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Sorry to hear that, Talomyr. I enjoyed playing with you all both in this game and in the Kingmakers we were in, so this a bummer, but I understand completely. I haven't exactly been an outstanding player, and to be honest, I struggled even harder once pinvendor left the game. But even before that, it felt like I was losing an uphill battle. I wish you all the best, and hope I get the chance to game with you all again sometime soon!
Dereje frowns and looks again at the cheerful villagers, finding nothing amiss. Hana: "They seem like perfectly fine people to me. I have heard rumors, but I would not jump to any hasty conclusions."
"Perhaps that is for the best," Dereje says, agreeing with Hana and Lawdrak's sentiments. "If there's trouble then you'll know it." At the ring the paladin shakes his head when Rickets tells them the odds. "Just spectating today, I'm afraid. I am not what one would call a gambling man." With a wry smile he adds, "Though I suppose some would say that making investments is the same thing."
Abadarans are not exactly known for giving people their last rites, but Dereje nonetheless speaks at the funerary pyre, wishing Athyra's parents a safe journey to the Boneyard, and praying for their favorable judgment before Pharasma. While initially hesitant to have Athyra join them, her immediate contribution to their itinerary quickly quells his misgivings. "Cockfighting. How... quaint," Dereje remarks with palpable disdain for the sport. Even so, he turns to the others and asks, "Shall we join them? If only to keep an eye on our fellow travelers."
Sorry, I am definitely still alive!
"I should hope so," Dereje says exasperatedly, all too eager to put the undead-infested mine behind them. The prospect of reaching the end of the tunnel jars a memory from not all that long ago. "Ah, seeing as we are still alive, I imagine we will be meeting up with Athyra. She will not be happy about what became of her parents... hopefully that locket will be of some solace to her."
Holstering his pistol, Dereje scatters the broken pieces of the orb with his boot before turning to tend to his allies. Clutching the golden key hanging around his neck, he murmurs a prayer to Abadar, channeling some of his divine power.
"Whatever that orb was, it seems to have been the source of our wight problem," the paladin surmises, peering at the ashes on the ground.
With a pained grimace, Dereje approaches the pulsating orb and presses his gun's barrel directly against it. Not an ideal way to treat a firearm, but at least he wouldn't miss.
Dereje grimaces as the orb saps his life force, in spite of his divine grace. Nonetheless, he has resilience enough to continue fighting. Reloading his pistol once more, Dereje calls on Abadar's power to bless his bullet with holy power, anathema to an undead creature such as his target.
Losing his line of fire to the remaining wight, Dereje hustles onto the little islet, eyeing the strange orb as he passes by.
With another explosive report that echoes through the cavern, Dereje blasts away at the wight once more, doing his best to aim for any apparent weak points in her undead anatomy.
Dereje grits his teeth when Savras falls, but maintains his focus on the battle at hand, his hands continuing the rhythmic motions of reloading his pistol after each shot. He takes aim at what appears to be the most dangerous of their adversaries and opens fire once more.
Dereje's hands blur as he loads his gun with another cartridge, before taking aim at the female wight once more.
Dereje wades through the and takes aim at one of the wights assailing Hana. He whispers a quick invocation to his deity before pulling the trigger, unloading a blast of holy light.
Hey DM, sorry about being a drag. I've been having trouble giving all my games the attention they deserve, and I suppose all of these salt wights gave me a bit of fatigue. Losing our newest player was also pretty discouraging. It's not your fault, it's all just the nature of PbP. But that all sounds like a bunch of doom and gloom. I am good to keep going - it'd be nice to recapture some of the energy we had in this game. :)
Dereje grimaces when he hears that they have even more salt wights ahead of them. I suppose I should not be surprised. "My gun won't be very effective at this range," he says, taking the measure of the distance between them and the enemy. "But I can at least grab their attention." Creeping to the front of the group, Dereje wades into the water and aims his gun at the nearest wight. It is well out of his gun's effective range, but he could at least get things started. He pulls the trigger, letting out a loud blast that almost assuredly misses, but is impossible not to notice.
