Indeed! Good luck with the PhD! This was the furthest I've ever gotten on the Skull and Shackles AP, which is quite a slog at the beginning. So I'm impressed :) Thanks for running it.
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Diego picks up his tale where he had left off, voice carried over the fog with the exploits of John Silver. With his whip in hand, he vaults over the bannister before him to take stand beside Rogar at the larboard side boat and flashes a smile at the officer and fleeing crewmen, as if daring them to approach.
Diego notices one of the sailors in the rigging, prepared to drop down on Captain Harrigan. If only it were Scourge... but an injured Captain doesn't help them at all. In fact, it may even open up a spot for Mr. Plugg to move up the ranks, which is all kinds of bitter in the bard's mouth. Quickly clearing his throat, the bard then roars across the deck. It's an unusual thing to hear a man genuinely roar, but the command that this one has over his vocal chords allows him to do so with a ferocity that's actually somewhat intimidating---but also with a focus that centers that rumbling wave on one man in particular, hiding in the rigging. Diego can see the thick ropes swinging from the force of the shout all around the Rhahadoumi sailor, filling his mind with all sorts of fears at this situation he's gotten himself into.
Diego lets the end of his whip drop to the planks at his feet, still grasping the handle, and lets his lingering song begin to fade over the din of the continuing battle. It's a good tale he'd love to finish, but would rather save his voice as the salt air is less than forgiving. He leans on the captain's wheel with one elbow, grinning down at where the others are watching the escape boats. "Take the wheel, right?" he quips. "Taken."
Diego takes a 5' step back from his assailant, at Doc's command. Which works better for him anyway, as he unfurls his whip.
Diego turns to Shaeda with an absent grin as she calls for a spirited tune. You see, it's one thing to tell tales of battles on ship--of the hazy smoke in the air, the metallic scent of blood and panic, and the surge of adrenaline that pushes you to act like animals for the sake of your own preservation. For a moment, he's caught in reverie as if watching the stories unfold. But now that spark returns, with an eyebrow raise accompanied by a lifting smirk. "A tale with heart, indeed!" He shouts to their current command. "Let me tell you of John-Silver." We were schooner-rigged and rakish,
We'd a long brass gun amidships, like a well-conducted ship,
Then the dead men fouled the scuppers and the wounded filled the chains,
And the pale survivors left us by the medium of the plank. O! then it was (while standing by the taffrail on the poop)
O! the fiddle on the fo'c'sle, and the slapping naked soles,
Ah! the pig-tailed, quidding pirates and the pretty pranks we played,
His voice rings out above the boarding clash, solid and rousing. Spurred by his own tale of bravado, he rushes up the stairs to the wheel as well, opposite of Alessandra.
Diego springs up from where he had been lying in wait, now twirling the grappling hook beside him. With a big grin plastered across his face he lets the hook sail into the Man's Promise's rigging where he hopes it will at least hook something in that tangled mess.
Feeling that satisfying catch, he gives it a quick tug to ensure that it's set, then hops up on a nearby barrel to give him the height he'll need to swing across.
Diego lazily takes a seat with his back against the rail, taking advantage of the cover while others fire. While he could spur the others on, he'd rather save that boon for when they get to boarding. Instead, he begins to compose a ballad in his head fitting for this moment. He can't help but smirk at it as he prepares the verses, arrows whizzing over his head and cannonshots in the background.
Diego is content to load up with his own gear: both whips and his armor. He does, however, grab a cutlass to slide into his belt should the need arise. He'd hate to be disarmed and look back on the moment with regret. "Aye-aye." he replies to Shaeda with a grin, the first genuine reply to an order since they woke up on this ship 3 weeks ago.
Diego tries to lay low a bit this evening, rather than make a big scene. He figures it's not really the best time to broadcast his presence. Instead, he seeks out "Barefoot" Toppin. He's liberal in the self-depreciation, mocking his own ineptitude with the spider, but eager to show that this imperfection is what makes him endearing... no one wants to spend time with anyone who's too perfect.
Diego raises the contraption to eye-level and rests the butt of it against his right shoulder. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that as simple as this may sound in concept, the results were wildly unspectacular... so he ought not get overconfident. Then after another deep breath, which he holds as he pulls the trigger...
