Unfortunately, I no longer have the time to commit myself fully to this game. Sorry everyone.
Search Posts
Can I tell how many HD this new ghoul has? If only one, Dvarin will attempt to control it. If more than one, Dvarin will have Argrade engage it.
Dvarin loads his crossbow and fires it at Dr. Oathsday. Mechanics:
Dvarin waits, as most of his resources have been drained and he is confident that Argrade will do his duty--and he needs to keep an eye on the ghoul regardless.
Dvarin loads his crossbow and fires it at the woman Dr. Oathsday has disguised himself as. Mechanics:
Dvarin does nothing, confident the ghoul will eventually find what needs to be attacked
Dvarin fires his crossbow at Dr. Oathsday. Mechanics:
"Argrade. Attack the doppleganger and no one else," says Dvarin, looking at the ghoul. Mechanics: None. Argrade is under my control until he succeeds at a will save, and he doesn't get a new will save for 24 hours. The "as control undead" clause in the command undead description refers to the fact he has to obey my commands to the best of his ability, not that commanding undead has a min/level duration.
"Argrade. Follow us. You may soon have a new corpse to feast upon," says Dvarin, as he draws his crossbow and readies it to fire at Doctor Oathsday.
"I could attempt to recover his memories, but that would take time I fear we do not have," says Dvarin, smirking at Amber. "It has already introduced himself, by the way. His name is Argade," says Dvarin at the Oldest One's request. "Argade. Are there any other ghouls in the asylum? How did you come to this particular room?"
"Do you know who Zandalus is?"
"I believe the dopplegangers to be victims of this as well. The one imprisoning us claimed to have been a human previously; I believe she was telling the truth. Dopplegangers are not normally so--erratic, and they lack the ability to transform others into their kind. There is something else behind this." "Undeath is not a disease. But it would take powerful magic to change him back. Magic that I doubt any of us have."
"Argade. You are not to consume this man yet. Do you know his name and how he came to be here?" continues Dvarin. He glances back at the rest of the party, ignoring any looks of shock or horror on their faces. "This man has become a ghoul. They are a cannibalistic form of undead--usually they result from power necromantic magic or the spread of ghoul fever." This is the second person we have encountered who has been transformed via unknown means. They are doubtlessly connected. This is far beyond ordinary magic."
"Creature," says Dvarin, still not crossing over the threshold of the door, his arms crossed across his chest. "Tell me the name that you had in life, and how you came to be in this state."
It is fairly obvious to Dvarin that this creature is undead, though in this place he supposes he cannot be certain about anything--he was unable to effect the last walking corpse they encountered, after all. Regardless, it is worth a shot, so Dvarin closes his eyes and reaches out with his dark power, trying to take control of the monster. Mechanics: Dvarin uses Command Undead; the DC is 12
Dvarin draws and loads his crossbow.
Dvarin stands at the door, observing the writhing corpse. Generally when a corpse is moving it means one thing: undeath. Dvarin closes his eyes, attempting to assert necromantic power over the corpse or whatever is causing it to move. Mechanics: Dvarin uses Command Undead; the DC is 12
"Friend," says Dvarin, stepping forward towards Captain York He locks eyes with him, a half smile on his face, just a hint of teeth, before continuing. "Is this necessary? You can tell that this corpse is fresh. If we were dopplegangers you would know by now. Let us pass, so we may all seek our way to escape this place." Mechanics: Dvarin uses his Charm Person spell like ability on Captain York. DC is 12
Dvarin draws and loads his crossbow, readying it to fire.
Dvarin draws a scroll from his pack and unfurls it, chanting the words written on it in some ancient, unknown language. As he does, his mouth seems to grow larger--it is like his jaw unhinges as a silent scream rings in the old woman's ears. Mechanics: Dvarin draws his scroll of ear piercing scream and casts it on Latchke. Fortitude DC 16
Dvarin follows wordlessly after the others. If those men were blocking the passage they'd have to go in that direction regardless, and if they were attacked by dopplegangers he would have no qualms killing them, even if he didn't see the point of doing so just because a group of strangers in an asylum asked them to.
