El Ronza's page

El Ronza wrote:

We're so close to done I can almost TASTE it! Come on, finish; momma needs those eidolon rules!

Hi El Ronza - it looks like I had it backwards on the summoner. When I was compiling the turnovers, it actually is the mythic class features for the unchained summoner itself. You can do mythic stuff with your eidolon with those class features and path abilities, but it's not a set of mythic abilities unique to eidolons. I apologize for my mistake there.

I am only very slightly disappointed, but still very keen! My GM allowed me to play this, so I'm hungry for goodies for my summoner and his stand eidolon, whatever form they may take, even if we have to kitbash them in :D

Endzeitgeist wrote:

As the developer for this project: Oh, I have such sights to show you... *cackles madly*

(Seriously, though - the mythic surgeon robot? Oh BOY, you don't want to mess with those fellows...)

Just a little cut here and a little slice there and you'll be right as rain!

A rain of blood, that is!

Relevant?

I'm thrilled to be a part of this. I too wish there was support for akashic/path of war, but yeah, the niche must be pretty small. Oh well. This will be fantastic anyway, so I'm thrilled to see where it goes! And with a new Wrath of the Righteous game starting soon, I have a GM to bribe, hahaha.

Oh hey, I got my book! I can answer questions! :D

After trying to stay silent and trust the others for what feels like hours, Shadlah finally snorts derisively and shakes her head. "Would one of you care to explain what in the name of the earth is happening here?" she asks, folding her arms across her broad chest with a scowl. "This is neither the time nor the place for such antics!"

Will: 1d20 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (16) + 3 + 2 = 21

"... For as he learned that fateful day,
A hawk will eat a snake!" Zache finishes his poem with a short, sharp bow in Tera's direction, and the joking end to the innuendo-filled story bolsters her.

Casting saving finale as an immediate action, allowing Tera to reroll her failed saving throw.

And then, spinning a starknife across his knuckles, he opens another poem.

"Fear not the beast on cloven hoof
Who speaks in honeyed lies," he begins, blades flashing in the light from Sister Amet'Ra's holy fire.

Aaaaaaaand starting that performance again!

"Sometimes, it is better to trust the stone than one's eyes." Shadlah's voice is clear and deep in the darkness, and she spreads her feet, lowering her stance. A heel digs into the ground, then another, and through the darkness, she can feel the placement of the creatures, their clawed feet betraying them.

Focusing on the one dripping blood and slime from its wounds, as felt by the constant pattern of the droplets on the floor, she blasts it.

Shadlah will accept a point of burn (and the corresponding 6 nonlethal damage) to gain tremorsense for 1 round/level (6 rounds). She takes no miss chance from concealment against creatures she can detect with it. Throwing out a standard earth blast, PBS included, no deadly aim or infusions.
Blast: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21
damage: 3d6 + 13 ⇒ (3, 1, 5) + 13 = 22

"A what?!" Shadlah asks in surprise and confusion, before shaking it off and tugging at the wall behind the creature, pulling stone into its body and bursting it like an overripe red grape.

Earth blast: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25
damage: 3d6 + 17 ⇒ (1, 1, 5) + 17 = 24

The small ball of rock shifts, its head and tail exchanging places as the food is offered, and it unfurls and waddles closer. It lunges clumsily for the food and snuffles at it, nudging it around Joanna's hand with a small, pointed nose.

Shadlah watches the small ball, her posture stiff and her face unmoving. Eventually, she relaxes her shoulders slightly, and says, "It has been a long time. After so much loss - a father I never knew, a mother I lost young, and the last party I cared about - the fear of loss never goes away. It is better in some ways to not become attached." She runs her hand over her bald head. "But perhaps some changes are not to be feared.

"For now," she says, a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips, "I can tell you that, as a child, I dreamed of finding a perfect sphere of black marble, and my favourite food is mushrooms fried enough to still be chewy."

Before resting:

"I do not know." Shadlah spreads her bedroll and sits on it like a mat, spreading her assortment of half-finished carvings before her. She plucks one from the mix, a coiled serpent, and continues her work as she talks. "Yet I do not mind. Surrounded by cold stone, I feel safe. When we leave this place, the world will have changed. But should we return to these depths, they will be as we left them. It is a constant among chaos."

"Only a question." Sure.

A lot of my feedback (good and bad) has been mentioned elsewhere here, but I haven't seen this one come up. On the old forums, if you'd opened a thread and it had no new posts, it would appear greyed-out. Now, there's no indication of which threads one has and has not opened.

Oof, I don't get to this for two days, and it blows right up!

