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OK, first things first: sincere apologies for lack of posts. Good news: I got a promotion. Bad news: I now have a metric ****-ton of extra work to do, plus travel. I’m still around, but I won’t be able to post once a day. We’re looking like – at best – every other day. If I am holding stuff up please just bot me and I’ll do my best to catch up.
Dashil shrugs laconically. "We've found the damn thing burns pretty well. And don't let Radag get to you, Esta. Behind that winning personality is a solid ally." She sounds surprisingly sincere.
"Point." Dashil acknowledges Radag's logic grudgingly, while looking around warily. "Stay on guard and keep a lookout - that thing will be back, I'm sure." She cocks a weary eye at Karras. "Let us know how you're doing, Doctor. I've got some healing magic, but it's going to have to wait." Being bitten while trying to cure somebody else is a little too ironic to contemplate.
Dashil curses as the thing reappears: "I don't know what you are, or what you want - but we aren't food. Flee now, or die."
Her anger takes physical appearance - her words literally scorch the thing.
Sorry... been having internet connection issues (plus phone issues because of course everything happens at once). Back now, hopefully.
"What - so it can pick us off at its leisure? No thanks. No idea how to fight something like that." Dashil sighs and stoops down, gently picking up the body of the young girl. "We've got what we came for. This isn't our fight."
Dashil is about to elaborate on a sensible plan of staying together and keeping formation - but just as she opens her mouth, the doctor proves what she always suspected: that even intelligent people can do incredibly stupid things. She sighs. "OK. Radag, you're with me. Esta, Aduard - stay close behind us." She would have liked a rearguard but Doctor Who-the-hells-does-he-think-he-is has taken that option off the table.
"I don' like th' sound of either of those options," "Ding. We have a winner. Welcome to Ustalav: you'll like none of your options. It says so at the border - and if it doesn't, it ought to." Dashil takes a moment from trying to maintain a conversational tone to raise a prayer to her Goddess, seeking protection.
Dashil stifles a curse. "It's never just bandits. Why is it never just bandits?" She draws her scimitar and makes sure that the strapping on her shield is secure. "OK, let's go take down whatever it is. If only to stop it making that noise. Can't decide if the damn thing sounds like several mouths talking at once, or one mouth that's overstuffed with teeth. Watcha reckon, Radag? Place a bet?" Her tone is conversational (although her eyes are wary), as though she's done this sort of thing so often it really isn't worth remarking on. After 90 years you see pretty much everything.
GM R0B0:
"Oh Goddess, no, don't cry, please, I'm sorry..." Dashil embraces Kendra fiercely, holding her close. "You're right, you can make your own decisions." She puts a hand to the top button of Kendra's dress. "So. Your room, or mine? I mean technically, they're both yours, of course..." ================================== Dashil makes a face at the albino's words. "There's all sorts that use a voice in distress to lure the unwary. Like bandits." That's actually the best-case scenario, but she doesn't see any need to spread alarm. She makes sure her scimitar is loose in its sheath. "OK. First thing is try and see where she went."
She can't see much. "Radag - second opinion?"
GM R0B0:
Dashil fidgets uncomfortably at Kendra's scrutiny. "I - I'm not a good person to know... I've got more deaths on my conscience than I can carry, I follow a goddess who should have given up on me long ago, and everyone I care about ends up dying. And that's just for starters. I don't want people I care about to end up getting hurt." "We're not seriously considering walking are we?" Aduard asks "To Leipstadt? If we can't afford a carriage we should at least look at a wagon!" Dashil gives an exasperated sigh, to hide the slight smile at Aduard's familiar complaint. "Nothing wrong with walking - who knows, it might help shift some of that middle-age spread you're developing." This isn't entirely fair - Aduard is, by wizarding standards, reasonably trim - but she can't resist the opportunity to tweak his nose a little.
