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That's adorable. :o)
Izra, I wanna say that moving diagonal through difficult terrain would be counted as "2-4-2-4". I actually looked that up just the other day for another game I'm in. Difficult terrain diagonals count as 3 squares each, period. So it works out as the same 2x over the long run, but it's also more consistent than doubling the "1-2-1-2" rule. Probably about the only advantage to Difficult Terrain rules. :op Forum discussion: Movement in Difficult Terrain
Though concerned, Tuich puts on her best supportive, soothing face as she gestures for Miko to sit on the stone steps and rest, the Varisian settling in beside her, never letting go of Miko's arm. Which she now pats comfortingly as she offers a small introspective laugh. "Yes, hon. Despite how many times I've wished otherwise, I'm all me." A sudden violent blast of wind ignores Miko but nearly pushes Tuich off the step. She laughs again, more honestly this time. "Okay, okay. I'm not just me. I'm me, and Tooley." She goes serious again and leans forward, turning to search Miko's face. "I sort of understand. Well... maybe 'understand' is the wrong word. But the little girl I once was..." She paused to shudder. "Bad things happened to her, too. But they were of her own doing, born of her own foolishness. One mistake has haunted me..." Her silks ripple an interjection, and she adds it at Tooley's request. "literally... ever since. It's... it's the reason I didn't want to come here," she added quietly. "I was afraid of running into other Varisians, someone from home. I still struggle with the guilt and the shame." Tuich sighs, then reaches around Miko and gives her a hug. "Nothing compared to what happened to you, I'm sure. I just mean, I understand how things from the past..." She trails off and sits quietly with her friend for a time. "We should talk about this sometime, Miko. Troubles shared are troubles lessened. In the meantime," she says, intentionally brightening her tone and putting on a smile, "what can I do to help right now?"
Nate weakly pounds Gavril on the back in an effort to turn the Romanian's gesture of concern into a "man hug." "Need... to breathe..."
Tuich gasped when Miko handed over the wayfinder, and her jaw dropped as Vincent spoke with Yjalk as if he were a respected equal. Her hair whipped and sashes fluttered as Tooley reacted to her frustration, but she managed to hold her tongue until the other band had departed. "What were you thinking, giving such a... a... džukel that wayfinder! And you!" she snaps at Vincent. "Talking to that chor as if he were royalty! He was not one to be respected!" She gestures wildly in the departed group's direction. "They marched in here like they owned the place and tried to bully us! When they were extended the benefit of the doubt that ulfen cur tried to take over and declare we were working together!" She spits on the ground. "I'd rather drown than voyage in his ship! And we were fine until they got here, but did you notice those... abominations only attacked when that Yjalk măgar started advancing? And it wasn't one of them that dealt the final killing blow!" With that she turns her back on them and gives her attention to Vyk, putting a concerned hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright? You seem... stressed or something. Are you ill? Injured?"
When I went to enter this into Hero Lab I noticed a discrepancy. Looking back through earlier posts I find this:
Clarification, please?
Sorry, got a little carried away with my reply. XD If no one noticed yet, I'm a bit of a rambler. I've said it before and I'll keep on saying it: Never apologize for good writing. Never.