"We do appear to outnumber them," adds Dvarin. "They do not appear to be acting erratically as the doppleganger was. Though that could be because they are the source of this madness in the first place. We will likely have to face them at some point regardless."
Dvarin manuevers towards the tentacled rat to give himself room to fire at it. Mechanics: If the creature is speaking Aklo, I should be able to understand it, btw
As Dvarin's summoned creature vanishes, Dvarin draws his crossbow and loads a bolt, ready to fire at one of the rats.
Dvarin finishes his incantation; he opens his eyes, mouthing one final word, and the darkness before him begins to coalesce; the shadows sprout wings and claws and beak, all tearing down at the rat screeching towards him. One of the beasts occupied, Dvarin turns towards the other; locking eyes with the creature, he chants again, though not nearly as many words as he intoned the last time, and in a different language than the one he spoke before. Abyssal:
Run! Mechanics:
At the sound of distress, Dvarin follows the others up the chute, trying to ignore the pile of bodies that he is crawling over in the process. Upon reaching the top of the tunnel, he stops behind the other two, trying to keep his distance, while he begins to chant in a strange, guttural tongue. Infernal:
I call upon you, servitors of the outer darkness; I reach beyond, to the font of Avernus; I compel you, minion of the Lords of Hell; assist me in this hour of need and reap your payment in kind Mechanics:
"Snakes are not usually known for being noisy," says Dvarin, closing his eyes to better concentrate on his connection with his familiar. He sense danger, a churning in his gut, and he opens his eyes again. "You are correct; there is something up there. I cannot tell what, just that it is a threat to us. We should proceed with caution."
"Go," says Dvarin, kneeling down towards ground, his serpent unwinding itself down from his arm and slithering towards the shaft.
"I'm not seeing any cultic markings on these bodies. I still would not rule out the possibility of undead, even if it is not Urgathoa's influence," says Dvarin, rising up from the ground. "I can't imagine this being the work of a singular person." "If we do not wish to risk one of our number journeying up the shaft yet, then my--familiar," he says, gesturing to the serpent crawling out of his shirt's sleeve and winding its way back up his arm, "Can do so. He can make his way up with ease, and will alert me if there is danger above. And he could carry a small item with him, if there is anything you all think that we should place above there before ascending on our own."
Dvarin follows the others into the room with the corpses. He blanches slightly at the sight of all the bodies, but steels his nerves and walks over to examine them. He could not remember for sure--but something told him that he had walked among the dead before. "Patients cannibalizing each other. And these bodies appear to have been partially consumed, which confirms what Campre was saying. My guess would be undead. Perhaps a cult of Urgathoa has infiltrated the asylum. I don't believe that she usually counts dopplegangers among her faithful--but who knows," he says, as he leans down to examine the bodies. "This would admittedly not solve the question of our collective amnesia. Or why we were imprisoned here in the first place." Mechanics:
Dvarin ignores any stares that might be directed his way as he gathers his things, flipping through his spellbook to make sure that everything is in order. When he confirms that everything is as it was, he rejoins the others. He picks a piece of rock up from the ground and brings it close to his mouth, whispering something as if he was talking to the pebble, and it begins to cast off light as if it were a torch. "Are we ready to move on?" he asks to the rest of the party.
"That was not the reason I recall hearing for wanting to kill it. If you want to execute it for torture, be my guest. It has served its purpose, and has no more use to us. In fact, I would recommend killing it. If no one is willing to do so themselves, I'd be more than happy to. But the reasons I have heard for why it should be killed are that it is a monster, that it is an aberration, that it is a vampire, that it is witch, and that it is a doppleganger--not that it is a torturer," he says.
