Evgeni Genadiev's page

Organized Play Member. 1 post (6,365 including aliases). No reviews. No lists. No wishlists. 3 Organized Play characters. 48 aliases.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

"Yeah, Lordship? You want to come take a closer look?", Garvid roars as he tosses his longbow to the ground, his arm held tightly into the worm's jaw, as he turns around to see Yazi swarmed. "Don't leave Yazi alone, if the flying dogs can't eat you, they'll stop swarming." The stinger from the worm pushing past his armour, Garvid's furious facade twists to glare at the humongous creature's maw, as his armoured fist begins raining furious blows onto the creature's jaw. "Your face needs rearranging."


Fort Save: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (9) + 14 = 23 +7 on top of that if it's supernatural in origin.
Attack, Power Attack, Haste, Reckless Abandon, Combat Expertise, IC, Bless: 1d20 + 17 + 1 + 3 - 3 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 17 + 1 + 3 - 3 + 2 + 1 = 32
Damage, Spiked Fist, Power Attack, Inspire Courage: 1d4 + 6 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 6 + 2 = 16
Attack 2: 1d20 + 21 ⇒ (12) + 21 = 33
Damage, Spiked Fist, Power Attack, Inspire Courage: 1d4 + 6 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 6 + 6 + 2 = 15
Attack 3: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (7) + 16 = 23
Damage, Spiked Fist, Power Attack, Inspire Courage: 1d4 + 6 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 6 + 6 + 2 = 16

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Female Human Fighter 6 | HP 19/58 | AC 23, T 9 FF 24 | Fort +9, Ref +5, Will +4 (+8 vs Fear) | CMD 23 | Init +2 | Perception +1

Hmmm... Regrettably, becoming an all-mighty and powerful scum would probably require resizing my armour. And that sounds like it's going to be a whole thing. So no Aster sacrifices, I think.

The sight in the room makes Tasha's mouth gape, before her stomach rushes to her mouth instinctively. Her dagger at her side, she takes a look at the egg. A... a baby? An adolescent? His mind, warped as it is, is all there. She nods at Aster, before taking a step towards the aboleth, the dagger in her hand glowing. "You've kidnapped me, and many others. Your armies have killed many mermaids. And you tried to kill us about as many times as I can count." The dagger in her hand lights up red as she closes in. "It's only fair we get a shot at killing you at least once. Then, we can talk."

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

As the madness descends upon the party, Garvid's eye flare with it. All semblance of constraint from the man disappears as he roars, sprinting forwards. "Get out of my heaad!" The beast, not expecting the reaction, does little as the blade burrows to the shaft into its softened belly carapace. With a vicious twist, the guardsman yanks out the halberd with a furious heave, unknowable viscera trailed around the weapon's blade. "I'll end every last one of you! Go back to the ground! Back, or it's the last thing you'll do!"


3d20 + 6 ⇒ (14, 8, 18) + 6 = 46
Confusion: 1d100 ⇒ 15 Act Normally
Attack, Charge, Rage: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (20) + 20 = 40 Dice, I love you.
Confirm: 1d20 + 20 ⇒ (12) + 20 = 32
Damage: 3d10 + 81 ⇒ (3, 2, 9) + 81 = 95

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Not being able to find it in himself to refuse to Trinia, the guardsman adds to Yazi's notes. "Just don't stop thinking with your own head." Seeing Li somewhat more sullen than usual, he purses his lips. "How you doing, kid?", he asks, as a smile flickers on his face for a moment. It might just cheer her up. Tag Li, see OoC.


Nodding appreciatively as Yazi tips the Duskwardens, Garvid grunts approvingly at the man. Nice to see someone cares about safety here. Then again, we don't have deadly undergrounds in Korvosa. He furrows his brows. Except the ones with the wererats. Or the daemons. Or whatever ancient mystical dreadfulness is under the Castle. Maybe we oughta get our own Duskwardens.

"No questions from me. If I see something I shouldn't see, I'll whisper to you. You tell me if you want me to go get it or start running.", he replies with a curt tone. I'd love to know just what's down here, but I'd imagine he doesn't want to scare the merchants. He leans on his halberd, and starts staring at the Twisted Door suspiciously, as if he doesn't particularly like it.


Sleight of Hand on Li's pouch, like the good ol' days: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21
Not the best, but it might just work.
Perception in case you notice that and want to reverse it.: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (12) + 14 = 26

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Female Human Fighter 6 | HP 19/58 | AC 23, T 9 FF 24 | Fort +9, Ref +5, Will +4 (+8 vs Fear) | CMD 23 | Init +2 | Perception +1

Sheathing off the dwarf from her dagger, Tasha shouts, "Well.. Old boots are a thing you don't want when you're... fishing, right? I thought it made sense!"

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Human Ranger 4 | HP 26/40 | AC 16, T 10, FF 16| CMB +9, CMD 19 | F 6, R 4, W 3 | Init +0, Perc -1

At The Beggarwood:

"Indeed!", Bartolo laughs. "And if you keep the tankards full enough, an afternoon can stretch a good week, I've found!", the nobleman gives one last thundering shoulderclap to a Beggarwoodlite. His horse, undoubtedly not looking forward to increasing the already significant load, is brought to him, and soon Lord Blacksheep and his newfound companion set for the Betony estate.

An exhausted looking, slightly aged gray mare is tied shoddily to a post near the doorstep. A massive Taldan man with a short nobleman's beard of latest Opparan fashion waves at the carriage, sitting jovially on the grass with a lute in his hands. The illusion of an everyday noble is slightly broken, however, by the rather large and tribalesque shoanti warhammer at his feet, which he gently leaves on the grass as he stands up, giving the tired mare a hefty pat on the neck with his massive palm.

Slowly approaching the carriage as it slows down, Bartolo extends his hand warily as the door opens, hat in hand, aiding whoever would take the unknown man's hand in aid to descend from the vehicle. "Good afternoon, madams and other madams.", he says, and with only a minor hesitation turns towards Chana, clearly regarding her as the head one in charge. "I do apologise for my rather unorthodox approach and my uninvited appearance, but I was in the area and I heard about the Betony's long-lost cousins, and felt that it's only fair that us new arrivals in the area ought to keep in touch.", he harrumphs in a deep, melodic voice. "I'm Lord Bartolo Talbot, but please, don't hold my last name against me.", he raises his hands. "I can assure you that I'm a sybarite, an insufferable socialite and an immoderate scoundrel.", he adds with a face two tones too straight.

"And being all those things, and a presumptious opportunist to boot, I daresay that, since your manor seems to be lacking a groundskeeper and a maitre'd, I figure that our families can both benefit from some mercantile sense." He shrugs. "Failing all that, I offer a night's worth of song and tales in return for a warm meal and a bed softer than a horse's ass."

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Human Ranger 4 | HP 26/40 | AC 16, T 10, FF 16| CMB +9, CMD 19 | F 6, R 4, W 3 | Init +0, Perc -1

At The Beggarwood:

Sorry for no song - I started something a couple of times, but it didn't turn out to be as good as I hoped! At any rate, OoC, I think we're just waiting for the dance so we can proceed, as I don't think Dro'gan and I will go bandit hunting by ourselves!

Taking another sip of brandy, Bartolo clears his throat. "Ah! In the mood for heroics, I see. Or foolishness, if you're being cynical.", he harrumphs, before striking his lute in a minor tone.

"The heavens, they had trembled, the earth torn aside."
"The barrow fields still of joy, of legends lain aslay'n"
"For all heroes are mortal, a fact that all forget."
"However bright their valour, however loud their name,"
"Silence eternal's all they get."

Pausing for a quiet, mournful stanza, Bartolo continues, even gravelier than before.

"The morning star shone red this year,"
"On sands of marble gold."
"For in the wake of that great beast,"
"Oppara ancient broke."

At the sombrest, the songs picks up once again, this time with a defiant tone.

"Though fear not, my Taldans,"
"Nor age nor beast nor man,"
"Nor seas, hellfire, no eldritch foe,"
"Can keep Oppara down."
"We remember Azlant, were old when elves returned."
"We watched as gods arisen, we watched all ages past."
"No matter what the future,"

"Taldor will overcome."

With a defiant stroke, Bartolo bows down. Fighting, yes, we have. But age kills as sure as any blade., a cynical thought crosses the nobleman's mind, as he ponders on the ancient song of victory and defeat.

