Franti Capello's page

Wounds closed and filled with a healing warmth, Franti squatted to inspect the downed assailant. After giving the man a cautious poke to the head, the goblin rose, and walked towards the crowd of librarians and allies who sought to swat down the little daemon.

He leaned against the bookshelf knowing he was too far to land a sap on the creature, and his friends surrounded it too close for him to throw a knife. Franti tried to catch his breath.

Franti caught his breath after the man with the flaming sword fell. He went to grab at his bow, before remembering he dropped the item by the western stack of books. He sighed, and watched the scene unfold.

Delay, doing now as I don't want to hold things up.

Below assumes Ellena provides flanking, thus I get sneak attack damage and +2 to hit. Her current state might dictate otherwise?

As Chaleb and Anarya's energies washed over him, Franti fluctuated between great pain and bliss. Franti still smiled, but his teeth were grit, and his breaths were heavy. Spinning on his heel, the goblin swept at the large foe with both arms, a small, green whirlwind of leather and teeth.

Flanking Sneak Attack: 1d20 + 8 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 8 + 2 = 14 for Damage: 1d4 + 5 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 5 + (2, 4) + 2 = 16, nonlethal (12 to hit, 8 damage without flank)
Flanking Sneak Attack: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 7 + 2 = 18 for Damage: 1d4 + 2 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 + (6, 6) + 2 = 17, nonlethal (16 to hit, 3 damage without flank)

Franti recoiled as the flaming sword was slashed across him. By the time he returned his attention to Chaleb, the man was already crossing blades with Ellena. Franti looked at the nearby demon, and dashed to flank the man.

Acrobatics vs Chaleb CMD: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (18) + 15 = 33
Acrobatics vs Demon CMD: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (15) + 15 = 30

Franti danced around the man and the demon, landing next to a fell librarian. "I warned you..." Franti reared his arm back, looked for an exposed spot at the man's neck or skull and swung his sap.

Flanking Attack: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 10 + 2 = 24 for Damage: 1d4 + 5 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 5 + (6, 1) + 2 = 18, nonlethal

After the swing, Franti twirled around his sap triumphantly. He rattled his saps together rhythmically. "That hurt, didn't it?!" Filled with determination towards his dastardly foe, Franti cracked a wide grin. "It sounded like it hurt..." Franti shrugged, and swung a second time.

Flanking Attack: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 10 + 2 = 29 for Sneak Attack: 1d4 + 5 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 5 + (2, 5) + 2 = 16, nonlethal

Move ten feet (acrobatics to avoid AoO), Standard to Attack, Hero Point for Standard to Attack

With a bow without sneak damage, I only do 1d4, I can't do much to the demon now.

Franti dropped his bow to the ground. He moved across the stacks, reaching into his bandolier and removing his two saps. The goblin hopped over a corpse as he passed by Ellena and Avelina.

Franti felt the air grow warm and dry by the flaming sword. The goblin briefly grinned at the woman, tilting his head to tell her to go. "H-hey! Hot-shot!" Franti barked as he circled Chaleb. His grin widened nervously. "Someone this small will be your undoing! Even, Even your gods'll think this funny."

Double move action. No tumbling, purposely provoking attack of opportunity during my movement as maybe she can leave and not provoke in hers. If he is evil, my AC is 20 due to Protection from Evil.

Ellena, we can get flanking if he stays still. Obligatory "pick on someone my size" quote.

Franti dashed through the doors, quickly following behind Avelina. As she came to a stop, the goblin kept going, grabbing his bow, aiming it skyward and letting loose a blunted arrow at the hovering, stunned demon.

Ranged Attack against FF Target: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18 for Damage: 1d4 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (2) + (2, 4) + 2 = 10, nonlethal.

Move action to move and draw, standard to fire.

S+~@, not what I was expecting

The goblin near-entered the room, ready to help, though proved frozen by the sights in front of him. He turned back for an instant, wondering if anyone had the resolve to charge forward.

Delay. Will resume at the latest after Anevia.

"No joke, Princess." Franti turned his attention away from Avelina, and lead Ellena to the doors. "I am making sense, you'll see."

Strong Human-Man presumably doesn't have darkvision: can I relay that there is already light in the Librarium, if there is?

Sorry for the delay, today was the last of my classes.

