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Casting mage hand, Donovan beckons at the crystal, attempting to pull it into his grasp.
Moving behind Sion, Donovan keeps his detect magic spell focused on the room.
And our next foe is... a rock? Something must be amiss here... From the safety of the doorway, Donovan casts detect magic targeting the pedestal and stone.
A fight eh? Let's see what the good cardinal has prepared...
Donovan reads the plaques and then confidently scoffs at the two riddles. Even more elementary than the last one! What was that you were saying about 'much worse' Dane? At this rate we'll be reciting children's nursery rhymes by the time we get to the last test! Anyone else have it yet?
Donovan let's out a sigh of relief, and follows Sion to the next room. If he really wanted to test us he should have laid traps at both doors. Hmph. Let's see what the next room brings...
Join us... join us... Or not... Or whatever...
Donovan hurries into the room, having gather a few pieces of equipment from his chambers. Devious. However, I'd have to side with Sion. As can be clearly seen 'Asmodeus is the master of both truth and lies. If we are to believe the silver plaque is true, then the other plaque would read true as well. This leaves us with only truth, half of the equation. However, if the silver plaque contains a lie and is actually the path to safety, then the other plaque still reads true, 'This is the door that leads to safety. Unless it is the other one.' Truth and lies! Therefor, I would heartily suggest that we take the door with the silver plaque. It's quite simple really. Despite the seeming confidence behind his words, Donovan makes no motion towards the door.
Donovan walks with the others, casually levitating his amulet in front of him via cantrip. A test, eh? Just like in wizard school, just like in wizard school. Come now friends, this ought to be easy! Although to tell the truth I've never actually been to wizard school... He then nods at Mordesel's question, and awaits an answer.
Finally have my equipment figured out, but my internet's been getting progressively worse these past few days to the point of not working. As soon as it gets back up I'l post the list. I don't need anything from Dane other than a medium dogslicer-sized meatcleaver, which I believe would cost a mere 8 gp, so there's one thing you can craft easily at least!
Donovan steps forward next, clad in fresh robes upon which he displays the Mitran holy symbol from Branderscar openly. As he speaks, he looks not at Thorn or the others but pages through his Mitran holy book. You call yourself cardinal, yet are a possessor of dark and sacrilegious mysteries. You claim to want to rid Talingarde of the blasphemous, yet at the same time urge us towards this profane ritual involving the 'Mark of the Bitten.' All of this is utterly sinful... Donovan looks up, grinning. And utterly delectable. Father Donovan Gance, at your service.
Donovan walks out of his room, badly butchered hunk of meat in one hand, bloodied meat cleaver in the other, to address Sion: Calm down now, calm down. No need to be so hard on the slaves yeah? I'll tell you one thing though, that woman speaks Necril, the tongue of the dead. And most that can speak like that are, well, dead. Just some food for thought. Ooh, and speaking of food, does anyone have some spices? Spices would be nice, yes...
Donovan beams as the woman answers the door; No wonder Anton was so keen to get us here, hah! And the servants too? I think I'll like this place indeed. He watches the exchange between the woman and Grumblejack with amusement, raising his eyebrows and shooting his companions a glance before hurrying upstairs. After having changed his clothes, Donovan leaves his room to converse with anyone around. Fantastic place, eh? Once you get over the fact that it's damnably creepy, one could get right comfortable here no? Then lowering his voice: By the way, did anyone else see the teeth on that woman? Veritable fangs! It looks like Grumblejack isn't the only monster here...I wonder if she's got similar tastes too? Speaking of grub, anyone who cares to can have mine, I'm quite sated at the moment. Although those servants were simply mouthwatering no? After thinking for a few moments, Donovan calls to one of the servants. You there! Tell your mistress that the skinny one has some...err....dietary restrictions. Ask her if she's ever heard of... Donovan's next words come out guttural and rasping, like the sound a talking corpse would make... Necril: Got it? He repeats the words a few times to make sure the servant can mimic them, Go see if she can put any of that on the menu, or if she even knows what it is. human flesh
Welcome Durova! Level up info:
+9 HP
+1 Bluff
New spells: Detect Magic
Indeed! Couldn't wish any less than the best for the both of you.
