Dorcus's page

You just keep ‘em on the ship and play it off as a ship needing a crew, or at least someone to keep it from getting vandalized or stolen.

The eidolon is an outsider. Beyond that it is at least implicit that it is a special kind of outsider that has a mutable form (or perhaps no physical form at all until summoned). As such it likely has no means of sexual reproduction on its own simply because that's not how it reproduces, if it even reproduces in the first place.

It is easy enough to say that the eidolon is created from the raw essence of the plane it comes from by the summoner. Or any number of other things besides.

But by that same token a the creepy and lonely Otaku can bring in his unholy baby-mama and produce little homunculi-spawn that are damned by the gods as living sins (or not). There is nothing against it. The kiddo would probably be planetouched based on the alignment and abilities of the eidolon and if accursed as a sin against life there are numerous templates out there for cursed critters.

Perhaps it is how the first svirfneblin came to be.

And for some reason I'm reminded of this meme: http://i.imgur.com//NOECI0s.jpg

Such madness cannot be so easily cast aside. I reach out to one of the engines a introduce a fault to its function. Its polarity reverses, and it comes tumbling back around towards the Primary. It will take much longer now, but any attempts to change its course further risk awakening it prematurely, and as for when it will come close enough to affect this world...

Heh heh heh.

figure this can back-burner 'till during or after the upcoming Titan war. Maybe drop in some madness nightmare cults if anyone has a us for 'em in the meantime. Side note: the D'kin are calling their terraform moon "Terequie" (tear-eh-quay) for "dream of peace." That may change with current politics and/or better suggestions. Sun could use a name.

sorry, been slow with this subthread

The Mashileen and Krageri turn their anger to Aqua Buddha, who holds their scared Trident of Woe. He doesn't get why.

"Dudes, why are you fighting over this giant fork? Its not worth it! Lets all get some beers and..."
At that moment they feel the Destroyer explode, and Aqua Buddha sees a dark cloud of obsidion ash descend on them. Aqua Buddha, aided by the trident, creates a giant dome of water that protects him, the Mashileen, and the Krageri from the falling debris.

"Man, that was close. I didn't want that black stuff getting on my diving suit. Now, dudes, about this trident..."

Aqua Buddha is stunned to see the Mashileen and Krageri kneeling and chanting his name.

"Woe." He says.

The hatred of years, the darkness of thousands pours itself upon the strangert. It washes over him and away, and is left purified once more, a mighty weapon of lightning and power. The amphibious people pray to him, "guide us, wise one. Show us the way to peace."

I tear the the thread of causality and confusion from my head. I remember it all, my father, my name, my rage. I am Calculatrix, I am Akron, I am Carlock! And my vengeance! My vengeance...

I see a butterfly and am inspired. I am Carlock, and I am the pounding of creation's hammer upon the anvil of time.

Mortal concerns are precisely that...Mortal.

I sing a song of inspiration to one of Nevara's greatest students; if the caterpillar becomes the butterfly, what can the puss worm become, with the power of death and life?

I puff on my pipe and watch the experiment progress, in the metal storm the heroes face the slayer.

I feel distracted, something tugs at my thoughts.

While the Destroyer heads ever closer to Lighton, and the fires are being put out in the Great Forest, and the surviving Primevans struggle after the destruction of their city, a strange looking human male (I think) washes up on the eastern shore. A lot has been going on in the great ocean east of Primeva.

The man, dressed in diving gear, looks around at the beach and the land and his eyes open wide. He has never seen this land before. He stands up and then falls down again. It takes him a moment to gain his balance, and then he tries it again. This time he stays on his feet.

He walks up on the beach for a time, until he sees a group of people up ahead. They do not look "human" to the man (they have gills, webbed feet, etc.) but he doesn't mind. They are actual people and he will go to talk to them.

He walks over to them with a big smile and he puts out his hand.

"Greetings! My name is Aqua Buddha, god of water and mediation. What world am I on, and why is the ground shaking?"

Aqua Buddha

i suspect sarcasm, but I'll play the game

Suddenly they take notice of this strange man and his inexplicable appearance. They face him and each other, standing around the trident of woe, the Bitter Fork, and gauge each other warily.

makes stuff. Basically fabricate spell in a can plus Craft magic feats at cost of sanity. Mad science! Oof, platelet donation makes my cheeks tingly.

However, he also knows that he can't turn back now. Not knowing what else to do, Dar-Khan begins to pray to any god that will listen to him, because he knows that Hutan no longer answers his prayers...

A quiet plea of desperation, conffounding strings whirling, the hint of memory from before mind...

I touch Dar-khan's mind and offer this:

"I seem to recall a TRUE hunter can make his own tools, and there is an interesting piece of material ahead of you for crafting weapons of hunt or war."

The moment he accepts, a craftsman's metallican hammer appears in his hand. I may not be a master of puppets, but I know when to pull a string.

The metal rings, the song plays on.

shame? why no, I actually don't know what shame is. Why do you ask?

***
Vines spring up by the hundreds, the thousands, reaching out to bind The Destroyer. They thrash and encircle the Titan as it stomps forward.

not expecting a lot to happen here, but it might be good for a laugh

Echoes outside my door, a sense of déjà vu and the sweetest hint of chocolate in the air. A sword has been drawn and a monster unleashed, I look outside my godly window at the world and see what I can see.