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Human Ranger 4 | HP 26/40 | AC 16, T 10, FF 16| CMB +9, CMD 19 | F 6, R 4, W 3 | Init +0, Perc -1

At the Beggarwood:

Sorry, that took a lot longer than I expected!
"Please don't, my friend, you need them more than I do!", Bartolo replies with a grin, giving the man a tap on the shoulder. Starting to play the lute, the massive noble's ruminating voice begins carrying over the fields.

"In moonlit night, in mists so cold,
A caravan arrived.
For far and distant Cassomir,
yet dawn it brought in sight.

With steeds so pale, like beasts of snow,
on cart of gold and teal,
with eyes of sky, and smile like pearls,
our hearts she stole with zeal.

Oh, Toilday went like summer hail,
and Wealday like a storm, for sight of her
in marketplace,
was blinding like the sun.

On Oathday shrines, and temples both,
were closed, the gods shushed still,
On Fireday, lay fields of hay,
despite our work, unturned.

She danced and laughed and whispered words,
so foreign, yet so known,
And marketday in our old town,
oh, never brought such joy.

She went with dawn on Starday,
the sole light in the skies,
Alas, the lass from Cassomir,
we'd never see again."

The noble's voice, once so brash and loud, whispers with the voice of one with lost love, as the final notes of the lute carry over the stilled crowds. Exhaling, he bows down, and the smile is once again on his face, though much stiller. "Cry you not for the Lass from Cassomir, my good friends. Rejoice, for we'd been blessed with her presence."

Perform(Lute): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26

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Male Human Tattooed Sorcerer 3 | HP 26/26 | AC 12(20), T 12(20) FF 10(18) | Fort +3, Ref +3, Will +3 | CMD 11 | Init +6 | Perception +1(With Familiar nearby)

Bloody hells., Ladim's eyebrow darts up at the General's appearance. The short man nods, his lips parting with anger at the box. "You've got it, mate." Giving the man a tap on the shoulder, he grits his teeth. "We'll teach 'er a lesson she'll never remember.", he sips his flagon with anger, "Because she'll die before she can forget it." The sorcerer's hands glow with a pale, blue light. "You know where she is?"

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Ugh. Had a writer's block for this for a good few days, and GM, you did it better than I could.

"The dagger. Get that gods-blasted dagger out." Garvid whispers before the verdict is pronounced. "Let the other Arkona watch.", he grunts out quietly. As soon as the blade is in sight, he stands up at attention, nodding at Neolandus to lay down his judgement.

Garvid sits at attention as Neolandus pronounces his verdict. His hand on his halberd, he returns the stare from Glorio with a stone-eyed stare. It's done. He's facing his crimes. Maybe not all of them, but that's up to Pharasma to decide. A spark of hatred lights in his eyes as Cressida's voice denounces the law, but it quickly subsides as a vengeful smile graces his lips, locking his gaze with the rakshasa. And those are your final words. Wrong, spiteful. The guardsman's nostrils flare out. And afraid. You should be.

Nodding at the final verdict from Neolandus, Garvid moves forwards to stand towards the tied-up noble's chest. "Korvosa's crumbled many times, Arkona. But that just means we build her up again." With a furious kick, the jade chair tumbles into splinters, dropping the rakshasa to eye level. "Trosker ep Styrk, you rat bastard."

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

Heh. I was burning through Grit like nobody's business, so I don't think that was ever on the table.

Also, I got pretty panicked a couple of posts, and I completely forgot to respond to the cavern conversation when I was thinking of responding to both Mihaela and Kolthis. :( Managed to contract some of that dread over the internet and in PbP! Good job, GM!

That's coming down now, better late than never, I suppose.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

As Glorio is finally bound and tied, Garvid stands up, exhaling a heavy breath. He hacks out a bloody glob on the ground, and leans on his halberd. Another glance at the rakshasa, however, brings a grim smile on his face. Lord Arkona, caught and about to be punished for his crimes. Right in front of me. I'd love to drag you to Longacre... But I've never been less sure that you won't cut a deal with the Queen... Letting out another bloody cough, he nods between heavy breaths as Lord Talfryn briefs Neolandus and Vencarlo as to the current dire situation in Korvosa.

"Stri- *cough* ahem, strictly speaking, we've not been disavowed. Just defunded and de-staffed. But we're all deputies or else to the Guard.", he lets out a chuckle, lifting his bloody badge. "Although, Lordship here,", he tilts his head towards Talfryn, "Missed the part where the assassins that attacked you... Oh, and burned your school down, by the way - they're operating out of Longacre." Slowly descending to sit on the ground, Garvid continues. "So damaged is a good word for it, Lord Seneschal."

Taking out his journal, he raises his head at Neolandus. "I could use your aid in legal matters. We're in Old Korvosa, which as a quarantined zone could qualifiy as dangerous land. We're injured, which means our chances of safely transporting the captive,", he gives a not-so-gentle nudge with his boot to Glorio, "are reduced. And with your admissions, we have eight proofs of attempted murder, two counts of torture, at least one count of consorting with devils, if we ignore whatever he is." Glancing at the elephant's unmoving body in the corner, he lifts his eyebrows and laughs. "And two of endangering the public with wild animals."

"For the first eight alone, he'll hang eight times. I suggest we skip the torture, since I've had enough of that for a lifetime.", Garvid stands up, "And if you think the circumstances would allow for the execution to be carried out here in the interest of the public... I'll follow it through.", he finishes. "But we have to do it right, and give him the chance to say his final say and defense, rotten as he is."

Taking out the coil of rope, previously holding Meliya, Garvid growls for a second. And now that b#@+@ is bound to pop up again. Or run, if she knows what's good for her. I have to warn Vancaskerkin. Throwing one end of the rope over the resplendend chandelier, Garvid tightens the other end around the elephant's magnificent tusk. It's a shame. All this foreign beauty, all covering this rot. "Lord Talfryn, I'm afraid we'll need that chair.", he croaks out a moment later as he steps to grab Glorio.

I'd suggest we make it a little more official this time. I'll have a list of the crimes and fake fantasy legalese ready for after he's made his claim. And also, OOC, I couldn't resist the conceptual idea of a rakshasa not only being killed by mere mortal, but trialed and executed. He's bound to be rather irate at the thought, too.

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Team Fashion:

The security guard shudders at Wraith's comment, but the SMG in her hand sends him scuttling across the floor. He picks up several boxes, dropping one at his feet, then quickly puts them in the truck.

Nomad, aided with Sybil's AR prompts, quickly identifies a shelf, packed with seemingly ordinary and rather drab looking T-Shirts. The AR, however, indicates that each shirt is worth 500 nuyen, and just as he unloads a stackfull of them in the van, a prompt from Sybil appears on both your PANs.

Sybil wrote:

"<Got into the security drone. Feed coming soon. Wait, dre- Hang on!>", the note ends, as a gunshot is heard from the room in the corner. #5

Team Magic:

"Some sort? I'm a spirit of institutionalised education! You baseless scoundrel!", the spirit roars in return. As Sunset shouts, it's little wonder that R-R's attention is immediately drawn to the summoned spirit. Roaring out, the ork grins as he bears his AK towards the spirit, aims, and fires. The barrage, by any means, would've dropped an unarmoured troll dead, or at least bleeding in their tracks. The rounds bury themselves into the man's body, who grins deeply, only for a trickle of ephemeral blood to drain from his mouth. "You! Thief, you are, thief and a murderer!", the spirit screeches, as it points its attention towards the ork and screeches. Slightly damaged, but nothing particularly noteable.

The two mages, seeing that the visually scariest member of the robbers' attention is pointed elsewhere, flip the table and break into a run, grabbing the closest bags, vases and reagents they can get in their hasty escape, one of them kneeing a hostage in the face accidentally. The hostages scream at the gunfire, and the already crazed bookstore jumps into an even louder mess.


X2 means you can have 2 rounds of actions
Merc Rigger 22
Wraith 18 x2
Nomad 11
Security Slave 11

Sunset 21 [i]x2
Spirit of Man 16
R-R 15
Mages 11
Glass 9


Wraith: 3d6 + 11 ⇒ (4, 2, 1) + 11 = 18 X2
Nomad: 2d6 + 8 ⇒ (2, 1) + 8 = 11
???: 2d6 + 10 ⇒ (6, 6) + 10 = 22
Security Slave: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Sunset: 3d6 + 10 ⇒ (6, 3, 2) + 10 = 21
Glass: 1d6 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9
R-R: 1d6 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
Spirit of Man: 2d6 + 9 ⇒ (6, 1) + 9 = 16
Mages: 1d6 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11

R-R Aimed Narrow Burst 1: 13d6 ⇒ (4, 4, 5, 1, 4, 2, 5, 6, 5, 6, 3, 5, 3) = 53 Oof. 5 hits, for 15P
Dodge: 4d6 ⇒ (5, 1, 4, 1) = 11 So, 4.