Here, here! Another congratulations to yeh!
Donovan shouts in horror as the toad appears, By the gods, I've never seen such a beast. but then remarks, as the monster chomps down on Mordesel, Although I must admit I am just a bit jealous of the old frog; our friend looks like quite a fit feast does he not! Donovan then draws his meat cleaver and releases a quick ray of frost at the toad.
Thought I'd just pop by to sample all the fresh --err fresh faces, yes that's the phrase - faces; got to remember that one...
Donovan falls in with the rest, and cheerfully jokes, despite having had the equivalent of four full meals since the escape from the cells, Blast! We should have brought a corpse with us for the road. I simply love snacking on a long journey, and right now I'm feeling absolutely peckish! Wouldn't you agree old Grumbley Jack?
Once inside the gate house Donovan first examines the ladder then moves over to peek through the doors.
I'm all for simply fleeing. We've certainly nothing to gain here.
That's it fellows! Teamwork! With it we may just defeat our deadliest foe yet...the Dreadful Door, the Brute of Branderscar, Punisher of Prisoners, Murderer of Misfits, Slayer of the Sacrilegious... Donovan shouts, pausing briefly to cast a quick spell and bracing himself for the inevitable fall of the door. ...Gorefiend of the Godforsaken, Flayer of Felons, Hungerer for the Horrible...
Donovan draws his butcher's knife as he moves up to the wall, pushing himself flat against it in hopes of giving the archers less of a target. As much as I enjoy hacking our way through the entire garrison, I cannot help but agree with Sion. Anyways, we'd best get that door open quickly. Grumblejack?
Donovan follows the others through the keep's various rooms, not bothering much with any of their contents until he spies the branding irons. Aaah, tools for a true Mitran crusader, he says in typical unnerving sarcasm as he placing a branding iron in his belt next to the butcher knife, It looks like Father Gance will need to change a bit. In these dark and desperate times what's needed is someone with a bit more of a backbone, a bit less of a morality. Somebody like... Inquisitor Gance. Yes, yes what a ring that has! Once free of his little daydream of sorts, Donovan moves to the ready near the front door with Sion.
Donovan realeases tge energy from his spell, chuckling as the guards attempt to flee. Wasting no time he quickly descends upon Blackerly's wounds.
Most dissapointing! Apparently the fat man is quite the delicacy I'd chalked him up to be. Perhaps some of these others... he says, moving off to feed on two other guards.
Much, much better. Lead the way, er, someone?
Seeing Dane come to his aid, Donovan moves into position to attack the man from another front, wrapping his hands in pale blue light and attempting to strike the guard.
Just our luck! It seems to me that we've been transferred to the wrong prison fellows, from what I've heard the boys over at Branderscar are actually competent!
Donovan grins ear to ear with glee as Blackerly falls, shouting, Fat prison sergeant? Absolutely delectable, my favorite kind! Stepping behind Dane, he let's loose a ray of frost aimed at the guard engaged with Mordesel.
Donovan grins ear to ear with glee as Blackerly falls, shouting, Fat prison sergeant? Absolutely delectable, my favorite kind! Slipping between Dane and Mordesel and he then ducks into the globe of darkness searching the ground for Blackerly's corpse, careful to be quiet lest he draw the attention of one of the blinded guards.
Donovan looks up, having been dazed after his first taste of blood in so long, and staggers through the door. Now where in the nine hells did this battle come from? Seeing Dane plunge his sword into Blackerly, Donovan smiles and runs behind him, letting loose a ray of frost as he does.
Terribly, terribly sorry everyone, I had a quick spot of urgent business to attend too and have been gone the past few days. Next time I'll make sure to remember to leave a notice. Anyways, it like I came just in time, to battle!
Donovan flicks open his eyes as his companions start to turn their attentions elsewhere. With a groan, he pulls himself to his feet and shuffles over to where the warden lays freshly bleeding upon the floor. After a furtive glance to check if anyone is watching (and regardless of if anyone is), he bends down and sinks his teeth into the warden's before jerking his head away to swallow flesh and blood alike.
