Drosil "Fuìn" Arimsyn's page

I'm so sorry for the radio silence. The bad week turned into a bad month, but that doesn't excuse my lack of response. Honestly the longer time went on, the more ashamed I felt for not talking to you all, which turned into a nasty cycle. I'm really, really sorry for that.

I'm also sorry because I have to bow out. My mental health has taken a serious hit this month; not because of any one particular event or anything, but my brain never needed an excuse to spiral. For various reasons (none of which are any of you, don't worry) posting has become immensely stressful over the past few months. I have decided to take an indefinite hiatus from play-by-post.

Despite the stress, I enjoyed playing with all of you immensely, especially under the guidance of GM Kwinten. You're easily one of the best GM's I've ever had in pbp.

I wish you all the best, and happy gaming.

I am having a difficult week. My posting will be spotty for a while. Please bot me as needed.

The cold shoulder from the whole town does absolutely nothing to help Fuin's mood. He finds himself back at the Crook's Nook after a few stingy bartenders elsewhere. At least the bird knows how to pour proper proportions.

After his fourth round at his fifth bar, he stumbles out the door into the evening air, loudly accusing any passers-by of a vast and insidious conspiracy to keep him from assassinating his liver by shorting his dosages of "poison" (a bottle of which he holds loosely in one trembling hand). "Don't think I ain't onna yoo!" he growls at a passing pedestrian. The fact that the pedestrian is on four legs, and has horns, and is chewing grass, and is in fact just a goat, does not seem to register to Fuin.

As he finally (somehow) makes it back to Wrin's place, he tries to chuck the empty bottle, manages to spin himself around three times, and face-plants in the dirt, the bottle having never left his limp hand.

"Moofle," he tells the dirt, and passes out.

WELP so much for a more chipper Fuin. XD

But honestly after that, it only makes sense for his mood to worsen ya know? Well played, GM. I don't know if that was something that was supposed to happen or if that came entirely from you, but either way, I am super curious as to how it will play out!

Fuin rises shakily from his bedroll, smacking his head on the low, angled ceiling, and crawls miserably from the crawlspace under Wrin's stairs. He slinks off to find a waterhole away from other people so he can bathe and scrub the foul stains off his clothes and armor.

As his long fingers scrub monotonously at the various vile fluids afflicting his attire, his eyes feel painfully dry and heavy. If he had sclera, it would probably be bloodshot. He feels as if he's been hit with a sack of bricks. Last night was a lot of things, but "restful" sure as Hells wasn't one of them.

No matter how hard he tries to concentrate on the task at hand, his thoughts keep drifting to those horrible golden eyes.

After a while, he realizes he's been scrubbing the same spot on his tunic for a good twenty minutes and forces himself to focus. He'd rather not be sitting by a waterhole, topless and unarmored, for the entire day.

Eventually he slips on his unpleasantly wet (and still kind of stained) clothes, but bundles up his armor and carries it back to Wrin's place, where he sets it outside to air-dry. Not interested in leaving his very expensive protection out for someone to snag, he sits nearby with his meteor hammer and goes about trying to clean it with a wet strip of cloth, picking at the dried bits of flesh, blood, and hair that still stick to its rough surface. Despite the fine weather, he keeps the scarf wrapped around his face. He probably would have dropped the "incognito" act already if he'd thought about it, but even if he had, yesterday's horror show would have convinced him to keep it up. The last thing he wants is for someone from home to find him, or yesterday's illusion will quickly become reality.

Once again, he finds his thoughts drifting back to the dream. Almost without thinking about it, he pulls the gem they'd taken from the mayor's daughter out of his pack and stares at it. His hands tremble, and he has to stop himself at one point from chucking it as far away from himself as he can. Not a lot of things frighten Drosil Arimsyn, but the vision the worm forced on him was one. This thing... this is another.

