Shotel knight would have sounded so much nicer, don't you think? It was a joke on words, but it was related to the shotel. I'm glad you picked up on it.
There's also the battle poi, which would allow the fighter to do "magical" damage. Granted that damage is the most commonly resisted, but it goes through DR and beating people up with a bowl of fire sounds almost as entertaining as hitting them with a shovel.
My DM likes to throw a lot of shields into our faces and shotels are my favorite weapon. It was going to be made as a match in martial heaven.
Staring at the bastard sword raises concerns within my head. The bastard sword has a neat little FAQ that is basically the reverse of this question.
Quote:
If a weapon is wielded two-handed as a martial weapon and one-handed with an exotic weapon proficiency, can I wield it one-handed without the exotic proficiency at a –4 penalty?
No.
Note that normally you can’t wield a two-handed weapon in one hand. A bastard sword is an exception to that rule that you can’t wield a two-handed weapon in one hand, but you must have special training to use the bastard sword this way. Without that special training, wielding a bastard sword one-handed is as impossible as wielding a greatsword one-handed. (The same goes for other weapons with this one-handed exotic exception, such as the dwarven waraxe.)
Does this essentially make it possible to grab a one-handed exotic weapon and two-hand it into a martial weapon?
The knight looks between the others, pulling out a black security chest. Unlocking it with a key around his neck, he gives the others a nod, "There is. We will allow one member of your association to speak with the prisoner of your choosing. The rest will have to wait here."
Turning the chest towards them, the guard continues, "The fee for visiting is 10 gil." Which added up quickly and easily paid for the hosting of prisoners, especially with Dorter's population.
While the others were out and about, Torben and the gun slinging lady were able to move about and receive food, while in bed. The knight officer looked over the swashbuckler, "If you have a complaint or evidence towards one of the cases regarding the inmates, you may file it here. We don't allow armed groups to speak to prisoners. It is clearly stated in the rules and regulations of Dorter, sanctioned by the King."
His tone was heavily demeaning, as if he expected all able bodied men to have read these rules. Rubbing at his temples, the knight officer sighed, "Unless you are directly related to the prisoners or wish to purchase their crimes from them, I will ask you to leave."
Dorter's main street was crowded as usually, as soon as the scouts of the party exited the Weasel's shop. There was a very nice looking carriage rolling through and the driver didn't even bother to stop, creating a large wave of water that splashed at the unfortunate adventurers.
The jail was a little down the road, almost like a halfway place between the uptown of Dorter and the slums. Several knights dressed in white and with blue lions adorning their armor and capes were talking among themselves before the adventurers arrived. They stopped talking immediately and watched those who dared enter the jail. One gruffly addressed them with, "Citizens of Dorter."
They walked away, returning to walking the upper parts of Dorter. Inside the prison, which was a stone slab of a building, there were a few knights inside and one without armor on at a desk. They were all clean cut, with their armor polished, and their eyes steeled against those who entered. The desk-knight looked up, "Can I help you, citizens?"
There were two holding cells on this level, with a few badly dressed individuals laying on bedrolls inside them. But there was also stairs down past the two knights.
The Weasel gave it the ol' arm swing, "That's right! The local prison is where he's being kept. They won't accept payment for his release, the knaves." Looking towards the backroom, then back to the other three, "If you want to have a look around it, feel free. But trouble is best dealt with in larger numbers. You can let your fellows rest, or go about your business. It really doesn't matter to me, since you'll help. I trust your word."
The Weasel looked between the concerned escorts and gave a frown, "My father, was unrightfully locked away. These knights think they can walk in here and arrest anyone, for anything. Help a kind man out and I'll make it worth your while." There was a brief pause, "But I understand if you wouldn't want to stick your nose in noble affairs. We have lost much: our estate, our arms, and our honor. It was swiped up by the Hokuten, to be used as their own."
Sitting down in the only chair in the welcoming room, he put his hands on his head and shook it, "What cruel fate has befallen us."
The small sized reach weapon is actually a very neat idea. My gaming group doesn't really wield oversized weapons or undersized for that matter, unless it involves guns. But all this information is great.
While designing a martial character and trying to decide whether I want to do one of the many tried and true fighting styles, I came across an idea. What if you have a long sword in one hand and a trident in the other? The idea is you never "Two Weapon Fight" and attack with both weapons at once, but rather, threaten all the squares with a reach and a non-reach weapon. And make wizards/archers LOATHE you in the early levels by attacking them with the non-reach weapon and having the reach weapon on standby when they 5-ft shift into an unfortunately threatened zone.