Dashil's gaze wanders from the albino to the motley assembly, her keen eyes effortlessly picking out the lettering on the carts. The Crooked Kin, huh? She looks thoughtfully at her own long, blue tresses. If this adventuring thing doesn't pan out, then maybe she can find a berth with them. "What seems to be the problem - or crisis, perhaps I should say?"
GM R0B0: Suddenly realising what she's doing, Dashil steps back, hastily. "S-sorry. That was... I didn't mean to, uh, I mean..."
Ridiculous. Pull yourself together. She clears her throat, aware that her pulse is racing and her breathing is tight. "I shouldn't have done that - I'm sorry. You just caught me with my guard down and and I..." No. No excuses. "The truth is, I'm not someone you want to get involved with - I should go now." Her feet seem rooted to the spot.
Pretty sure we gave it to Vesorianna's ghost so she could banish the others for good.
GM R0B0:
There are all sorts of good reasons not to lean in and run her hands through Kendra's long, brown hair, before kissing her; good, sensible reasons. Lots of them. But Dashil is neither especially sensible nor particularly good...
Dashil tries not to visibly flinch at the well-meaning words; her face twists into a bitter smile. "I think he'd have lived longer if he hadn't known me, Doctor."
I think Restoration is on the Inquisitor spell list; CLW certainly is. Happy to look after either/both.
GM R0B0:
"Aduard fixed it. Just before the council meeting. Said we needed to make an impression and he was right, damn him. But..." She bites her lip. "Too many memories. Did your father ever tell you the story of how I fell? There was this village... Can't even remember its name now. I was leading a troop to protect it from bandits that were in the area, but the way the locals looked at me when we arrived - one of them made the sign of the Evil Eye to ward me off! That doesn't excuse what I did, but I'd had enough by that point. Too many times of seeing the merchant I'd saved go back and swindle his customers, too many times of... just too many years in Ustalav."
"Anyway, I turned the troop around and rode off. Figured if the bandits raided them we could come to the rescue and they'd be grateful. I didn't - I didn't know that they'd massacre the village, impale everyone on stakes, men, women, children... but that's not the point. Should have been there. Refused." She takes a deep breath, but she couldn't stop now, the words just flow of their own volition. "So I rode after them, hunted them down in the dark. Easy, really - I could see in darkness and they couldn't, so I could take my time with making them suffer, make them pay for what they did." A shrug. "And then I rode back. And I wasn't a paladin any more." "So, yes, I did this to myself. Everything that has happened to me, I did to myself. I just - I wish I could stop taking other people down with me..." She trails off, racked with sobs; and guilt. "I dunno how you feel about witches, but I don' sacrifice babies or make pacts with evil, unholy bein's or any of tha' superstitious nonsense people cling to. " She reddens slightly at her defensive outburst. "Never mind, girl, you'll fit in with us soon enough." Dashil stands in the doorway, looking on at the conversation; it's unclear how long she has been there, or much of it she has caught. Her face is pale, and she holds her arms clasped behind her back. Turning her attention away from the half-elf, she looks the strange new arrival up and down: human, as far as she can tell. And she can tell a lot, these days. "And you are...?"
Ugh. Travel may broaden the mind but jet-lag sure as **** kills the will to live. I'll review where we are and post once I'm awake.
Advance warning: I have been called away with work and will be out from Sunday to Wednesday. Will post as I can which might not be much.
GM R0B0: Dashil shakes her head, unable to give a coherent reply. "S-sorry..." It's not clear to whom, or for what, she's apologising, but decades of remorse spill from her eyes and stream down her cheeks.
She takes a deep breath, but self control - and a rational explanation - are hard to come by. My cl-cloak..." Seeing Kendra's puzzled face, she tries to explain further: "He fixed my cloak and it - it brought back too many memories... Too many people I care about, dead... Too much guilt, I couldn't..." she trails off, and holds up the cuts in her arm (now healed) by way of explanation.
GM R0B0: There's a strange comfort in knowing that however bad things are, they can always get worse; and the knock at the door is the sum of all fears.