Finally he clenches the gem with a white-knuckled grip and whispers fiercely at it, "Come get me, then, you gutless trickster. I'm gonna cave in that smug face of yours if it's the last thing I do."

He shoves the gem angrily back into his pack and gathers his things. He no longer cares if the armor gets musty; he bundles it up, storms back into Wrin's house, and shoves it unceremoniously under the stairwell, along with his meteor hammer, then strides back out into the town to find a strong drink.

I want to hold off on posting until I resolve this Will save, in case it makes something weird and/or interesting happen!

Will DC 27: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (6) + 12 = 18

Well, the good news is it wasn't a crit fail. BARELY. XD

I'm fine trying it out at some point, though maybe we should wait for next level since I think everyone has already updated their stuff for level 7. For now, I have added clawed bracers to my character (assuming that purchase was OK'ed, which I think it was?)

I have to get back to work so I'll update my headers another time, but I wanted to quickly chime in @Kvit. You're not the first person who has mentioned feeling like my posts are hard to match, which feels very strange to hear every time, but I'm also my own worst critic. Regardless, everybody has a differing writing/posting style and that's okay. Great, even! Not every post should feel the same because we're all different people, you know? I like Kvit's grumpy-old-man vibe, and Lough's crazy thought trains, and Kka's moral flexibility, and Cherry's reluctant optimism. Everyone feels like a unique character, and that's great.

I have no plans to quit either, fwiw, though I can't promise that won't change. I've found myself scrambling to find time to post some days, due in no small part to the fact that I'm always taking a long time to write out what I want to do. It usually takes me between 20 to 40 minutes to write a post for Fuin! (Which is still preferable to my GM posts in CotCT, which take me between 40 to NINETY minutes, depending.)

Anyway, I'll throw something in the header about my reactions soon.

Back to work tomorrow. BOOOO.

I apologize if Fuin's standoffishness has led anyone to think that I personally don't wish to engage with people. I was sort of trying out a narrative arc for Fuin but it doesn't feel like it's panning out. Mostly it just feels like I've been having him be a moody jerk for apparently no reason. There was an end goal in mind, but at this point I've been pulling him away from his original character and I haven't been able to reach a satisfying conclusion, so I'm probably going to drop it, at least for now.

So I think a little R&R will have Fuin back to his old chipper self, is what I'm saying, and interacting with folks again.

As to Blade Brake, since it's a reaction (good gravy I have so many now!) I was planning on putting it in my usual Reactions spoiler, if that's okay? If not, I suppose I can add something to my taglines.

I believe we settled on the level-up to switch to remaster, yes.

General Feat (7th): Swift Sneak

And as a fighter, I get Weapon Expertise, so a +3 to damage and critical specialization effects with my meteor hammer!

Also Battlefield Surveyor, which isn't quite as useful since I usually roll Stealth for initiative, but it does boost me to Master proficiency in Perception so that's nice.

As for the wishlist, I'd really love those slippers of spider climbing if we have them in the budget. I know they're unlikely to come in handy super-often but they'll be clutch when they do.

EDIT: Before I forget again, I will be traveling for the next week or so and my posting will be a bit spotty. Just bot Fuin as brooding in a corner and you'll be gravy. :P

EDIT EDIT: As to the remaster transition. Would you allow us to retrain something if there's a new option in Player Core for us? In particular, I'd very much like to retrain Knockdown to get Blade Brake. I rarely use Knockdown because my Athletics is pretty meh, and even though BB is pretty niche, I think it would come in handy more than Knockdown. Plus it'd look cool :D

OMG that's fantastic! XD

Fuin shrugs irritably. "Let's get out of here. I'm exhausted."

My vote is back to town to rest and level up!

Fuin finally comes to, and crawls on hands and knees to a corner away from the others, neither participating in the looting nor the patching-up process, either as a patient or as a mender. His mind wrestles between fury and shame, which results in a sullen stare off into the middle distance.