Is there some sort of ruling that would say that I get negatives or whatever? Not that my normal DM reads into rulings, but for me, I like to have the knowledge of my kosherness. Because I'm 85% certain that if you dual-wield, like short swords or whatever, and you run up to a guy and make a single attack...that you are not penalized for having a weapon in the other hand on this attack. The penalty kicks in when you attack with both weapons, and not with one weapon at a time.
Alright, so I re-checked the weapons and the trident doesn't have reach. A shame! But there's a third party feat that allows for 1 handed spears and whatever. Feat
So we'll say I took this feat and can have a ranseur in one hand and a sword in the other. Are there any penalties to holding two weapons and using only one at a time?
The moogle is looking after the wounded, so they'll gain 4 hitpoints per level per full day of rest. It'll be up to you to decide how much rest y'all want. You don't have to post things about shopping; Dorter is a pretty open place as long as you don't want anything illegal, like poisons and thieves tools.
Everyone is able to sleep for a few days. The moogle stays around the small shop/house, and the Weasel gives him strange looks from time-to-time. After the second day, he doesn't seem to notice the moogle. Instead, he turned his attention to Lifah whenever she happened to be around. One day, he greeted her with a nod and looked about before leaning forward, "Vhasso, was it? I happen to hear a little about your family. Terrible things, I'm afraid.."
He removed his hat and held it in his hands as he leaned in, "I was thinking of my own family. My father and I have lost what little land we had after the war. And our good name has been lost to the chronicles." He was just talking real quiet for some reason. Likely that his shop's walls weren't so thick and the Hokuten knights didn't like dissenters. "Maybe you could help us? But you don't need to decide right away. Think it over a bit."
The moogle tidies up the wounded enough and with enough able bodies to carry piles of equipment and drag bodies in makeshift cloth stretchers along the ground, the escorts make it to Dorter. Dorter sprawls downward into the waterside area, where houses are cramped, small boxes stacked on top of each other. The upper half of Dorter was a clean street, with many Hokuten knights patrolling the large, open road between the two sides of mercantile businesses.
The Weasel leads them into town, where several knights take an interest in their passing. They didn't say anything, but their looks were quite long. The cobblestones were well kept and looked to degrade as they went downhill into the slums. The smell of salt and fresh air grew worse but didn't get too bad as the Weasel ushered the others into a small shop.
The shop had a small counter and a backroom, with 2 seats near the entrance. It had trouble fitting everyone at once, but the Weasel went and unlocked the counter's door, "You can place the others in here. No one will come across them." The back had 1 chair, 1 bed, and 1 rug beside a wood stove. The Weasel frowns some, "I'd rather not get blood on my bed, but the floor is firm for..hardyness." Pointing outward, "There's quite a few alchemists along this street. Your curatives can be found there."
I rolled her saves, secretly...or not so secretly, but still spoilered. She's secretly fine, but nobody has checked. Because the Weasel may or may not really care and the driver is on auto-pilot. Get it? Get it? Auto-pil--ah, you'll get it.
The Weasel continued to shake Rivalle's hand, ecstatic and noticeably less so than the others, "Truly a brave soul! Anyone else, had it been anyone else.." He takes a side-long glance at Lifah, muttering something with his lips. Finally releasing Rivalle's hands, "As a sign of gratitude, I'll gladly house you in Dorter for a night, free of charge. It'll at least give your wounded a place to lay safely."
The driver was way too tired, and swayed just standing up. Pointing between the others with a waving finger, "Someone shoulda pick 'em up. Can't stay out in the wild for too long. Monsters *yawn* will be a' comin'." He scratched at his side, standing up from getting the goods off of the dead, having piled it together.
The party gains another 300 experience for fending off Yorrick's bandits. The party also gains 2100 gil worth of sell-able items. Split between the party and the driver, that's 300 gil each.
The stowaway was in fact on her side on the ground, within a stone's throw. Torben seemed to be alive, with a blackened, charred wound along his leg. Both enemy mages and one bandit from each side laid dead within the same area. The sun started lifting higher into the sky and the driver shook his head, kicking at the corpses of those who fell, "Rotten luck." Yawning, he leaned down to sift through the bandits' belongings, "Might as well help ourselves. They ain't gonna need it where they're going. Not that I'm in a position to carry it all mind you."
Frowning at the wounded, "We'll have to drag them to Dorter. Buy some cur-a-tives from the shops. Or visit the ol' church of Glabados, if that's your fancy." Yawning again, "And take a long, long rest."
That moment when you realize that your DM has yet another thing "wrong". I always thought that stabilizing while dying is a fort save. Doesn't really matter now, as in this game, it's a Fort save.
The Dragoon jumps onto the moving wagon, but as it started to move and with the weight behind her weapon swing, she lost her footing and toppled over the side. The wagon rolled along the road with the escorts left behind. Today was a loss, but everyone remained alive...
