I'm sorry everyone. I wish I could be better. I can't do this anymore. Not for awhile at least. You are all excellent players and I was privileged to DM for you for awhile.
I'm sorry everyone. I wish I could be better. I can't do this anymore. Not for awhile at least. You are all excellent players and I was privileged to DM for you for awhile.
I'm sorry everyone. I wish I could be better. I can't do this anymore. Not for awhile at least. You are all excellent players and I was privileged to DM for you for awhile.
Hey guys, sorry I've been so quiet this past week. I can't explain why, but it's been really difficult to force myself to sit down and update the campaigns I'm in, both as a player and as a DM. I regret leaving you all hanging for this long and I don't intend to abandon ship, if you'll all still have me; I just need to get back into my creative mindstate and this flu I had for a few days recently really took it out of me. As soon as I'm able to, I'll resume my regular schedule. I'll be trying every day...I'm just finding it very difficult to focus and just think. My mind is very...unsettled. Anxious. I don't know what kind of mental fugue I'm in but I want to get through it and be done. I don't like struggling this much just to write a few simple paragraphs of text. Sorry about this, guys. I feel like I fall off my regular posting schedule all too often, every month practically, and all I have to say is that I'm thankful to be able to come back and rejoin my online gaming crew. Just wanted to give you all an update so you don't think I died or something. :)
I admit, guys, that I'm terrible with maps, along with most other visual mediums - so in games that I run, I tend to use familiar continental maps and superimpose my own worlds upon them. For simplicity, I intend to use the North American continent for a general map reference; that way, I can stay consistent as you guys travel (though I haven't been consistent with my rations calculations. Oh well). Places you've been and their real-world analogue locations (will be added to campaign info tab): Shatterspine Mountain Range: Appalachian Mountains The Sea of Trees: West of the Appalachian Mountains, up and down the Kentucky/Tennessee area of America Valetto: Georgia roughly represents the size and area of President Coghammer's domain St. Agnes = Atlanta The Devil's Cauldron: Evansville, IN Tollerhelm: Tuscaloosa, AL
Aw, thank you :)
Lyntel, the elf, stands on Emma's right, singing her song. Her voice lifts above the murmurs of disbelief, of terror, of fear, that come from within the crowd of frightened elves. "Hedoun, his silver lances long and keen;
The bard's voice falters and trails off as a painful flash within her mind, born of the behelit, is triggered from the sight of the Fel monster glowering down at them from the sky. Emma hesitates, glancing back at her, and for a fearful moment it seems as if the magic of the moment would be lost. Then, a second voice, untrained but filled with a determination and passion... "his lance was keen.
Together, with Lyntel leading and Grigor following, the human and the elf raise their voices in song over the crowd, sending a message that hope will triumph over fear...their voices, together, are triumphant. Transcendent. Tears openly flow from the eyes of the elves assembled. Archepex glances to his left to see that even the Twins are affected.
The song's final note, an achingly beautiful, harmonizing tone, is held, held, held...and fades away into the air. As the song had been elevating into its final crescendo, Emma had been striding forth through the crowd. Elves of every walk of life bow their heads and part ways respectfully as she passes, until she stands at the very front of the assembly, beneath the Elfchild Queen's balcony. She draws her sword with a whirling flourish, and lays it humbly at the Queen's feet. The Queen, on the balcony above, climbs up to the railing and steps off. Slowly, she descends, her magical aura pressurizing the air so that she sinks to ground level as easily as someone else might descend a staircase. When her naked feet touch the grass before you, Emma, the air around you seems to brighten. You breathe easily, slowly, calmly. At her touch, you look up at her, and feel the blessing you have been seeking, with perfect clarity. The crowd is hushed and in awe.
The datastreams making up JULIAN's holographic body pulse red as Seth's weird mind makes contact with the machinery. Sparks fly from a nearby server tower, igniting a small flame in one of the cables and causing all the lights on that particular partition to flicker out. JULIAN himself flickers, before returning to the steady blue color he was initially. "Warning. This is a secure facility. Any further attempts to circumvent the authentication process will result in civil/criminal prosecutions," the monkey informs you, in a calm voice that keeps rotating between familiar voices as it speaks. Runner, you don't find a viewscreen - at least, not one like you expect. You follow the sounds of crickets chirping as they lead you through the winding rows of server towers, until you reach a different corner of the room. There is...something you've never seen in any server farm you've ever heard of, if you had even heard of any. It's some kind of huge terrarium, 4 feet wide, 5 high, and 3 deep. Inside the terrarium is the source of the chirping sounds - a couple dozen grasshoppers are inside the glass cage, serving as live food to three large iguanas. There are black, twisting cables leading down from the top of the terrarium to the iguanas themselves. Bizarrely, the lizards' bodies appear to be connected to the cables...which leads to a computer monitor, a darkened one - either off, or in sleep mode. There's a keyboard and mouse beneath the monitor.