Mechanics:
"I believe this creature has told us everything it knows. Regardless it seems too far gone to get any useful information from. If you wish to kill it, go ahead. I won't stop you." says Dvarin, shrugging his shoulders. "I believe it found us here. So it is not the reason that we were imprisoned. "Obviously some sort of arcane disaster has fallen upon this place. Patients eating one another, earthquakes, dopplegangers. And our own amnesia. These are all connected, though how has yet to be revealed," he says, walking away from the rest of the group, stroking his chin between his thumb and forefinger. He mutters something under his breath before turning to face them again. "Your paranoia is delightful but unnecessary. Judging from the state of this creature the dopplegangers here are likely all insane; perhaps they are more sensitive to whatever magic has contaminated this place. Of course, I imagine at this point you will now accuse me of being a doppleganger. Perhaps I am. Perhaps you are. As we are all afflicted with amnesia one of us could easily be one without knowing so. Or one of us could be lying. Though I would again point out that being a doppleganger is not a crime worthy of death. If one of us one of the creatures, they are acting rationally, and have chosen not to strike against us. Unless one of us has the ability to detect evil or see through lies or something of that nature we have no way of knowing, do we?" "Of course, there is something I am remembering. I am capable of determining someone's race. The shape of the skull is a remarkable thing; even disguised with magic, if you know what to feel for--along the occipital ridge, or the coronal suture, for example--can always reveal someone's true race," he says, feeling along the back of his head as he does so. "Perhaps you would like for me to test us all now, since I can discern if we have been infiltrated. I will not. Since the intentions of some in the party are apparently murderous, I think it best if we do not know more about each other than absolutely necessary." "And in the mean time, we have a much more pressing concern. We are in an asylum that is currently under assault by magical forces we do not understand. Escape should be our first priority. Genealogy can come afterwards." he finishes, glancing over at the bags the halfing is looking through. "Those are potions of cure light wounds. And hopefully this is where our things are stored. I would rather not have to traipse through a haunted asylum in a dressing gown."
"I do not believe the creature is a vampire. And that would not justify killing her regardless," says Dvarin. "I believe she is a doppleganger. Presumably she killed and replaced the original nurse. Though that does leave the question of how long she has been at this." "And there is still the question of how we all came to be here in the first place. This is an asylum, regardless of the state it is in. And I must confess--I am not sure how I came to be here. I am not sure of anything, really. I can only seem to remember my name. Dvarin. Are you all similarly afflicted?" Dvarin turns to face the creature, though he looks aside to whoever is standing nearest to him and whispers "We talk to the monster first. Then you can deliver her whatever fate you wish." "Doppleganger," he says, looking down at the monster. "You are outnumbered. We could finish you off now, if that is what you want. But there is no need for further bloodshed. Just answer a few questions, and no harm will come to you. What have you done with the nurse that you replaced? Mechanics:
Is the creature alive? Is it bound? I can't really tell from the post.
"Wait," says Dvarin, finally stepping out from the corner of the cell. "Do not kill it. Strap it to the table so it can't escape, but do not kill it." "We are in an asylum," he continues. "I feared perhaps I was rightfully here but--I assume you all saw her face shift as well? And by her actions I doubt this creature is any saner than us. If we restrain her rather than kill her we could find out what is going on."
Dvarin watches, still silent, as the scene before him unfolds. His vision showed him where they were, and part of him feared that what he was witnessing was a hallucination, though the reaction of the others indicated that it wasn't. Still, they were all patients here, for whatever reason--best to let this play out on its own. He doubted that the others were going to have any trouble stopping the creature on their own, and he feared that if he used his own magic to send it running it would simply find reinforcements and alert the staff of their escape.
Dvarin is silent upon awakening. It was a dream after all, though this is a cold comfort, given the state of where in the waking world he finds himself, unable to remember his name, locked in a cage with a man he does not know, watching as a strange woman tortures a man to death. He backs away from the bars of the cell, standing in the corner, his hands flat agains the walls, and closes his eyes in concentration.