Wiping the blood froms his face, Donovan stands looking very satisfied, then calls out to whoever may be in earshot. So, what's next on the agenda? GM: What's your ruling on the feast unknown feat? Is eating a bit of his cheek enough to count as consuming the flesh of an enemy or do I need to chop off a larger portion and cook it or something? And can i use it with the bloodline power? The bloodline power always does d6 points of healing and Feast Unknown is 5 hit points per class level. This feels a little overpowered to me, so I feel like there should be some sort of limitation on usses per day. Then again, once we become vampires it won't really matter because everyone will have unlimited out of combat healing through.
Donovan, hand locked in a death grip around the holy book, let's out a faint groan.
Donovan screams in pain as the fiery ball envelops him, and promptly collapses to the floor.
Donovan runs past the newly decapitated guard to flank the old man engaged with Sion. I hear the warden's been a bit lazy these days, downright slothful isn't he? Repent sinner! Donovan shouts as he tries to grab the man with his glowing blue hand.
Lạnh liên'lạc! After performing a few gestures with the holy book held open like a mock spellbook, Donovan's free hand begins to glow with pale blue light. He slides past Sion into the doorway, gesturing menacingly at the two guards. Time for some penance...
If anyone deserves to eat the poor fool it's me, by the gods am I hungry... As Donovan waits to enter the tower he leafs through the pages of the Mitran holy book, muttering as he browses its pages. My, my those Mitrans were poor writers at times; sometimes I wonder how they manage to make it through some of these passages without just giving up and just sacrificing a rat or something and becoming devil worshipers. Save them quite a bit of eye strain it would...
Cookies!? Forget the warden guys, let's just go back to sitting patiently in our cells and chow down!
After stowing the coin and engagement ring on his person, Donovan places the holy symbol around his neck and grips the holy book in one hand, as if ready to begin a sermon. A distant and mournful look comes to his face as he is momentarily lost reminiscing. Ah the simple trappings of a Mitran peasant...just like the Priest used to carry. Up until those bastards of an inquisition murdered him! I suppose that leaves one office open in the church. Father Gance, that has a nice ring to it. Heh, if only. Donovan muses as he returns to the group. We'd best be getting up to the Warden's tower then? Sounds to me like we've got ourselves a man in need of some penance.
Donovan follows Sion into the barracks, and begins testing the keys he lifted off the fallen guards in each lock.
Brilliant! Congrats!
After listening to Dane's speech, Donovan crouches down in front of the cowering guard, carelessly flicking his kitchen knife back and forth. Come now Dane? You can't be so heartless as to suggest we kill the poor man? Are we savages now? As he begins speaking to the guard, Donovan playfully prods the man with the tip of the knife, being sure to be as gentle as possible. Take it from your pal Mr. Gance dearest friend, us poor prisoners harbor no sorts of petty vendettas against yourself. Unless, of course, you decided not to take advantage of our generosity... Standing, Donovan looks back towards the kitchen for a moment before continuing even more jovially than before. In which case we'd simply have no choice but to fill your throat with flour (stifles the screams, eh?) and cut out both your eyes! So what say you friend, care to help us?
Donovan runs through the door, unleashing another chilling ray at the guard in front of him.
Donovan snatches the largest knife he can find, abandoning his club on the kitchen counter. Aye friend, he says in response to Anton, Don't mind if I do! This looks properly man-sized don't you think? Why pay a butcher when you can chop off your own pound of flesh? Now to find the butcher. Or perhaps a stray guard? By the gods am I .
Donovan passes Sion, approaching the southernmost door and muttering to himself. If I am where I think I am, the fireplace with the cooking pot should be somewhere beyond. Which means a kitchen... and perhaps a window? Regardless, there shouldn't be any guards, but just in case... Donovan draws his club, and cautiously pushes open the door.
Donovan begins upon a quick search of the two corpses, using his diligence as an excuse to hungrily eye their fast bleeding wounds. Perhaps a just a little taste? No, not now... Once everyone starts to leave he pulls himself away and follows the group. |