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Hey Sybil, sorry to see you go. I've been struggling with burnout myself, and that's something normal. (I think.) I've had a lot of joy playing with you, and I'd love to see you in the future. If not, then all the best for your future endeavours, and know there's always a place on this table for you!

@Azil, you're still sticking around, I hope, and I'll try and get to you as quickly as possible.

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

"Eyes up here, you hellspawned prick!", shouts Lys. Seeing Mihaela attacked by the devil, she bites her teeth, aiming straight into the devil's head. Two squeezes of the trigger, and two bolts stick out of the devil's eye sockets, as it takes a feeble step back into the murky waters. That was a devil... Right? Pure luck..., a thought crosses her mind as she glances towards the hidden crossbowman. "Mine's bigger, Hyve!", she roars defiantly.


Attack, Rapid Fire, Point Blank Shot, Deadly Aim, Sharp Shoot: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28
Attack, Rapid Fire, Point Blank Shot, Deadly Aim, Confirm: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19
Damage: 3d10 + 36 ⇒ (4, 7, 8) + 36 = 55
Attack, Rapid Fire, Point Blank Shot, Deadly Aim, Sharp Shoot: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (20) + 9 = 29
Confirm: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 9 = 22
Damage: 3d10 + 36 ⇒ (3, 6, 7) + 36 = 52
[ooc]Assuming it's dead by now, because otherwise GMLC is out to get us!

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

As Lord Talfryn's spell binds the foes into a shell holding back an elephant, Garvid stands still for a moment, mouth agape. Wizardry... I heard it was scary, I've been along them for so long, but still... The web bursting from the air by Glorio, however, chokes him back into reality just in time to avoid them completely. "You should've learned, Glorio!", Garvid roars as he spins his halberd in the air, the vicious blade cutting through the spiderwebs. "No matter how many webs you spin, we'll cut right through them!"



Just realised, thank the gods I wasn't on fire when the webs were here.
Reflex Save, Superstition: 1d20 + 6 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 6 = 32 Mumble, mumble...
Spell Sunder vs. Web: 1d20 + 2 + 10 + 6 + 1 + 3 + 1 + 3 + 9 ⇒ (13) + 2 + 10 + 6 + 1 + 3 + 1 + 3 + 9 = 48 That's a spell effect of up to 23rd caster level sundered, and 33 suppressed for a round.

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Female Human Fighter 6 | HP 19/58 | AC 23, T 9 FF 24 | Fort +9, Ref +5, Will +4 (+8 vs Fear) | CMD 23 | Init +2 | Perception +1

Just to mention this, since I haven't before (or I don't remember it, which means it never happened), GM Fox, I don't know if it's the AP or you, but the ambience and the environment here are magnificently varied and complex, and your descriptions are great. Go you!

Hostile terrain is something that's really hard to GM (from my experience playing sci-fi games), and so far it's been pretty hostile!

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

For further reference, Mihaela - that still only counts as one.

I'm having a blast, even though I've shot my crossbow, like, once. The RP is great, and the party's a bunch of amazing and deep characters.

That said, I should mention, risking the wrath of my fellow players, that some increase in difficulty might be welcome. After all, we can't have a horror game if we're not terrified of beasts and creatures, and only managing to defeat them after a hard battle or a flash of luck.

I'd disagree with Walter regarding the traps and alarms - that works in F2F, but you only put a door in a game as a PbP GM if you're off for a week's holiday. Watchful foes might work, but with the insane amount of Stealth and Invisibilty we have it'd be verging on the improbable. And hiding from horrors is another common trope that I like.

@GMLC - Wicked tends to slap the advanced template on the minions, since we're a little too powerful in CotCT, that might work, as well as other templates that would be reasonable. Other option might be even more enemies of lower skill, I suppose?

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

Hey everyone! I was out for a week after the New Years, and wow, this kicked off in fifth gear. I'll post in a moment!

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

Lys is quiet, the search in the dark place seemingly tempering, if not draining her constant energy. As the party ascends the steps, her lips are pursed in heavy thoughts. She says little but one-line answers as Matthis greets them, and the walk through the pouring rain up towards the Manor is only interrupted by a weary sigh once in a while. I don't want to go back there..., a stray thought carries itself to the fore of her mind as she turns to look in the direction of the Stone Circle, before prying her attention away.

At the manor, she hangs her head compassionatelly at the mayor, until he has his outburst, her morose mood seemingly disappears as she's shaken into attention once more. As he starts shouting, she stares back, her face surrendering that she's putting all of her strength to hold her tongue. Her mouth opens briefly for a couple of times, before she holds it. No need to embarrass myself, again. And I understand grief, I do..., she grits her teeth, giving the mayor a curt, professional nod before turning to follow Jarvis into the library.

"Well. That's it. We've lost Walter.", she mutters quietly as she steps next to a large globe on a pedestal, poking the map gently as she spins it. Been there, been there, not going back there..., she hums to herself absent mindedly, spinning the globe as she does. The conversation between Yelena and Walter seem to bring Lys around, as she appears, eyes peeking into a jar with a tiny ship inside it. "How do they get it in there..." Placing it next to the table, she sends a wink at Yelena. "Best of luck with that. I think my favourite one is Eleanor, though.", she grins, the appearance of Mihaela and the conversation about languages seemingly making her shrug. "I could go. Books here are a little too heavy for my taste, and I could use a walk - Plus, it beats listening to that conversation.", she nods her head at Walter. "It sounds like when your boot is stuck in a swamp, doesn't it."

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Garvid chuckles at the mention of Vimanda and Chamidu's heralds. as he cuffs Meliya's hands behind her back with no regards to comfort. "Right, right.", he chuckles loudly. "Vimanda, Vudrani goddess of being a frequent pen-pal of disgraced guards. The exact type of deity that sends her heralds to Korvosan balls and mails them daggers. Cut the s@@!." Grabbing the manacles, Garvid ties a piece of rope around their chain, coils it a couple of times and ties it to his belt as Meliya continues on, the 'lawless' and 'meaningless' comments drawing his ire as he clamps the chains tightly.

You're just pissing me off on purpose now, Arkona... Gritting his teeth, he adds."For a useless jurisdiction, we're sure getting a lot done. You're an arrestee, not a hostage. You're at my side at all times. If anyone dangerous is in front of me, you hide behind me.", he relays, grasping the manacles as he nods Meliya towards Li. "Guardswoman Li, care to check if our arrestee has something she shouldn't have on her?", before noticing the wincing in both hers and Talfryn's side.

Spell Sunder:

Wondered how to describe the dispelling part on a debuff, but here it is. Spell Sunder is a supernatural ability, too, though.

"Here's my trick." I've no idea if that'd work against magic, but now's not the time., he says, gesturing for Li to give him her hand. Gripping her hand in his, he continues. "Focus on the pain. Then think about what you've got to do, right." He exhales, his face turning red for a brief moment as he squeezes. "Then, you get angry. Really, really angry, at yourself, and at the pain. Reach into your head, and squeeze the pain, breathe out, grit your teeth and keep squeezing it until it gives." Squeezing a little more, he adds with a grin. "Because you're a lot more persistent than the pain, and you just don't have the time for that."


Using Spell Sunder on the Symbols of Pain on Talfryn and Li, as we discussed previously. Should take me less than a minute for both, and 2 of my remaining Rage Rounds.
Spell Sunder on Symbol of Pain: 1d20 + 20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 20 + 9 = 43 That'd dispel an effect with caster level of 18 or less, which I hope it is.
Spell Sunder on Symbol of Pain 2: 1d20 + 29 ⇒ (20) + 29 = 49 That'd dispel anything with a caster level of 24 or less.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Tricks and talents, huh. "So, we now have admission in full for being complicit in a kidnapping, right?", Garvid glances around with a flat expression on his face. "I'm not the damn expert here, but when you were doing the mind-reading, Lordship, you were chanting those weird words and playing with that coin." Turning back to Meliya, he shrugs. "My experience, that's how normal magic works.", he spits out the words. "But anyway... If you'll permit me one last question, your Ladyship.", his lips curl. "I couldn't help but notice Avidexu here shouting for Vimanda to help, and not Meliya. And, Hells, I was half thinking there's a third Arkona about, but at some point, even your master-crafted h$~+~+$$@ ain't enough to cover up all the stink your family's kicked up." He grits his teeth.

