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Hey guys. I'd like to apologize for ghosting you all over the weeks. Life got a little busy, a few conventions happened, and I went way too hard on the Classic WoW release. I don't really have a good excuse for it, just figured I'd be honest. If you'd prefer to swap me out for someone who's more active and attentive, I'd 100% understand. Otherwise, I could read through the thread to catch up and try to get a post up in next couple of days.
Urist seems confused at first, assuming it's simply a slight draft wafting in. But after Toulbe sends out a wave of positive energy, the gears start turning in the old soldier's head.
With a pretty solid idea of what's going on, Urist conjures his own wave of positive energy. His hand glowing with the dim light of positive forces, he barges forward and thrusts it into the darkness.
Urist spends the first day or so in relaxation, polishing his armor and cleanjng his crossbow. He also entertains his fellows with stories of the Old Fort, discussing everything from mushroom farming techniques the to the military strategies involving elongated corridors that are connected to elaborate pump systems that drown invades with lava. But suddenly, when halfway through discussing the finer points of making cake using dwarven beer as a core ingredient, Urist freezes. His glassy eyes stare off into the distance. "Oh boy, here it goes." says the Commander with a sigh of resignation. Urist stands and marches off towards the stores, his phantom trailing behind. He moves like a dwarf possessed, setting up the portable crafting stand with desperate urgency. Then, he turns on a heel and begins to rummage through the group's collected loot. Bits and pieces here, scraps from salvage, and even some bits from the slain animal. After running back and forth for a few minutes, gathering up armfuls of materials before he gets to work. And work he does. For what must be sixteen hours straight, Urist tirelessly works at his station, improvising tools with whatever he can get his hands on. He stops halfway only to sleep and eat whatever food the Commander happens to get for him. Or, rather, whatever one of her allies manages to get after she makes the request.
When it's over, Urist holds his creation high, beaming with immeasurable pride. The creator utters a single phrase. "Bonefingers." Bonefingers: This is an All-Tools Vest. All craftsdwarfship is of the highest quality. It is covered with pockets of cow leather and silver trimming. It is encircled with bands of silver. It menaces with spikes of wood. On the item is an image of Toulbe Hilnack and a coyote in cow leather. Toulbe is making a placating gesture. The coyote is in the fetal position.
Hey, just double checking. Folks are fine if I use 900 gold worth of our collective gold to make the All-Tools Vest, right? Gotta head to work, but I'll throw together a downtime post tonight.
You'll need a scroll of Summon Instrument, i wonder if Sankest has one. Actually, Urist can eat a -5 penalty to bypass the prerequisite spell to make the item. As seen here. Since he's a spontaneous caster with the limited spell list that comes with it, this -5 is pretty much going to be a fact of life for his career.
A week seems perfectly fine. Plenty of time to get ourselves situated. As mentioned in the game proper, Urist would like to ensure healing potions for the party and pick up the portable crafting station and the alkali flasks. I may have to load up on the alchemical stuff down the road, since Urist is pretty lacking in a decent 'not casting' action in combat! As for crafting, if the party doesn't mind I'd like to churn out an All-Tools Vest to start out. Between Urist's low level, so-so spellcraft modifier, and limited access, I'd like to at least deal with that -5 spellcraft penalty from using the portable crafting station's minimalist tools. Also... I suppose this only works if the GM is generous and allows spellcraft to count as a "craft" skill. I am 100% open to alternative suggestions from the group as long as they can be done with my net +12 spellcraft modifier when taking 10.
Urist considers the inventory of trade items. "Well, nothin' tha' can't be solved with a bit o' glue. Tha' and ah think we can use as many 'ealin' potions as we can carry! Hmm... these souped-up acid mixtures could melt a bothersome ooze in a fight. Bound ta fight more o' those, right? And tha' portable lab's a real useful thing, let's grab tha' while we're at it!" After that, he sets aside a small pile consisting of the embalming fluid, a scroll of gentle repose, and the onyx. "And as grim as it may be, we may need ta prepare for tha worst. Think we should claim these?"
Urist
Commander Silverbrew
(Dunno how often crafting will come up, especially with ABP income, but I figure Urist would make a good dedicated craftsdwarf.)
I've got a question about ABP. How does it apply to pets? It isn't the end of the world of the commander doesn't get anything for it (Hell, my spells will cover most of that in due time) but I'd like to know my options. Also, since Feat Tax removes Power Attack as a feat you have to actually take, does that modify the commander at all? Her phantom emotional focus gives her Power Attack as a bonus feat so that's kind of a dead feature now.
Urist will cover the buffing and cast Guidance on Boomer.