Franti watched the man with the symbol of the Inheritor upon the shield. At first, his goblin face lit up, but before he could call out to the man, the man began to let out curses and threats. Franti's breathing began to escalate. He took in a breath, and held is as he tried to put together the scene the best he could.

He walked back outside, bee-lining for Ellena. Franti whispered sharply. "Big, armored man, your size. He, um, wears Iomodae's symbol on his shield, and he is covered in blood. I think..." he tried to collect the thoughts. What was the man trying to do? "I think he is making a book pyre. Or a ritual. He's forcing this woman to create stacks circling around four people, I think they're tied up."

Franti was apprehensive about scouting ahead. He couldn't see as Karas could, and the scale's power was waning. If the voices with were that of enemies, he'd be attacked on sight, but if they were friends, they wouldn't take kindly to either of his preferred, altered forms. He had to see, after all, and lighting a sun-rod seemed poorly conceived even for the rogue.

With Anarya's touch, Franti sighed. "Okay, okay." He brought his hand to his scale and shrunk small, reverting to his goblinoid appearance. He dropped his bag to the floor, removed a silver whistle, and held his saps tightly. He wouldn't need to worry about anything so long as he wasn't seen. "What would you all do without me..."

Small, Guidance Stealth: 1d20 + 15 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 15 + 1 = 35

Franti put the whistle to his mouth, wrapping his lips tightly around it to blow at a moment's notice. He entered the librarium, walking through the ajar door, careful to ensure he made not a sound.

One Alter self left, but otherwise I am golden. I am still rather capable without those. I agree that the Librarium is the best starting point. Maybe we won't get a Paladin, but we might get a pointer on where to go/what happened.

Franti prepared himself once more. From his experience with the scale, he knew he only had one more use out of it. While in his regular human shape he couldn't see past the darkness, he thought it best to save his transformation perhaps a little longer, just in case. He checked his bandolier, tapping each of the eight pockets to ensure everything was where it should be. His hand lingered on the scale.

Franti took out his shortbow and gripped the shaft of the blunted arrow, twirling it in his fingers. He let out a chilled, shaken breath, and tried to keep it together. "Um, I agree with Tauni, chasing after Irabeth now would be dangerous without a lead... Horgus, do you have family at your home we'll need to help? If not, it may be best to hold for daybreak."

I am certain it is night. We'eve been using dark-vision, after-all.

Franti wasn't sure how to respond to Karas. The scale on his heart gained a weight to it with each word Karas said. It was a burden now, and it almost felt as if it burned his skin. He removed it from beneath his armor. "This wasn't meant for me. It belongs to Horgus. Or Aravashnial. Or Wenduag. I only saw it first. I stole it." He looks around. "Someone take it. Please."

Franti knew that Avelina didn't mean make things worse. With her words, he couldn't maintain a smiling facade any longer. "You're right. I'm the joke, the punchline is that you all keep me around. "

Franti sniffles pierces though Anarya's words. "It's not- I don't -" another sniffle interrupted his response. "I, I don't want to leave them either. But we can't..." At Ellena's words he merely shook his head. "Crusaders battle... I'm no crusader, I'm a clown."

Franti couldn't muster words after Tauni spoke to him. His eyes began to well with tears before she finished speaking. He looked around to everyone, sniveling, trying to wipe away the tears. "I, I..." He choked down a sob.

Franti hiccuped, covered his mouth, and after a little time of silences among snorts, let out a whimpering giggle. "Hehe, you're right, Little Rabbit. If, if, if I don't go then," he curved a smile, "then, who'd tell the story? Avelina?" He lets out another laugh, coughing it out, wiping away the tears again. "Heheh, if, if she told it, it would, it would be a tale of her and Iomedae saving this city by themselves." His laughter spread until he could hardly breathe. "It'd be, haha, it, heh, you all wouldn't even be in the, heh, story. The princess would write you all of the tale!"

He continued laughing, keeling over with hands over his stomach. When he straightened out, he took a quick jump forward towards Tauni. He returned the embrace, and his voice faded to a whisper. "Thank you, heh, Little Rabbit. I, I want to tell your story. I'll stay, if just, hehe, if just until we are safe." He let go and sniffled a final time. "If I'm going to die, it better be with you all."