Dvarin: Dvarin licks the blood from his face, a familiar hunger panging in his stomach as the scene plays out before him. He had never seen a creature like the one facing him before, and he could not tell if his magic had worked or if the monster was mocking him. Regardless, judging by the living corpses confronting him he doubted that he was capable of fighting this creature, whatever it was.
"I'm nobody, that's who," he says to the man who has appeared next to him.
"What are you?" says Dvarin, looking at the monster's face, right where it's eyes would be--should be.
Spoiler: Dvarin stands firm. The creature, whatever it was, had pursued him this far; escape was not an option. Trying to escape might not even matter; this place, wherever it was, was clearly not bound by the rules of the waking world. But by the creature's appearance, he had a hunch that he might be able to stop it from getting any closer, regardless of whether it was a threat to him or not. Once it was stopped, he could return to trying to guess the nature of the place he had found himself in. "Stop," he says, holding out his hand, his voice tinged with magic power as he stared directly at the creature.
If no one wants me using Infernal Healing on them, I can switch to Repair Undead since I need a way to be able to heal myself
I notice that we don't have a healer (and I don't benefit from cure spells regardless); would it be okay for me to switch a spell for infernal healing?
Since we start with max wealth, I've added a potion and two scrolls (obtained via scribe scroll) to Dvarin's inventory.
I'm just an ordinary wizard with the Psychic Sensitive feat
Hooray! So excited for this!
Presenting Dvarin Ambrosius, dhampir wizard. Stats:
Dvarin Ambrosius
Favored Class Wizard
Experience: 0
Age ?
Male Varisian Dhampir Necromancer Wizard 1
Spellbook (Necromancy Specialty, Opposition: Abjuration, Enchantment)
================================================= Carrying Capacity:
Current Load: 25 lbs (Light) -------------------------------------------- Combat Gear: (5 lbs)
Ammunition: (0 lbs)
Magic Gear: (0 lbs)
Scrolls/Wands: (--)
Consumables: (0 lbs)
Alchemical Spell Reagents: (0 lbs)
Other: (5 lbs)
Camping Supplies: (7 lbs)
Jewelry: (--)
Wealth: (--)
================================================================
Description:
Dvarin is a young man who appears about nineteen years with dark brown hair, skin slightly paler and grayer than normal, and gray eyes. He is of fairly slender build, with generally rather soft features, cruelly arching eyebrows and intense eyes. His eyeteeth and ears are both slightly pointed though not enough to draw too much notice. His clothing, while clearly expensive and fashionable at one point, is beginning to fray at the edges and the color is fading fast; he looks increasingly like a vagabond, a fact he does not entirely disapprove of.
Fluff: Dvarin was dreaming, he was sure of that, dreaming of someplace further from home than he had ever been--but where was it? And where, for that matter, was his home? He couldn’t remember that either, it seemed. Maybe this place was his home--but if it was, what had happened to it? He thought perhaps he would linger at the fountain, try to guess at what had emptied this city--the thought of the minstrels who played here, who he remembered playing here filled him with melancholy and with a strange kind of hunger too--when he saw the fog, pulsing with the yellow of sickness, something stalking within it and before he can react he found himself running, his feet compelled to run through
“Hello?” he called out in the darkness as he raced between the streets. This had to be a dream, his feet running of their own accord, his body acting as the dream logic compelled him but everything seemed so real, the sound of footsteps trailing behind him, the crumbling city beneath his feet, the gray of his skin--why was his skin gray, he wondered? Had he died in this dream? Was he dead already? He yearned to stop, if only for a moment, with each wonder and monument he passed--this was a city built on secrets, wherever it was, whatever it was, but each time he slowed his steps the fog drew closer, hungering after him, heightening the strange pangs of hunger he felt in his stomach, and he quickened his pace again. At last he reached a split in the street--one path leading up and another down. He could still escape. There was still time. He just had to run. But he didn’t. Either I am dreaming or I am trapped here. Whichever it is, I will run no more, he thought, turning back to face the fog and let it overtake him.
Presenting Dvarin Ambrosius, a dhampir eldritch scion magus. Background and stats are in the profile. |