Devana's page

Devana's confusion did not become any less as she watched the moth, but at least that gave her something to work with other than the statue. Moth's were mindless creatures, usually, but a usually moth could not light up it wings either. So what was this? For now she would be happy to give in to the hope that it was her angel and tried to follow its lead.

First she carefully tests the smell of the water in the fountain. There is no telling when she will find anything drinkable again. If the smell is alright she takes first a sip, waits whether anything happens and then drinks as much as she can, also refilling her water skin.

She walked up to the chapel door, careful not to step on or collide with the moth. Three times... what did it mean? Beyond the door she could still hear the screams of wild beasts which were hardly comforting, so she hesitated on knocking on it. Is there anything that would correspond to the number three? The she examined the floor and the lower end of the door and the floor where moth lighted it wings two times.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Just how threatening does this "animal braying" sound? This isn't just a donkey, is it?

Devana is mystified by the strange moth, even though it also blends with the air of delight in the chapel at this time. “What secrets do you keep?” she asks and follows it to the door. Given the sounds on the other side she is certainly going to open it for now, but there is a chance that the moth has a meaning.

Devana blinked a couple of times, but the place had indeed changed. From the looks of it she was still in the same place but in the past of it. It did not seem like she was in any immediate danger, but those strange fellows she found earlier were gone. Or she was gone and the others had reminded in time were they were before. Time travel was unsettling; it was a violation of the most fundamental principles of mundane science. “Actio est reactio.” There was always a reason and a consequence. Her own identity was a state in physical reality which could only progress, the reason for her existence in any given moment was that she existed the moment before. Reality was in constant flux. If she was now taken from one time line to another, was she really the same person, or some kind of “precreation”?

Flux seemed to be not too uncommon in this place and she would not be surprised if she was to meet the three strangers who shared a similar fate soon again. “Soon” being a term relative to her personal time line, a very distant future seemed more like.

She looked up to the statue to see whether the key was still there and walked around to compare the inscription with what she had seen before (will see in future), see for the eyelid marking and get a general impression of this place. While attracting attention may well be dangerous, quod erat demonstrandum, this place did not look particular hostile at the moment and it seemed like someone cared about it. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Fortitude Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

“All right, that's it...” Devana is abruptly cut off by the sudden blast, but somehow she manages to hold onto the next pillar. Her new found fellow sufferers were not quite so lucky. “Are you all right?” she asks. It sounds more like an academic question than as though she is actually concerned.

She looks around to see whatever had changed and whether the monster at the door is getting through.

Well, the monster isn't at the door anymore, I know, but I am not sure whether Devana does. One is not blinded if one manages the fortitude save, right?

I hope you are not waiting for me. I have nothing to say at the moment.

Yay smart phones and a cubicle job; I check Paizo like 50 times a day and post like 5-10 times in just 3 PbPs alone :P

I actually use RSS readers to keep track of the games in the different forums. That's particularly helpful if you want to use a cell phone to monitor changes.

Example Screenshot: FeedDemon Pro Screenshot

Devana, make your perception, please.

Well, I live in Germany, UTC+1 during winter. The original post to react to came at 1:38 am, the reminder to react at 3:51 am in my time zone. I slept from 12 am to 7:30 am and went straight to work afterwards and had little time to worry about play-by-post games during work.

"What..." Devana understood less and less what was going on with every passing heartbeat and she hated it. But this was not the time to ask many questions, so she remained vigilant. "I think that key hole might be it...." she said, tried to calm her heart by recalling what she knew about defending a fixed position with using magic. Nethys stand by me!

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 18

"'fraid not" She returns. She holds her left index finger in front of her lips and points to the window through which Phantomheim has slipped out. Then she makes an arched motion with the right to indicate diving through, followed by a shrug with her shoulders.¹ She is not quite sure whether to stand her ground or follow Phantomheim. She bites her lower lip and tries to get an impression how powerful the attacker might be from the force with which it hammers at the door.² I've died enough for one day. However, even though the attacker must have heard them by now, she does not want to give Phantomheim or their possible escape away.

¹Bluff (Innuendo, she tries to communicate with gestures): 1d20 ⇒ 18
²Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Oh, Desna is smiling upon me. :)

That may be a wise choice. I'll wait for a reaction from Ceiro, either way.