Pulling out a set of worn steel manacles from his back, he nods. "So, Meliya or Vimanda or whatever your name is. We're arresting you for kidnapping, conspiracy to dispose of bodies, accessory to cannibalism and consorting with demons." His face is an impervious mask, though in his thoughts there's only fury. "If you play your cards right, I'll speak on your behalf. You might even avoid the gallows. Now drop the knives and turn around.", he orders with a commanding voice, moving to chain Meliya up.

And if you think about making my day..., he closes his eyes, his thoughts intensifying towards Meliya, images start filling his mind. The broken, bleeding Gray Maiden helmet in the hospice. The disembodied horse-headed demon, sprawling in filth amidst a dozen cultists in the bellows of the palace. The corrupted form of Andaisin lying festering on the marble floors. The decapitated forms of the Red Mantis assassins in the basement, heads neatly in tow with a signed writ next to their feet. Senshiir's concaved ribcage on the cold floors of the torture room.

...you go right ahead, sunshine. Won't be the first.

We're pretty badass, guys. Also, we have an amulet of protection against divination, if someone wants to grab that. I'd imagine it's pretty useful right now, but you don't need to be a mindreader right now to know what Garvid's thinking.


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Actually, I saw Archpaladin Zousha's idea about the Ferrans and I had to double check what I know about the race - the quest for a colony sounds amazing.

There's just a couple of paragraphs on them in their sourcebook, but that just means there'll be more chance to improvise and develop them!

My idea's changed to a kind and well-meaning Ferran doctor, keen on making sure that the planet and the colonists are safe, but also gain a good enough reputation with the colony management to let more Ferrans come and settle

@Archpaladin, maybe we can do a common idea for the background and develop the race further?

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Because last demon we fought was a picked corpsebeast in a jar, not a damn guard. Hell was I supposed to know... Gritting his teeth at Meliya's reminder of Avidexu's death, he shakes his head. "All I have for you being trapped is your word. For all we know, you saw what happened to Senshir and decided to help your brother dearest when you realised we're a little more than he can chew. And you seem to know a helluva lot about Vencarlo and, more importantly, about us." His fist curls. "Something's fishy here, and it ain't the reefclaw."

"How would you have learned all that?" Taking a step forwards, he rubs his eyes. He paces around, his lips moving silently as he tries his best to recall the past hour in detail. Found him... her in the labyrinth. Head hummed, nobody confirmed anything magical. Argued about capture and justice. Refused Blackjack's weapons, which was a red flag. Chatted about stuff, which was reassuring. Vesper, Trinia... Grau came into question... Called me on my s@~# about training in the academy, the- Wait a second, Grau?! Garvid's eyes snap back at Meliya, accusatory finger pointing straight at her ribs.

"I can go with learning about sisters, given all their relation to the throne." Baring his teeth in a vindictive snarl, he adds. "Which, by the way, means you were probably there when he was questioning Vencarlo, or at least trusted enough to be given that information. That's not my point, as much as I'd like to."Smash your head for it... Waving his hand, he shakes his finger at the rest. "What I wonder, though, is how would you know about Grau's family?", he snaps back, glancing at Li. "Can't imagine the first questions Glorio's asked him on the torture rack was 'how's your friends' families doing'. Yet, you knew. How?"

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Garvid's face turns rapidly red as blood flows to his face, glancing at the body of the rakshasa at his feet. Just a damn guard, huh. Hell of a job, even if you're from Hell itself... "Listen here!", he roars, his gauntlet grabbing the scruff of her silken robe. "I've had it up to my neck with you and your thrice-damned family!", he shouts, pointing down his halberd, Avidexu's blood still dripping from the tip. "My eyes are wide open, believe me! First, it was your damned niece, Vimanda, convicing a guard to start a damn butcher shop with human meat." His knuckles widen. "Then it was your brother throwing us down here, and we, the fools, came like idiots!" Exhaling, he bites his lips glancing at the body.

Twisting the collar downwards, he turns his full attention back at Meliya's face. "And you, faceshifter. I've not a single clue of what you told me was true, but my hindsight's working fine. You heard me shouting about capturing your poor, poor friend, your 'guard' alive,", he grits his teeth, pulling the woman closer, "and you pretended to be out cold, just to feel bad and guilty the moment we caught you feeding us h%+@+*!$&, and tugging at our damned heartstrings."

Shoving the woman roughly backwards, he snarls once more. "If you'd paid any attention to us commoners talking, you manipulative b&+&%, you'd know we don't just blindly murder anyone! And I'm betting you don't even give the slightest of f%#$s that I just killed Avidexu, and not even the slightest remorse in knowing that if you told the truth a moment sooner, he'd be alive." Pulling on the robes with no regards to their fine make, he shoves Meliya towards the still bleeding body. "That's all on you. Look at him! People and friends die in your games, but when it's your ass on the line, you want to stop playing."

Letting go, Garvid shoulders his halberd. "So now, as my friends said. Drop your damn weapons. Show us to Vencarlo." Wiping the blood on his halberd with his cloak, he drills his eyes into Meliya's, a bloodshot and vicious, almost feral look in his eyes. "And, since you're a creative sort, imagine what'll happen to you if you lie to us again or lead us into an ambush."


Sense Motive, Hero Point: 1d20 + 11 + 8 ⇒ (12) + 11 + 8 = 31 I think that's a +2 if she's a rakshasa or native outsider? Nothing's as it seems here.

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

Lys shudders in her coat once more, the rain a familiar, if unwelcome, old acquaintance. It's biting. Should've taken Bosworth on his offer. Making her way towards the spiral, Lys' nose wrinkles at the smell of waterlogged carnage. One glance at the alleyway is enough to send the hairs at the back of her neck springing up. I've seen worse... but barely., she notes, and as Yelena disappears down the alleyway, she takes a glance up at the wall, her teeth clenching. "Well, Matthis, I'm a career nevermind, and I've never seen anythin-", she begins saying, then her mouth suddenly stops, wide open. Running to the nearest shelter from the blinding downpour, she starts flipping her ancient libram frantically, until she finds it. A passage, barely a summary in the 'Compendium of Beasts, Monsters and Malefic Wytches', written next to a semi-erased sign of the three-headed goat.

The Compendium of Beasts, Monsters and Malefic Wytches wrote:
"Beware greatly, hunter, when you see the sigil of the three horned beasts. For the wyrd of its kin is antidiluvian, rivaling even existence itself. The ill-minded bedlamites who offer prayer to these eldritch unknowns, glimpse but a fragment of their power, but that is enough to fold reality and space, crossing leagues in the time it takes a weary man to blink, and blink you should not. For there are no nightmares worse than those lurking around the Old Cults."

Oh, gods, any gods. That's bad. Very, very bad. Slamming the book shut and quickly putting it down her satchel, Elize raises her wide-open eyes, ushering the wizard to join her. "Walter?", she hisses, with nary a jest in her voice. "Th- that's the sign of the Old Cults. Sign for portal magic and beings forgotten when the world was young. The Dark Tapestry." Turning to walk into the alley to rejoin the others, Lys pauses for a second to wait for the soggy wizard. "On the bright side.", a forced smile appears on her face. "At least it's not fey, right?"


Perception on Sigil: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28
Sigil Identification: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26
Bluffing Walter that she's not scared: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (11) + 0 = 11

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Female Human Gunslinger (Bolt Ace) 5 | HP:43/43 | Grit 4/4 |
|AC 21, Touch 17, FlatFoot 14, CMD 21 | Fort +7, Ref +12, Will +5| Init +8 | Perception +13

Still humming under her breath, Lys turns to see the rescued woman rise up and her mouth opens, as if to welcome her amongst the living once more. The manic, horrified monologue sends a chill down her spine, the dread conviction of Ustalav in every word from the young woman's mouth. "Buw how do-", she starts to say, jumping from the ground to turn towards the woman, not seeing the dagger in her hand.

Eyes gaping in horror, Lys leaps towards the young woman, hands pressed tightly on her neck, trying hopelessly to stem the flow. "No, no, no, hold on, hold on...", she cries out, muttering, as the blood flows between her fingers, realising only a moment later she's holding a dead body. "S$%*!", Lys shouts, leaping up from the body, snorting back a gasp. "Why woul-", she chokes on the sentence, kicking a rock from the fire into the muddy waters. I've seen horror, but never like this. Not like this.