After the rogue blackscale tosses his enchanted fruit into the pile, he quickly motions to his two kobold and one tiefling allies to hasten toward the apartment, not looking at the explosion. It's a terrific boom, having far exceeded the normal parameters of the rune's magic - I seem to have a knack for runic magic, comes the thought, unbidden, to Greas' subconscious mind. Take a +1 to your next attempt to use magic due to your confidence. You make your way with your three ninja allies behind you, stealthily into the apartment. When you open the door, you have to immediately jump off to the side to avoid being bowled over - the inhabitants of the apartment building are rushing to see what's causing all the ruckus. You aren't marked too closely when you enter - everyone assumes you're on slave business. On this floor is a communal dining area, a sitting room with couches, a kitchen, and stairs leading up and down. Not far from that spot, close enough to have heard the runic fruit explode, Sees-Death is trying to cause a distraction for Tallest to get into the sniper's room. Unfortunately, Sees, in your haste to get across to the coffer, you neglect to notice that you've sprung a trap by entering the room. A bucket filled with ice water is dumped on your head - you're immediately shivering, your head hurts (take 3 damage) and you can't see! You can still hear, however, and you hear Tallest-Silver snarl in defiance as she engages the yeoman sniper in the room! The sounds of struggle are mere feet away from your location. Across town, in the outer perimeter of the Time Temple, Retzack is earning a growing rapport with his squad of goblins and kobolds as he treats them like he's their Little League coach. He's had to stop Eats-Bugs from acting deliberately recklessly a few times - the damn goblin is so enthusiastic about becoming undead that he's risking his own life needlessly. The squad disperses at the black goblin's command, shoring up fortifications and clearing out spaces for defenders to move, as well as creating cunning booby traps out of innocent items. Within hours, it's like every Home Alone movie was filmed in that one fortress, there are so many household items traps.
Reno steps forward. "If you're needing followers for this Reformed Church, count me in. I've seen what you can do and I've seen you in the terrible situation of being enslaved. Your interpretation of what a church should be is the one we should follow." He pounds his fist on his chest, unfortunately the glittery armor ruins the drama of the effect somewhat. "I swear, we will see the Church of Auhra rebuilt." Quest: I will see Sora's vision become a reality. I'd like the following two boons:
The GM will then tell you what vow or vows is required of you to maintain your blessing: Honor (forbidden: cowardly tactics and tricks)
Dhice: one other trait that some elves possess that hearkens back to their Faerie heritage is mischievous pranks that involve their inborn magical talents. Though you meet a stablemaster named Harthinen that promises to equip your entire party with mounts, you celebrate by getting so drunk you don't notice when some sneaky elf or other drops a little something in your brew. The following morning, until about noon or so, every word that comes out of your mouth is spoken backwards. Another success you discover that night is that the strange fingerguard that you found confers the abilities of a shapeshifter onto your finger. As long as it is the same mass your finger and the ring together originally were, you can transform your finger and the ring on it into any shape while wearing it. While not concentrating, the ring and the finger will return to its original form. At some point in the night, you stumble across Emma. The antipaladin has a scarily impressive amount of honeywine stacked up on the bar around her, and a ring of admirers that are staying at a healthy distance from her. Eventually, you get to talking with her, and an Elven mercenary captain joins you. You three swap stories from your past - unless you don't, Emma, I'd understand if you stayed silent - and eventually he shares two different opportunities with you two. The first was a report from the elf that he had chosen not to share with the Majordomo, but would be happy to share with the Queen's liberators. "There's been a Luck Dragon sighted in the northern tip of the Shatterspine Mountain Ridge on the eastern border of the Sea of Leaves," he mutters to Dhice. "Capture a Luck Dragon and they'll bless you with unfailing luck for a week. Imagine what you could do with that..." He turns to Emma. "The scout who reported the Luck Dragon to me said he had to flee the Shatterspine Ridge region after sighting it, because it was flying close to a nexus of some kind of demonic energy. I figured if I reported it to the Majordomo, he'd order us to investigate it. I was in no rush to sacrifice my men advancing that elf's plots." The captain narrows his eyes as he stares at the antipaladin. "If you decide to investigate it yourselves, beware of the main path leading up the mountain. It may look like the fastest route, but we've trapped nearly every turn and double-back on it. Take the goat-path through the brushes to the right-hand side and climb up from there." Archepex, through your night of mourning, you gain the two siblings as Hirelings. They have Loyalty 2, and starting stats of:
Sibling 1 (Your name choice)
Sibling 2 (Your name choice)
You hear rumors of a place that Skaven collaborators are thought to retreat to in this forest in times of need. Any survivors of the battle here after the Queen was liberated will probably flee there. It's hidden in a tree and activated by pressing a cunningly hidden button. Lyntel, Hirohim provides you with coffee grown by Colombian dwarves to help you stay awake. With his careful help, you're able to stay up all night and only feel a little bit shaky in the morning.