At first Devana had thought that the loud banging belonged to the mechanism that Arodus had triggered. She realized her mistake when Arodus called out. All this training must have been good for something. she thought. Without even thinking much about it she cast a spell, whispering the formula in azlanti: "Strands of arcane fold to be my armour."¹ and a piece of cured leather dissolved in her hand, as the strings of magical power adopted its pattern.

She hastens to take up position behind the stone altar, her dagger in hand, a spell ready to welcome their visitors in the other. "Ready!" she called out. "Ceiro, get up!"

Ready action: Ear piercing scream Force Missile as soon as one attacker is in range - 25 ft. 110 ft.
....................
¹ Mage Armor

She watches Arodus for a moment as offers her help. "You're most kind." she says in her typical neutral tone, though with some fantasy one might imagine that there was a smile.

Lynura gets her journal, ink and inkpen out, rests the journal on her folded legs and starts making notes of her experiences. It bothers her a little to do exactly as Phantomheim told her to, but it might become important.

When she looks up she first notices Arodus climbing the statue. She is a bit surprised when he turns the head... she had guessed that the "turning" phrase was a reference to turning a key in the hole or to turn the statue's arm, she hadn't thought of the head. It's dangerous to theorize before one has all the facts. It biases judgment. she recalled a line from a novel detective popular in Egorian. That was also true for wizards, though it is difficult to tell in advance how many facts there are to be gathered and how conclusive they are. One cannot deduce everything, induction is required in practice; that was why she traditionally preferred theory and only recently dared to step into the blazing cesspool of wonders practice was.

She noticed only too late that Phantomheim was going to touch one of the eyelids: "Wait. Wait! No..." She jumped up and ran immediately to him trying to separate him from it without getting into contact herself. However, since Phantomheim already dealt with it himself she said instead: "Everything all right again? I strongly recommend that we cease further investigation of those 'eyelid appearances' unless it proves to be absolutely vital."

"Ughnnnnn..." Devana lays for a moment curled into an embryonal position until she can breath normally again and think straight through the headache.

"Don't. Touch. Those. Really bad idea." She tries to stand up and struggles to regain her composure, yet the echo of the headache and the experiences is giving her trouble with that. "It was... like a memory of an ancient time, experienced by a very alien entity. Its thoughts were inside me but beyond comprehension. I only briefly could understand a meaningful fragment... someone was addressing the entity and trying to make her reconsider something, try to prevent her from making a certain choice. If it would stick with its choice it would be erased from memory..." She sighs.

"I'll be fine, just let me sit for a moment." She wipes blood from her nose, sits down at one of the benches and gets her waterskin out. It is her only one, but she needs a bit of water now.

Will Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
May I describe my actions from there or am I still trapped, unconscious or so?

Admittedly I prefer convincing descriptions over dice rolls, as for how appealing he is, well he does have charisma 15.

Devana listens to the conversation. Arodus does indeed seem very insecure and in city like Egorian he would certainly be taken advantage of; it's only what he deserves, they would say. Yet, she had left that part of her life behind her, made a decision against it. But alas, she didn't know anything to say to make him feel better, so she said nothing.

From up the bench she nodded to the detective. "Well met, sir Phantomheim. I am inclined to agree with you; in our current situation cooperation seems like the most viable course of action." She had her own reservation, she hadn't liked the way he had taken notes on them and for a moment she had thought that this was indeed some kind of experiment of his and Arodus, Ceiro and Devana herself his subjects. But ultimately it doesn't seem like it. He seems more interested in the environment after all.

She peered out. "That's not snow outside there. It's ash. We seem to be in a temple district of some kind. Many of the buildings around seem smouldering..." she had to swallow on that one. "including an infernal temple right across the street. Only one person to see, a cloaked grey figure. It's just sitting there, not doing anything at all. It may become tricky to find supplies..."

Do I see any sign of active warfare, tracks in the ash, blood stains, dropped weapons or whatnot? I am wandering why this chapel is barred from the inside, there must be a reason for that.