There were a few downed individuals and the driver staggered to his feet, shaking his head. He may have been in tears, "Oh man, I'm so fired.." The Weasel walked into view and immediately approached Rivalle, taking the swashbuckler's hands into his own, "Thank God you came along. I was surely awaiting death on this road. They were going to slay me, me of all people! You must tell me your name, brave man."
Torben takes 26 damage and is stabilized by Yorrick. He wasn't holding back mind you, it just happened that he didn't land the second axe because all of the wild anger. That's definitely going to scar.
Yorrick was just watching from the side during all this, his eyes fixed on the fight. In this battle, he was a bystander, as this wasn't his fight.
Meanwhile, the whitemage was looking to fall back into the woods, when Lifah approached with her bladedrawn. He shakes his head and hands, "Please, they just hired ah!" Turning his back to run, his white robes are marked with a streak of blood with Lifah's upward cut. He falls dead onto the ground.
Rivalled attempted to scramble onto the sides of the wagon, holding onto a second, but losing footing. Jumping back to the ground was much better than being trampled under it.
A gun blasts sounds off into the night, both bandits taking a facefull of shell. But when the smoke cleared, both bandits looked to be only grazed. The driver misses his swing, and without his shield in hand, Noh's blade slashes his back. A solid force of wind slams into the side of his head and knocks him out. The second bandit cut into Noh and yanked her off of the wagon. She rolled to a stop with her blood seeping out of her side.
Yorrick grins, "Aye, that a way lads. Hmm?" Torben was lumbering to this man who was coated in woad, his dirty blond hair cut short and shaved along the sides. He wore a heavy set of chain mail and carried two axes in a belt. And he was pissed, "What's all this...you think you can take me? Aye, you may be tallah, but we can find a way to fix that."
Pulling his axes out of their leather sheaths, he deftly steps back out of Torben's first attack. He eyed Torben's legs like a starving man and then yelled into the night, a dark energy pulling itself out from underneath his armor. It was a bloodied black and it lined his weapons. One of his axes meets Torben's leg and he rips it out, blood spraying along the road, "Ya feel that? I feel it everyday, you little shite. But I won't let you die, just as it won't let me die." Kneeling down, he stops Torben's bleeding with a touch of his hand, "I'm lookin' forward to our next meetin'." He leaves, walking into the woods.
They're on the wagon. I don't think finishing you off is high on their list. That is, unless you want to contest the wagon. The white mage isn't, but the white mage isn't going to run over and bop you.
Noh takes 8 damage from a manly bandit. Rivalle takes 24 damage from two lady bandits. One lady bandit is dead, the black mage is dead, one lady bandit has withdrawn. This leaves the two man bandits, the white mage, and the wagon itself.
You can take swings at the chocobos or the bandits on the wagon as they pass by. Doing so will prevent reflex saves to avoid being trampled and knocked prone. Or you can dive out of the way! The choice is yours. Or you can climb onto the thing. Or you can do whatever!
The two bandits were attacked by the weary Noh. Though her weapon swung wildly, one of the bandits lifts up his axe, "Aye little lady. You don't know when to quit.." He catches her in the shoulder, putting her into critical condition. Kicking at her as the other took the reigns and snapped the chocobos forward.
The myriad of attacks dropped one of Olivia's bandits with a "Not, like this..", while the other on Rivalle's left clutched at her side and withdrew from the fight, 60ft away and to the left. Rivalle untied the man and he scrambled over the dead bandit lady, grabbing a weapon and diving for cover in the bushes. The second fireball blast zooms past the escorts, the black mage wounded heavily, and she was dropped with the second spell slung from the moogle.
The caravan was moving again, straight for the group of escorts (except Noh). Two bandits were on the chair and it wouldn't be great to be trampled underneath chocobos..
Seeing his men take control of the caravan, Yorrick waved his axe in the air, taunting Olivia, "Seems this day is mine, wench!" Olivia keeps him at a distance with her longer reach and steps back, "There'll be another day." She retreated into the woods, opposite from her remaining bandit.
Yorrick's bandits seem to be skirting the side of the battle, still caught by Lifah's attack. The escorts, except for Noh, seem to be focused on the right. Their white mage behind them heals himself, then flings a white and blue sphere towards one of the bandits in his group. His wounds also vanished.
The second group's bandits were closing in on the caravan's side, weapons and shields at the ready. One of them pointed to the driver's seat, but the driver held up his, "Please, don't!" They cut into the wood beneath him as he leaped off of the wagon and hit the ground with a not-so-majestic front-flop. Noh was at the ready nearby and could attack them if she wanted.
The bandit leaders still fought between themselves.
Olivia's bandits draw their weapons and jeer towards Rivalle, his hands full with the silenced and bound man. Their curved blades looked sharp. Behind them, their black mage prepared to cast spells, chanting and drawing signals within the air. Both of the female bandits moved to either side of the mithra and cut into his sides before the others could reach him.