"Don't let up!" Dereje shouts encouragingly as his hands move in a blur, loading yet another cartridge down his gun's barrel. Without another thunderous report, he fires on the salt wight yet again.
Moving in closer so that more open lines of fire, Dereje reloads his pistol with another paper cartridge and takes another shot at the salt wight.
Dereje closes in on the wights and takes aim, but finds that he is still out of his gun's effective range. Nonetheless, he chances a shot anyway, only to hit stone.
"So, ah, how long will your spell last?" Dereje asks as he follows along, looking at the remaining wight warily. In the midst of the battle, he had overlooked Mum's spell.
Daring to get closer to the ceiling-bound wight, Dereje reaches the other side of the bridge, loading another cartridge as he moves along. Now within optimal range, the paladin raises his pistol, takes aim, and pulls the trigger.
Gun back in hand, Dereje begins to cross the next bridge, getting closer to one of the wights. It was too high up for his gun to be of maximal efficiency, but he could compensate by aiming for its center of mass, rather than any particular vulnerabilities.
Dereje continues to fire on the wight attacking Mizu, packing another paper cartridge into his gun's barrel with lightning-quick speed.
"Be careful, Lady Mizu, don't let it touch you!" Dereje warns urgently, recognizing the undead creatures. The paladin rushes ahead of the group and steps across the rickety bridge. Murmuring a prayer to the Master of the First Vault, he draws his pistol and smites the wight with a holy bullet.
Dereje's hands become a blur as he loads yet another cartridge, before blasting the ooze once more.
Gritting his teeth, Dereje drops his sword and quickly loads another cartridge into his pistol, before firing again.
Seeing how horribly Mizu's sword fared against the acidic ooze, Dereje lowers his blade and instead draws the gun at his belt. He eyes the strange creature, unable to discern an obvious weak point. Left with little choice, he aims for the slime's center of mass and pulls the trigger, his pistol's thunderous retort echoing throughout the cavern.
Dereje has little choice but to resort to using a torch. Since fire does not exactly mix well with black powder, he holds it aloft, keeping it far, far away from his store of cartridges. Just to be safe he holds his cutlass in his other hand.
"Yes, we should," Dereje agrees. After a few moments of thought, he quickly transfers the contents of his backpack into his bag of holding. He then very carefully attempts to stow the ledger in his backpack, without making direct contact with it.
Dereje hesitates when he hears Nkechi's warning - they did not go through all the trouble of recruiting him just to ignore his wisdom. "Is there any way to get rid of it? Without damaging the ledger?"
"A good place to start," Dereje agrees with a nod, gun already in hand. "Best we clear the area before approaching the mine proper, in any case."
"Indeed. There will be others who tread these roads. Best that we eliminate any potential dangers," Dereje remarks finally, more or less understanding the woman. Though he is far from a master linguist, between some tutelage from Nkechi and a small phrasebook he picked up in Eleder, he was quickly starting to pick up on the language. As though to demonstrate, he asks in fairly choppy Polyglot, "What is your name?"
"Hm. If that's the case, then I must say that I'm for going into the mine as well," Dereje says after some thought, giving Lawdrak an apologetic look. "I'm sure that we can fend off whatever happens to be crawling around in there."
"Nkechi, what do you know about these mines here?" Dereje asks, pointing out the spot on the map. "It seems that passing through them would save us a considerable amount of time."
Paladin 4/Gunslinger 1 +8 hit points
New Class Features:
Neat Feat: Deadly Aim (-2, +4) Skills:
"The spirit realm. Right," Dereje remarks as he rubs the bridge of his nose. But even his skeptical tone cannot mask his uncertainty about the vision, the inescapable sense that it really meant something. Back at the Sargava Club, Dereje sorts through his belongings, transferring some of them to his newly acquired bag of holding, which was certain to come in handy during their journey. "I believe we have everything we need, so I believe we should move on, unless anyone is feeling particularly laden by gold."