She steps down and involves herself in the investigation, having a closer look at the walls where she thought she had seen those eyelids, while another fraction of her mind was processing the inscription of the statue. "Shadow of a requiem... a requiem is a song, literally, and the memory of of someone figuratively... the memory of a particularly faint memory, something that is long forgotten... the person depicted by the statue itself? Is that the purpose of this chapel, to honour one's memory, even though it's virtually lost? The references to fire make sense... a sacrifice which is similar to what it shed for us..." "Blood?", she asks a little louder.

Cast 'Detect Magic'
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 18
She investigates the "eyelids" on the walls

Using Tireless Logic in conjunction with my Oratory feat to make a diplomacy check against the others.

Diplomacy only works on NPCs (unless the GM says otherwise).

Devana regards Phantomheim coolly. Then again she seems to not have any other expression, just slight variations of this. "I am waiting for you to introduce yourself, sir. If you would be so kind? And what do you mean with 'we need a key'? For what?" Her tone is neutral and polite and if she feels either offended or impressed by Phantomheim she hides it well. She glances to the entry door which is barred from their side, but there is no indication that it is locked.

To Ceiro she nods: "Well, I was hoping anyone would simply help me up, but I believe we can move this pew over here..." She get her hands under one end of the long bench and more muscles than one would anticipate print through the sleeves of her dress. Once it is in position she tries to take another look out.

If none of the other three is responsible for bringing them back to live - and she sees no reason why anyone would lie about that - whoever did must have left before they woke up. And likely through that whole in the floor, since the entry door is barred from the inside, though there are some damaged windows as well. She finds the statue with the mobile arms most interesting. It would not be a surprise if they were connected to some kind of mechanism. But first she wants to find out what is out there and where to get food and water from.

Devana angles her head only briefly as she watches Arodus. His frightened reaction was not very logical, but understandable given the circumstances. His reference to the Tower of the Dead was an indication that he died as well.

"That's interesting... so you remember dying as well? Someone must have gone through through very great lengths to restore me, restore and clean my clothes and provide me with me own equipment... if that is what happened." Her tone is perfectly neutral and she does not seem to react to the threat of the sword at all, though if one particularly paid attention to one might notice that while she lifted her right hand to her chin the left rested on the little component pouch at her hip.

"What about you, sir" she addressed Ceiro, "Did you have a similar death experience? Is it the last you can recall before waking up here?"

Knowledge (The Planes): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
Devana looks around, gathering all the impressions and processes them in the back of her mind while she turns to the others which also awaken on those benches. In order to display calm and focus she holds her left wrist with her right and speaks to them.

"A good day, gentlemen - it this is indeed a day. I am most curious whether any of you would be able to tell me where we are. My name is Devana Ravendawn...", she nodded politely, but expressionless to the two, "and I remember it being the night from neth 17 in the year 4714 absalom reckoning to neth 18. And my own last memory places me in Egorian in Cheliax."

She looks around to see whether any window is low enough to reach it and look out of it. If so, she does. Otherwise she'll have a closer look at those curved cracks in the floor.

I am not quite sure whether I understand that part of the description with the eyelids.

She looked a little unsettled around, trying to quantify, categorize. "Well that's all wrong", she mumbled. "In complete contradiction to Alvenstein's theories on the afterlife as much as in contradiction to any planar travel report I've ever read."

She sighed in with a "let's get to work" attitude. "This will require some severe revisions."

She looked around and tried to find out what she should investigate first when emotions caught up with her mind. For a moment she froze. She wanted to scream and panic, hide somewhere. Even be hugged by her mother, as ridiculous as that was. But there was no point to that.

It took her a few moments and she forced herself to breathe again. Empiric evidence suggests that I am not dead. Assuming both my memory as well as my perception of reality is in order, something extremely strange is going on here and I need to find out what. To theorize that my perception is not in order is not helpful, because then I am unable to act systematically at all and every choice I make becomes irrelevant anyway. My memory may or may not be correct, but that it is indeed correct seems like the simplest theory to work with for now and should be easy to falsify if it isn't. Where am I? she thought.

"Where am I?" she said out loud, her voice calm and controlled with only a hint of the fear in her. She looked around for any entity that might provide an explanation and took the environment as a given for now.

