on her art.

3 Agility challenge rolls.
Boons: Profession 1. Trickery 1.
Banes: Sword of Astrid 1.

Agility: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 1 + (5) = 17

Agility: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 1 + (3) = 15

Agility: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (1) + 1 + (5) = 7

The inquisition's ever present nature and habit of annoying citizens made it more challenging than it should have been, but she eventually got some work done and improved herself.

Results: 2 successes. Good job. +1 wealth. X3 house rule. -2 inquisition.

Total Wealth: 3
Lifestyle: Poor

Event 2

Intellect roll for "research something valuable to forge." Agility for "actually forge." Will for "sell it."

Target: 1d4 ⇒ 2
Level 2 Forgery. Banes: 1. Payout: +2. Failure: -4 fine, 1 month jail.

Planning stage. Researching a good piece to forge. Boons: Trickery, forgery. Banes: Inquisition (1), crime level (1)
Intellect: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

Creation stage. Physically making the ceramic sculpture. Boons: Sculpting, Forgery, Trickery. Banes: Inquisition (1), crime level (1).
Agility: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (15) + 1 + (3) = 19

Selling stage. Taking the piece to the buyer. Boons: Trickery.
Banes: Inquisition (1), crime level (1)
Will: 1d20 + 0 - 1d6 ⇒ (11) + 0 - (1) = 10

Results:
2 successes. Half payout, round down. +1 wealth. X3 for house rule, -2 for inquisition.

Clay spent days trying to find a good buyer. It was difficult, and in the end she settles on someone who could only afford half price. Still, she made her piece as well as she could and was able to get something out of it.

Current Wealth value: 2

Level 2!

Characteristics. Health +3

Exploit Opportunity. Once per round, when the total of your attack roll is 20 or higher and exceeds the target number by at least 5, you can take another turn at any point before the end of the round.

Roguery Talent. Choose a roguery talent from the ones described below.

Drug Design. If you have an alchemist’s kit, you can spend 10 minutes working with the kit to produce a chemical. When you finish, make an Intellect challenge roll. On a success, you create 1d3 + 1 chemical doses. On a failure, you create 1 dose and you must complete a rest before you can use Drug Design again. Each dose is stored in a syringe and retains potency until you complete a rest or use this talent again. You can use an action, or a triggered action on your turn, to inject the chemical dose into yourself or a willing target creature you can reach. Targets immune to the poisoned affliction are unaffected by the chemical. If a target receives a chemical dose while under the effects of another chemical dose, the target must succeed on a Strength challenge roll with 1 bane for each dose or become poisoned until it completes a rest.
For each dose you create, choose one of the following options. Each option includes an aftereffect when the chemical’s effect ends.

• Chemical Clarity. You must inject the dose into the target’s eyes. For 1d6 hours, the target gains either darksight or a +2 bonus to Perception. When the effect ends, the target makes all Perception rolls with 1 bane for 1d6 hours.
• Empowering Chemical. For 1d6 minutes, the target makes attack rolls with 2 boons. When the effect ends, the target becomes fatigued for 1d6 minutes.
• Focusing Chemical. For 1d6 × 10 minutes, the target makes all challenge rolls with 2 boons. When the effect ends, the target makes all challenge rolls with 1 bane for 1d6 × 10 minutes.
• Pain Relief. The target takes half damage from all sources for 1d6 rounds. When the effect ends, the target becomes poisoned for 1d6 rounds.
• Healing Salve. For 1d6 minutes, when the target heals damage, it heals double the normal amount. When the effect ends, the target becomes fatigued for 1d6 minutes.

Oh! I also forgot my interesting thing for level 1.

2d20 ⇒ (3, 17) = 20

I'm going to reveal this result in the story, because it's just so damn fitting with everything that's happened to her.

Downtime Rolls

Intellect roll for "research something valuable to forge." Agility for "actually forge." Will for "sell it."

Target: 1d4 ⇒ 2
Level 2 Forgery. Banes: 1. Payout: +2. Failure: -4 fine, 1 month jail.

Planning stage. Researching a good piece to forge. Boons: Trickery. Banes: Level 2.
Intellect: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

Creation stage. Physically making the ceramic sculpture. Boons: Sculpting, Forgery Trickery. Banes: Level 2.
Boons: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 6) = 11
Agility: 1d20 + 1 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 6 = 10

Selling stage. Taking the piece to the buyer. Boons: Trickery. Banes: Level 2.
Will: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3

Total: 2 successes.
Results: Half payout, rounded down.

When it was all over, Clay breathed a sigh of relief. It was done.

She looked at the guards and the halfling and the goblin. You.. you saved me. Th-thank you! Oh thank you so much!

Oh shit! Clay exclaims; the young halfling woman looks shocked at the results. I didn't think it'd do that! Her voice was accepted thickly, identifying her clearly as someone who came from the poor folk of the countryside.