Franti stopped his laughter as he searched the last living body, and when he finished, he tried to position himself to face away from the summoner's corpse. He waited for everyone to exchange ideas for where to go. "Entertain a fool for a second, everyone? We've been up here, what, two minutes and we've already been enchanted, stabbed and forced to kill? If you all wander at night, you need light. You'd walk as beacons for killers or cultists or worse."

The rogue attempted to reason, he hadn't the hope it appeared the other's had. He moved around the group sporadically, looking for someone to agree with him. "You all need a well-thought plan, not a death-wish. Ellena, how will your corpse help find Irabeth? Listen! We can leave, ten of us alive, ten souls saved with a few quick paces." Franti pointed towards the most-recently created exit to the city of Kenabres.

He tried to make eye-contact with everyone during his plea. He looked to Avelina with a forced smile pushing against his frown. "Let's leave, c'mon." To Ellena. " You can come back, with a plan and greater numbers, I don't care." To Anarya. "Wherever you think you're going, glowing with lights and halos and whimsies, you'll die." To Karas. "Please, make a better plan. I can't watch my only friends embark on their death-march." Lastly, to Tauni. "I can't lose you... C'mon... Come with me. Please..."

Franti was oblivious to Karas' attack on the familiar. He got up to his feet, putting his saps away, checking his left-handed sap for any blood. The rogue wasn't hurt, but a heavy feeling crawled from his stomach, clawing up to his throat. He walked back to his bow, and slung it over his shoulders, doing the same for his backpack.

He didn't look to the paladin as he spoke aloud to her. "Not if. We can't leave them here for crows and monsters to feast on." He looked through his backpack, pulling out rations and walking to those that Anarya stabilized. To three of them he gave food, and to one he gave a waterskin. "We need to... to, to move them inside. Take their weapons if you like, but they all, um, they also deserve a chance to get out of here."

Franti took out his holy symbol and examined it. A carved wooden image of a snake on a branch. He looked at his personal engraving on the back, "Life is a joke. Laugh it off," and let out a weak, nervous giggle as his stare darted to the dead woman, before falling to his feet. His mouth curved a small, forced smile, but his brow twisted in worry.

Franti checked those alive for any belongings better left with the party. He didn't want to steal their chances of living, but Franti wanted out of this city. He didn't dare touch the summoner, and he tried to avoid looking at her as he bounced from cultist to cultist, snickering to himself between quick and heavy breathes.

You put my sneak attack under Anarya. I should have dealt that 7, +2 for Sap Adept, in addition to my normal damage roll.

The sap made a loud, snapping sound as it hit his target. Franti stood shocked as the summoner dropped to the ground. His grin faded the instant after his blow connected. The woman didn't move. He left his goblinoid form, taking the appearance of his pale, humanoid self and dropped to his knees. He began to shake the woman, trying to rouse her from unconsciousness. "I, um, think we went a little too far..."

Heal: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0

Franti checks to see if she was fine. He wasn't sure, he never in his life had to check for such things. He couldn't feel a pulse, but then again, he never had before. She had to be alive, she was just standing before him. Standing, breathing, alive in front of him. "A-Anarya, um, is she okay?" He shook Nizza again. Was it my hit? Was that what did it? Should I've left it for Ellena? He kept at it, trying to wake her. She was still warm. He spoke fast, rushed as he looked her over again. "One of you, you are divine, right? C'mon, heal her, she is bleeding."

Dang, now prone my ranged attack would be less effective. Though this was probably for the better....

Franti threw his bow to the floor, drawing his saps as he hopped toward the prone combatant. "Your friend should've made me run longer." The goblin stood above him, stopping over his head, leaning over him with a gleaming smile that hid his frustration and lingering fear. Franti reared his sap skyward, whipping it down towards Scariani's head.

Single Flanking Attack on Prone Target: 1d20 + 10 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 10 + 4 + 2 = 30
Sneak Attack: 1d4 + 5 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 5 + (4, 4) + 2 = 16, nonlethal. Oh please don't kill him.

After the blow, Franti looked up at Karas, giving the tiefling a wink, unaware Karas was affected by magics just moments prior rendering him stunned. "Oh Silver, don't look too shocked to see me. Think I'd leave without a goodbye?" The fool jolted upwards, now looking up to Nizza, though from the corner of his eye, he caught a glance of the cat on the floor by his feet. The familiar held his attention now. "The same joke twice? It grows stale, Pico..."