Hmmmmm. Since I was tagged, does that mean I am invited to post?

I noticed your earlier discussion about revering deities (or in this case an Empyreal Lord) which are more than one step removed from your alignment and consequently removed references to Falayna (LG Archon) from the background.

I've still listed Desna and Falayna as entities that she "likes" and consequently prays to every now and then, but Nethys is and remains her patron deity.

Thanks!

*precise and and well timed, alas somewhat cold curtsey from Devana*

;)

Alright, I adapted a character to work with a second darkness campaign. (In the original character to story she found a a strange key she didn't put there instead of own old research notes on the Cypher Gate, but that's the only change.)

The name of the main account is Feuerrabe.

She's a true neutral female human (Chelaxian) wizard (evoker). As for your concerns regarding alignment, I did extend the original description of her personality to hopefully thwart concerns regarding her alignment. The idea that she has a tendency towards good is not new, but I wasn't sure whether the background story communicated it well enough.

Part of the character design is I invested a bit more into physical attributes, particularly strength, than necessary for a wizard. That is because I found it fitting for her to believe that physical and mental discipline go hand in hand.

I might change her equipment a bit, see whether I can effort to by a scroll to learn a spell from.

I should notice that I have participated in a different Second Darkness campaign before which came to an abrupt halt very early. So I might know some things about the earliest stages, but I will of course hold back and not spoil the experience. I hope this won't be a problem.

http://paizo.com/campaigns/LeinathansSecondDarkness/gameplay (as Lluvia)

(Side note, since the wording of adjectives and persons from Cheliax does not always seem conclusive, I tried to mimic the use in the Inner Sea World Guide:
Name of the nation: Cheliax
A person from Cheliax: Chelaxian (not Cheliaxan)
Adjective: Chelish, when referring to a person Chelaxian is also a possibility, i.e. "A Chelish woman" and "A Chelaxian woman" is both correct, but the prior is better)

I am still with you...

Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

Devana doesn't quite understand how something like this can be - it's not an illusion after all - and is slightly annoyed by it, but doesn't let it show. Instead she empties her waterskin without comment back into the pool.

"The water... it just changed into a massive pool filled with light cure potions."

Devana empties her waterskin somewhere in a corner far away from the pool and then refills it with its contents.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 = 10

"By, Nethys, she's right - at least as far as your facial features are concerned. Well, consider yourself lucky, it could have been worse. Could you try to carefully take the ring off? Don't panic if it doesn't work, it may be a curse... that may get a little expensive, but a cleric should be able to solve that problem." She looks at him with a curiosity as though he was a lab rat she doesn't seem to share Sarosha's amusement, nor to be particularly concerned.

Then she starts to speak in elven: "Do you understand me know? What can you tell us about this place? What is your name?" She pronounces each and every word in precise, yet edgy and somewhat coarse elven, with a strong Chelish accent.

In common she continues: "Maybe the ring is the key to open the hidden lock in the wall over there at the far end of the room. Otherwise it likely ain't here... or... try to move around a bit, see if the sound changes. Maybe it guides us somewhere."

After she stepped out of the pool and smoothed her dress she searches the now clear water for anything inside it.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

Alright, I added another action. I would very much like to see this game going on...

In the meantime, Devana gathers her dress to prevent it from getting wet and tries to put the orb in the pool just as Sorasha suggested. She lets go of it, curios of whether it will continue to glow if she does so and steps back.

She nods Sarosha. "I'll have a closer look at it. Just a moment, let me finish investigating the statue."

"Transmutation", mumbles Devana as she beholds the ring. "Could be pretty much anything and I have no idea how it interacts with the rest of the room, but the classic would be Flesh to..." She interrups herself abruptly as she notices Abedezar toying with the ring. She takes a few steps back from him and the statue: "I think that may be unwise at this point." It doesn't sound like she was particularly concerned though but rather curious for the result. If Abedezar turns to stone now that would mean her admittedly pretty wild guess was correct.

As she finds no further use for the orb or way to interact with the statue, she approaches Sarosha, holding the orb on the side of her body away from Sarosha.