Indeed, Diego begins to chant as he grabs a handful of the slop, with a wink toward Shaeda as it's now their turn to fling. Skipper's in the wardroom drinking gin, (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft)
Song Continues...:
They gave me the Middle and the Forenoon too, (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft)
And now I'm pulling in the whaler's crew, (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft) Seagulls wheeling overhead, (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft) I ought to be 'flogging' in a feather bed. (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft)
I had a little girl in 'Donny B', (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft)
An Amazon girl lives in Dumfries, (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft)
We kissed goodbye on the midnight bus, (Hey -oh, chicken on a raft)
18 attempts :/
Heads up, heading to Disneyland with the fam for the weekend. Expect delays.
Round 7: Diego tries swimming back (25' to cover):
Round 8:
Round 9:
Round 10:
Round 11:
Round 12: Let's get back to the ship
Round 13:
Brilliant! That's 20' to catch up (plus the 5' from earlier).
"I figured you the type that didn't need help." Diego chuckles, as he eyes the edge of the ship with another grapple in hand. "Though it may be best to save your aim for when we get the chance to throw the slop... assuming there's a switch at some point."
After the hook grips the side rail with a satisfying clunk, he pulls it tight by straining against the line and leaning back over the opposite side of their tiny craft. Then he ties it off to one of the mounts. "Into the storm then..."
Still around!
Indeed! I hope things are alright. And we're still around when things calm down.
"Exhausted." he winks, then tries to pick up the slack. "I'm actually in no rush though to start this exercise. Can't we enjoy the brief furlough?"
Once they're both down on the jollyboat, Diego cracks a smile and grabs the oars. "How far do you think we could get before they run us down?" He quips. "Don't laugh, I'm quite the rower. I think we could stay ahead of them, especially with all that storm damage." He winks, then starts to row. It takes a moment to get the dinghy oriented in the right direction. He had trouble changing direction before he realized that you could row forward with one oar and backward with the other to spin. Then he managed to scoot the craft out over the calm waters. "Like I said: master rower." He looks down at the dark blue below, sunlight dancing over the top. "There's something great about the sea." he muses, mostly to himself. "Too bad there's so many s**ts like Plugg and Scourge that sail it."
Diego smirks again. He's tried to clarify the situation and steer it elsewhere, but the company would actually be well appreciated. "But you're up for including others later then?" There's more surprise in his voice than he intends.
The young man looks at Shaeda inquisitively, one eyebrow raised, then at the dwarf as well. He's heard stories... hell, he's even got a song about it... "Sorry, I meant something with the whole crew... er..." Is he blushing? "I meant something like gambling, or dancing, or... I mean that I think that Plugg fears we may mutiny, and I don't think that working toward that goal is such a bad idea." Then a thought occurs as the redness subsides and a goofy grin replaces it, "Plus I literally sleep in the hammock next to yours. What could possibly have been the difference between your place or mine?"
Diego endures the lashes by gritting his teeth. It wouldn't be so painful if it weren't insulting. He and the others worked themselves to exhaustion, and now he's punished for it. The typically sarcastic and brazen young man becomes distant. "I'll be fine." he mutters both to Doc's offer to assist as well as Shaeda's light-hearted innuendo. It's a quiet day of working, and Diego does his share with teeth clenched and a hint of fury has he lugs flotsam and debris from the deck.
--------------------- By the end of the shift, however, the cloud seems to be passing. He makes a point of finding Shaeda and Doc and thanking them for the offers. "Tonight," he says with only half a smirk, obviously still exhausted, "We should celebrate. Celebrate that Scrimshaw is alive. Celebrate that we made it through that storm. And celebrate that Plugg is growing frightened of a bunch of misfits that he picked up in a bar. What do you say?"
Indeed! You and Shaedra are our muscle... we need a front line!
Good call.
Hmm, now for the question of attempting Focus and Foible or going for a strong build already. What are your thoughts on min-maxing stats (which is a dumb question when you're already given 25 points to work with)? Do you prefer that only one be below 10? Do you prefer to keep them 18 or below, 8 and above after racials?
Alright, as I'm building this the front runner is a ratfolk alchemist/grenadier. The bombs route looks like it has a lot of potential and should be fun to play around with. But going with the Grenadier archetype adds a significant amount of combat potential at the cost of going Chirurgeon. My intention is getting Infusion at lvl 2 anyway, so there would be no benefit from getting Chirurgeon until lvl 10. At that point, I miss out on a strong healing extract. That's it. I know the group doesn't have a devoted healer, so would that lvl 10 extract (Breath of Life) be worth sacrificing combat prowess for? Instead, he could get the cure critical wounds extract at that level, which heals only 1d8 less (but can't bring someone back from the dead).