Smoog: the Strix peers at your key curiously, but you snatch it away before he's done studying it, in a show of dominance. You stare at each other a moment tensely, then Thunk approaches, the barbarian sloshing through the rising water levels and kicking aside floating chairs as he comes. "FIGHT FOR THE GLORY OF THE RED 'NARD!" he shouts at them, jumping up on a table. His retinue, the freed Orc slaves - AKA Squad Vindicator - join his shouting with roars of approval of their own. The Strix shrink back at the naked display of force. Though their species is known for their guile, only a fool would fail to see the leadership of the red kobold and his religious fervor. The skeptic Strix, and the other Strix nod in affirmation. You hear Tanard's distant roaring above the Temple and over the sound of the thunder as you move out toward the kitchen entrance to the tunnels. Soup-Spoon shakes his head helplessly, but Ordo the goblin answers your query with an evil grin. "Yeah, I've been down there a few times," he says, nodding eagerly. "Follow me." With that, Squad Phoenix Hawk is off through the Sewers. Give me a Wisdom roll to help scout the path - or let the Strix handle scouting while Ordo trailblazes, and let me decide how the subterranean journey progresses. Greas, Ariza quickly proves herself to be a worthwhile source for a hit list. As she follows you out of the kitchen, newly armed, two of the kobolds from Retzack's group sneak away and join you. "We overheard you speaking of assassination," one of them starts, "and we knew that we'd be best put to use with you," the other one finishes, in a voice that sounds eerily like the first one. If you had your eyes closed you might have thought you were being addressed by a single speaker. "Shrike," "and Pike," they continue, introducing themselves one after the other. As one, they smile at you. Neither kobold has any teeth; they appear to have been torn out, replaced by crude metallic imitations that have been pounded into their jaws by a hammer and nails. Ariza gives you the following names: Umlaut, Hemmerschmidt's personal chef, wanted for extraordinary acts of cruelty to the slaves
No Defy Danger roll needed, Sees, though the water pounds against you frightfully at some places on the stairs. Luckily the handrail is solid. You have to shout loudly to make yourself heard over the storm, but as a bard, you have a solid set of pipes, and Draconic hearing is acute. In moments, Tanard rejoins you, flying in through the window. Landing on your shoulder, she gestures out into the rain with a wing - and you see the same green flash of light coming from HQ that Greas saw earlier. Oadir and Retzack lead the largest squads, both in numbers and in raw size. Gathering together in the flooded banquet hall, with benches and chairs beginning to float off the floor around them, Retzack addresses the crowd. Thunk stands nearby, and his presence adds a religious authority to the goblin's unifying attempts at leadership. The squads have been fed, they have been organized...and now, they have been rallied. Looking around at their faces, you can see that while some may have lingering doubts, none of them are lacking in resolve. With difficulty, you manage to open the doors that Smoog had sealed off earlier to ward off attackers. Estr lies before you, and the storm has spread to the immediate area. Rainwater blocks visibility beyond a few blocks. What do you do?
Aw, RIP Gene Wilder...
This is unrelated, but I hope everyone listens to this.
This is unrelated, but I hope everyone listens to this.
The mace guy definitely. Ideally the blade guy will take out Retzack in the meantime; guy creeps me out.
"Jokes on you, Drazhu! Paladins are the glitteriest profession of all!" Reno looks down at his goblinoid armor, covered in sparkles, and is thankful that the armor is only meant to be temporary. He spends a few more moments in silent prayer, thanking the Light for its blessings with his hands clasped together over the necromancer's corpse. He looks over at Amaranth, wondering if he should attempt to Lay on Hands.
Sigh, damage die... *locks his D8 in a box of shame*
Legends tell many things of the mysterious Elfchild Queen. The stories tell of a time long ago when she ensnared the very moon itself in the sky, causing it to hang for three days and nights over a centennial festival. They tell of a time when a volcano was put to rest mid-eruption, miles away from the elven lands, stopped by a single word from the Queen's lips. But there are no legends that tell of the Elfchild Queen's mercy. Despite her innocent appearance, she is aged and wise, and her anger - though slow to stir - is terrible to behold. Like a sleeping giant, her power can swat away those that irritate her, and there are very few in all the world that can withstand a direct assault from the Queen Sorceress. Silence hangs heavy over the Courthouse as the Queen and Wildsong stare at each other. Hate twists the once-comely face of the Elven guard commander into an ugly mask, while the Queen's countenance is like that of an icy lake in winter. Then, the Queen breaks eye contact first, looking down with a sigh. "Your heart is true, Wildsong. I feel the conviction within your heart. My own heart breaks that such conviction can be turned against me. And it breaks for what I must do." She addresses the loyalists gathered around the Skaven sympathizers. "Stand back," she commands, and they instantly obey. Slowly, a circle of bluish white begins to form, tracing its way around the huddled group of elves as if drawn by some giant that is invisible to the naked eye. Once again, the Queen lifts her arm, enveloped in her long-sleeved garments. She speaks no words, only points at the circle. When it is completed, a half-dome of white light forms over the elves trapped within, and begins rotating - slowly at first, then more and more swiftly as time goes on. Finally, when the dome reaches top speed, the Queen utters three small words.