"I am afraid I am afraid I don't know a spell for locks." She replies a little ashamed. "There is a strong magical aura on the statues hand - well, across the entire room, but the hand is a focus point."

Did Devana find anything out as she investigated the statue closely? Can the orb be put in its hand, as I earlier asked?

Devana presses the orb with one hand tight to her chest in order to prevent dropping it and uses the other to cast her own detect magic spell, whispering a few, precise words in draconic.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16

She approaches the statue, not quite as slowly as before, but still careful. She doesn't feel comfortable with this approach to exploring the room, but that's probably what 'adventuring' is supposed to be in contrast to scientific expedition.

If the magic in this room is meant to interact with that of the orb - or simply the light it creates - then maybe there is a place where it's supposed to be. She looks closer at the statue of the pirate captain, looking for a place to put the orb as she circles around it and examines it closely. How is the depicted pirate standing? How is he looking? Is there a plate with an inscription? Are the hands maybe spread out in a way to put the orb into them?

"The wall over there... it has a strange aura of abjuration. As though to prevent magic manipulation." she says, even though she seems solely focused on the statue.

"I have no idea what happens when you expose them to a bright..." Devana starts until she realizes that Sarosha is going to fetch the orb right now. Her eyes widen a little, as she considers that a pretty reckless approach from a scientific perspective. "Wait, shouldn't we..."

She casts a light spell quickly onto one stone in the wall before she leaves to follow Sarosha all the way down the hallway. "If we take the orb now the door might open for a bit. Let's make sure it closes again when we cover it. And... I'd really prefer to investigate the statue and the trees further before we expose them to a bright light source... and get everyone out of the room. We don't know what might happen."

She slips a piece of cloth from her backpack around the orb and takes it, then she starts making her way back.

Devana follows with measured steps, holding her glowing dagger out. Once she enters the room she measures each step carefully, trying to figure out whether the next floor tile she steps onto differs in any way from the last.
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

She looks at the trees with curiosity - she was under the impression that trees usually need light to grow, but she doesn't really know a lot about plants.

Carefully she approaches the statue, to see whether there is any inscription or so, but she halts when Rickard plucks a leaf. "Is it real?" she asks into the silence.

Devana adjusts her dress and follows Bazan up the stairs, but halts at the corner of the hallway hand holds her dagger with light spell on it behind her back.

Bazan seems to have some reservations regarding Chelaxians, which is not surprising if he ever had any business in Cheliax. She wonders whether this will become a problem at some point, however. Orcs are hardly civilized, dumb creatures. It remains to be seen how civilized and trustworthy a half-orc can be.

Then again, the half orc still might surprise her. Back home in Egorian, however it was nothing but a cesspool of intrigues and lies behind masks and false smiles. One could argue that orcs were more civilized than her own people, for all the wonderful chelish operas and beauty, since at least the orcs didn't hide what they really were.

She covered her face in the half-dark to hide a smirk at that thought. As though she would ever abandon her love for the art and culture of Cheliax. Its own culture, not what the devils wanted to use it for.

She forced herself to focus on the here and now. This vault was dangerous enough without misplaced paranoia in the face of the far greater threat. She peeked around the corner and tried to follow Bazan's shade in the dim light from beyond the vault door, ready to step in if anything attacked him. When he disappeared around the corner she just stared into the dark, waiting for a signal.

"Whatever is in this graves, the crypt was originally created to honour the dead and celebrate their memory; the memory of a history laden family. It's possible but I doubt we find more undead in here, because having their corpse walking around is not a good way to celebrate a loved one. But I would still prefer to refrain from opening further graves unless with the sanction of Pharasma's clergy... I opened this one only to find out whether it had already been desecrated."

Devana's face seems briefly a bit unsteady. There is a fight going in with her. The wizard's curiosity is fighting the woman who has decided to change her life. It's not that she's superstitious - the dead themselves don't care what you do to their graves, because the are dead - but it just feels right to honour their memory.

"Given the circumstances", she points briefly at one of the destroyed undead, "I will report this to the next cleric of Pharasma anyhow. I despise necromancy. It's such an unclean magic for people too lazy to create an actual construct, but still in demand of something to do their work for them. I prefer the purity of raw, clean energy."