Don't go to Carrion Hill. Escape like you can. Escape like me. The last words of the nameless girl hang in Lys' head for a moment, as she sits quietly by the lakeside, blood and mud on her hands. Escape, Lys, but not like her. Come on, run. You can get on the horse, get the wizard too, if you want, and go. Away. Leave Ustalav to eat its own, and escape. The voice of the traveller is the loudest it's ever been in years, louder than even in the morning as she strode down, leaving Viktor alone to die. "Yeah. But she didn't get to escape.", Lys answers herself, glancing at the dagger in the woman's hand. Something got to her. Something evil, and something powerful, something that will keep doing it, and nobody will stop it. And that f%$@ing thing already killed two people, today, and I absolutely hate it.

Exhaling angrily, Lys grabs the massive darkwood crossbow, taking off a whippoorwill feather charm and a spiral on a silver chain from the stock. Taking a step towards the body, she swallows, emotions and thoughts alike. Her hat in her hand, she clears her throat. "Lady of Graves.", she starts. "We've not talked much. But, for Viktor's sake, if not mine, please take her to be judged, and grant her the peace she deserves. And... him too." Leaning down to close the woman's eyes and grab the small dagger, she tucks the blade in her boot. I'll be sure to give someone your regards.

Whistling for her horse, she nods at Walter, cold fury in her eyes. "I'm on an inclination to find out what frightened her so much to kill herself, and see if it sticks to a wall. You coming?"

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Female Human Fighter 6 | HP 19/58 | AC 23, T 9 FF 24 | Fort +9, Ref +5, Will +4 (+8 vs Fear) | CMD 23 | Init +2 | Perception +1

As the stench of the Wasp Nest hits her nostrils, Tasha nearly gags. "Ugh. That's worse than the tents after a winter caravan run.", she hisses through. Moving to her corner of the room, she pours out the contents of her writing bag with great displeasure at the destruction of what's more than a month's worth of writing supplies. Groaning, she disappears upstairs, returning a moment later with a flagon of coffee.

Nodding in a sarcastic smile at Rexus passing by, she shakes the burlap sack containing her newly recovered armaments. "Right. Let's see what the damage is here.", she chirps, before unloading the bag onto the ground. A set of heavy, Age of Enthronement era, Chelish armour pours out of the bag, alongside a heavy, bronzed shield. Despite the scent of sewage, the armour appears practically intact, even the studded leather skirt showing little damage. Tasha gasps in a pleasantly surprised tone. "Wow! I never knew it was actually true. I guess it really is magical." A smile crawls on her face as she leans back.

Turning back to Rexus, flagon of coffee in her hand, she scratches her head. "Uhhh, could I borrow some paper from you? Mine's...", she points to the gloopy gray mass in a bucket. Sitting down with a quill, stopping only once half-through to get a re-fill, Tasha shows up with a devilish grin to Rexus' desk two hours later, slamming a parchment on it.

The Kintargo Crier: Torrent going down the drain!:

Fellow Kintargans!

It is with great pleasure that I report to you that the Order of the Torrent has been stripped from its Charter by our wise autocrat Barzillai Thrune. And good riddance. I have no doubt that I was never the only Kintargan wondering why we need not one, but two Hellknight orders in our fair city, especially since we now have our very own Chelish Citizen Group. Clearly, in times such as these, at least one of those had to go, as to not put undue burden on our public finances.

Few have reason to question our Lord-Mayor, but to those who have the seeds of doubt in their mind as to why he settled on the Order of the Torrent - permit me to explain. As you recall, I've been a fan of the CCG since its conception. They're entirely funded by what people freely give to the numerous armed individuals showing up at their door, and they give so happily. After all - the CCG is exceptionally quick in identifying dissidents, and their word is quickly becoming law.

The Order of the Rack, too, is necessary for Kintargo. Where would Kintargo be, if pursuits of the mind were left to their own devices? Would we truly be Kintargo, if we let whimsical and childish pursuits such as art be centrepiece to our culture? The Order of the Rack knows that everything foreign and new must be feared, and if possible, destroyed.

It leaves the Order of the Torrent. True, the order did have a lot of supporters here in the days of that freedom-loving sycophant, Jilia Bailinus. And, perhaps an order based on protecting us from the dangers of the sea and waters might be a reasonable precaution for a town whose largest exports after minstrels and artists are maritine goods. And, true, there are multiple reports of monsters from the seaside and the sewers kidnapping merchants and children. But ask yourselves this - would you prefer to be kidnapped and driven into the depths, or to have your children's minds risk being changed and broadened by art and culture? And, besides. If you go out in a town where monsters are roving, it's obvious you're asking for it.

Barricaded safely away from the sea, art and the written word,
The Crier

"I think we really ought to find the Quill. If we can send a couple of workers to pick up my printing press from my old apartment, with the Quill alongside us, we should have a good finger on the recruitment." She sighs. "We should probably keep an ear out for any Order of the Torrent Hellknights roaming around. We could use some well trained fighters on our side."

I think our next step would be to find a way to purchase/renovate a new HQ with water access, then focus on expanding the rebellion, be it with Tasha's writing or the Quill's.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

The roar of the horrifying tiger-headed aberration catches Garvid off-guard. The towering snakes, the tiger heads covering the walls, all seem to work together to draw the feeling of alienness, of strange, unknown Korvosa, one he'd never seen before.

The burst of magic from Talfryn, the familiar haze as the world slows down around him pushes the thought to the side, and as Yazi's Shoanti incantations echo loudly in the subterranean halls, he feels the reverberating call of Korvosa, of guards, braves and protectors from ages ago.

This isn't some terrible beast roaring as you thread upon its lair warily, the spirits whisper in the low of his neck, as they feed into his anger. This is a poor, lost, wretched thing, away from its land, raising its voice in one last call of defiance. You are the Guard, and that is your quarry.

"You should've stayed quiet, beast man.", Garvid roars back. Passing by Kynes, the two snakes snapping at him, he glances at his foe. "You're in our town.", he snarls, sprinting forwards, the furious ghosts at the base of his neck roaring viciously in his head. The halberd's tip finds its mark into the creature's bared chest, the force of the blow such that it pierces through the back. Raising his head towards the rakshasa, Garvid bares his teeth at the carnage, the spirits sated, for now.


AC: 19, DR 8/-, HP 101/101

Attack, no charge, Reckless Abandon, Combat Expertise, Haste, Hunter's Blessing: 1d20 + 21 + 3 - 2 + 1 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 21 + 3 - 2 + 1 + 2 = 45
Confirm: 1d20 + 25 ⇒ (19) + 25 = 44
Damage (Lethal), Witch Hunter, Hunter's Blessing: 3d10 + 87 ⇒ (4, 1, 5) + 87 = 97
Intimidate: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (3) + 12 = 15 Probably not.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15
Lord Talfryn Blackoak wrote:
Hey everyone! I've perhaps unwisely decided to run the classic 36 page module Carrion Hill, and have opened up a recruiting thread here. Anyone from this game would get preferential odds of making the cut, so if you feel like jumping in, please make a submission!

Would be delighted to! I'll ponder a bit regarding the theme, but I could absolutely go for some Lovecraftian vibes.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

@GM - Kind of. Garvid's implying he was studying in the academy at the same time as the two more famous students, Grau Soldado and Sabina Merrin under Vencarlo.

In other news, I finally moved out of the shoebox I was living in to a new room in a house! I have a wardrobe now! And a real bed! And it's 5 minutes to work!

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Our guerilla marketeers:

Guys, remember that the plan is to trigger the alarm at all the places at the same time to overstress the KE response. That said, you do have clearance for the shop for the minute, and an inside woman.

Also, you both know that all the Vashon Island items are custom-fitted months in advance. That said, with some nudging and pushing...

Monica's eyebrow darts for a moment, as her eyes flare in the distance. "Well...", she says, before she taps her datajack, and bursts into a smile. "Oh, my god.", she almost giggles. "You're from Central? Wow, you're so good, I almost believed you for a sec!" She shakes her head theatrically. "Wait, the party's real, right? We're getting live telemetry from the wearers until tonight, so we can fit them perfectly on the day." Her eyes flutter for a moment. "Wait, we can still do this. Listen, if you give me a list of the people who want them, I can make sure they're the first ones to be finished. Like, if they know there'll be at a party earlier than that point, they'll already be in the shape they want for that event, right?"


Just to clear things out, the way I read the rules, to enter the inner host, you need to jump hosts by placing a mark on the Host icon (the metal frame or whatever you can see behind it)

Once you have a single mark, you can proceed entering it. Since I have little doubt in your abilities, once you go, you see the below...