Elves have very, very, very long lifespans. None of the mortal races are exactly sure how long elves can survive before being struck down by age. But this spell proves that eventually, death even comes to the Firstborn. The elves within the dome are driven to their knees. Their hair grows longer, and longer, until each elf has hair hanging past their waists that rapidly loses its color and vibrancy, before falling out. Throughout all this, their youthful features remain...but then too, those disappear, replaced by wizened masks. If they were humans, they would look to be in their 50s or 60s...Lyntel, you have only met one elf that looked like this naturally, and she was around and influencing events over a millenia ago. The elves had been bearing the brunt of the spell silently, but as they pass this age threshold they begin to scream. Their voices weaken as their screams go on, and the elf loyalists begin to squirm a little. Throughout, the Queen looks on, her face emotionless. Moments later, the dome disappears...its spell complete. Of the elves within, not even their armor or weaponry remains. Only dust. The Queen turns her head to one side, addressing a courtier. "Fetch a broom and dustpan."
If the actions of another character in the game enrage you, the answer is to respond with your character, not get mad as a player. Retzack's a goblin necromancer. He's going to be a scheming little b*stard, and he's going to take the opportunities he is afforded. Thunk is a religious zealot for Tanard, he's going to take offense at any perceived threat to her religious primacy, or the necromancer's nation-building. So, we have characters at odds, but these emotions shouldn't come into it. Think of it like a chess game. Retzack made an aggressive, but potentially reckless move in using the "guestbook" to create zombies-in-the-making out of Tanard's freed slave army. It earned him a big benefit in the short run - he got all the signatures. However, it's going to cost him in the eyes of his party, affecting his long-term prospects. He's attempting to counter that preemptively with his arranged marriage to Sees, though emotions (in-character) are at play there as well. But do you flip the chessboard and walk away when your opponent makes a good play? No! You look at the new board state, and determine how best to turn it to your advantage. The reason evil campaigns are fun, and the reason I wanted to start one in the first place, is that while a unifying goal is nice, it's even more fun when the players try devious little ways to undermine or ridicule each other for their own benefit along the way. Take Smoog and Sees for example, they're pretty hostile toward each other's characters, but player emotion doesn't play into it. They have different goals, but they work together out of a ruthless sense of pragmatism. Basically what I'm trying to say is, if a character in-game is acting in a way that offends your character in-game, don't let it be personal. Don't get mad. Get even.
Looking over his shoulder at the others, he thinks to himself, Oh no! Their damage sucks! They need my help! Then he returns his attention to the three or four zombies fruitlessly attempting to chew on him. With his Mark of Divine Authority, even these mindless creatures would have to respect him on an instinctive level. "KNEEL AND FALL IN REPENTANCE BEFORE THE LIGHT, FOUL CREATURES, AND TROUBLE US ALL NO MORE! ATONE FOR YOUR SINS!" he shouts, raising his voice to the top of his lungs to be heard over the groaning and shuffling zombie horde.
✴ On a 7+, they choose one: Do what you say
Shakily, the Elfchild Queen straightens her legs beneath her to rise again to her feet. There is a gentle radiance about her that seems to leave her features bathed in a steady light. Her face is downcast, her blonde hair falling forward to hide her features. When she lifts her head again, bright streaks of whitish tears flowing from her eyes stain her cheeks. Some of the guards in attendance cannot contain their gasps of surprise at the sight of tears on the cheeks of their monarch. This is not a sight that has been seen in many years. She speaks, her quiet voice nonetheless heard by all in attendance. "I was aware of all that transpired while my Majordomo, that I once called friend, Faldren, kept me in thrall to the Skaven. While I was trapped in my own mind, unable to break free, my kingdom has fallen into despair." Lifting her arm, which is practically engulfed by one of her sleeves, she wipes her tears dry. "That time has passed," she continues, her voice growing steely and hard. All those present can feel their spines straightening up a little unconsciously. The Elfchild Queen holds out one hand, palm out, toward the gem that Lyntel indicates. So far she has not acknowledged any of her rescuers. The gem prison quivers, and the door slowly swings open in the side of the perfect-looking jewel. From within, Faldren is still clutching at his mutilated hand, whispering hateful things and unable to meet the Queen's imperious gaze. Her voice has the quality of a titanium bar, wrapped in silks. Despite the youth that her voice seems to carry, you can hear the weight of years in her weary tone. "Faldren. You are charged with usurpation of the Queen's authority, unlawful contact with the Queen's personage, and betrayal of your people through your alliance to the Skaven. You are not permitted any words in your defense. We have heard your whisperings " The guards flinch a little at her sudden vehemence. The Elfchild Queen is known throughout the lands as a terrible sorceress. Even now, her magic begins to take hold on her Majordomo's body. "By your actions you have forever sacrificed the nobility of your elven birthright. Thus it will be stripped from you." her condemnation rings from the courthouse walls like the tolling of a frightful bell. You all can feel an enormous rush of atmospheric pressure as the spell she calls into being manifests around Faldren's body.