This "Dungeon Grid" Thing is pretty cool. Looks unobstrusive, simple to use but looks better than Google Maps.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (9) + 10 = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

Devana crosses the room slowly. As a theoretical magician, she loves graves. Not as much as authentic written documents, but this can tell a lot about the family which buried their dead in here. She had no idea that the NeMoren family had been that old. She picks up gear along with pen, paper and ink which she was about to unpack as the fighting started and starts taking notes on the name plates.

As she notices the empty parchment she picks it up without comment - any lingering aura is probably long gone, but it might be worth having a sorrow examination of the surface of the sheet to find out what was on it. She slips it into a scroll box.

Is there anything but names on the plates? Such as year numbers?

The destroyed undead on the floor are virtually forgotten until she almost stumbles over one. In her usual neutral, precise tone she asks: "Has anyone been hurt?" It seems doubtful whether she actually cares, since she doesn't bother to look up but instead examines the undead - a zombie - with curiosity and tries to estimate how long it must have been undead and who it might have been in life by its clothes and equipment. Finally she casts a spell and has a thorough look at it.

She casts Detect Magic, hoping to find any clue whether these undead were intentionally raised by a necromancer or came into existance otherwise. Side note: If it was a spell of third level or lower the duration of a lingering aura would already have been expired, since it lasts only 1d6 rounds.
Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

On Sarosha's comment she steps closer. "I don't know" she takes notes on that particular inscription plate. "But it seems that some people have been locked in here and seemingly found their death. Or maybe undeath... Possible that the grave was desecrated as some kind of revenge." only briefly she takes her eyes off the wall panel to indicate the direction of the dead bodies on the floor. "Nothing to proof or falsify this theory at this point, though."

Linguistics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9 She wonders whether the handwriting is the same as they saw earlier. See here (link)

She looks around in the now illuminated hall: She will probably have no time for a proper investigation of the place. Putting her gear away she asks: "Shall we have a look inside to see whether the body of 'Amelia' is still inside and in good condition? I am curious what the meaning of all this is." She pauses and looks for a way to open the crypt chamber.

I read through the backgrounds and I seriously don't know. They all appear alright to me.

With Dremoran I find it a bit strange that he starts with his resentment of the unknown which gets a little lost thereafter. Picking locks in his parants place etc. sound more like youthful disobedience and I think the background is a bit few as an explanation how we became inquisitor.

Valeriya mentions that she has a step-sibling isn't being mentioned aftertwards and the whole involvement of the thieves guild seems a bit strange to me. However, I like this one.

Bazan's more simple and straightforward than Valeriya's but it seems conclusive and sound to me.

.... I just notice that Valeriya withdrew her character since she's not melee. Puh. I'd say Bazan then, but any character is fine.

Oh, I thought you already have potential recruits. Well, I am fine with recruiting more.

I am here. I'll need to have a look and will give feedback later today.

Much to her dismay Devana hears the rumble of opening graves and notices two additional zombies in her periphery vision at the edge of what her light spell illuminates. "Isn't anything here actually dead? Just die already." she hisses, trying to focus, to the last skeleton.

Her spells are not particularly well, suited for fighting undead, the ear-piercing scream would not be particularly effective against it. In frustration she throws another Force missile at the skeleton.

Force Missile Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Force Missiles left for today after this: 4/7

I am listening... but Theod and Fingers need to make their move at the moment.

Devana's mind hasn't yet entirely processed that there are skeletons. A secret necromantic cult? A curse? A particularly tasteless part of the security system? Or maybe it happened accidentally when the spirits of those who died in here were trapped? Thus in thought she walks a few steps around on the gallery to have a better overview and utters entirly nonchantly a few draconic words and lefts her hand all of a sudden and another flash of energy slips from her fingers and strikes the skeleton.

Move Action: Move to L8 to H9
Standard Action: Another force missile on skeleton 2 on H5.- I was thinking about a magic missile, but I have none prepared and want to keep my spell I can cast from the amulet for later.
Force Missile Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5
Free Action: Switch dagger from the off hand to the main hand
Force Missiles remaining after this for today: 5/7

I cast the Force Missile on SK1 on F9. By my count SK2 is too far away from my light source for me to see anyway.