Some warrior he turned out to be. One stupid little phantom and he turned into a hysterical madman. They're probably laughing at him right now, snickering and whispering while he's huddled in the corner, where he can't hear them.

He tries his best to concentrate on regaining his depleted focus, but it's a struggle. Images of the bloated, limbless monstrosity float across his vision, the hot, wet trickle of blood down his face where he gouged his nails in, the searing streaks of pain from the furrows on his forehead and cheeks... He's never had to fight so hard to meditate in his life, and that's saying something--Fuin has never been a terribly patient person.

He decides not to heal them. He deserves these wounds. He was weak, and he let the worm's spell control him. Maybe staring at the scars across his face every time he looks in a mirror will remind him not to be so weak next time.

When the party finally heads out, he follows, but instead of his usual position, he stays at the far back of the party, back hunched and scowl downcast, paying more attention to the stones beneath his feet than where he's going. He does find himself melding into the shadows, but that's more reflex than conscious intent.

Fuin is in a mood, so he's going to keep his current HP. Shouldn't be too much of an issue with only one door left on this level, but having Refocused he at least has a couple focus points in case he needs to heal mid-fight.

Fuin doesn't stop smashing the corpse. He keeps slamming the iron ball of his meteor hammer down on it, over and over, still frantically trying to scream with no breath left in his lungs, until he collapses next to the huge greasy stain where its body used to be, his whole torso convulsing in a shuddering breath. At least he has stopped screaming.

Fuin is checked out for a minute.

UGH I am so sorry. The week has entirely gotten away from me. I didn't realize it had been FOUR DAYS since I posted. :(

I forgot I have Bravery, so technically he should only have been frightened 1, meaning he would lose the frightened condition at the end of his turn. HOWEVER, I feel like what he saw was enough to kill that ability this time. It makes sense narratively, so I'm gonna leave the frightened 1 on for one more turn.

Hands still shaking violently, Fuin screams hysterically as he slams the meteor hammer down over and over on the worm.

♦ Meteor Hammer vs Worm: 1d20 + 16 - 1 ⇒ (13) + 16 - 1 = 28 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (5, 2) + 4 = 11
♦ Meteor Hammer vs Worm, MAP: 1d20 + 16 - 1 - 5 ⇒ (15) + 16 - 1 - 5 = 25 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (7, 7) + 4 = 18
♦ Meteor Hammer vs Worm, MAP: 1d20 + 16 - 1 - 10 ⇒ (13) + 16 - 1 - 10 = 18 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (3, 3) + 4 = 10

Even if the worm is dead, he doesn't stop smashing it. He just keeps pounding the bits of meat over and over, ichor splattering his hood and mask, eyes wide and manic. He doesn't even stop to breathe; his scream simply weakens and trails off into a hoarse dribble.

Apologies if this is wonky. I'm posting from my phone because the internet keeps crapping out on my laptop.

Will Save: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (7) + 11 = 18

Fuin watches the worm-creature warp and melt into a hideous, bloated humanoid torso. Its arms and legs have been removed, capped with wicked black iron not unlike that which comprises Fuin's own meteor hammer. Chains pierce its flesh all over, and a hideous green tongue slithers from its open mouth inside a misshapen head, leaving a lurid coat of orange slime across its chin and the folds of its neck.

"You flee your destiny," it moans with a skin-crawling mixture of agony and ecstasy. "We have found you. You will become a vessel for the Midnight Lord, and your screams will be savored by all."

It's not real. It can't be real. He refuses to believe it.

And yet, when the chains erupt off its distended torso and rip into his flesh, tearing and sawing with black barbs, there's no denying the pain. He bites down on his tongue in a desperate attempt to stave off the screams bubbling in his gut, but it's no use.

He shrieks like a tortured rabbit, thrashing and clawing at the barbed chains to pull them from his flesh.

And then, as quickly as the fiend appeared, it's gone.