The pressure suddenly abates, and Faldren is no more. In his place, a feral rat cowers, clutching its wounded paw. The Queen mimics picking up a distasteful bit of laundry with her fingers, and the magic of her will scoops up the rat and deposits him helplessly in the arms of a nearby elf-guard.
I've received a few PMs regarding Thunk's multiclassing and I felt I should address it here in the discussion thread. It was all cleared with me beforehand, first off. I didn't see any harm in allowing him to multiclass because he has access to his 6-10 leveled talents. But, I didn't make it clear to everyone that everyone has that option; so I'm doing that now. Houserule: If you want to begin leveling up as a different class, as long as you are level 6 and above, you may forgo your Advanced Move when leveling up in favor of taking a level in another class of your choosing. This has to be backed up with in-game actions or thoughts, of course. This does alter the existing rules posted here. It's a small change though - if you follow that link, just delete the third bullet point as it no longer applies to that situation.
Greas, here is the breakdown of rescued slaves: 23 are kobolds,
(information added to general campaign info tab for reference. Players may characterize individual slaves as makes sense for the story overall). The kobolds would all be naturally stealthy enough for your purposes, most likely. Ditto for the goblins. The Strix are a bit of an unknown factor, and are "flocking" together in one corner of the reception hall, gathered around a small gift cake one of the wedding guests had brought. The orcs would be no good, 1 of the tieflings looks like the creeper type, and the duergar...you aren't sure. Thunk, you may have intended to create "different sects" of worship under the same deity of Tanard, but your monosyllabic form of expression worked against you in this case. The crowd interpreted your manic shouting and proclamations as supporting Retzack and his contract; that was part of the reason they signed so willingly. Retzack himself aided in this perception. Retzack, not sure exactly what you're trying to accomplish with that Parlay roll. Smoog, you are in the right place to be asking such questions. It takes most of the rest of the night, but with Tanard's blessing you discover a recessed room behind an alcove in the temple library that would be perfect for constructing a hyperbolic time chamber. The measurements are all correct, and you suspect that isn't a coincidence. However, according to your studies, you're missing two crucial components before the chamber can achieve its intended use. 1, a potion must be brewed from Zephyr Lilies, a rare species of flower found on a mountaintop far to the east of here. The mountaintop, known as Marannon, is part of the Green Ridge Mountain Range, in dwarf territory. This same mountain range culminates in Lord Krondor's domain. 2, you must have a dish-shaped metal object affixed to the ceiling of the time chamber itself, to focus the time-dilating energies into a coherent sphere around the subjects. This dish must be made of pure silver and can be crafted by a master smith.
I played with Elena briefly when I was posting on the boards under the alias DM Frogfoot. He played Blibberblab the Goblin Bard in that campaign, and it was a lot of fun, short-lived as it was. I appreciate you taking on the sacrifice of being a GM instead of a player, Elena. Ropetail would be honored to be thrown in your gaol, the gaol of Kas the Bloody.
Wow, none of you beat a 10! Too bad for you guys. PRE-WAR LOOT FOUND (this is all random, so if I give you something that makes more sense for someone else, well, that's how trading happens): Scarlet (Gift Shop): A locket on a necklace with pictures inside of a young woman and a young man. Inside the locket is a tiny recording device that can be used as a bug, audio and video.
I think that inter-character disagreements are great fodder for good roleplaying, as long as the antagonism is only between characters, not players, and it doesn't get in the way of others sharing the spotlight too. I want to point out the word in parenthesis at the end of the gameplay thread title. Not saying you're wrong in your objections at all, Oadir, but I do want to say that I've created a bit of a safe space for characters to be a little evil, or even very evil. I mean, if you think Retzack is morally objectionable, you would have loved Gorlaug the Corruptor, the Moontower Mountain Clan's original patron dragon. He was a black dragon of the swamps, and a necromancer himself.
I'm not, Tom is! Blame the mask.
High in the rafters above the rest of the party, near the underside of the tavern's roof, Ropetail has found a comfortable spot wedged between some support beams. His circular ears twitch to and fro as he listens to the disparate party members introduce themselves to each other. As he listens, he scribbles down their names in a small and dirty scroll, using a grubby feather pencil that brushes against his whiskers occasionally. When the friendly-sounding gnome starts talking, the Duelist moves his tail over an exposed nail in the wood and curls his tail around it, creating a safety rope as he leans over the edge of the rafters to look down at them instead of just listen. He glances from one to the other.