Free to drop, move action to move 30ft (10ft east, 20 via diagonals North-east) and draw saps, standard for single attack action.

The goblin emerged from the darkness, catching his breath after his sprint and return. He held his bow in his hand, taking count of the scene and making sure none of his dear friends had died in his absence. He sighed, coughed, and prepared to provide a ranged support.

When Karas dealt the finishing blow to the large fighter, Franti watched the woman grow in size. Spells went off all around him, strong blows exchanged between his friends and their foes. He drummed his saps together anxiously, thought of taking down the giant, until a spell took over him.

His feet began to move on his own, stepping backwards, before slowly turning him westward. “As they say, friends,” Franti began, taking steps away from the battlefield, “the bigger they are,” he built up speed, dashing west, “the faster I flea!”

Move and standard to sprint 120’ West

As I readied an action, my initiative should be right before Trent now.

Franti circles around the large warrior who had charged him, dropping his bow to the ground and drawing his saps as Karas approached. Franti waited a moment for Karas to distract him before swinging his sap at the brute's knees.

Attack: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28 for Sneak Attack: 1d4 + 5 + 2d6 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 5 + (2, 2) + 2 = 15, nonlethal

Franti heard the noises coming from the tent he saw in the edges of his vision. He doubted them, he had made the very same kinds of sound in his impersonations of demons. He looked to the woman, and made steps to the west.

Franti barked loudly, hoping everyone could hear. "You're all faking, take it from a fool, it needs work. Come out."He aimed his bow towards the tent, waiting for the "demons."

Franti began to speak, uttering a high pitched syllable before hearing the weeping sounds to the northwest. He looked to Karas, staring at the same rubble he had just been. Franti wanted to continue the argument, he wanted to save these new friends from the certain death this city stored for them, but he swallowed the thoughts with an anxious, literal gulp. He turned to Anarya, filling her in. "Weeping, that way." He turned away, back to the cries, "Something we can agree on..."

Franti took steps towards the darkness, but remembering the ghostly child the Kobold tricked with his earlier, kept his bow in hand, nocked. "I can see in this darkness, Karas, Ellena, I'll provide cover." The little goblin moved towards the destroyed tent, finding himself cover as he leaned the corner, looking for the demons he feared.

Stealth: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (10) + 15 = 25

Franti was stunned in disbelief. He turned to his party, no longer in a whisper. "Wait, hold on. You're serious. You plan on staying here?" He giggled, though it didn't sound genuine, it came as nervous, unsure laughter, twisted shrill squeaks from his large, round head. "Did you not see the Storm King's arrival, the Crusaders dying all around us, and the death of our heroic dragon all within moments?"

"They're probably hiding from demons, rather than glowing out here." Franti whispered sharply as he reached the surface. "Do we look for shelter or just book it out of the city?" He shifted into his Goblinoid form, and drew his bow. Franti searched the darkness for a place to hide, or for a way out. He glanced to the southern building. He placed himself against the wall, and quickly peeked his head up to peer through the broken windows. "Ideas, anyone?"

Standard to Scale, Move to draw/move "southwest."

Franti began to whistle, though stopped as the party neared closer to the surface. At the sight of blood, he reigned himself in. Not the time for such glee, he thought, Save it for when this is all behind me. The fool clasped the iron rung, turning and nodding to Tauni, attempting to reassure her. He began his ascent to the surface, trying to force away his growing grin.

"If there is anything left, all of Kenabres might be Old Kenabres now." he laughed a rolling giggle, but stopped abruptly - "Sorry, that wasn't a good joke. Anxious is all." His grin faded when Wenduag responded. He tried to keep his spirits up. "Well, I think you're doubting my abilities. I'm a very quick sprinter, good at hiding AND when times get tough, I cry almost silently." Franti chuckles gleefully, counting his steps now. One, two, three less paces until he was free under the sky once more.

Franti's elation surged as they drove closer to the surface. He looked to the soft ground, gesturing to the small footprints, hardly noticeable. "See? Everyone's hasty to get out, we are missing quite the party." Franti swelled, his spirits almost as high as before his interrogation with Wenduag.