Mere inches apart, the two combatants maintained their locked gazes, each trying to stare the other down. Silent and unmoving as they had been for many minutes, neither willing to concede to the other. And then the cat blinked. "HAH!" exclaimed the man triumphantly as he scooped up the cat and scrambled to his feet. "Again you are losing," he said in a surprisingly gruff voice for a person of such small stature. He carried the cream-colored feline towards the kitchen corner of his tiny living space, scritching it affectionately as he went. "Was good effort, though. You are deserving treat." A knock at the door changed the pair's destination. The young lady at the top of the stairs blinked at the brightly garbed man who had opened the door, her voice momentarily lost in surprise. "Da?" prompted the man after several beats. "Oh... excuse me, I'm looking for a mister..." she paused to refer to the note in her hand. "A mister Terksfor?" "Tergsvor," he corrected a bit sourly. "Ralfael Tergsvor. Da, is me. You are wanting what?" "Sorry. 'Tergsvor.' Got it. I'm Aimee Lund, I'm supposed to watch your... cat." The last word was spoken as her eyes fell on the animal he held with one arm. "Oh, is that him? He's adorable!" she fairly squealed as she bent over to get an eye-level view. "Her," he corrected again, somewhat more sternly this time, as if he were losing patience. "Da. And is no point trying that," he added, having misinterpreted her intent in bending over. "Very good at staring, you will lose contest." "Uh... okay," she said in confusion. She offered the back of her hand and, once sniffed and approved, petted the cat gently. "What's her name?" "Cat." "Yes," she confirmed, barely suppressing a giggle at the obvious foreigner's tenuous understanding. "Your cat, what's her name?" "Is Cat." She straightened up again and gave him an odd look. "I know she's a cat, what's her name?" The man studied her solemnly for a few moments. " 'Lund' is married name, da? Maiden name is being 'Abbott,' maybe?" The girl blinked in confusion. "What?" He closes his eyes briefly and gives her a head shake and a wave of the hand. "Is not important. From another time, another place." Ashun so mothav túke me!" he said firmly, then held the feline out towards her with both hands and spoke slowly, as if to an imbecile. "This is.." He pauses, as if struggling with a concept, with inserting an unfamiliar word in an unnecessary place. "ekh... no... 'a'... cat. Cat's name is Cat." She looked at him, then at the cat, then at him again. "Your cat's name is... Cat." "Da!" he said triumphantly, pulling the feline back to him and petting it. "Why..." she asked slowly, "would you name a cat 'Cat'?" "Why would not? Is practical. And descriptive. You would be naming your cat 'Dog' maybe?" She sighed in frustration. "Alright, this is Cat. You need someone to watch her?" "Da," he confirmed, relieved to finally be getting to the point. Why were people always so difficult! He never had these problems with Cat. Or with Lizard, or Bunny, or even the rented horse he rode in on... whose name he never got. But people were always irritating. "Da," he said again for emphasis. "Am having job now with RHC. Reporting for maybe first field assignment today. Will be here and not-here depending. Cat is needing attention and care when I am not-here. Best is you stop by every day. See me here, can go away. Otherwise come in, feed Cat, play with a while, da? Only, not staring; will be too depressing for you, blink too soon. Cat is always winning except against me. You are understanding?" Her eyes flicked to the cat and back to the man once more. "I... the important part, I guess. Tend to your cat every day you're away." He leaned back to pull a key off the wall. "Da, is correct. Here is key, am trusting you." As she took the key he held onto it firmly for a moment, eyes narrowing as they cut through her. "Not to be making me not-trusting you. Will not be liking me when am not trusting you." She swallowed hard as she finally received the key. "Y... yes, sir. I won't let you down." "Good," he said as he pressed a silver coin into her palm. "Now be going away, still have knife katas to do before briefing." The last was said unceremoniously as he closed the door firmly in her face.
Don't you dare apologize for quality writing. Ever.
Haha... sorry gang, but I had to share this. I just enabled "Unarmed Strike" for WindDancer in Hero Lab and it threw an error. ... requires too many hands. I'm just gonna paws and let that one sink in. :op
Sitting on horseback surveying the hamlet as the group splits up, Wyeth begins humming a tune.
"What do you suppose passes for stables around here, Marduk? I don't see anything likely, but horses have to be boarded somewhere. Might be a good place to pick up information coming in from outside town, too."
Entering the Tooth and Hookah and scanning the room, Koshukhep spots Kwin sitting at a corner table, apparently trying to chat up the serving girl. Kwin notices Koshukhep shortly thereafter and waves him over as the girl returns to the kitchen. "Friend Kosh! Come, partake," he says, sweeping the half-emptied glass in his hand across two empties on the table. "The pulque here is fine, but the barmaid introduced me to tepache. Marvelous stuff, have you tried it? Not much of a kick but it has a spicy bite and it's cimanony. Cimaminy." He frowns and tries another approach. "It has cimmanom in it. Cinanim. Ah, just have one!"
He's harmless, but he's nuts -- even for a gnome. Doc calmly pulls out his notebook and adds a reminder to kick the bartender's ass.