Did Strom put together this meeting all on his own? He told me I would be working on a team for this assignment, but he didn't mention how large a team it would be. For such a party, he's got to be expecting there to be casualties along the way. No way he'd pay for so much muscle otherwise. Ropetail, hidden in the shadows of the rafters, narrows his eyes. I'd best be sure that I don't count myself as one of the fallen. I already know Strom considers me expendable, so there won't be any failsafes.
This is Mooshy's Mousefolk Arcane Duelist, Ropetail. He's MOUSEfolk, too, NOT RATFOLK! Calling him a Rat is a horribly racist insult that is almost sure to piss him off. I'm an Arcane Duelist, of high birth, and formerly a part of an elite fighting group that blended advanced martial arts with magic. However, I was dishonorably discharged six months ago for using my magic in an unsanctioned murder. The person who ordered the kill was too politically powerful to be touched, but I wasn't, and I took the fall when I was promised that I would be protected. Now, since I've been drummed out of The Service (the name of the organization of state-sanctioned arcane duelists), my only lifeline to paying work is the same shadowy figure that gave me the original job. I'm in his pocket, whether I like it or not...for now. Size-wise, I'm about 2 feet tall, clocking in at 7 pounds. I've got a black hooded cloak that I wear when traveling. I rarely use the hood, preferring my tall peacock-feathered cap that makes me appear less short than I actually am. Beneath it, I have a brown and red doublet and a chain necklace, signs of wealth, but dirty and drubby from living on the road recently. I'm armed with one long dagger for offense and a shorter, curved sai for parrying and disarming. These daggers are my arcane foci for my fighting techniques, but I'm just as adept with kicks and punches - the physical strikes of an arcane duelist aren't meant to hit their foes. They are only a means to channel magic with precision to strike their opponents for them.
Bikke: Ach, ye med huren tan har too far with the jerrug dwarkor pelorman! Party, Collectively: ????? Gromroir: Can't yewlot hear? He said, ye med huren tan har too far with the jerrug dwarkor pelorman! Party: SPEAK! COMMON! Bikke and Gromroir: WE ARE!!! *edit* if Gromroir doesn't want to have an accent himself, it's still funny if he basically has to translate for Bikke. Bikke speaks in a piratey, thickly sea-dwarf accent, that Gromroir can understand, being a dwarf himself, but Gromroir speaks unaccented Common most of the time, so he helps the party understand Bikke when he gets too excited and starts blathering in piratey speak.
Francis, putting the gunfire out of his mind for now, quickly runs along the outer walls of the entrance hall, searching for an office directory. With his fresh knowledge of pre-war interior design, he's able to guess where one would most likely be mounted. Fortunately, he does find one. Unfortunately, the intervening years haven't been kind to it. While most of Crane Cryogenics has been seemingly preserved against the damages of war, this bottom level has been granted to the Super Mutants who are enthralled by the owner of the tower, and thus this floor is wretchedly broken and destroyed in most places. Typical Super Mutant hovel. Swiping away most of the debris with your hand, you're able to discern three floors. Level 2, pharmacy and gift shop, level 15, Human Cryogenics Division, and level 50, Tower Suites. Seth, I believe you still have 1 hold of Bonefeel, which you rolled at the start of session. Spending that hold would allow you to simply "know" the command word you'd need for this situation, without any clear reason why. Because you rolled well on your Weird I'll allow you to get the benefits of spending 1 Hold without spending 1 Hold. Without knowing how you know, you somehow get the feeling that whomever designed these turrets would have wanted a verbal failsafe to turn them off in the event of an emergency. It's a truism among defense system engineers that many of them are nerds. You may not be or you may be, but you have met plenty of gearheads that fit the stereotype. You recall an ancient text you once read called "The Fellowship of the Ring," where a wizard character opened a locked door with a command word, the Elvish word for "friend". What was it again?..... .... "Mel-lon." When you shout that word, the turrets chirp an acknowledgement tone and close themselves up again. Cautiously, you peep out around the corner, and they don't fire at you. The antennae that pokes out of the tops of their "heads" flashes a dim green.
Hey all, just letting everyone know that I feel very refreshed and revitalized after taking a week away from the forums entirely. I've got a lot to catch up on, but I've begun working on just that, and I hope to have updated every campaign I'm part of by early afternoon. Thanks for your patience once again.
Hey all, just letting everyone know that I feel very refreshed and revitalized after taking a week away from the forums entirely. I've got a lot to catch up on, but I've begun working on just that, and I hope to have updated every campaign I'm part of by early afternoon. Thanks for your patience once again.