She cringed back at the cultists screams from the fire, backpedaling towards the sacrificial alter where she stepped in a pool of blood.

She grabbed another pot near here and threw it at one of the cultists on fire. The pot shattered over the cultist's head.

Improvised Weapon+Trickery: 1d20 + 1 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + 1 + (6) = 13
Damage: 1d3 + 1d6 ⇒ (2) + (5) = 7

Clay was in a blind panic; blood and screams filled the cavern. She was barely aware of grabbing the small brazier and launching it to the oil. The hot metal burned her hands, but the burning coals should be enough to light the fire.

Boons: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 1) = 5
Agility vs Agility: 1d20 + 1 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 4 = 8

Let's use Fortune!

Clay throws the pot, and she missed! She couldn't believe it! It.. it was actually a good throw, it just didn't break. It bounced on the ground and rolled beyond the crowd.

But then, one of the spearmen lurched forward and hot the pot with his spear, knocking it up into the air like some sort of ball, and another one stabbed at it with his spear, shattering it and splashing the oil over the mob.

In the end, it worked just as she had intended.

Clay spots a jar of oil; the clay pot is something she is very familiar with as she has made hundreds. She knows the right way to throw it so it not only shatters, but splatters the mob.

She quickly makes her way to the pot and lifts it, launching it towards the mob.

Then she eyes the torch, ready to grab it and light the oil aflame.

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

For the action she'll do next round.

Clay watched in horror as the spearman falls to the ground. Blood was gushing everywhere. This whole day has been filled with blood. Liquid red pouring from wounds created by sharpened steel. She didn't ask for this! She didn't want any of this to happen! Why did these idiots have to do this? For what purpose? Why summon a demon? Why all the blood? Couldn't they have just let her walk away like she had planned when she sold them some pottery? Sure, it wasn't a real Caliesco piece, but she was absolutely sure they couldn't tell the difference. But even if they could, it's not like she was charging full price for it! Real Caliescos go for at least 50 gold! It was a bargain! Maybe that's what tipped them off?

But no, they had to take it and capture her at the same time. Just for this stupid blood and sex ritual. What was it with these humans and their sex?

She stared at the spearman; he was bleeding; barely standing on his own. His stomach was ripped open, and his guts were about to fall out. Did she want to do anything? She was raised to hate these types of people - guards, soldiers, the law. No, that wasn't right. Candace was raised that way, and she wasn't Candace. She was Clay. Her mother - no, not her mother, Candace's mother hated guards. And Candace's mother hated Clay. Hated what she was. Clay decided right there and then that she wouldn't hate the spearman just because he was a guard, or a solider, or whatever he was.

She skirted the crowd, trying to keep out of their reach while making her way to the spearman. When she got to him, she sidled on up next to him and whispered to him, "There's a healing potion upstairs. In Swiet's office. Can you make it there?"

Using the Defend action. All attack rolls made against me are made with one bane until the end of the round.

Current Round...

Fire! The captain call to his one man remaining.

Captain: 1d20 + 1d6 ⇒ (8) + (5) = 13
Damage: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (2, 6) + 1 = 9

Archer: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

-------

Clay looks around. The human, next. Damn, where's that healing potion go? That a%~~&$~ Swiet took it, and it's aaalll the way up there in his office, isn't it? There was nothing she could to for the man.

She looked around some more. The local guards were doing a fine job. That goblin seemed powerful, too. The halfling was already coming to his senses. Could she help? There were weapons everywhere she could use, but she wasn't sure if she could actually hurt someone. Even though they were planning on doing it to her. She saw the bone sacrificial dagger and grabbed it; held it in her hands as she stared at it. Could she really do that?

Suddenly she looked up and screamed, Look out! It gave him a moment's notice and allowed him to press the attack.

Help Action: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Someone gets a boon to their next attack this round. Either Baros or Rordan.

Last Round....

It took a moment. Clay was distracted by the raging battle; blood was everywhere, the screams rang loud in her ears. Two of her rescuers had fallen - no, three, that metal construct was one as well. It exploded. Was that intentional? It nearly tool her head off!

Wait. Nearly? She looked at her cage and realized with amazement that it was broken! She could escape! She squeezed out through the broken bars, the ragged edges scraping across her tan-red skin. Freedom!

Looking around, she realized that no one had seen her. They were all so focused on the battle that she could just walk out of here. But could she? Could she really? No, she couldn't just leave them to die.

She ran over to the halfling, and gently shook his shoulder, barely whsipering to him Hey, hey are you awake? Are you ok? Come on, get up. They need you.

Stabilize (Int): 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18

Choose one incapacitated creature within your reach. Make an Intellect challenge roll, with 1 bane if the creature is dying. On a success, the target heals 1 damage.