I see fire inside the mountain, I see the legend brutal, I see the moon child and the hall of the mountain king. Nothing of interest, nothing to inspire. As I turn away from dull destruction my eyes fall upon my broom.

X implies y, z relates dx/N theta, cause is effected and my new creation comes. A single straw is taken and fed into the ash it swept, from this grows a vine that grows and grows. I place it in The Destroyer's path, shall infinite creation stymie infinite destruction or shall destruction win out? I place one eyeball on the sill to watch as my attention wanders once again.

***

The hero Xwer'khen grips the Bitter Fork as he steps upon the beach. For the first time in 2 generations his people stand upon dry land. His lungs burn with the dryness of the air but he perseveres. He does not trust his Mashileen allies, for they were enemies until the Great Diplomat brought and end to the war beneath the waves. Their joint mission was to survey the land and make contact with the surfacers who launch their ships in the nearby waters.

An explosion, a quake, the party falls to the ground as the horizon thunders. He stands again just in time to be crushed by a flaming chunk of rock. The party scatters and the treaty is broken, but the trident remains on the beach...

A familiar whisper, A clink of metal, numbers and letters and screams cross the floor. My hammer fists ring and the work is done. Bat and rat and D'kin combined form a creature of sound. Its birthing cry shatters it's crystal cage. Her children shall sing me such songs.

Songs, the ring of metal begs harmony, a ghost of memory demands attention. Master Exploder, a living bomb.

It is not enough, I seek the trident of power, and cast it into the center of the stone cloud. The city beneath the sea that now calls itself Krageroth is given a weapon and a challenge, claim your relevance.

The metal rings on.

Subspace perturbations, champions enter the space between cause and effect. They must face challenges of their own as well as each other. I wink away these thoughts, the gate and key are no longer my concern. A Mesa stands before me, its heart a nexus of the web-strands of thought and idea. I step to the side, and enter the realm of dreaming. Here i shall have made my workshop, here I shall make wonders and nightmares.

A flaw arises, a temporal thread I cannot see stretches back forwards into the unknown. I will be so angry when I notice it.

The spark spreads among my faithful, or perhaps those touched by it become faithful, causality grows slippery here. An artist in a dungeon learns the sublime beauty of creation and drives his fellows to forsake their God of destruction; an arcanist in Lighton develops weapons of brilliant energy, a crystalline soldier of Vanda sings songs of such sadness the make his fellows shatter with sorrow.

The forge breathes, the metal heats, and my hands begin to craft a new life.

A city in the sky, a city on the ground, a city 'neath the stone. I, Carlock, am inspired once more. I reach up and pluck a cloud from the sky and reverse it's essence. Instead of water in the air it becomes air within the water. This I tie to a stone and cast into the ocean.

My work is unfinished, snatching elves and humans and trees and townhouses I craft a city of willowy people with long limbs and webbed digits and cast them into the ocean. The stone cloud does its work, and the beings of the land learn to breathe under the sea. A city in the sea joins the others, and my spark of inspiration fades back into the hum of my mind.

The bipeds are angry, they rage, they beg, they pray. To those who pray I gift some of my fiery mind, a spark that drives or destroys.

My workshop calls, I walk on.

A pulse across the world, my vision clouds and I am lost for a moment. As my head clears I turn and see only one blackened crystal stands, hiding iny shadow. I pick it up and mold it once more. The bellows of my lungs inflate it, and it stands on 7 crystalline legs, my crystal spider burrows into the earth, its silicone brain casting out webs of control.

I feel it is not enough, so I gather the necrotic walkers and broken weapons and forge an engine of fear. Aberrations and horrors from the nightmares of the living ride the webs of mind and thought to its core and the horrors of many angles are born into this world.

It's broken geometry is beautiful, and for now I walk onward.

Waters rise and steam at the fire in my limbs and the heat of my iron body. Worm-infested corpses make broken bodies move at my feet. The stink of decay mixes with the taint of dark magics. I see such small thing do such large works and am inspired. It begins with a single construct of carbon, a black crystal engine of perfection. Feeding on the worms and the corpses to form more black diamond constructs, so small as to be impossible for crude organic senses to make out. This black and gray fluid of my tiny creations goes forth, and my attention is lost among the rattling Sparks of my thoughts.

Meant to add this last night, the sword itself is a dimensional labyrinth that has to be entered and mastered to actually draw the sword. Its power is to turn energy and forces back on themselves. Alone it's a regular magic sword, but when you try to trip a dragon with it you use the dragon's CMB (+feat and sword enhancement bonuses) instead of your own.

Also it can shoot lasers, because lasers are awesome.

Numbers and symbols and shapes and measures. I awaken. My hand holds the sword, it is the key and the lock, as the mountain is the beast and the prison. I release the hilt and travel to the east. The fire in my belly and the hammers of my hands speak of what I am. I am Carlok the Smith, I was called to my craft from whatever I being came before. I shall forge such wonders for this world that all shall look and despair of their perfection.

Carlok is a chaotic neutral deity of smithing, artwork, and mad genius.

"I wanna be da boom wizard!" Is a legitimate form of play, and arcanist is a decent way to get there. So the question is, "how?"

The other, zeroth question is, "why?" Wanting to be the best at burst damage and wanting to be better than all the others at all things and all times are some very different wants. One can allow for things like lousy rolls, varied enemy types, and occasionally just letting other dogs have their days. The other has trouble playing just about any game for long.