As Sybil steps through the metal detector, there is little response. The frame doesn't even beep, and the patrol IC doesn't indicate it has notices anything passing through the gate.

Inside, the host is a lot more utilitarian and bare, only the Vashon Island logo hovering in the background indicating that the host belongs to the store. In the bare room, you notice three visible icons, all in the shapes of folders. One has a metahuman symbol on it, the second is simply labeled 'myStore' and the third has a network picture on it.


The student's face alternates quickly between a blush and a pale face. "Are you guys, you know... runners?", she whispers intently, before biting her lips, eyes gaping wide open. With a wave of her hand, she sends a ping to Road-Rage with comm details, then chipperly jumps down from her chair. "Uh, yeah, I'll get back to you!", she blurts with excitement, and quickly disappears through the door. As R-R glances back at his PAN, he notices a contact message from one Gemma Tzu, with a picture of the very same dwarf attached.

R-R, add a (1,2) contact to your list. Not sure how useful a hermetic student would be to a rigger, but it never hurts to have acquaintances.

Sunset and Glass:

The shoelaces are bright, neon green colour, and thick enough to fit on a boot or a 60's style sneaker. The aura surrounding them is a similar cloud of sparkling, electrical blue and eclectic green.

The shopkeep smiles at Glass as he assenses the laces. "As you can discern, I imagine those are more to the fancy of your friend." He darts an eye towards Road-Rage in the front of the shop, and his expression towards the rough-looking elf changes considerably. "Are you yourself interested in reagents, or talismans?"

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

R-R, Glass and Sunset:

Try as he might, Road-Rage can't seem to remember meeting the dwarf before. The snarled words in Or'zet seem to shake her at first, as she bites her lips, before shaking her head nervously. "N-no.", she shakes her head once again. A quiet moment of intense outward hesitation, she steps forwards, her eyes darting around Road-Rage's head and neck. "Could, uh, could I ask you a question? If, ahem,", her words flow with a rapid, suburban accent, ", well, sorry in advance if it's too personal, but I'v-" Biting her lips, she inhales. "What's that like,", she gestures towards Road-Rage's face, covered in rough, practical cybernetics, as her mouth kicks into sixth gear. "Psychoholistica-, uh, on an emotional level, or more like spiritual..."

Even as her mouth moves, it's visible she already regrets staring in the first place, and as she finishes, she glances back as if she's expecting to be punched at any moment. The inconspicuous glances in the room, though, are now almost evenly split between the two of you.

Nomad, Wraith and Sybil:

Whether the tip(s), Nomad's nautral charm or the almost visible cloud of pheromones exuding Nomad and Wraith, the girl's eyes glaze over for a moment and she nervously rises her commlink to her mouth. "Hey, Tif, I'm off for a smoke break.", she hisses quickly, before straightening her dress, the packet disappearing without a trace. "I, well... Can't say I've had the pleasure.", she answers the first question with tone a little more deferential than before. "Are you grammers?", she asks, somewhat distraught that she's unaware of the duo in front of her, before glancing around. "I'm strictly employed by Vashon Island and its subsidiaries. Buuuuut.", she smiles, "it says nothing about going anywhere after work on launch day." Monica winks, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "So... where's the party, and who's co... what's the, hm, dress code?"

You're pretty sure that Monica is pretty interested in rubbing, hrm, elbows with the sort of people who go to fashion afterparties, but she's trying to contain her excitement. Also, damn, that was a roll, Nomad.

GM Rolls:

1d6 ⇒ 6
10d6 ⇒ (1, 5, 6, 6, 4, 5, 1, 3, 5, 4) = 40

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Hey everyone!

Post-work hit me hard and unexpected, but I'll not be dishonest and not say that I kind of put my PbP on my backburner for a week. But now I'm here!

@Azil! Hey! Welcome, and thanks for your interest. For Shadowrun, I've always been a firm believer in the 'play what you want and hope your plans/fixer are good' school of thinking. There's SR for Snow White and the Seven Chromed Trolls, and SR for Ocean's Eleven and anything in between. Different teams do different jobs, after all.

To be perfectly, brutally honest, I think we could've played without a Matrix runner at all, but there's one now, and I've freshened myself on the rules, and will again.

So, if you want to join in:

First - gimme a character pitch in the form of a backstory (and ideally, an IC snippet), then if I like it - I'll let you know how to build a character.

@Regarding 6E and Shadowrun bloat - You're all so right, yet despite all of that, I love the 'crunch' of the system. I just don't feel it'd be Shadowrun if you're not considering the difference between that assault rifle and that other assault rifle.

I've not had a chance to check out 6e, since I've barely had any time to post since it came out, but I managed to catch wind of it being a little dodgy. I'm generally against us changing systems, since I'd need to learn another one, everyone will need to re-build a character, and will destroy months of meticulous effort crafting NPCs take some time for me to gain enough understanding of the system, what's dangerous, etc, to make the enemies just the right amount of challenging.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Kynes bursting into a monstrous form and pouncing at the creature seems to do little but irate Garvid further. "What in the...", he growls out, shaking his head at the Lamplighter's form, only to see the asura tear into Mouse, barely even noticing the blade in his side. Noticing the beast being distracted by the malformed shape of Kynes, fangs deep into its side, Garvid's face grows into a vicious grin. "So here's the thing...", he roars out in the asura's face, as his fist slams hard into the back of her knee, bringing her to the ground. "...we the Korvosan Guard, really, really hate...", he continues as his heavy boot slams in the asura's ribs, stamping mud onto her colourful clothing. "...anyone who f*@! with the peace. Now stay down, drop the weapons, or else.", he finishes with a swift kick to her ribs, spinning the halberd to point at her chest.


Trip, +3 Weapon, Haste, Reckless Abandon, Combat Expertise, Strength Surge: 1d20 + 18 + 3 + 1 + 3 - 2 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 18 + 3 + 1 + 3 - 2 + 8 = 49 Oughta bring her down.

Attack, all the trimmings, vs prone.: 1d20 + 22 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 22 + 4 = 28
Damage, Witch Hunter: 1d10 + 24 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 24 + 3 = 32 I imagine she has at least spell-like and spell abilities.

Attack 3: 1d20 + 17 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 17 + 4 = 36
Damage: 1d10 + 27 ⇒ (1) + 27 = 28

Attack of Opportunity if she stands up: 1d20 + 22 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 22 + 4 = 40
Damage: 1d10 + 27 ⇒ (1) + 27 = 28

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Hey everyone!

Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long. I'll not be able to get a post today, but I'll do my damnedest to get one tomorrow. The bright side is...

Good news, everyone! I got a new job, less hours, an hour and change closer to home, and a lot more organised structure. I'll be starting that in late October, and I'll be trying to be more present here (now that I'm not worried about being sacked, I can cut down on the unpaid overtime!)

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

Hey everyone!

Sorry for keeping you waiting for so long, and I'm sorry to have saddled poor Wicked with driving Garvid. However...

Good news, everyone! I got a new job, less hours, an hour and change closer to home, and a lot more organised structure. I'll be starting that in late October, and I'll be trying to be more present here (now that I'm not worried about being sacked!)

Post coming up!

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

SSo, so sorry about the wait guys. I'll explain in Discussion on Wednesday, but long story short is I'm living the wageslave dream with all the overtime and no spare time.

Miss Johnson nods. "Great. I've done some recon, but information ain't somethin' you can have enough off." Extinguishing her cigarette in the nearly overflowing ashtray, she nods. "I'll head to scout out the chem lab. Y'wanna be my eyes in the 'trix, be my guest." Sending off an AR link for her comms, she stands up. "Keep me posted on whatcha find. And here's the front pay.", she passes a credstick onto Freddy, who nods, seemingly little more at ease.

The targeted day is in two days and change. Also, you all get 1,500 nuyen each for 'emergency expenses'.

Road-Rage Day Job Roll:

It's currently Tuesday, the hit is on Friday afternoon.
1d7 ⇒ 7 You're clear. Unless you die on this toootally ordinary milk run.

Wraith and Nomad:

While an ordinary clothes shop would be closed, Vashon Island's premier outfitters is nothing of the sort. A quick look in the Matrix reveals that the shop not only is willing to schedule the newest Vashon Island collection (with no price listed, of course), but also offers in-house refreshments, 24/7 refitting rooms and an on-call stylist for those interested.