As Tera and Sal head off together, Zache mutters to himself, attempting to put some of the things they've been told to rhyme.

"A bugbear in the tower high,
Whose longbow arrows piece the sky;
A merc' in Tera's custody,
In legislative parody;
An unidentified canine,
A devil-dog of fearsome kind;
A mage unlikely to parlay,
And going by the name Lyrie;
And then the one we've come to seek,
With cruel intent and murderous streak,
Nualia, with demon limb,
And bent on bringing futures grim."

With a short sigh and a harsh chuckle, he shakes his head, adding,

"A day, a task, a battle dark,
For those who bear the gods' birthmark!"

Shadlah places a hand on the pillar next to her, feeling its strength and stability. "I am sorry for this," she says in a low voice, before stepping out from behind her cover, reaching into every reserve of power she holds, and throwing her arms wide. From the pillars of the room, the stone gathers to her, just enough to add to her power without compromising the stability, a series of pebbles compressing and hardening like coal into diamond as, almost in slow-motion, she gathers it into a single, powerful blast. Her skin hardens further, her fingers stiffening, but she still hurls it the length of the room, wanting this beast grounded or dead.

Move action: gather power.
Standard action: Earth blast with metakinesis (empower) and extended range form infusion. Total burn cost: 2, reduced to 1 by infusion specialization and 0 by gather power. Using deadly aim, have bless factored in. And spending a hero point for a +8 on the roll, because my luck has been garbage.
Final effect: range of 120 feet, all damage multiplied by 1.5.
Blast: 1d20 + 17 ⇒ (5) + 17 = 22
damage: 3d6 + 16 ⇒ (5, 4, 5) + 16 = 30 x1.5 = 45 damage.

I think you’re immune to mind-affecting effects while unconscious, right?

Not only is that not mentioned *anywhere* in the Core Rulebook, it would mean spells like dream, which are mind-affecting and can only target unconscious creatures, flat-out don't work.

Bardess, thank you for including inquisitions! :D

I spent NYE working my way through a full bottle of Jack Daniel's with the man, and brought in the new year by drunkenly singing Africa by Toto at the top of our lungs. The dogs weren't impressed; we didn't care.

Zache lets his breath out in a quick sigh, cleaning the dead creature's blood from his blades. "Let's hope there are no more of those," he mutters. "Goblins are bad enough, but that was... horrifying."

Always happy to help. Cross-posted the review to DTRPG, as well.

"I thought it might appreciate something always available," the Shoanti says with a small, uncharacteristically warm smile, reaching up to stroke the flat stones of the spirit's belly. "I suspect it will vanish when I sleep, but the stones will remain, always ready." After a short pause, she says, "It has been some time since I had a friend. It was the least I could do for it."

Review posted. I'm very sorry it took so long; life just kept throwing other things at me. I enjoyed the product greatly!

Tomorrow I'll start banging out Bard/X feats.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

"It doesn't feel right," Zache sighs, about halfway into his shift with Tera. He paces around the tower a few times, then sits, hugging his knees. "Going to sleep so early, and doing my work beneath the sacred stars... it goes against everything I've trained myself for." Heaving a sigh, he takes out his journal and spreads the paper across his knee, licking the stub of a pencil but not yet writing.

After a short silence, he says, "I've spent so long telling the tales of others, but not my own. Is it even right to sing of your own adventures?"

Also going to hold off on 'passing the torch' for now.

Shadlah places a firm hand on Helanda's shoulder and squeezes, her eyes firm, her mouth twisted into a cold smile. "Then we will find her, and we will make her understand."

She crosses over to Jo, squatting to face her, and stares at her face for several tense seconds. Then, her shoulders sagging, she speaks, her voice gentler than usual, a sorrowful tone underlying her harsh accent.

"Stone does not tire," she says, looking up and staring into the distance. "Stone does not yield. Stone is uncaring.

"I also grew arrogant. I could spot traps, and fiends pretending to be statues, and I didn't spot the one on the way out of our last dungeon. I was at the front of the group, and I triggered it in my ignorance." Her head hangs, her chin resting against her chest. "The entrance's ceiling came down - not rubble, but mighty blocks of stone. Alessa died in front of me, and the others were trapped behind a wall I could not move.

"Stone does not tire. Stone does not yield." She closes her eyes, clenches her fists, and allows the veined marble texture to flood back over her skin like pigments in water. "Do not be like stone."

She stands once more, her face impassive and unreadable. "We should keep going."

Ah, RNG... we meet again :P

Please count me in, taig, and thank you for your generosity!

Er, Teldon, how are you critting on a 19 with a spear?