Hey all. Since you're all so patient with me (and I do very much appreciate that), I've made a decision. Rather than half-ass this break and come back today, before I feel fully ready to, I'm taking the rest of the week off. Updates will resume in full next Monday. I promise, I'll be fully 100% again by then, and my posts will continue as normal. Just need a bit of a break week to let my brain relax and re-gather some creative inspiration. I'll be spending the free time this week reading, mostly, and collecting ideas that I can use in characterization, plot, and setting. Thanks for your patience everyone. Hope I'm not making a bad first impression on you, Dexter the newcomer. Normally, I try very hard to be a diligent and consistent poster!
Hey all. Since you're all so patient with me (and I do very much appreciate that), I've made a decision. Rather than half-ass this break and come back today, before I feel fully ready to, I'm taking the rest of the week off. Updates will resume in full next Monday. I promise, I'll be fully 100% again by then, and my posts will continue as normal. Just need a bit of a break week to let my brain relax and re-gather some creative inspiration. I'll be spending the free time this week reading, mostly, and collecting ideas that I can use in characterization, plot, and setting. Thanks for your patience everyone.
Hey all. Since you're all so patient with me (and I do very much appreciate that), I've made a decision. Rather than half-ass this break and come back today, before I feel fully ready to, I'm taking the rest of the week off. Updates will resume in full next Monday. I promise, I'll be fully 100% again by then, and my posts will continue as normal. Just need a bit of a break week to let my brain relax and re-gather some creative inspiration. I'll be spending the free time this week reading, mostly, and collecting ideas that I can use in characterization, plot, and setting. Thanks for your patience everyone.
Hey all. Since you're all so patient with me (and I do very much appreciate that), I've made a decision. Rather than half-ass this break and come back today, before I feel fully ready to, I'm taking the rest of the week off. Updates will resume in full next Monday. I promise, I'll be fully 100% again by then, and my posts will continue as normal. Just need a bit of a break week to let my brain relax and re-gather some creative inspiration. I'll be spending the free time this week reading, mostly, and collecting ideas that I can use in characterization, plot, and setting. Thanks for your patience everyone.
Scarlet, when you move through the door that Chief opened, gun at the ready, the first thing you notice is that there are two laser beams converging on your chest from two different sources. The ground is a shiny, metallic chrome, and the walls are a blank white in this room, which you can see at a glance is a long corridor that leads deeper into the Crane building. At the far end of the corridor is evidence of an explosion having gone off…but what commands your attention more immediately are the sources of the two lasers trained on your chest. Two turrets greet you, and both of them have antenna poking out of the top of their heads that blinks intermittently with a red light. The voices are high pitched, innocently inquisitive, and kindly – they wouldn’t sound out of place in a Disney movie. Nonetheless, the words are accompanied by a sudden hail of intense gunfire. Only due to Runner’s successful Overwatch are you pulled immediately to safety as the driver grabs hold of the back of your collar and pulls hard. The bullets whiz by harmlessly for a few more seconds, before one of the turrets asks innocently, ”Are you still there?”
By the way Sees I never replied to your Bardic Knowledge roll. You are aware that the Time Temple here in Estr contains a large library contextually for the area...you could probably find a ledger of languages in there that could help you decode the bound book. It's probably behind those doors on either side of the massive pipe organ that you noticed before.
The air elemental takes to the upper layers of air above the party, circling overhead and looking down on the mess below, awaiting further instruction from the channeler it’s connected to. Meanwhile, an incredible series of events takes place within the space of less than 6 seconds. ”IIIIII wwwwwwaaaaasssssss ggeettttinggggg borrrrredddd offfff herrrr aaannnnnnyyyyyyywwwwwwaaaaaayyyyyy….” the elven noble is saying, in slow motion, as he releases the concentration needed to maintain his impenetrable barrier. As soon as the very tip top of the barrier begins to descend, Archepex’s arrow is loosed, with historic elven accuracy, directly at his slender hands, which were already in motion. Lyntel, nearby, is already focused on assisting the queen, and is gathering magic in the form of small motes of light to her throat and voice. The lights gather about her hands as she races toward the collapsing Queen’s body. The metal arrowhead of Archepex’s arrow scrapes the falling magical barrier as it slips past, and makes impact directly on the knuckle of the elven noble. the noble cries in pain and anguish as the arrow severs his finger at the knucklebone! The elf clutches his bleeding hand in pain and doubles over as the ring, with the finger still thrust through its loop, bounces down off the dais and to the ground. Grigor immediately leaps into action, the fighter swinging his longsword at the ring quickly, but the piece of jewelry is powerfully enspelled and the magical protections on it rebuff his attack. With a loud, high-pitched tiiiiiinnnnngggg sound, the fighter is thrown backward from the force of the magical aura protecting the ring, knocking his broadsword away and sending him careening into a pillar. Mark an XP and take 1d8 damage from the impact on your back, Grigor. Does not ignore armor. Meanwhile, Lyntel, in her moment of selfless sacrifice, taps an unknown well of dedication within her that she wasn’t even aware that she had. The magic responds to her song faster than ever before, reaching out to restore the Queen’s strength to her muscles. As the bard/wizard catches the Queen, a transformation can be seen on the Elfchild’s face – lines of weariness, of oppression, of subjugation to the advisor elf’s foul whisperings are cast away, restoring her legendary beauty to her face. Lyntel catches and holds her securely in her arms before the Queen falls from her throne, and the Queen begins to return to consciousness and awareness. ”What is…” she begins, then clutches her head in pain as if from a headache.