As Wraith and Nomad finish their drive through the cutting winter winds of Seattle, the sight that unfolds infront of them is of a luxurious shopping plaza. Cafes and a few of the restaurants are closing, but the nightclubs and bars for the rich and famous are just starting to open. In front of you, elegantly placed like a seashell embedded in the plaza, sits the Vashon Island store. AR images of darkened silhouettes, hinting at the upcoming fashion event stalk the shadows in front of the store, and a few late night shoppers dart in and out with oversized bags, bubblingly discussing the rumours of the day.

Glass, R-R and Sunset (and possibly Sybil, too):

If there's ever a part of town where the day of the week isn't immediately legible on the locals' faces, it's quite possibly the area surrounding the student halls. Even before 9PM, as some wageslaves are still commuting home, R-R's keen eyes (and Sunset's keener instincts) spot no less than seven groups of inebriated students, one of which is drawing snow angels on the ground. Naked, nonetheless.

Road-Rage parks the auspicious Titan into an alleyway in sight of the shop, and it's clear that the place is still open through the night. Through the wide windows of the 19th century house there are still patrons, and a few look as if they're there more for the conversation and the company, rather than the merchandise.

Due to the task, I'll let Sybil chip in wherever she feels like she'd be the most useful, or even switch between the two places (as per Matrix Rules), as the two places are the same distance from where you are.

Recon away!

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Ugh. You guys are amazing to keep up the RP for so long, even if there's a bit more friction than I'd have liked. If you need to chat, give me a PM. Also, everyone gets 2 Karma for RP interludes and witty commentary!


You also see the hoverdrone re-filling the drinks of a lot of the other patrons, too, some of them seemingly grumbling something towards it as well.


Your Matrix search indicates that there's no icons running nearby. The drone, too, is visibly clean, though there are four encrypted file onto the Johnson's commlink - though little else.

Freddy seems to react to the to-fro between Sybil and Wraith with interest at first, but then clears his throat audibly. "Sorry Kaffer.

At Nomad's question regarding the wheels, Miss Johnson nods. [b]"I've got the most stereotypical Phoenix y'all ever seen. Reckon if middle age had a car, it'd be that.", she nods. "Guess I could loan in to you two, if you're hittin' Vashon, but I'm wantin' it back." She nods afterwards to the rest, then back at Sybil. "Aight, folks.", she nods. "Here's the layouts."

Your PAN's ping with an incoming message request, featuring three different maps - a ground plan of the Magic Shop, Hexersschaube, the Vashon Island Outfitters and the AG Chemie's chemical lab.

She claps her hands. "Well, all things considered. We say our happy couple go to the fashion store. The mage, the gunslinger", she nods at Glass, though her eye jumps at Sunset for a moment, "and the big boy go to the talismongers. I'd warn you for a bigger chance for people playing hero there, but hell, least you'll get to geek the mage with every shot.", she chuckles. "Though try for low casualties."

She turns her eyes at Sybil. "I was pinin' to hittin' one o' them myself, but if you wanna be my guardian angel, darlin', I ain't gonna mind it. I know a thing or two 'bout meds and pickin' locks, but less time raidin' is more time lootin'. I've got a stored jap bike in a container at the docks, so I've got me covered."

Right, so I think Sunset/Glass/R-R is the perfect team for the mage shop. If Wraith and Nomad hit Vashon Island, then Sybil can either help them, or go watch over Miss Johnson - it's the same matrix rolls anywhere, come to think of it.

She lights up another cigarette, and finishes her coffee. "At any rate - what we're aiming for is hitting them all on the 15th, two days for now, right at 1825. Citygrid indicates that's the biggest congestion on the block - and that's bound to give us a minute or so extra to fill our share. Then, it's smooth sailin'."

Freddy nods, then rises up from his seat. "Any questions?"

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

As the conversation turns towards the mysterious job, Freddy seems slightly relieved when the mood of the room seems to turn against the word-tight elf. His gaze pauses for a moment on Wraith, as if he waits for her comment, and just as he lights another cigarette. "Sounds fuzz. I'll call Johnson #2 first." He lights up a cigarette, then locks his gaze with R-R. "Wheelman!", he opens a nearby crate, labeled almost comically 'XXXX', and pulls out a dufflebag that seems to almost send him bawling over. "Well, can't say it was easy, but nothing big and loud is.", he laughs, before pulling out a magnificent FN MAG-5. "Turns out, us Euros still do 'em better than the rest. That's ten from you, R-R, and I got you this as an extra." He draws out a 50-round mag, marked with the tell-tale steel-blue ribbon for APDS rounds. That's the gun, ammo and a 10% ish surcharge for Freddy's time.

As he's holding the magazine in one hand, and his cigarette in the other, the new arrival rolls in, and sheepishly makes her acquaintance. Freddy's mercantile smile flashes wider for a moment, as he lobs the magazine towards the ork, spreading his arms open wide. "Hey hey to you too, bluebird!", he greets, as he sits back down in his chair. "Just don't Mister me, man. Not into the whole...", he waves his hand in the air, "custom thing, man. We don't bite in here, and word on the street is you're a wiz string-slinger. Grab a beer and say hi to the gang, I'm already convinced." He leans back, shrugging.

"Make your meets, and I'll get our Miss Johnson in tomorrow."

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

Hey guys!

Regarding the spending of Karma - feel free to write a story about training, with or without a tutor alike. There might even be an extra Karma or other tidbits added in for great writing or ideas! We'll handle that part of the fluff a little loosely, though I would expect something to be written if, for instance, Nomad decides to take Pilot(Tracked).

Feel free to ask questions and raising suggestions in here.

Blacksap - Sure! In general, Shadowrunners come and go, and it's possible that you took your payday, your goodfeel, and kept on running somewhere else. Maybe too many elves? Feel free to write something, and then Freddy can find your new character?

R-R - excellent! I'm glad to see I've sparked the fire of Shadowrun in you, loving the character!

Now, for an actual post. Better late than never.

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

The unnaturally appetizing smell from the food fills the room, and you all enjoy a artery-clotting, cancer-inducing meal, delicious with every single bite, and a rushedly excited message from Freddy is beeping on your comms.

Freddy wrote:

>>Woo! The Schildkroteschwanzen of shadowrunning, that's you. Hope you hooped their frags.

A trid GIF with the man's drek-eating grin raising a beer and a thick cigar in his hand in your direction, accompanied with a second message.

Freddy wrote:

>>You catch some Zs and get out of Gaia's fragging PMS out there. I'll get the deets for the meets, and tell you whether you need your winning smiles or skull vents for that guy.
>>Probably the former, but bring both just in case. Whatever it is, I'll see about giving you at least a day, to patch the wounds and doze off the party life.

As time goes by, even the Jazzed up partiers seem to slow down, and the dopamine rush from the oily delights in the place seems to be replaced with regret. Road-Rage notices two orks giving his truck a once over, the younger one seemingly moving towards it. The second one stops him, putting a chrome hand on the boy's shoulder with considerable weight, and pulling him back, his other hand darting over the truck's features, while he talks at the boy. A moment later, the boy receives a smack on the back of the head, as the older ork raises his hands in a defensive gesture towards the Titan, and the two disappear down an alley.

As the six of you move out back towards the truck, the few remaining inhabitants capable of perceiving you give you a once over, eyes focusing mostly on Sunset, Alex and Road-Rage. The Titan is still at its place, and as soon as you enter, you feel the weight of the night and the job replaced by some exhaustion.

That's the mission part done! All that's left is the payment. I'll try and get a post up either tomorrow or Tuesday, and until then - how do you celebrate another day in the Sixth World? What do you do in your time off?

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[Map of Seattle] [Map of Humanis Hideout]

The sight of the floodlights follows you through the storm, which seems to have started giving up on the Barrens. Alex' hairs continue standing up on his neck for a long while after the gangers' cries have quieted down, the lingering taint of the Astral vision of Redmond sticking in his Gift like old engine grease.

Road-Rage drives past a pack of rabid-looking... creatures, half-barkingg, half-howling at the rapidly cruising past truck, and within a moment, the half-hazed memories of turns and roadmarks on the Redmond's ruined structure seem to click, as he turns into what appears to be a road going nowhere, only for the Titan to head towards Touristville in a much darker, if quieter road, the shaking of the rigger's car intensifying further. Ruined buildings, potholes more than two-feet deep and advertisements for unknown products by unknown corporations litter what little you can see. VITAS, the Sixth World, and, undoubtedly, Redmonders themselves have left their mark onto the landscape.