Shadlah stoops to pick up the fallen blade, turning it over in her hands. Blood drips from the glancing wounds on her arms and shoulders, striking the ground as small pebbles; as she closes her eyes, her skin takes on its normal sun-weathered hue and fleshy texture, the blood now falling as soft patters, the rubble which had been levitating about her ankles falling with a soft groan.

"No," she says in her low voice, fixing Helanda with stony eyes. "You remain. The question of what you will do with that fact, however, does as well."

As the door creaks open and Kaelaah steps through, Zache, back to the wall, begins a chant, his voice low and raspy, a chilling mockery of the songs from the goblin raid.

"Pumpkin king with eyes that burn,
Fear the pumpkin king's return!
Pumpkin king with pumpkin head,
He be angry! Make you dead!"

Readied action to use that as the start of inspire courage!

I'm good for Tera to keep the wand; I'm not creative enough as a player to work well with illusions :P

Staring down the holy symbol, Zache makes the sign of the evil eye and shudders. "I'll take it," he mutters, snatching it hastily from Kaede's hand and wrapping it in a scarf, which he tucks into his shirt, unwilling to let it touch his skin. "As Desna fights against nightmares, so too shall I."

Letting a deep breath out in a rush, he smoothes his clothes again. "I can probably keep going," he affirms, eyes set hard with determination.

"... I do not know," Sadlah admits, her stony face impassive, but with sadness showing in her dark eyes. With a flick of her fingers, she sends the gravel skimming across the water at blinding speed, bursting into a small cloud of dust as it strikes the far cavern wall. "And yet I remain. We all remain, and we continue on our path, as the river wears down the earth, not knowing what lies ahead." She stands, offering a rough, broad hand to Joanna. "We will persevere."

As the group continues, she follows, in her own way - in stoic silence, hand trailing through the stony wall as she goes, watching as Joanna approaches the unmoving bodies.

"We may not," Shadlah answers Jo, having stepped out away from the magical and emotional conversations. "Adventures change people in many ways. Some for better, some for worse." She squats next to the young warrior, scooping a handful of gravelly sand and letting it roll across her fingers in slow, lazy, gravity-defying trails. "I was once more like you. I was young and excited, eager to see what lay beyond the city walls. Now, I find my home in tunnels and dungeons."

Cyanne is the best Disney princess.

Ah, but guess what the travel domain gives you? ;-)

"Hoy!" Zache commands, turning his attention to the self-professed 'Pumpkin King'. "How about you pick on someone bigger and stronger than you?" As he charges across the fray, dodging and ducking around his teammates and the goblins, the underbrush seems to flatten beneath his well-worn boots for the briefest of instants, just enough to allow him passage, before springing up again. As he leaps over a thick tangle of thorns and lands gracefully on the other side, he swings the starknife in a long, sweeping arc, blade flashing in the flame.

I activate agile feet, and I charge the goblin caster, ignoring all effects of difficult terrain. And since this is my first time using a domain power (from memory), it seems only appropriate to burn a hero point for a +8 on the attack roll!
Main hand: 1d20 + 9 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 9 + 8 = 21 Ouch. Good job, too!
damage: 1d4 + 5 ⇒ (4) + 5 = 9 Heyyyyyy!

Briana: my PFS sorcerer, Michael Bay Flói Mikkelson, would argue that :P

"This is bad," Shadlah mutters, grinding her teeth with a sound like gravel. Stepping away from the water's edge, she takes aim at the nearest enemy and lets them eat stalactite.

Acrobatics (if needed): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14
Earth blast: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (8) + 8 = 16
damage: 3d6 + 16 ⇒ (5, 3, 4) + 16 = 28

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Zache chuckles, spinning on one well-worn boot heel. "But if it will hide our approach, I suppose I can deal with being dulled down. Though I'll ask you to leave my kapenia out of the treatment," he adds more sternly, running his fingers along the silk patchwork scarf around his neck. "My heritage is as colourful as the birds in the trees and the shells on the sand, and to remove that would bring misfortune."

Stealth and perception for when they're needed:
Stealth: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8

Typical PFS. "Here's some stuff the players will want to know. We're not going to write it here, though." :P

Sheepishly coming out from her position around the corner, Ophelia looks over the room, seeing the unconscious woman surrounded by her allies. "Well, I'm glad that's taken care off," she mutters, her voice small. "Is everyone alright?"

As the group gathers themselves, she looks around at the various pieces of information in the room, and stops at the busts. While interesting, she notices nothing unusual about them, and indeed recognizes few of the names.

Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

"So how are we going to get her out of here?" she asks, kneeling and checking the Spider's vitals. Invisibility?

Kazimir blinks in confusion at Valeriya's doubt, before carefully removing one gauntlet, then the other, setting the heavy armoured gloves aside. With clumsy fingers, he removes his gorget, lifts his chin, and indicates the thick, ugly scar across his throat, nearly stretching from one ear to the other.

"As I live and breathe, I've been there," he says in a low tone, keeping his chin high for a few seconds longer before dropping it again, massaging his throat. "After I was cut down in defense of Oleg's Outpost, I tended the fields on the slopes of Heaven, slept near the fires of the hall, and drank wheat-beer with the petitioners. I heard and saw much from the herald, and understand little of it. I have faith that all will be revealed in time."

Not sure if it helps you, Hayato, but F. Wesley Schneider wrote this post on his personal blog. It concerns a male dryad in an issue of the Pathfinder comics, as well as his thoughts on the issue.

“But Wes, everyone knows all dryads are women.”

Yeeeeeah. I’m getting kind of bored with that—and honestly, I think a lot of folks are. I love mythology as much as the next nerd, but with few exceptions the role of “elusive monster that you maybe want to fool around with” is almost exclusively filled by women—and, folkloricly, that’s not really an honor. So I figure that, If we’re going to have supernaturally sexy characters in our stories, lets widen the appeal here a bit. Heck, no one really bats an eye at mermales anymore, so why not a guy dryad?

As far as I know, though, it hasn't been officially confirmed anywhere in print.

All spellcasters can get their spells back after eight hours of rest, regardless of whether there's a break in the middle.

Zache grins as he looks around the campsite, running his fingers over the trunk of a tree. His long fingers pick away at moss, revealing a crudely-carved butterfly symbol in the bark. "My grandfather placed this found-mark," he said proudly. "We didn't have much trouble with goblins, though there was a rather noisome owl that kept my mother awake." He chuckles at the memory. "I don't know how she managed to throw her shoe that high, but I did not enjoy climbing up to fetch it!"

Sitting cross-legged on the ground and setting his knives to one side, he sighs and stretches out his back. "I can take a middle watch, but..." His voice trails off, his expression suddenly sheepish. "Grandfather always told me it was important to get uninterrupted rest. Dreams are Desna's blessing, and the deepest point of sleep is a sacred time."

"I will be fine," Shadlah mutters as Briana lays a hand on her shoulder. "My connection to the earth sustains and taxes me. Come the morning, this weariness will pass, but as I open my body to the stone again, it will begin to sap my strength." She rubs Hali's belly, scratching at a spot below the wolf's ribs. "In order to protect myself, I must drain myself. I have never yet overexerted my abilities." She says this last with mingled pride and concern, as if unwilling to find that point.

Her piece said, she sits atop her bedroll in her sparse clothes and wrappings, her skin a warm brown in the light of the small fire, working on her stone-carving. The figure of a small, blind cave-fish slowly emerges from the rock, and after some time, she curls up tightly for sleep, snoring loudly and waking only for her watch.

When the group wakes, she yawns, stretches, and dons her chainmail, before casually destroying the barriers she'd placed the night before, letting them collapse into rubble with a wave of her hand. Her skin appears smooth and soft, but as she rests her heels against the stone, it seems to take on the gritty texture for a moment before smoothing out to a hard sheen, the connection open once more.

Cyanne will be joining us on and off for the next little bit.

Oh, this is interesting! :D

Sorry for my silence, people. I'm running my first PFS special tomorrow - #8-00: The Cosmic Captive - and I've spent an entire week getting ready for and stressing over it. After tomorrow it'll be over, and I can get back to posting.

That art of Tawil at'Umr looks like a heavy metal album cover. I am so cool with this.

Is the rubble difficult terrain?

Wanting to get to the Stag Lord, but not wanting to leave Nah on her own - especially considering Akiros' unsteady loyalties - Kazimir unstraps his shield and drops it before switching both hands to his axe and taking a vicious swing at one of the bandits.

Move action to drop my shield, standard action to two-handed power attack Purple.
Battleaxe: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
Crit confirm?: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
damage: 1d8 + 7 ⇒ (3) + 7 = 10
extra crit damage: 2d8 + 14 ⇒ (1, 4) + 14 = 19
Um... assuming that drops him, I'll 5-foot step diagonally down and to the left of my current position (please move me in that case).

"I am fine," Shadlah says in stiff response to Briana's query, inspecting two long, but shallow, scratches on one marble-skinned arm. "We can double back and check the other tunnels later. We should move."