Fuin looks down at his blood-soaked hands, feels the rivulets of hot vitae pouring down his arms and face where he tried to claw the imaginary chains out of his skin. He can't stop shaking. Is that what happened to his father? Did they make him into... that?

He's practically vibrating with terror as he turns manic eyes on the worm. "Y-you," he croaks, then swallows with a dry throat and tries again. "I'll k-kill you for that."

It's hard to focus because his vision keeps blurring and warping. More illusions, probably. Or maybe he's bleeding from his eyes. Surely nothing else.

He stumbles on watery legs to the center of the room, looking around desperately for any way to reach his tormentor.

Before I take my actions, is there any way for Fuin to reach this thing right now?

Fuin flinches from the acid splash, but shakes off the searing pain as his flesh bubbles. More pressing crap to deal with here than a few stings.

The hammer didn't seem to do much, but he doesn't exactly have an abundance of options right now.

"I knew this tiefling from Ustalav," he says casually as he spins the iron head next to him. "He had some very sage advice when it came to things resistant to his greatsword."

He revs up the spins and then launches the ball in a vicious arc. "When the flesh resists, just hit harder."

Actually his motto was much cruder but I figured I'd tone it down here lol

Anyway, time to go crit-fishing I guess! XD

♦ Step.
♦ M Hammer vs Worm, Off-Guard: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (3) + 16 = 19 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (7, 5) + 4 = 16
♦ M Hammer vs Worm, Off-Guard, MAP: 1d20 + 16 - 5 ⇒ (1) + 16 - 5 = 12 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (4, 6) + 4 = 14

Fuìn will react to whichever of the following conditions is met first.

Hero point to reroll the first attack.

HP Reroll Attack 1: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (17) + 16 = 33

MUCH better!

No problem. I overlook stuff reading all the time, and I think it's getting worse as I get older. As a writer, that's... not great. :\

Fuin grunts as phantom fangs dig deep into his flesh, but he shrugs it off and looks around for a way to get a few more feet closer to the damn bug, but the only viable spot seems to be on the dais, which is taken up by Kka at the moment. "You'll have to take care of yourself for a minute, bird," he calls out and steps into range of the worm. At least she'll be in range of another protection spell if that things comes at her again. It's not much but this worm seems to be giving the others some serious trouble.

♦ Stride 10ft.
♦ Meteor Hammer vs Worm: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (16) + 16 = 32 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (3, 3) + 4 = 10
♦ Meteor Hammer vs Worm, MAP: 1d20 + 16 - 5 ⇒ (4) + 16 - 5 = 15 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (6, 4) + 4 = 14

Fuìn will react to whichever of the following conditions is met first.

According to AoN, on a successful save the creature takes half damage and no persistent damage.

Reflex DC 24: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (10) + 14 = 24

Will DC 23: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

WHEW

On a success it can move me 5ft. but considering how close I am, I don't think it matters too much. I can still get to him.

Fuin hisses in pain as the magic acid boils his skin under his armor, but the battered old leather still manages to take the brunt of it. Grumbling to himself, he moves to retake the drider but a wave of disorientation hits him and he weaves drunkenly in place for a moment before it passes. "Damn bug, get outta my head! I'll deal with you in a minute." He jangles the chain of his meteor hammer menacingly at the worm-thing before striding back to the drider. "You first, punk." The hammer whistles as it spins through the air before flying toward the drider's... uh... thorax?

The spider bits.

♦ Stride 15 (20?) ft.
♦ Meteor Hammer vs Drider: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (8) + 16 = 24 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (6, 6) + 4 = 16
♦ Cast shield.

Fuìn will react to whichever of the following conditions is met first.

Ironically, this is actually a situation where he's one of the people who doesn't need the spiderfoot brew here, because he has a reach weapon and Lunge. :S

Fuin kicks in the door after a few tries. Suddenly thrust into combat again, he tries to find something witty to riposte with, but he panics, points to the drider, and yells "Spider-butt!" before getting pelted in the face with a frankly unnecessary amount of fire.