Both of the lady's blades cut deep into the swashbuckler's sides, causing him to drop the man, who hits the ground with a moan of pain and a muffled swear.
fort save vs. 14:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20 fort save vs. 14:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
Reflex save for moogle vs. 14 DC:1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22 or have burning condition for 1d4 ⇒ 1 rounds.
The moogle moves forward, launching magic at the lady black mage in the back and settles in, back-to-back with the swashbuckler. The female bandits at the swashbuckler's sides still flanked him, but it was much better than nothing! A fireball was sent flying towards Rivalle, who had the quick instincts to duck, but it caught a wide-eyed moogle.
The Black mage behind them provides cover fire and uses his elemental shield on his allies and himself for resist 2 against all elements. The first target to near his group is getting a spell tossed at them.
Currently Rivalle has the guy, so trampling the guy will trample Rivalle. And if you thought Noh was slow, this caravan, as Noh knows, is loaded down with as much as it could be. It's not going to zooming off like some Shooting Stars meme.
Rivalle is in the stickiest of spots, so plan around that!
As for the Ashura range, all of the normal bandits are within reach. The bandit bosses seem to be out of range and look to be fighting each other. It's all up to you guys in what you want to do.
The driver yawned and closed his eyes, but all the yelling did cause him to open them. Squinting forward, he woah'd the chocobos and they stopped just a few feet away from the tied man. He had dirty blond hair and wore a soldier's uniform.
As he was moved, a few figures stepped out of the woods. One was a female with a thick, black pompadour in gleaming white armor. A black bird with spread wings marked her chest plate and she carried a lucern hammer over her shoulders without effort, as well as a shield with the same crest and a flail at her side, "Seems that worm was useful after all. Alright ladies, get to work!" She snapped at the other three with her and they drew weapons.
However, stepping from the left side of the woods, a man with a blue dragon tattoo on his face lifts one of his hooked axes, "Oi! This is my haul! I won't let ya take it...unless ya wanna take it. Yeah!" He humped at the air but the lady wasn't impressed, taking the time to spit into the ground, "Why don't you find some place to crawl up and die already?"
They both turned to their groups, "Get the caravan! I'll deal with him/her."
The two groups of three looked between one another and shrugged, turning to engage the caravan.
The two groups are 30ft away from each other lengthwise. They are 30ft away from the caravan, and 20ft away from Rivalle.
The caravan driver crawled out from underneath the wagon as he was pointed to. Dusting off his dirty clothes, he grimaced, "I hope this comes out.." Remembering the others shortly, he waved them over, "Glad ta see y'all still live! Another day and we'll be swimmin' in finery. This be the final trek and nothin' but gil is around the corner!" He finished it up with a long yawn and waved into his mouth, "Mm, it's gonna to be a helluva day."
Clambering into the driver's seat, with a few weary attempts, the driver gathers the reigns and snaps them, "Hyah! Hyah!" Thus the driver pushed the chocobos another day, through sparsely tree-covered swamps and rivers. Each side of the Weald is sandwiched in between the slowly illuminated mountains. The sun was coming up and the normal sounds of the Weald could be heard. They were the most pleasing to the Moogle, strangely enough.
The wagon rolled over fallen trees that those before him used as makeshift bridges. It wasn't long until the wagon broke free of the woods, that the front escorts spotted a young man, tied up, in the middle of the road. The driver seemed to be on auto-pilot, snoozing and letting the chocobos do the pulling.
Okay dokay. Also, Lifah gains 1 Sen. Since there's not going to be a resting time, it'll carry over to the last day of the trip. And everyone will be fatigued. Their driver is exhausted.
The dragoon's halberd cleaves through the last goblins, rolling their heads into the grass. But it also sliced the bomb, which inhaled and grew a foot larger. The moogle's magic causes the bomb to recoil and it doesn't grow larger. However, the swashbuckling mithra and the samurai rush in to slice at it and before the others could follow, the bomb grows two more feet in size. After the mithra's swipe, it reached its peak...
Its glowing, severely obese self shakes and glows a bright red, closing its mouth. Gathering energy within itself, it explodes with fire and force. From a safe distance, the moogle can feel the heat and watch the blast engulf the others.
The ex-noble was pushed back with the explosion, suffering some singing of her hair and eyebrows. The concussive force was going to be felt in the morning but she remained on her feet.
The large viking and the stowaway were unfortunate enough to be moving into the blast when it happened and ejected from it and rolled along the ground for a bit.
The swashbuckler was lucky enough to dive out of the way, while the dragoon likely got her cloths around her armor ruffled with the wind. Both were unscathed.