Watching the halfling step out to attack the leader, the captain follows suit, ordering his men to take out Swiet and Corvance.

Cpt vs Swiet: 1d20 + 1d6 ⇒ (7) + (4) = 11
Damage: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (6, 5) + 1 = 12

Archer vs Swiet: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Archer vs Swiet: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4

Mage or Rogue: 1d2 ⇒ 2
Story Development: 1d20 ⇒ 10

"You took up with a band of brigands, bandits, or outlaws and learned your techniques from them."

Well, that fits in with her story quite nicely.

Interesting Thing: 1d6 ⇒ 21d20 ⇒ 3

"A tiny idol of a demon carved from green stone."

I think I know where she got that from!!

A young halfling girl shrieks from inside a small cage as the mechanical dog explodes. One of the gears just barely missed her, and though she didn't see it, a hint of a crack in the cage bars was there.

-----------

The commander of the small unit have out his orders, Protect the halfling!

Following his own words, he fired at the cultists attacking the ferocious little man.

Captain vs Cultist: 1d20 + 1d6 ⇒ (13) + (4) = 17
Damage: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (1, 2) + 1 = 4

Patroller 1: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Patroller 2: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6

"It's dead."

"Whadya mean, it's dead?"

"I means what I says I mean! I mean it's dead!"

"But it was so lively before!"

"That ain't mean nothin' now, now does it?"

"Wha d'we do?"

"I unno. Lemme think."

A young girl, perhaps 11 or 12, laid still in the grass. Her brown hair covered her mud-caked face. Her thin frame was covered by cheap and scratchy wool clothing, which hung loosely from her slight shoulders. It was a hand-me-down from one of the older girls, given to her a little too early.

"I've got it!"

"Wha? Wha is it?"

"We'll make a copy o' her!"

"Make a copy?"

"Yeah! Here, help me with this mud. It's easy! Just gotta make it look something like her…"

"I unno, I don't think that looks anything like her. In fact, it looks quite hideous."

"Will you shut up? It's good enough for the magic to work. Now, stands back, would ya?"

----------

Candace was found a few hours later, unconscious in the forest. Her brothers brought her back to mum, where she was nursed back to health over the next several days. She had no memory of who she was, where she was, what had happened to her. Anything. Complete amnesia, the witch doctor told them.

Over the sext few weeks, she worked hard trying to remember all the names she forgot, the tasks she had to do, and more. Her mum kept getting increasingly frustrated at her, and more than once she heard her say that she wasn't her daughter anymore. But other than that, life seemed normal.

Well, except that her family were smugglers evading the law. She worked with her mum and siblings smuggling goods and evading taxes. They survived on wit, skill, charm, and lies. And when that didn't work, bashing a head or two always helped.

It all went south the day they were caught. Getting caught wasn't an unusual thing. It happened. It was part of the job. What was unusual in this instance is Candace didn't lie like she was supposed to. She told the truth. It's not that she chose to tell the truth; she completely 100% intended to lie. But the words that came out of her mouth was the bare truth. The result was a complete disaster.

Everyone ran. Multiple smugglers were caught, including both her brothers. She heard a few years later that one died in prison. The other drank himself to death. Her mum, herself, and her sisters all escaped and survived, managing to flee with the clan to a safe house deep in the forest.

Mum was livid. She screamed and threatened and swore that Candace wasn't one of hers, for no child of hers would betray the family. To prove it, she grabbed a piece of iron and slapped Candace across the face. The change was immediate.

Candace's face melted off, revealing a clay facsimile of the girl who once was. The entire clan stared at her in horror. Candace was confused and scared. She didn't know what to do. She froze in horror. She ran when the first stone struck her.

---------

Exile was challenging, but it also taught the new Changeling how to depend on herself, how to survive on her own, and eventually built up her self confidence. Knowing she couldn't go around looking like a monster, she snuck back up to her former family and stole her sister's image, before fleeing for good. She decides that Candace was dead, and she needed a new name. A fitting name. "Clay" she thought to herself, and she was quite happy with it.

She eventually found herself near Alfheim, studying under a ceramist. She had a passion and love for all things clay, being made of it herself, and loved making other things out of it. She practiced by copying other works of art, and became quite good at it. She was happy here, until she accidentally touched a piece of iron and lost her sisters face. Horrified that she'd be found out, she fled. She found another halfling to copy and moved on to the next town, knowing she'd never be able return. She'd never be recognized.

She continued to move from town to town, surviving by selling forgeries of ceramic art - and it worked, right up until that damn sex cult captured her. And now, here she sat in her tiny prison while these idiots f$$~ed and sacrificed each other in some insane ritual while a GOD DAMNED F~!@ING DEMON was coming up out of the ritual circle and deargodshewasgoingtobenextwasntshe?

And then a metal dog burst into the room.