Reflex DC 24: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (16) + 14 = 30

He manages to flinch away from the worst of it, but that still sucked. "Aw, man," he grumbles as he pats off the licks of flame clinging to his hood and armor. "If I'd waited like two seconds I coulda made a quip about the irony of the spider killing us with fire." He sighs audibly. "Life is full of little disappointments."

He then rushes in and tries to bury the heavy iron ball in the drider's face.

♦ Stride 25 ft.
♦ Step.
♦ M Hammer vs Drider: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (18) + 16 = 34 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (4, 5) + 4 = 13

Fuin smirks behind his mask as he watches Murschen flee pell-mell in nothing but a towel, but after he's gone, Fuin frowns again. Why did that fill him with such a mean warmth? What had that guy done to them? Nothing, right? So why had Kka acted so hostile?

And more importantly, why did I get joy out of it? He's never been like that before. Today has been a day of weirdness. First the thing with the potion earlier, now this.

Musta got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, he thinks irritably before jostling his way through the narrow hall to take up at the front with Kka again.

"Whatever," he grunts. "Where to next?"

Fuin, who had just managed to jostle his way into the sauna, glances at the others inquisitively, shrugs, and steps aside.

That's one square clear. XD

Fuin frowns at them both. "I don't see any reason to go loosing those things. Also, shouldn't we check these other curtains that clearly lead to smaller spaces before going into the big space? Just a thought."

Just coz I'm curious...

Reflex vs Explodies: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (2) + 14 = 16

Fuin flies back and ragdolls into a wall like he just got Fus-ro-dah'ed and crumples in a heap. He doesn't move for several seconds, just basks in the pain for a bit.

"You know," he croaks with forced nonchalance, "That could have been worse. I feel like... on a scale of 1 to 28, that was only about a 25."

ZING

He gently tests each of his ribs while the others paw the phat lootz, and finds a couple of ribs still broken. He touches his chest, releasing a spidery wave of soft light-veins across his tattered armor, and clenches his teeth against the intense itching sensation as Desna's magic restitches the bones.

I don't think bones are supposed to itch, he thinks idly as he waits for the magic to finish its work.

Finally he gets up and shuffles over to the others, plopping down nearby to meditate and regain the lost power Desna's bestowed him. "That armor," he murmurs distractedly to Lough, "is super gross. I think Cherry's right. But, if nothing else, it should protect you from at least a few hits because your opponent will be understandably hesitant to touch it."

I want to apologize for my late return. I was hoping to jump back into things as soon as my power supply showed up, and it even showed up a day early, but life, as it is wont to do, kicked me in the face. Hopefully it's behind me for now and I can finally get back to posting regularly again.

Huzzah! Thanks GM!

1st Fort DC 25: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28
2nd Fort DC 25: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14
3rd Fort DC 25: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (5) + 13 = 18

Thought about using the HP for that 2nd roll, but ya know what? Let's keep it as is. It's dramatic! Plus an extra 13 damage isn't too bad.

Fuin coughs as the beast squeezes, and the green half-mask is suddenly darkened by a large wet splotch where it covers his mouth. There is definitely some internal bleeding happening there.

Lough's quick thinking helps stymie some of it, but Fuin nearly collapses with a painful gasp when the meatpile drops him.

"Oh, you're paying for that," he croaks, and laucnhes the meteor hammer at it once more.

♦ Step.
♦ M. Hammer vs Behemoth: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (3) + 16 = 19 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (7, 8) + 4 = 19
♦ Cast shield.

Hero Pointing THAT though, for sure!

HP Reroll: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (9) + 16 = 25

Sigh. At least it hit. Maybe. :P

Fuìn will react to whichever of the following conditions is met first.

Hey y'all! Another quick update before I pass out.

Turns out I am an obliviot. That is a portmanteau of oblivious and idiot, because I am both, and I like portmanteaus.