As the group travels forward, her hands work almost unconsciously with a chunk of stone and a small rock-hammer, forming the likeness of one of the strange, blind fish that meander through the cave pools. As she coaxes the shapes and scales out of the stone, she whistles, an old, jaunty tune that echoes off the cavern walls and comes to a halting finish when the party reaches the open cavern.

The rock hammer falls from her hand, clanking to the ground, and her jaw hangs open as she stares at the marble walls. "It... it is beautiful," she sighs, staring at the walls and statues in open-mouthed wonder. She brushes a hand against the wall, allowing her fingers to melt into the marble. "I have not before seen stone so lovely."

As the opening volleys of arrows and bombs are exchanged, Kazimir swings his lance into place under his arm before kicking into Surefoot's sides. The old horse rears up on his back legs before hitting the ground at a run, clods flying as he charges through the hidden bear traps and bears his rider down on the frontmost bandit.

Mounted charge hoy! Power attacking with the lance. Bonuses/penalties factored in. AC is currently 20.
Ride (guide with knees): 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17
Lance: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
damage: 2d8 + 12 ⇒ (7, 3) + 12 = 22

"Care not from whence these sinful creatures came -
Care only that they're few, and we are more," Zache begins, moving into melee with a chiding grin.

Move to flank with Sal, standard action to inspire courage.

I'm interested, and very appreciative of such generosity!

Kazimir nods slowly at Nah's explanation, unconsciously fiddling with the straps of his cuisses. "Well, how do you know there aren't any pink dragons out there?" he asks. "From what I've heard, dragons come in many colours, so perhaps you're just different from the other Sootscales, but just as much a kobold as the rest of them."

Before he has time to say anything else, the camp's turned into a commotion of movement and voices, including that of a heavily-armoured young man making demands and orders of the camp. Pulling himself to his feet, he nods to Kesten, before cupping his hands around his mouth and calling out to the kobolds. "Sootscales! New jobs for you! Get up on the hills and send a runner down if you see anything!" he calls, gesturing for the kobolds to follow him to the hills in question. Before leaving, he turns to Luthor, adding in a quieter tone, "You look like you could use the walk. Care to help me pair them off?"

Kazimir returns Cyanne's hug, wrapping his arms around her narrower frame and squeezing tightly. "You'll take care of yourself, right? And him?" he asks, swallowing hard as soon as the words are out. One hand clenches stiffly and awkwardly in his gauntlet, as if to keep himself stable. "Don't give up on each other, and don't forget us."

Despite everything, Daen's parting words draw a grin from him, and he wipes his eyes on his sleeve as the pair depart. After watching the pair ride into the distance, he heaves a deep sigh, nods a few times, and lays a heavy hand on Luthor's shoulder. "They'll be fine," he says absent-mindedly, not even certain who he's trying to convince.

As he sits heavily to struggle with his greaves and sabatons, realizing only too late that he would have been best off putting his gauntlets on last (but too proud to ask for help), he finds himself near eye-level with Nah and the strange contraption on her shoulder. He has several questions for the kobold, but the first one that comes out is, "Are kobolds not usually pink?"

Kazmir sighs at Kesten's words. "Do you really think I'm the right person to-" he begins, before a memory of a large white cervine face and wise brown eyes flashes into his mind.

Times will soon change, and strong yet gentle leadership will be needed. Erastil does not question your ability, only your will. Will you lead, if the burden is thrust upon you?

"Oy!" he calls, turning away from Kesten and looking out over the kobolds. He motions for Daen to continue translating before pacing back and forth, speaking as he goes.

"You're too scattered - everyone wants to speak at once. That needs to change. You can't have a civil discussion when you're all speaking over each other. Mikmek-" he punctuates his statement by pointing at the kobold in question - the one he thinks is Mikmek, anyway. "You're in charge of the others. Nakpik, you're..." He pauses for a moment, trying to remember the term. "Second in command. And Mikmek answers to me." It feels strange placing himself in charge of the scaly humanoids, but he keeps his chin up and his voice strong.

"We need to get over or under this wall. If you can collapse it, make a breach, even better. So figure out a way to do it - no yelling, no squealing, and especially no tail-pulling. If you can't follow those rules..." His mind races, trying to recall the disciplines of his childhood. "I'll start knocking heads together," he finishes lamely, making vague hand gestures to illustrate the point.

Looking around the silent group, Kazimir sighs. "Well, we need to either get in there, or draw them out. I doubt anything will get them [i]all[/i[ out of there, though." Looking down at Mikmek, he raises his eyebrows and asks, "Mikmek, your people are miners, right? Do you think you could get under the wall?"