Dashil feebly wipes at her eyes, and looks around; but she can't possibly hide what she's been up to, even if she had the strength to try. Sometimes, it's better just to give in to the inevitable. "Yes, it's me." Her voice is husky. "You can come in, but I've... made a mess." When all else fails, take refuge in understatement.
Did we also identify the items I dredged up from the pool? Think it was a dagger and a short sword?
OK, it's going to be more "ish" than "soon" - apologies Thanks for the thought - but Brogol's death and the cloak have thrown her off balance for the time being :-) I see it's now officially GM R0B0GEISHA's Carrion Crown - yay!
With the benefit of hindsight, it can be seen that the restoration of Dashil's cloak was too much, too soon. The meeting over, she stalks out without a word to her companions. Her golden cloak leaves a trail of light in her wake as she heads for the tavern and spends the rest of the day drinking, trying to blot out the intrusive memories and emotions that Aduard triggered (with the best of intentions). Shame, grief, and guilt; and the greatest of these is guilt. On her return to the house, the cloak is hastily rolled up and stuffed in the bottom of her backpack. She spends the rest of her month in the village actively avoiding company - her darkvision means that it's easy for her to adopt antisocial hours. It does nothing for her reputation within the village, but this fact only serves as a further reminder of past times. She does not attend Brogol's funeral. Instead, with the others away, she walks into the bathroom and bares her arm, knife in hand. It is some time before she decides what to carve. Not his name: names get lost in time and she never used his much, anyway. Her fallen companions are etched into her body with symbols, scars which commemorate deeds, passions, nicknames... She has it. The first incision cuts to the bone, a downward stroke which curves off to the left. Her breath hisses between her clenched teeth, and her knuckles whiten, but she's not done. Four more diagonal strokes follow, swift slashes into her icy flesh; blood runs from her forearm in rivulets, pooling in the bath. Her eyesight dims and the world around her starts to fade, but she isn't finished; she retains consciousness through sheer effort of will. The final three cuts are brutally simple: two vertical incisions joined by a horizontal slash. Cursing, blaspheming with agony and anguish, Dashil releases her magic: the wounds close over instantly, the blood stops flowing, scar tissue forms in the shape of three letters: As she looks at her handiwork, a face swims into Dashil's memory: frightened but determined, marked for death but not flinching from it, a junior monster hunter who understood that what they faced was worth dying to defeat... "Dammit, kid! Why did you have to die on my watch...?!" It has not happened for a long time, and indeed she had wondered if she had somehow lost the ability altogether. But it seems not. Here, in this room, in this place, at this time, Dashil is crying.
OK, it's going to be more "ish" than "soon" - apologies
Gah - didn't realize we were going to go on fast forward. Oh well. That's what I get for being called away with work. Nice to meet FC's latest incarnation! I'll post something soon. Ish.
Unfortunately I'm travelling with work for the next few days so posting will be intermittent.
True - but I was using my Judgement and some buff spells, and a couple of Hero points; and the target didn't have a very high AC. It made for a good climactic fight, but it's not something I'd want to rely on being able to do regularly. Are we done with the meeting, btw?
Well that settles it! Underwhelming mechanics it is! Ha! Keep calm and Carrion Crown, then? I already died once, so... yeah nothing from me either. I kind of wish there were more traits and feats that had dying as a prerequisite.That would be cool. You could level up as a reincarnated medium! You'd be...a reincarnated medium at large!
Heh. Don't look for advice from me on this, Dashil's like the queen of unoptimised builds - a Dex 13 inquisitor firing arrows at the big bad!
@Aduard - I didn't actually expect you to do the math/economics of the town!(Although I'm not sure why I didn't expect it from you, I probably should have :P) As long as we get to something approaching WBL, I don't mind how! Kendra accepts the news of Brogol's passing with a mute numbness. She nods through explanations, doing her best to remain stoic. She shoots a desperate look to Dashil, but the inquisitor's harsh gaze rebuffs her. Ouch. Now I feel bad :( EDIT: any word from Brogol's replacement?