The problem with my power supply was literally right in front of my face. My beloved hellion of a puppy chewed the power cord when I wasn't looking, and then the velcro strap that holds the cords bound together slid down over the chewed spot. Had I done my due diligence and checked the cords first, I probably would have found it MUCH sooner.

Anyway, I have a new power supply on the way (and the right wattage this time!) so I should have my laptop back up and running by Wednesday. In the meantime, I'll try to get a post or two in this weekend.

I unfortunately don't know the specs off the top of my head. I can't look them up on the laptop because it's now dead. Best I can do is give you the specs on the power supply (100-240V ~ 50-60Hz 2.34A Input; 20.0V - 9.0A 180.0W Output).

I have a coworker with a couple old laptop power supplies for me to try; just waiting for him to remember to bring them in. :P

If the power supply thing doesn't work, I also have a friend who's willing to try and get me an old laptop on the cheap so I can at least have a functioning laptop to use on my breaks (which is basically the only window I have to regularly post) and I can finally get back on track with my pbp games. I don't know how long that will take but I hope it doesn't take too long because I'm going a little stir crazy not being able to post like I want to.

Managed to get a post up!

Soooo I finally got my power supply, and realized it was the wrong kind. Power output was too low, and even if it had been the right size, it came with a bunch of port adapters (seriously, almost two dozen different kinds) and NONE of them matched my laptop's plugin. So that was $35 wasted.

I don't know what to do, now. Heck, I don't even know if it is the power supply. Could be the port is screwed up and won't work with any power supply. I don't know. I barely know anything about software, hardware is completely beyond me. I'm starting to get very frustrated, because if I can't fix my laptop, I'm basically screwed. I have no backup.

If anyone here is tech-savvy and could give me some ideas to try, that would be fantastic. I don't want to toss a $1200 laptop that's less than 3 years old.

Fuin decides this is really just the worst job he can think of. He's fighting for his life against a giant pile of meat that will absolutely subsume his corpse and make him part of it. He had a job cleaning latrines at a restaurant in Absalom several years ago. Of course, calling it a "restaurant" is probably a lot more credit than it deserves; "human trough" would probably have been more accurate, based on both the menu and the clientele. And the state of the latrines. He lasted four hours.

This is so, so much worse.

According to AoN, there is no rule in 2e about losing use of one of your limbs while grabbed, so I can still technically use the meteor hammer.

It's awkward as Hells, but Fuin manages to get the hammer whirling overhead, then yeets it at the meatpile as hard as he can.

♦ Lunge (M. Hammer) vs Behemoth: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (11) + 16 = 27 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (6, 6) + 4 = 16
♦ Lunge (M. Hammer) vs Behemoth, MAP: 1d20 + 16 - 5 ⇒ (20) + 16 - 5 = 31 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (4, 8) + 4 = 16
♦ Cast shield.

Manipulate Action Flat Check: 1d20 ⇒ 12

Fuin mouths behind his mask 'again?' with a look that is both confused and concerned.

"You said they can replay what they've seen? Maybe these devils aren't minions. Maybe..." He rubs his chin thoughtfully. "Maybe they're scouts? Maybe they want to see if they can wrest this place from Belcorra, or work with her. Either way, we'd best dispatch any we come across. Nothing from Hell can be good news, surely." He looks mournfully at the angry black iron of his meteor hammer. "I know a silver meteor hammer would be a terrible idea for many reasons, but man, it'd look cool, wouldn't it?" He sighs. "Well, whatever. Let's go check out the other doors we missed."

He gives a little salute to Kka. "Lead the way, chum."

I definitely know the feeling. I also hope you don't end up back in it, it's a miserable place to be. Sending virtual hugs (consenting hugs, of course; non-consensual hugs generally only make things worse).

As an update, still waiting on the power supply for the laptop. The most frustrating part is, I don't even know if that's the problem, or if it's the battery. I assume it's not the battery, since it won't work even while plugged in, but that doesn't guarantee the power supply is the problem. I have to wait a week just to test it. BOO. In the meantime, feel free to continue botting me as needed (though I'll drop a post momentarily, since I have some free time).