The train groans to a halt after limping the rest of the way to Outpost 7, but Doc is almost too exhausted to care. He remains slumped on a rare unbloodied, unbroken seat he'd stumbled across, staring out the car's window and thinking on what had transpired over the last several hours. He's too tired to even snort in disdain as he watches first one, then the other, gunslinger exit the train and make a beeline each for their own choice of tavern. "Spirits," he mutters wearily to himself. "Abhor the stuff. Makes a person less than human. And those two are already borderline." Eventually, he drags himself to his feet and into the room the rail company had provided. "Definitely going to feel today tomorrow," he laments as he flops face-forward onto the bed, out almost before he hits the covers. The jury listens raptly as the prosecutor shreds Doc's character. "No better than these goblins!" he shouts as he points at the rowdy monstrosities in the gallery, destroying the benches with delighted abandon. "No better than these goblins!" he chants again as he turns to the jury and points at Doc, sitting in the witness chair. "No better than these goblins!" the prosecutor snarls one last time as he turns towards Loveless. Unable to mount a defense, Doc sits mutely staring at the lawyer. A man with an all-too-familiar face. Leland's face. "What say you?" asks the judge. As one after another juror flatly intones "Guilty," Doc looks towards the jury box... a box full of Lelands. "GUILTY!" barks the judge in agreement, slamming his gavel down with a force that shakes the walls of the courtroom. Loveless jumps at the sound and turns to look up at The Honorable Judge Leland Hopkins. The judge taunts him with his own words. "Ultimately we are all prisoners... Because we cannot escape ourselves. Stone walls are never so much a prison as the skin that surrounds each of us. For your crime against a brother gnome, you are hereby sentenced to life without parole as yourself. May The Great Engineer have mercy on your soul... if you in fact have one!" And then... nothingness. Dusty moonlight filters through the window and illuminates Doc's body as it twitches fitfully on the bed.
BTW, Leland, does the eidolon have a name? Or can I just start calling him Gizmo? :-) For the PlayStation people among us: In DDO I run an Artificer who has both a cranium rat and an iron defender as companions. They're named Rat Chet and Clank. ;o)
Doc moves to slip past Mallory and get the door since Leland handled the task last time. But then he sees her body tense. Not wanting to be between her and the door, he holds his position. Cringing as the window -- as well as much of the door, this time -- shatters explosively, he barks, "Gods above, woman! What is it with you and doors! Some poor overworked gnome will have to fix that, you know!"
... given that it's outside my area of experience, I just want to be faithful to the character I envisioned. Oh look, a soapbox. I've come to the conclusion that, excluding those who can fall if they break code, formal alignment declaration is more a hindrance than a help. It has utility for those playing an iconic character or who are mostly into the hack'n'slash. Or really, anyone needing to know how Thoroughgood McLawful should react in any particular situation. And for working out how the occasional "aligned item" is going to react to any given person. But for someone into roleplaying... well look, you said it yourself: "faithful to the character envisioned." Ira lives in your head. You may not've discovered everything about him yet and some things might change, but you know who Ira is and what you want him to be. With a great deal more precision than can be conveyed by a nine box alignment grid! By all means be faithful to your image of Ira. But I say let the alignment on the character sheet defer to what you envision. If there's disagreement, then it's that coarse written alignment indicator that's in error, not the way he's acting or you're playing him.
It might also be possible to 'ride it out' with a good Fort save, some luck, and possibly the help of a healer for Heal bonus to the saves. I think as new Pathfinders it behooves us to show our stuff and strive to be self-sufficient. We have multiple healers and a healing kit, it's a hundred and six miles to Chicago, we've got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it.
"Did you have to say that?" she chides Vyk. "Now I'll be seeing zombies around every corner!" Keeping one eye on the stacked coffins, she whips off the scarf wrapped around her waist, holding it in both hands. "If there really are undead here I have an effective weapon, but it takes time to prepare. So if I back away when the rotting corpses attack I'm not... you know, being a coward or anything. I have a little experience with undead and spirits and such." A brief breeze buffets her hair and silks. "Can it!" she hisses under her breath. Tuich carefully moves into the warehouse, looking about for the desired crate.
Wiggly wolf rolls and aged fish. It's like we're in some bizarro sushi restaurant! :oP |