There seems to be a lot of synergy with Alchemist archetypes. Chirurgeon's a good one as the character would only lose poison use, so as a bomber it's an incredibly simple switch. I'm good with healing options. Also, Grymp, what's your philosophy on reflavoring stuff? For instance: could I describe the bombs as small taxidermied animals, or little skulls with powder/components packed in the mouth, etc.? Likewise, if he goes the Chirurgeon route than I might describe his healing infusions as something really unpalatable.
Alright, I wasn't sure it would happen, but I've been hooked by a character so I'll jump in. Here's my thoughts so far, I'd love feedback from the others on what might be more beneficial/effective. I want to play an alchemist rat. Desperately. I'm kind of giddy about it. But there's a couple routes that I could take this:
There's also something wonderful about the Preservationist archetype and having little animals in bottles. Where can I fit that in eh? All of this said, I've never played an Alchemist before, so I'm intrigued but naïve. Any thoughts?
He can't continue long like this. There's no longer life in the young man's eyes as it seems adrenaline is the only thing that keeps him going. Often he finds himself in the midst of working without any recollection of the last hour. What did he do? How did he get here? He must have stayed awake because he had moved locations and was still working. But others continue to work, to labor and groan. Are they not struggling with this as much as he?
He didn't even notice when he closed his eyes. The hammer still in his hand as his head gently comes to rest on the boards he was leaning against for stability. This was more than a long blink. His breathing gets heavy and his shoulders slump...
Diego's muscles already ache and he can tell he's losing focus in the storm, which is a horrible place to be losing one's grip. But he musters whatever energy might be hidden deep in his gut, and with muscles burning and lungs ready to burst he pushes up into the rigging.
He almost drops as he tries to climb to the upper bars, a foot slipping on the wet slick surface. But instinctively he's able to grip a trailing line to keep himself up top before he would have dropped with the rain onto the deck below.
Yeah, that's a huge bonus. And in a low magic world, I shouldn't be trying to pursue further casting, as you said. What we worked out was a way to explain magic using sonic frequencies rather than arcane arts, and I would pursue spells that could be explained that way. The higher those get in levels, the more difficult that becomes obviously! I've marked your post so I can look back on it when we get to that point.
Yeah, a lot of the stuff I looked into suggested multiclassing, and fighter's a strong contender. My vision for the character is utility, and I may be trying to spread that too thin. He's got some face components, some strong knowledge skills, and in combat the hope was to be able to control via spells/whips. So going fighter I lose some of that bardic goodness that brings face abilities, knowledge bonuses, and utility spells. But the whips become something that could really shut down an area within combat. It's some tricky choices I'll have to be making in the next few levels. But I'm also a firm believer in building for a group rather than an individual. So hopefully by then I'll have a better idea of where Diego can aid the crew... whether combat, diplomacy, knowledge, etc. is a place to grab a niche'.
Yeah, there's the Whip Mastery feats as well as the Combat Expertise-->Disarm/Trip/Dirty Tricks line which is great to be able to do at range.
Alright, Lvl 2 should be all set up now!
I'm working on setting up lvl 2 now. I've lost my notes on how I hoped to progress this "whip-centric" character, but it was pretty feat heavy :S. Should be done with it shortly though.
Diego pulls a pinch of powder from his pockets and tosses it into the air in front of him (though it's hardly necessary with the air already as charged as it is by the storm). He then begins to hum a low almost guttural growl, the basement pitches all but lost in the chaos of the tempest and commotion aboard the ship. But the vibrations begin to ignite the air, electrical charges bolstered by the catalyst he's thrown and excited by the focused frequencies of his humming cause flickering lights that float in the air like fireflies. As the bard continues his low humming, the flickering lights push out from the ship and hover around where Jack is struggling against the waves (assuming we can see him)--helping to make him much more visible as well as bolster his confidence that we are working to retrieve him.
comes the shout. Diego's voice is raspy from already singing as they toiled against the storm and strained from the weather, but he shouts with all the fullness his lungs can muster. This time it's not a tale or an ironic play on the situation, which is obvious in his ashen face. Diego rushes to the side rails, watching in the rolling waves for Jacks body. he yells once again. Should he be able to see the man still, Diego will quickly grab a nearby roll of hemp (or search for one) and throw it out in hopes of giving the man something to cling to.
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