Urist continues to tap into his weaker, limitless spells by casting Guidance on Goggeck again.
Urist, meanwhile, casts Guidance on Goggeck.
Between the need for healing and the usefulness of Mage Armoe, I am highly tempted to pick up Craft Wand next level. GM, if you don't mind me asking, would the pace and itemization of the campaign support the occasional time off for a Fey Mood art project?
"Oi! Tha' skele's go'a wall'a steel 'tween 'im 'an us! Yank it out from under 'em!" Urist casts Guidance on himself.
For what it's worth, I'm a fan of separate enemy initiatives. If only to prevent the issue of one PC rushing in and then getting absolutely rag-dolled by a coordinated mob.
Urist looks to Helga, who looks back to Urist. They both nod. Urist channels his magic before reaching out to give the commander a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
Urist takes a step back, drawing his crossbow. He murmurs under his breath about some "damned, bloody skeletons" before he loads a bolt.
"Aye, great idea lad! We'll flush 'em out an' save ourselves a whole mess'a trouble!" "Ack! Regret... regre-hrrk!"
Sorry for the slow posting as of late. Paizocon happened, and I haven't gotten back into the rhythm yet.
Urist gives Adu a nod. "Name's Urist. Urist McFatson. An' 'sides bein tha nominal leader o' this bunch, ah'm a bit of an everydwarf. Haulin' rocks, feedin' tha cat, whatevee needs be done." "We don't have a cat." says the Commander as she looks over their small new friend. Her face, covered almos entirely with a steel mask, still seems to express the undercurrent of anger beneath her calm words. "Then we should GET one!" The commander sighs and raises a hand, urging Urist to be quiet. "Come. These halls aren't clean yet, so we've got a lot of monsters to kill. Is everyone ready to continue?"
Urist gives the whole set-up the once over. Sustainable food, a whole lot of booze, plenty of able bodies, and a trader who looks like he'd sooner die than part with his net worth? A damn fine setup, if he would say so himself. In fact, he does. "Tha's a damn fine setup if I do say so myself." He nods. "An' I do, cause I jus' said it!" He laughs heartily as he makes his way to the soldiers, giving the nearest one a pat on the shoulder. "How goes, lads? Excited ta get yet feet dirty an'yer swords bloody? Cause ya should be!" Urist regards the soldiers with a cheerful demeanor, only slightly undercut by the dimly glowing red phantom trailing a few feet behind him. "Why, when I was first trainin' back in tha Old Fort, recruits got put through a danger room! See, we'd put tha trapsmiths ta work, fillin' a closet sized cubby with all sortsa stabby contraptions. Wooden, o' course. Mostly wouldn't kill ya, but they splintered like 'ELL! Abou' three runs a day, an hour each or so, 'til they either learned ta dodge or their legs stopped workin' so good." Urist looks at nothing in particular, reaching down to rub at his thigh while fondly reflecting.
A look of absolute delight crosses Urist's face, his graying beard curling with his smile. He loudly clasps his hands together before spreading them wide in a welcoming gesture. "Bless me beard, we got our first wave'o migrants! Lessie what ya got on'ya!" Urist takes the time to get to know the new arrivals, hoping to get on a first name basis with as many of them as possible. All the while, he takes stock of their supplies, tools, manpower, and capacity for self-defense.
Urist chuckles. "Ah, let tha boy dream. S'good ya have yer spirits up in times like this, right? Why, this one time, back at tha Old Fort..."
Urist briefly considers getting into melee with the slime before he thinks better of it. Taking a careful step back, he reloads his crossbow and fires another shot.
Meanwhile, the commander plants her feet and holds her ground, swinging wildly at the creeping jelly.
Urist loads and fires another shot!
The commander continues to keep a readied attack.
Urist nods at Goggeck, marching forward and drawing his crossbow. "Good'a plan as any!" He takes a shot!
Urist continues to give his support from the back line, stepping forward to give Hezekh a reassuring (and slightly magical) pat.
Urist gives Glor an encouraging pat, offering his usual mystical guidance.
Oh wow. Looks like you've got a lot on your plate! Armok would be proud of your hard work >:p
Urist will waste little time in the morning, summoning the commander and tending to her wounds with healing magic as soon as she arrives.
After that, he assesses the damage to his allies.
Urist smiles and puts his hand in Toulbe's shoulder. "Ah, dun' worry none. If'n they don' take tha bait, we can always find more an' raise 'em proper." The old soldier strokes his beard thoughtfully. "Why, back at tha Old Fort we 'ad a whole lotta dogs! Our leader was smart ta take a whole buncha the things when we first set out, see. So we 'ad two dogs to a dwarf. Buddies fer civilians, war dogs fer tha soldiers, an' enough emergency rations ta keep us fed fer' a a good long siege! I bet we could turn one'o these 'ere rooms into a kennel once we get it set up..." His rambling story continues for a few more moments.