He turned to the mongrelwoman, wondering if she shared his joy. "When was the last time you saw sunlight, Wendy? " He spun his saps, almost juggling them as he walked. “You'll have to do my face paint before this ends. Once in a lifetime opportunity for both of us. Shame to see it slip though our fingers before this journey ends.“

Franti turned to Karas, light on his feet, taking quick steps to reach the tiefling. He no longer wore a smile. "You... Live here? I thought you'd live, well, I guess I never gave it thought." Franti's stomach twisted. He gave his attention to the others. "Where do you all call home?"

Franti stopped gagging right as the last dretch fell. Though he didn't personally fight, he felt a small sense of accomplishment. I didn't run this time. We are almost out of here.. Even though the creature was dead, Franti's heart beat heavily. He approached the demon with unease and nervousness. Would I have of faced it? Could I have struck it like Ellena or Karas? Franti's shape began to twist as he resumed his human form. After whatever spell the dretch cast, he appeared bleak, almost gaunt.

"Let's get out of here. Maybe we'll resurface right outside the city. We could be miles away from Kenabres." Franti removed chalk from his bag, and begins to mark the walls. He searches the small maze, and while he finds himself in a dead end, he eventually locates the exit. He draws little arrows pointing to the path out. "I swear I can smell it already. Green pastures. Tilled soil. Flowers, even." Franti smiled.

Think it would be DC 20, for a hunch.

Last day of 2nd Semester Senior Year Midterms today, sorry for the delay.

1=Left, 2=Straight: 1d2 ⇒ 2

Franti heaved once more though nothing came out. He leaned against the wall, trying to breathe deeply to regain his composure. He left his little passage and walked passed Anevia, continueing past Tauni. Franti covered his mouth as he spoke. "This way, little Rabbit?" He wasn't sure what left him in this condition, but was intent on returning the favor with cold-iron arrows. The fool stepped deeper into the labyrinth.

Franti swallowed the growing bile, burning his throat. The goblin was wide eyed as he hobbled out of the cloud. He took a twist to a dead end, put a hand to the wall as he leaned and spit the phlegm he had so quickly gathered. He heaved, but his retching brought no expulsions. Franti's dribbling mouth whispered hoarse curses between gags.

Franti put a finger over his mouth to ensure silence, and lead the way with a nervous, pounding heart.

Stealth: 1d20 + 14 - 5 ⇒ (19) + 14 - 5 = 28, +4 to Stealth for Size Modifier

The goblin, without any bells or bright colors, moved silently and deftly towards the wall. He kept close to the surface as he moved south, peeked a quick corner, and beckoned for his friends to enter. The fool turned against the wall, placing himself in a nook. Franti thought that bringing lights in might not be wise, but didn't want his friends left in the dark. He poked his head from his corner and pointed his bow eastward, checking for any foes.

Franti placed a hand on his scale, twisting his form to that of a large headed goblin. For the first time in his transformations, Franti appeared like a usual member of his altered race, and not a theatrical, clownish outcast. He appeared as a regular goblin, though a well armed and armored one. The goblin took out his even-shorter-now short bow, placed his saps in two open pouches in his bandolier, and tucked his new, cold-iron short sword into his belt, opposite his cold-iron knife. Around his neck and over his armor he wore two necklaces. The first held the symbol of his god, the second a polished, metal whistle. If Franti was to face demons, he would not be caught unprepared.

The fool looked to Wenduag. "We've faced enough vermin," the fool began, shrill in his goblinoid voice. He began to panic slightly. "I, ah, you know what I - I was talking about rats and, um, snakes, and the bugs, not you." The fool tapped his foot anxiously. "Sorry. Just garbage?"

On hearing Karas, Franti wore a somewhat surprised expression. "Oh, maybe that is what the story means. I just thought it meant that my God is the most fun. Between Abadar and Iomedae, you all don't give me much to work with." He laughed for the first time in a couple days.

In the lair once more, Franti contemplated putting on his makeup, if only for tradition. He opted not to for the sake of time, but primarily to not attract the attention of the dretches. Wenduag's presence slightly irked him. In moments around her he felt uncomfortable, not afraid or wary but rather still afflicted in guilt for how he first treated her. Franti tried to gather up the power to apologize, but was silent as it built.