Still waiting on a power supply, so my posts will continue to be spotty for awhile. It might be the beginning of April when it gets in :(

But it had been too long since I posted and I had some free time this morning. Those flybabies are heckin gross! XD

Fuin steps into range of the green flybaby in order to psych it out enough for Kka to do some damage, but then turns to the derped out flybaby in the confetti and tries to put it out of everyone's misery.

I think I'm still in bless range? I'm like right on the edge. I'm going to assume I am but remove the +1 if I'm wrong.

♦ Lunge w/Meteor Hammer vs Pink: 1d20 + 16 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 16 + 1 = 36 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (3, 4) + 4 = 11
♦ Lunge w/Meteor Hammer vs Pink, MAP: 1d20 + 16 + 1 - 5 ⇒ (13) + 16 + 1 - 5 = 25 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (1, 4) + 4 = 9
♦ Cast shield.

Fuìn will react to whichever of the following conditions is met first.

Hey y'all.

A big part of why my posting has been spotty is that my laptop no longer charges. I primarily post on my break at work from my laptop; I am usually busy with my few outsode-work hours, and posting via phone is very difficult. (Nevermind trying to move tokens on maps!) My posting will continue to be spotty until I can sort out a fix for my laptop. Feel free to bot me as needed to keep things moving. Thanks in advance for your patience.

Fuin scowls at Lough's words and mutters quietly, "Yeah, jinx us why dontcha."

His right hand grips the chain of his meteor hammer (name! need a name!) in readiness, while his left hand idly strokes something in one of his belt pouches. It's hard to say for sure with no irises, but... are his eyes bloodshot?

Fuin wipes the rough iron ball with an absolutely filthy strip of cloth, which he then shoves unceremoniously into a back pocket of his breeches. "Sounds good to me."

He takes up his usual spot in the order, slipping in and out of shadows as they move down the halls. Every time he walks through a patch of dim shadows, he seems to melt a little before resolving again moments later. As he walks, hands down at his sides, his shadow struts gaily, swinging the shadow of his meteor hammer idly as it walks.

Fuin decides not to try tripping something without legs (unless the weird "roots" at the bottom counted, but even if so, that's a lot of legs) and just whips the meteor hammer at it again, twice, before throwing up his shadowy force shield.

"What about 'Meat Pulverizer'?" he ponders aloud. He regrets the words even before they've finished leaving his mouth. "Nope, nopenopenopenope. Nevermind."

♦ Strike vs Meat Tree, Flanked: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (8) + 16 = 24 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (2, 6) + 4 = 12
♦ Strike vs Meat Tree, Flanked, MAP: 1d20 + 16 - 5 ⇒ (4) + 16 - 5 = 15 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (6, 4) + 4 = 14
♦ Cast shield.

Fuìn will react to whichever of the following conditions is met first.

Fuin makes a face as he rushes into the room. "Ugh. It's like a tree made of meat. Reminds me of home." Far from looking homesick, however, he scowls and rushes into the room, bolting twice to get on the other side of the fiend before striking out with his meteor hammer.

Still gotta name this thing, he realizes absently.

♦ Stride 25 ft.
♦ Stride 20 ft.
♦ Strike vs Meat Tree, FF: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (20) + 16 = 36 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (8, 6) + 4 = 18

Ker-POW!

Fuin eyes the cloak appreciatively. "I like the color scheme."

He looks around, considering. "Well, where haven't we been to yet?"

Assuming the map is up to date, we haven't been in the door to our left, correct? I'm down for going that way.

Fuin, exhausted from the last headbanging session, opts not to participate in this mosh pit. "I feel like an old fogey," he grumbles. He sees Kka slip off to continue exploring and decides he may as well join her.