Just for clarification: did we manage to get some rest before the door was opened?
Also, ranks in spellcraft! I, uhm, didn't think we wouldn't have it.
Urist clears his throat before he pipes up. "Right, err... ah b'leave we got orders ta rest an' recoup. Shall we, lads?"
Grats on the new opportunity! Wishing the best for you! Also, I'm starting to think Urist's next feat should be Craft Wand so we can get some long term healing for these runs >.>
Urist frowns as he observes the breaking of chains. "This place's seen some real troubles, tha's fer sure. We got a lotta work ta do, seems like." The dwarf continues to observe, trying his best to understand the full nature of these trapped souls, the cursed item, and what they all might have to do to to purify this haunted fortress.
Urist gives Goggeck a second reaffirming pat. "Ah'll go'ead an' call that'n a big yes, heh."
Meanwhile, the commander stays in high alert mode, patrolling the room for further threats. She doesn't mention her clearly visible wounds.
Urist isn't quite sure what to do! the smoke is too thick to really get a clear shot, and he feels slightly unprepared to engage directly in melee at the moment. Instead, he decides to move forward cautiously, preparing himself to offer support. "Oi, how's it goin' in there? Ya need any help? Scream once fer a yes, an' scream reeeaaal loud fer a big yes!"
Urist considers his options before tucking his Kukri away and drawing his crossbow. "Oi. Tha' smells worse'n a zombie's skinthole!"
"Aye, spunds like a plan. Move out, lads. We got a fort ta clear out!" Urist takes his position in the matching order in the back row, but not before laying a reassuring hand on the commander's shoulder and channeling his magic into her.
Urist gives the cursed armor a lingering glance, eyeing the thing up and down, running his fingers along the designs. "Well, can' be too bad if'n it's made'a gold, right? A fine treasure fer puttin' on display in our grand 'all, soon as we get it sorted out! Yeah, back at tha ol' fort, ah used to manage the vault where we 'ad all our fancy artifacts. See, with armor like tha' ya gotta put it someplace nice, but since it's cursed, not TOO dead center..." Urist continues to go into detail about the artifacts his 'old fort' supposedly had. Such treasures included magical fishing gloves that allowed a dwarf to effortlessly snatch up their catch without a rod or hooks, A tombstone so gilded with gold and precious gems that it caused the diceased family to rise as ghosts out of pure envy, and an animated minotaur head that would still intentionally lead its holder the wrong way, allowing someone to use reverse psychology to navigate mazes.
Ohh, nice roll on the cooking, Toulbe! Actually, I'll keep the bonus on Urist. It makes more sense, considering he's the one to have eaten the food. Plus, who knows when that Profession Mushroom Kicker roll will be needed to save the day?
Hey, dropping a heads up. I'll be going to a convention over the weekend and it will involve a lot of volunteer GMing. My posting may slow down over the next few days. If you need to bot Urist and Helga, it's pretty straightforward. Urist mostly supports with flanks and Guidance, not wanting to waste his few cvrossbow bolts. Helga holds the front and power attacks with her slams.
Urist marches forward, steel flashing in his hand as he positions himself to aid his allies in a flank.
If nothing else, for the sake of efficiency we can just do the classic "left wall sweep" method and check every room we run into.
Urist looks over the scene with a harumph. "Well tha'sa nasty pile 'o rats right there, eh?" He gives Boomer a pat on the shoulder with a glow in his eyes. "Make sure we've got this place cleaned up fer tha commander, else she'll have someone's 'ead over this."
Urist accepts the potion and tucks it into his pocket. "Tha' breastplate looks fine an' propper. S'prisin' fer the kinda slave laber ya'd find down 'ere. Anyone able ta give it a good look?" "An' 'sides tha' ah don' see 'nny reason ya 'ang out in this 'ere room."
Urist purses his lips and strokes his beard. "Bein' tha' this's tha leader's room, s'less likely tha' these levers'll do anythin' bad ta us. I mean, wha' dwarf'd make a switch that'd kill m'self right?" With a chuckle, Urist marches over to the levers and grasps one at random, his arm flexing as he begins to pull it.... ....and stops at the last second. "N'less tha' be what he's THINKIN' we'd do, an' 'e put a trap lever 'ere. Hmm." His eyes focus on the levers, checking the mechanism for a potential (if obvious) trap.
He turns and shrugs. "I say we give one a pull, jus' ta see wha' i' does, then we keep explorin' and clearin' out these undead."
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