Franti was impressed by Avelina's storytelling. The tales of Iomedae were well told, and were certainly noble stories worth of a God of her status. While the mongrelman were still present, between a break of Avelina’s tales, Franti told a story of his own god. He seemed to be of higher spirits when speaking of Picoperi, though perhaps his interactions with children had him reclaim some of his trickster spirit ."The Acts of Iomedae are rather impressive, but pale to the most notable of the Merrygleam." He waited for the line to catch the attention of the Iomedae worshipers.

"The Act of Picoperi is one that shows his true powers. True, the Inheritor shows bravery and strength, but even she could never do what the Great, Eternal Prankster Picoperi could. I needn't lecture you on demons, but Urxehl is one known as the Lord of Storms. A demon lord stronger even than the Storm King, I imagine. As tall as two stories, the figure for which the very trolls of the world take their shape from. A vile creature of ceaseless anger and suffering, looking only to set the world ablaze and leave it under an endless, thundering cloud."The fool grabs his holy symbol, a branch with a snake wrapping around it.

"I am sure Iomedae could slay such a monster, but Picoperi did so much more. Picoperi managed to make him smile." Franti’s face curls a large grin. "With his tricks and jests, the Merrygleam had the demon lord in a state of momentary bliss. The Trollfather was at ease from Picoperi’s joke. The raging fires across countless forests quelled, every black cloud turned white and fluffy, and every troll who worshipped Urxehl became passive and content, if only for a moment. The demon lord has sought to end my Azata lord ever since, but the Merrygleam's wiles are endless. "

The fool looked around at the mongrelman, passing his necklace off for anyone to examine. “They say Picoperi’s symbols are cut from the very kapok tree in Elysium in which he dwells. Picoperi doesn’t bring death to the battlefield, but laughter to his foes. Iomedae may be able to carve through any enemy, but she could never carve a smile like Picoperi can.”

Ready to go for me. Is there a masterwork short-bow in the weapons cache, or only arrows?

With extra time for Tauni to rest, Franti knew not what to do. He felt refreshed, yet anxious for their next encounter, but kept a cooler head than he had before. His mind kept going back to the blood filled room with mongrelman parts, back to his interrogation of Wenduag. He wanted more than justice to Hosilla, he wanted answers. He tried to use his new shortsword, finding it a bit heavier than his usual weapons, but had a finesse of sorts when using it. Franti felt confident he could fight with the weapon, and began to attempt a flourishing style of dagger strikes and spinning sword cuts. He didn't like the idea of turning a blade on someone, but on demons or beasts, he felt no qualms.

Franti carried many of the unholy symbols in his bag, he knew that the Iomedae worshipers wanted nothing to do with it, and would be shamed to hold or wear such items. He looked at them every once in a while, careful to stow away the symbols when Karas approached. He looked at Baphomet's book, pondering what was in it that could corrupt mortal men.

He left the book out, removing his journal from his bag and turning to a new page. He tried his hand at a song, finding jokes difficult to reach at the moment.

Franti, unable to see magic or identify the garbs as such, looked at the clothing but primarily stared at the thieve's tools. He resonded to Anarya, looking at her so she could read his lips. "Mine?" He looked over the contents a second time, searching for a holy symbol of Picoperi for a sign, or of another God to prove it wasn't meant for him. "Are you sure?"

When Tauni held out the cord, Franti was hesitant to take it. After tying it around his waist and making a small knot at his back, Franti looked back to the wizard. "I'll put it to good use." Franti looked at the magical shirt, though mostly saw the mundane practicality of wearing something under his armor that wasn't partially burnt or a clown's costume. He grabbed the tools. "There was that locked door by the ladder in the lair. I'm certain I can get through it now."

The cache of items are masterwork and cold iron, yes? Can I take a Shortsword and a sap? If their have two saps, all the better.

Franti looked at the gear, struck with surprise. He counted the symbols of Iomedae and let out an awed murmur. "Even neath the earth Her radiance reaches us..." Franti glanced to the worshippers of Iomedae, feeling mixed with reverence and envy. Chosen by Gods and Mongrels alike. The armor matches Karas, and spells for Rabbit. Franti gravitated to the most mundane of the bags, unmarked by the arcane or divine. Six bags for six crusaders... he thought, but who is the sixth?