Dashil steps in front of Aduard, interrupting Hearthmount's glare with one of her own.
"You had something on your mind, Councilman? We're all friends here, say your piece. I'm happy to report back anything you say to the Sarenite Inquisition."
She raises an eyebrow as Muricar names a figure; she assumes that this is simply a first offer. Turning to Aduard, she whispers quietly: "Do we want to say 2,500 each, or do we want to push for more than that?"
Heh. Unrequited angst is more Dashil's thing. It's more... Ustalav. If memory serves, we have to stay for a month with Kendra to satisfy the terms of the will. She may decide we've caused enough death and destruction and kick us out sooner, of course. We also need to bury Brogol. And of course we need to wait for Brogol's successor to arrive - unless s/he is tied into the next module. EDIT: also, we need to buy/sell/acquire loot. WBL for 4th level characters is 6,000 gp. No idea how much we have (did we do a loot sheet?) but I'm guessing it's not that much.
It's not the first time that Dashil has returned from battle having lost a companion; and it likely will not be the last. It doesn't make it any easier, but it does mean she knows how to do it. You just push everything else to the back of your mind and focus on things that need to be done. Stone-faced, she knocks on the door of the Lorrimor house; without meeting Kendra's eyes she explains in as few words as possible what happened, her flinty stare repelling any attempts at kindness or sympathy - neither are what she needs right now. She'll apologise later (story of her life). Right now she needs to hold it together, and that means edges and sharpness to repel any well-meaning acts of kindness and warmth. But disconcerting acts of kindness can come from the most unexpected of quarters. She whirls round as Aduard touches her cloak - "What are you do-" her breath catches as the long-lost emblem slowly takes shape in gold thread, like a flame spreading across paper; she falls silent, lost for words, as her cloak, long-tattered, bedraggled, bleared with grime, seared with failure and regret and acts that cannot be undone, shines like new, gleaming in the light of day as when she first put it on... She glowers at him. If he'd been a necromancer, she could forgive it. This? Not so much. He's right though, damn him. They need every edge they can get. Dashil isn't much of one for words, so she lets the wizard do the talking. She does a good line in ominous stares and grim silences, though; and Councillor Heartmount gets one of her finest glares, pinning his fat, lazy, pampered backside to his seat - and warning of worse if he so much as thinks of causing trouble.
I've just lost a good friend and I blame myself. You want to cause trouble? Go ahead, lunk: Make. My. Day.
Oh, don't get me started on paizo's manifest and grievous inadequacies (we've got an AP to wrap up, after all)...but no, it's not just you.
The meeting will be open to the town. Great - the more, the merrier! (Don't worry Aduard, I kid, I kid)
I love this. I love ALL of it. DoublePlus favourited. And yes, Dashil has the cloak, and yes, it's a symbol of her past, and yes, repairing it would be emblematic of her ongoing redemption (of the 2-steps-forward-1-step-back variety). Dashil also has a dim view of people, so she'll have no issues with the plan. I think the only person who might have queried it is currently wearing a shroud, so we're good to go!
Dashil lets out a long sigh. "I know. I know. I just... have a powerful urge to hit something or someone until it stops moving." She looks straight at the wizard. "I saw his death coming, Aduard. A few days back, when we were walking up to Harrowstone, I saw a gravestone with Brogol's name written on it. I just assumed it was this place acting up, but it wasn't - it was a warning. And I ignored it. I liked having him around, he was - well, he was nothing like me. And that's why he's dead, because he's nothing like me and I didn't send him away." She bites her lip again. "But that's my burden, and I can't immolate the council just to feel better." She shakes her head briskly. Just one more of the long list of deaths to add to her conscience. One day it will stop bearing the weight. "Alright, that's enough confession. Make yourself useful and identify these, would you?" She passes him the things she found from the bottom of the pool: the sword, the dagger, and the ring.