Road-Rage's well-trained eye spots that the used road forks in two - one side appears to be the road towards Touristville, and the other - to the South and Renton. Though misused, it's obvious that the zone around you has been used for a meeting before, as this is the first time since your detour that you've seen space for more than one vehicle to pass. Turning the Titan towards the flickering multicoloured lights piercing the night sky, R-R drifts off towards Touristville.

Perhaps because of the storm, the usually bustling place is almost quiet, with only the booming of the music coming out of the, according to the trashily made AR, 'Skazziest Places in Seattle!', and the exceptionally cross orks and trolls huddled under roofs of scavenged aluminium, angrily staring at the few tourists addled enough to be crossing the streets in the pouring rain. Though, as soon as you park the Titan, you feel something change immediately. You've once again, at least for now, slipped back into the shadows. Bruised and battered, but alive.

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Droid(4°) Noble 1/Soldier 1 | 28/28 HP | Fort 13 Ref 18 Will 13 | Initiative +10 | Perception +2

Love the discrepancy between character and player there, Flan!

"Oh. Wow.", the droid quickly blurts out as the former prisoner is cut practically in twain in front of it. "That. Is a lot of blood.", it quizzes, blaster at the ready, as it takes another step forwards. Cautious of the door, it lifts the corpse's pouches off his belt. "He doesn't need it. We'll read them both a eulogy or something later, but first, make sure there is a later!", it barks. Ouch. Poor organic., it sheds another glance towards Flarb's body. At least he got to try and escape? Maybe?

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Gnome | Wounds: 3/3| Pace: 6, Parry: 7(6), Toughness: 9(2) | Bennies: 3/3

"Who you calling little!", a voice, emanating from between the giant's knees and shins roars out with indignation. "It's just you that's too large!"

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Droid(4°) Noble 1/Soldier 1 | 28/28 HP | Fort 13 Ref 18 Will 13 | Initiative +10 | Perception +2

"Oh, great.", remarks the droid as the song begins tearing down at its audioreceptors. Turning to Flan, she almost feels as if the droid's tilted head is judgementally pouting at her, despite the lack of mouth or lips. "Just when I was about to say how impressed I was by Republic public workers.", it blurts out, before.

Despite itself, however, one could hear the droid's low-definition humming along the tunes of the popstar. As Mith displays the vent, OOM-93b nods. "Roger, roger.", it replies, before poking its head around the corner.

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Barbarian 10/Fighter 1 | HP 66/104 | DR 5/- | AC 27, T 15 FF 21 | Fort +14, Ref +7, Will +6 (+7 Superstition) | CMD 29 | Init +2 | Perception +15

The filthy executioner's pathetic praise seems to rile Garvid's composure further, though he limits himself to a scathing gaze at the gnome's antics. "I'm sure neither of us wants to get in over their heads.", he adds in a low voice.

Well. That complicates things., Garvid rubs his chin. Frowning at the ragged 'emperor' pointing his scepter at him, he bares his teeth. "Then it's good we have an understanding of each other.", he nods. "Sure.", he leans back on his weapon. "A deal's a deal. I was planning on walking straight to Scream, once we found where he's at. So we could either walk out and walk back in again, or... we could skip that part and ask to see him."

"I'll be straight to the point.", he flicks his fingers on his halberd's tip, before turning back at Pilts. "Who runs this place isn't our business. Our business is getting to have a talk with Salvator Scream." Staring at Li and Yazi, he purses his lips. I'm not even sure I'm the one who wants this bastard dead the most in this room. Probably not even making it to the top three.

Glancing at the bruised face of one of Pilts' 'soldiers', Garvid continues. "That being said, we've found that people often choose to become our immediate concern. Hence, the handing."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (7) + 10 = 17 This is skirting the line between Diplomacy and Intimidate, I imagine?

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Male Human HP 52/52 | AC 20 T 13 FF 18 | F +8 R +4 W +7; | CMB +8 CMD 20 (18 FF) | Init +2 Perc 6

Druidic engineering excels at solving problems in little time!

Jethro slaps his legs onto Antlers' side as the elk makes his way into the water. "Tie the big elk to the cart!", he shouts at the gnomes, as he gently pats the pony's head before leaping into the waters himself. Plunging into the waters, the druid submerges his head inside, and a moment later, a slope of stone rises from the bottom of the lakebed. The wall of stone shields the carriage from the worst of the brunt, as the water is deflected to the side, away from the carriage.

"Aight! Antlers, ponies, go, go!", he shouts, smacking the ponies' bottom as he grabs onto the carriage. "Gnomes, hold tight!", he adds as the elk's massive muscles start pulling the entire carriage through the now calmer waters.


Swim, Antlers: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
Swim, Jethro: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24
Handle Animal, Jethro: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
Str Check, Antlers: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (13) + 14 = 27 I added the Muleback Cords' bonus, but not the ponies' assistance. 31 if they help.

So I see that as two rounds in total? First to raise the wall, second to start pulling through the somewhat calmed and deflected river? I'm casting Stone Shape to essentially create a massive rock slope in the middle that deflects the river's brunt behind the carriage. It might slightly change the river's course, but the fluid mechanics checks out.

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Female Human Fighter 6 | HP 19/58 | AC 23, T 9 FF 24 | Fort +9, Ref +5, Will +4 (+8 vs Fear) | CMD 23 | Init +2 | Perception +1

Back! Sorry about that, everyone! Reactions abound!

The sight of the gray sky, busy streets, and the smells of the city rush into Tasha's eyes, as she seems to almost wake up from a nightmare. I'm out..., she thinks to herself, as she readjusts Aster's body on her shoulder. I'm out! Suck it, sea creatures!, a thought rushes through her head, as a fatigued smile and the rush of pain, poison and freedom sends her into a calmer state. She barely hears the conversation between Bazzle and the guards, and she blissfully follows the rest home, almost unaware of the combat that had almost started. Sending a goofy, exhausted smile at Vendalfek, she mutters out, "Hey, dragon creature..." As Nisha puts her in a cot, Tasha nods in agreement, and as the tiefling begins to explain the treatment, a snore and quiet mumbling about fish people, magic daggers, and mermaids is all one can get from the woman until morning.


In the morning, Tasha's bloodshot eyes snap open with fury as the smell of coffee enters her nostrils. Sparing only a single glance at the jug of coffee, she grunts out as she pours herself a large mug of morning juice. Sniffing the liquid seems to have almost as much impact as Nisha's healing, as she relaxes, before taking a sip. Seeing the rest of the people gathering up in the center of the room, she listens carefully as Aster makes her announcement. Her eyes flare open as she speaks out openly about being a wererat, but is quick to nod in agreement with the rest. I mean, she did save my ass. Even if she might've hurt my back...

Realising that the eyes are pointed towards her, Tasha blushes, before slowly making her way towards the rest. "Um. Hi!", she waves an arm awkwardly. "I'm Natasha, but you can call me Tasha.", she adds, before pointing towards the others. "These guys kind of saved my ass in the sewers, and I feel like paying back the favour.", she sends a grin towards the party. "So if you need a theatre critic or an amateur author, I'm here for you. As for actually useful skills, I am not too shabby with a sword and a shield."

Approaching Bazzle and Rexandi, she nods at the gnome, scratching the back of her head. "About the stabbing and the thumping, I always find a good heavy shield to be a great choice. And, I've learned to always keep a dagger handy.", she smiles at Aster, before reaching to the knife on her belt. "Uhm... I think something... godly-magical happened to it as we were leaving the sewers.", she says, before handing the dagger, handle first towards the Tian woman. "It really saved my hide in there."

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Female Human Fighter 6 | HP 19/58 | AC 23, T 9 FF 24 | Fort +9, Ref +5, Will +4 (+8 vs Fear) | CMD 23 | Init +2 | Perception +1

"What?", she lets out a shocked chuckle. "Did I bleed out already, or is that seriously your second question?", she quips, before blinking several times. Well, Tasha, your humour's timing is on its deathbed. So, no change there, thankfully., "Totally supportive. I have to say, my favourite part right now is how he disbanded the Hellknights responsible for threats from the sea." She coughs out, and a small trickle of blood droops from the side of her mouth. "Because, really, monsters grabbing people from the seaside. As if that would ever happen. Am I right, or am I right?"

If he lets go now, it's entirely my big mouth's fault., she thinks to herself as she locks her gaze with Tarnagius.

We're playing Hell's Rebels, right? Not Hell's Vengeance? Just thought I'd check before I say something to embarass myself.

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