Down on the lower level: Smoog is grateful to discover that the Time Temple is built like a fortress, with considerations for defense made in numerous places within the architecture. It takes him no time at all to secure the ground floor of the temple and go looking for slaves. Most of the staff here were undead thralls, but there was a kobold and a goblin working in the kitchens. The kobold cook’s name is Soup-Spoon and the goblin’s name is Ordo. You find them huddled in hiding spaces in the kitchen and recruit them to your side. The kobold glimpsed Tanard and is very easy to convince to join your team, but the goblin requires more convincing. ”What’s in it for me?” he asks, with goblin impudence. Once one or both of them agree to be dispatched via sewer to begin spreading the word among the slaves, Smoog turns his thoughts to the airships, asking them what they know of the Cloudsailors. Soup-Spoon is quick to answer. ”Our, uh…late boss, the chef over there…” he points to the pile of gore that is all that remains of the necromancer chef, ”he used to take us up onto one of those airships for catering duty. There’s a main gangplank that the sailors take to get onto their ships, but there’s also a servant hatch on the bottom of the hull that we used! And I still have the key to the lock.” he immediately fishes it out of his cooking smock and hands it over to you with a grin. ”I hope you take one of their ships and toss them overboard in mid-flight! They’re lousy tippers.” At the end of the sentence, there’s the distant sound of ”Thuuunk!” coming from upstairs, followed by a colossal CRASHING sound. This interrupts the tail end of Greas and Oadir’s conversation, after Greas is telling Oadir that he’s one of the kobolds now. Greas also brings up the question of leadership – a wise concern. As the group grows bigger, and more slaves free themselves to make pilgrimage to the Time Temple, a Chieftain will need to be selected as official leader of the kobolds. Without Flung, who died not long after Moontower Mountain blew up, there are no “perfect” candidates for chieftain remaining. All options have their upsides and downsides, but the matter will need to be decided soon. Not far away, Retzack is dressing up his recently-resurrected bride and groom, and answering a hail of questions about the magic of necromancy from Eats-Bugs. Closer to the front entrance of the dining hall, Krish is studying the contents of the phial he found, holding it up close to his mask’s eyehole to study it. Nothing visually indicates its harmfulness, so he risks popping the cork and taking a sniff. Hints of vanilla…rosehip…with the faintest trace of belladonna. The smell is unmistakeable. You’ve found an extremely powerful magical aphrodisiac, that acts nearly instantly upon its user when consumed. Meanwhile, you’ve been wearing the mask long enough…and interacted with enough spirits while wearing it…to come to a greater understanding of the thing. The mask waits for a quiet moment when you are away from the others, tending to the tame Deathclaw. The mask glows faintly, as it did before, and murmurs…directly into your mind, Krish. Put me on the Spirit Eater… it whispers. The Deathclaw is busying itself at the moment with the idle sharpening of its claws on a femur bone ripped from a human corpse. Upstairs, Sees-Death had just been finishing her pained soliloquy when Thunk interrupts with a usual bout of his ultra-violence. From outside the temple can be heard screams and cries of dismay as the beautiful stained-glass window is shattered. Tanard rears up to her fullest height from within the gold-nest to peer over Sees-Death’s shoulder in keen interest. Sees, for a visual aid on the chapel section of the Time Temple, check this out, + more pews for seating.
Really sorry guys, updating tomorrow. Had a compulsion to see my son tonight and spent all of my after work time with him. I just got home and I'm too tired to update. Hate missing update days, but I'll make it up to everybody.
This is Mooshybooshy's half-elf paladin, Reno Jackson. He was named by his human father, who was something of a fanatic for old legends about a far-flung treasure-seeking explorer, named his half-elven kid after him. As for Bonds...I'll feel nervous around Nathan, guilty about my past behavior when I was one of Drazhu's lackeys. I can see now that I was acting like an ass, but it was under the lich's orders. My bond with Nathan is: "I will redeem myself for my past actions in Nathan's eyes." Sora's wings are beautiful, and she was kind to me in a moment of deepest despair when I was first thrown down here. I want to protect her. Nox en Isk always creeped me out even when he and I served the same master. Now we have both been cast off. I feel a strange sense of kinship with the little weirdo. The fire elemental seems overtly friendly but I'm not sure I trust it.
You guys sure are lucky that your ship has the best pilot in the galaxy aboard.
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