Franti pondered as he dropped to his knees, inspecting the garbs and tools. The sixth.... Horgus has grown brave these last few days, perhaps it is for him. Or Aravashnial, he is already one with the Crusaders. Or Anevia, already married to a virtuous warrior. The fool gets to his feet, looking at his party. Even in his current mood, he couldn't suppress a smile. "Armasse's gifts came a bit late, but boy do they deliver. "

As Avelina begins to fill his journal with material far funnier than any of his own jokes, Franti leaves for the market, carrying weapons and armor to be sold in his bag. He walks to the same merchant as before, presenting each item and sliding his abacus to count the gold. He didn't attempt to sell his items high, joke with, or haggle with the merchant. "Sixty five platinum coins, six gold coins, five silvers."

He looked around the small village attempting to find any goods that might help him out in their final trial. He thought about how a dretch would fight, how easily it could tear through his armor, how his bow-armed savior wasn't around to save him this time. Franti had to stop for a moment to collect himself. The others will look after me. They are bigger, they have spells. All I need to do is survive.

Franti distributed the gold (121.75g each) after using the abacus once more to determine an equal split. He contemplated trying his hand at making an old alchemical favorite of his while the others rested. In the very least, it would provide a distraction.

Franti took his own journal from his bag, along with his ink and pen. "Don't read the entries I wrote, but there are blank pages for you if you need them. If you want it private, you best rip out the page afterward." He held out the book full of unfinished jokes, attempts at poems and songs, and undelivered letters, waiting for Avelina to take it. She is going to fill all my pages with the Acts of Iomedae. I'm going to have to buy a new journal...

Unchained Rogue gets it for free!

"I think my saps have cold iron within. At least that's what I paid for. But I'll take the knuckles in case I need them." Trying them on, the man gave a few quick punches, a thin smile beginning to form. "These might do..." Franti removed the abacus from his bag, and began sliding the beads across it, estimating the worth of their next haul and trying to figure the split of the gold. A surprised expression began to dawn on him as the final bead slid into place. "As soon as I stop playing for a crowd, the gold begins to pour in. Funny."

Franti thought back, trying to recall the small demons during the invasion. He remembered the woman he helped save. He remembered the fear and the screams. He remembered Ellena and Tauni as the city crumbled. No, he corrected the thought, Rabbit was before that. The fool wasn't sure if what chased him in the Worldwound years back were the same as the foes above Kenabres. "All the Crusaders at the bars spoke of cold iron. If I strike a dretch with a blade of it does it vanish?"

At Neathholm, Franti looked towards the others, assembling the pile of gear gathered from the cultists, removing the essentials and waiting for everyone to pick through and claim what they want. The rogue wanted little from the stash, and left to take another dip in the underground lake.

He held his breathe for as long as he could, imagining the open sky, the smell of grass, the taste of proper food. He washed away the ashes of his trick from his skin and his hair. He slicked his locks back, put back on his leather chest piece and walked around the village. A thought nagged at him, one that made him feel uncomfortable. Hosilla still had information they had yet to claim, and ignoring it would be foolish. Who knows if the Crusaders above are still alive to claim her.

As he walked, he would see the mongrelman of Neathholm. Every time he saw them he would recall the scene in the bloodstained cavern with the butchered meats and mongrelman parts. He returned to his party, feeling a bit nauseated. "We need to consider the remaining cultists. Wenduag said the glaive-girl knew of the Sword and what is in Drezen. She's the leader, and she knows something we do not." The fool tried to use his scale to turn into a mongrelman, but was surprised to find he couldn't will it to do so. " Also, what's a dretch?

"Ah yes, as justice has served her so well it seems. Let the first cut of your blade be one that removes her shackles. It'll be poetic or something." Franti approached Wendaug. "Actually, we needn't be romantic and spoil my rope. I'll check the other room, then we can return them all to Neathholm. I'm taking my rope back, so if you want her bound, you'll use your own."

Franti sighed, heading to the southern door, checking for anything that seems harmful, but mostly surveying for any objects of importance. Franti wanted out of the caves. He longed for the sunlight. He longed for Opaline.

Perception (Traps): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (11) + 5 = 16
Disable Device: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (4) + 10 = 14