He walks into the yellow moss room and whispers, "Hey, find anything go--" and immediately gets a mouthful of spores.

Because why not! XD

Fort DC 26: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28

That was amazing XD

Fuin, having banged himself halfway to a concussion, flops onto a barstool. "Beer," he pants. "Damn, those guys know how to party..."

Apologies for being gone so long. The last week and a half were pretty rough. I should be back to posting regularly now.

Fuin is already back at the stage headbanging like a maniac.

This week is turning out to be... a lot. I might not be able to post much until sometime next week. Feel free to bot me if needed.

"Thanks," he says to the one who complimented his moves. "That song was killer! Where I come from, the music sucks. It's all dark hymns and lamentations, which would be fine if any of them knew how to shred a lute. All the bass but none of the roar, you know what I mean?"

Fuin's eyes cross slightly as he tries to recall who Jafaki is.

I feel like we heard the name before, yes? And recently? Was that the name of the guy trapped in the office?

Gears are turning slowly (perhaps even more slowly than usual) in his head, and an idea finally clicks into place. "Can you excuse me for a second?"

He moves over to Kvit, who seems to be the only one not mingling, and speaks in low tones so that only the wizard can hear him (hopefully). "Okay so it looks like all these people are here for money from the arena. If we shut down the arena, I think they might all just drift away looking for new work. We might not have to fight any of them. I think we'll probably have to clear the floor below us too for good measure, but I mean, we were planning on doing that anyway. Thoughts?"

The group loses track of Fuin for several seconds, only to find a bizarre sight.

Fuin has pulled his hood all the way back, allowing a long mane of silver-streaked black hair to spill about his shoulders, and is thrashing his head like a maniac to the music.

Can I maybe make a Performance check here to help ease tensions? Like "okay this guy gets it at least" kind of vibe? I'll throw it up just in case.

Performance: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16

LOL nevermind

Sounds to me like Lough and I are outvoted. Let's find this tavern and get a drink! Five gold says it ends in a bar brawl. XD

Fuin sighs and shrugs. "Alright, but any tavern located in this place is bound to be almost as deadly as the corpse pile down there." He grumbles a bit under his breath and slips into formation with the others, seeming to be much surlier than usual.

D'OH! Sorry about that. I am IRL permanently stupefied 1, so blame that.

Even after the worst of the poison's effects have faded, Fuin's head still pounds angrily. "Gods, that was awful. I think I prefer poisons that liquefy my organs."

He lets Kka tend to him, then peers over the shoulder of whoever is reading the book (Kvit, I assume) and grunts at the gross squiggly lines. Trying to read them makes his headache worse, so he moves away and waits for someone who can read the language to explain it to him. "Well that's disheartening," he says cheerfully. "I guess that means we have to get rid of it. Last thing we need is... that... to go on a rampage. Desna help us if it found its way out of Gauntlight and anywhere near town."

He glances around at the nearby doors. "I guess the question now is, do we kill the meat pile down there now, or wait until after we clear the rest of the floor?" He swings the ball of his meteor hammer in a few lazy circles. "Soon as begun is half done, I say."

In other words my vote is to kill the meat pile now rather than later.

Fuin stumbles over to Lough and tries to give him a pat on the shoulder, misses, then smacks him kind of hard on the neck by accident.

"Chinnup, madood," he slurs. Healing magic pours into Lough.

He then turns around, waits a second for the room to stop spinning, and kind of throws the ball of the meteor hammer at the remaining warlock. Mormon. Haarlop.

Whatever. Bad guy.

♦ Stride 10 ft.
♦ Cast lay on hands @Lough for 24 HP (+2 status bonus to Lough's AC for 1 round).
LEST I FORGET that requires a flat check!
DC 6 Flat Check: 1d20 ⇒ 6 WHEW
♦ Meteor Hammer vs Red: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (3) + 16 = 19 B Dmg: 2d8 + 4 ⇒ (7, 6) + 4 = 17