Dereje feels a great swell of relief when they manage to secure the feather without a fight. All things considered, the Ijo tribesmen had been very generous with their attitude. Likewise, they were able to avoid getting assaulted by a giant bird. Now, it was just a matter of seeing whether all of their hard work was worth it. The paladin seems pleased by Nkechi's change of demeanor, while at once a little concerned when he begins his ritual. A part of him cannot help but wonder whether he is conjuring a demon, but he quickly dismisses the thought. Beyond being irate and a somewhat harsh taskmaster, Nkechi had done nothing to suggest that he meant them any harm. So not wanting to offend their new friend (and prospective guide), Dereje partakes of the root.
With no means of communicating with the bird (or a means of defending himself), Dereje can only stand to the side and watch as Lawdrak attempts to make contact with the bird.
"Be careful with those," Dereje says as he reluctantly hands over his gun and sword belt, not for lack of understanding of their goal, but out of concern for the delicate mechanism. That aside, gun safety is not exactly something that is taught outside of Alkenstar.
Dereje initially chafes at the thought of settling the dispute with a wrestling match, but even he realizes that it is preferable to slaughtering innocent people. "Good luck," he says to Lawdrak. It is about all the assistance he can offer.
Dereje grimaces when he sees the tribesmen, an unforeseen obstacle. He keeps his hands far away from his weapons, relying on the speed of his draw to help him if things get nasty. "We meant Chirok and her nest no harm," Dereje explains slowly, glad that these people can speak Taldane. "We merely wished to acquire one of her feathers."
Dereje sifts through the nesting material with a furrowed brow, eager to be done with their task.
"I should hope that bargaining works. I would be loathed to harm an innocent creature for no reason other than to impress you," Dereje says, slightly reluctant now that he knows the stormbird is an intelligent being. "Though I suppose there are less direct methods we could use..." He ponders that for a moment before turning to the others. "Well, shall we head out then? We have another bit of a hike to take."
"It is to your satisfaction, yes?" Dereje asks of the black pearl, grinning wryly at Nkechi. "If so, then we are eager to hear what this other challenge of yours entails."
Dereje peers into the deep water and chuckles sheepishly. "I will not be of much use here, I'm afraid."
Dereje nods approvingly, finding it perfectly fair that they had to make a trade to secure Baako's services. Of course, for a one-time boat ride, the exchange was arguably in the Bonuwati's favor. The tribesmen of Kinfora would likely get a lot of mileage out of rope of such high quality. As for the mead, well, revelry in moderation never hurt anyone. "Yes, thank you very much," he says with a slight bow of his head, having partaken in a heaping share of food.
I hope that Nkechi's expertise is worth the trouble... Dereje thinks as they walk into the village, perturbed by the man's seeming resistance to generous compensation. Nonetheless, he was more than willing to humor him, if only for the sake of their expedition. Unable to speak Polyglot, Dereje mostly just smiles and nods when spoken to. Baako seemed able to speak some Taldane, at least, but it was more polite to let Savras and Mum do the talking.
Dereje is put off slightly by Nkechi's less than friendly demeanor but does not let it show. "I apologize for killing your crabs. We did not realize that they were yours," Dereje says genuinely as he sheathes his sword. "Several of us were stranded on the Smuggler's Shiv for several weeks... survival often required us to defend ourselves from hostile wildlife. It is second nature to us now, I am afraid." "It is as Mr. Skuld here says. We are here on behalf of the Pathfinder Society. I believe that they will be willing to compensate you quite well for your services."
Feeling the giant crab's claw dig into his unarmored leg, Dereje grits his teeth and tugs it free. Once more he swings his cutlass, this time at the crab that has Estietre in its grasp.
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