Dashil smiles, grimly. "Not a problem - I have the perfect remedy for small-minded small-town folks. If we get anything from them but a 'sorry for your losses, and thank you for cleaning up the mess on the outskirts of our town that we couldn't be bothered to do ourselves,' I'll set fire to them."
Dashil emerges, shivering and bluer than usual, from the depths. "Unpleasant." She dries herself as best she can and puts her armour back on, trying not to let her teeth chatter too loudly. Carefully putting the skeleton to the floor, she looks closely at the two swords and the ring.
Dashil shakes her head, wearily. "No. I've no taste for leaving the dead here. Let's get them into hallowed ground." She grimaces. "I'd suggest burning this place to the ground, but they already tried that and it didn't take." She looks reluctantly at the pit of the Oubliette, filled with water. "I'm guessing the Splatter Man's remains are down there. Best make a start." She strips off her armour and as much outerwear as is decent (no point getting it wet), before grimacing. "Bet it's freezing." It's not going to get any warmer for waiting. She dives in.
Now we know that it's not falling down, stay and loot the rest of the prison. Then home to mourn our losses.
Aduard: ah, right! Clicked the link from my phone, will try it from my PC later.
Dashil is feeling a powerful need to beat up on something until it stops moving. That 9 a.m. meeting with the council looks like it could fit the bill nicely.
Aduard: don't think that link works, although it sure sounds impressive!
Level 4: Stat increase: +1 Str
Yay, level 4! Will do the build later. Are we rolling for hit points? Thought it was half HD+1. Need to look through loot list, work out what consumables we have left - think we used all the haunt siphons but still a couple of ghost touch arrows remaining. Oh... I'm guessing that the Splatter Man's body is at the bottom of the Oubliette? Should probably go grab his magic items...
No no no, you must make the character you want to make! If s/he(?) turns out not to be such a good 'face', well... we've done ok so far (albeit with a worryingly high mortality rate!) - and this campaign doesn't strike me as the sort where a kind word and a smile will get you terribly far, anyway.
Well I for one am GUTTED. Don't get me wrong, I'm no stranger to the realisation that the PC you've created is temperamentally unsuited to the scenario, but Brogol's outlook was a great foil for Dashil's world weariness, Aduard's jaded cynicism and Radag's Radag-ness and it meshed well with Esta's more hopeful outlook. Damn. Gonna take Dashil a loooooong time to get over this. That frickin tombstone.... Looking forward to seeing what your next character is like! Can I suggest some sort of face type? We're low on Charisma as a party, and there may come a time when Dashil's patented "glare at it until it does what the f#++ it's told"™ approach doesn't work.
No please... Not the kid, not the kid, not on my watch! NOT! ON! MY! WATCH! Dashil shelves such unhelpful thoughts, catching herself before she disintegrates completely, drawing on a lifetime's experience of surviving, of not dying. She pulls Esta to her feet, as gently as she can. "I'm sorry, but he's gone. You don't know how sorry I am to say that. We have to get out of here." It's cold, it's heartless and she hates herself for saying it. So, just another day in Ustalav. With a grunt, she bends down, picking up the lifeless body of the late junior monster hunter. It's heavy, but not nearly as heavy as his weight on her conscience. He had no business being here... You shouldn't have encouraged him... He didn't have your viciousness, or Radag's orneriness, or Aduard's powers... You SAW this coming and you did NOTHING... YOU killed him... She bites her lip till blood runs freely down her chin; she doesn't notice. "Come on, people, MOVE! If I know anything about haunts, this place is about to collapse on us!" And I would deserve it.
Whut the whut whut? Whut?
Dashil growls in annoyance, thrown off balance by the enlarged half-orc. "Dammit kid, I had the shot!" She can't fault his bravery though. She daren't fire an arrow into melee. Instead, holding up her holy symbol (the hip flask - she gave the other one to Kendra) she looks straight at the ghost. "Depart from this place and never return!" A beam of positive energy bolts from the hip flask, lancing towards the Splatter Man.
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