Grothog the Exiled's page

This was fun. I was satisfied by how I managed to salvage or create a character arc for Grothog (DM helped a lot). His pacifism gave way to despair, which gave way to bloodlust (and PTSD), which ultimately gave away for a realization that a hero is defined by their actions and not out of self-perception. Clowns to heroes!

I also loved that Katala was the anchor and unofficial leader/spokescat of our team, and how Pandir was a positive actor that always added a unique and funny twist (especially loved the plant-like descriptions and flavor of how she consumed potions, rested, etc.), and Finch was a great fun to read and interact with (especially with her using Grog as a prop/umbrella/coat stand/totem pole/etc.)
I think this crew/party was perfectly fit to have one another.

I likewise don't find that 2e is a perfect fit for me. Maybe it's the multiclassing, maybe it's how the action system and the wide choices of reaction (which doesn't fit PBP), or maybe it's something else.

The game, storytelling, and the stories we had along the way is what kept me here.

I still grin when I remember Finch's psychotic bluff with the fire elementals...
Threatening hostages only works if you care about them, huh? XD

See you guys around.

Groggy out.

Katala, Finch, I think we're waiting on you two.

the feast is loud and colorful as the Wayward Wonders' members lighten the mood. The sense of goodwill and happiness and dancing people and laughing children is a little alien to the large orc, who sits on the floor, marveling on how their gratitude over his aid blinded them to what he was. He smiled, the tension from before relieved.

Yes, he killed again. Perhaps, however, heroes can kill if there is a good reason to. The happiness of common folk, settling of old feuds, was surely good. It surely felt that way for him, a stranger exiled from a stranger land.

When Grothog slinked away from the festivities to visit Myron's grave, he lowered himself to touch the fresh soil, and pulled his employment contract. On the paper was his rough signature--gently invited out by the good circus manager. The orc wrapped it up into a scroll, and placed it on under a stone.

"'fanks," he said roughly. He could still hear the cheer and impromptu feast from the distance, and smiled. Perhaps the world was not so dark after all.

After all, a wise dwarf once said, "If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world."

Medicine to Heal: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Critical heal for 4d8
HP restored: 4d8 ⇒ (2, 4, 1, 6) = 13

Grothog gets up, munching on some weeds from Pandir's healing plaster, and hangs his pick and shield on his body, before hauling several victims over his shoulder as if they were potato sacks.

"Lez go."

Grothog marches out the hermitage, with a strange budding feeling in him now that the rage has faded. He didn't consider it yet. Perhaps they were all just a bunch of clowns, but they were all Abberton had. Abberton did not have any heroes--but the fact that the clowns did the rescuing maybe meant they became the heroes.
An orc whom not even his own people wanted, an unnammed rigger on a small traveling circus has somehow became...

Grothog emerges into the day with his comrades with the rescued victims over his shoulders.

--a hero.

Grog grabs his wounded side, and drops heavily next to the corpse of the fiend.

After a moment of heavy breathing, he says to the remaining living victims, “Go.”

He then gives a small smile, finally relieved at their victory.

@DM we head out to the heroes’ welcome

Finch's player is down sick. I think Finch would use an action to Stride, and two Strikes on the flanked enemy. For convenience I'll roll for him (or her).

Shortsword Attack 1: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (6) + 8 = 14
Shortsword Damage 1: 1d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (6) + (2) = 8

Shortsword Attack 2: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15
Shortsword Damage 2: 1d6 + 1d6 ⇒ (3) + (5) = 8

Grog shouts in rage, intensifying his attack, bellowing something in orcish that translated to 'Did you give Marlon the same courtesty?'

Attack 1: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (1, 1) + 4 + 3 = 9
Attack 2: 1d20 + 11 - 5 ⇒ (5) + 11 - 5 = 11
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (5, 5) + 4 + 3 = 17
Attack 1: 1d20 + 11 - 10 ⇒ (16) + 11 - 10 = 17
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (2, 2) + 4 + 3 = 11

He does not stop until the creature is dead, avenged for the deaths and misery it caused.

You’d still have 8 lives left, though.

Yeah the idea of combat narration is basically that you narrate how the fight ends (like a cutscene where we're all botted).
But since we're already fighting it's not necessary. Just have to drop this succ to 0.

Grog uses an attack of opportunity if she used a manipulation/ranged attack/move action of any type.

“What do you want from me, invaders? I can be such a good friend, if you just let me.”

The orc's rage almost fades, but is kindled again by Pandir's shouts.

He otherwise keeps attacking until the creature is paste. Brother is finally broken, congratulations.

Come on guys, we're almost at the finish line!

Grog tosses aside his shield, and with his offhand, reaches to grapple Katala and yank her from the demon's grasp.

Grapple: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31
A crit!

Grog pulls Katala away, rage burning into a blind frenzy, and throws her away from the center of the fight (sorry, but you need to be away from melee!), before he grabs his pick with both hands, and swings furiously, shouting in orcish.

"Gu-thra damaan far-e baranuu!" he shouts in rage, bringing the pick down and down again. "Far-e! FAR-E! FAR-E!"

Attack 2: 1d20 + 11 - 5 ⇒ (17) + 11 - 5 = 23
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (3, 5) + 4 + 3 = 15
Attack 2: 1d20 + 11 - 5 - 5 ⇒ (10) + 11 - 5 - 5 = 11
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (3, 1) + 4 + 3 = 11

Action 1: Grapple + toss Katala away as far as possible. Action 2&3 Attack with pick

Will: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

Grog steps in, and his gaze is steady. He drops the pearl, and hefts his pick, steadily approaching.

“The servants have run amok, as you have seen. I had no choice but to hide here, with the ones most faithful to me. And hope for a saviour to come before we all starve to death. Now you are here. I am saved.”

The memories of his boss's death and the torment of his friends sets his adrenaline surging. The sulfur, the deaths, the worms-who-wear-people, and the demon sits lounging all moved to kindle his soul to flame
He picks up the pace, and lunging at the sitting creature with his pick in a vengeful strike.

Rage, move, strike
Raging; -1 to AC, +5 temporary hp, +3 positive energy damage, and the weapon gains the divine property

attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (5) + 11 = 16 (Hero point)
attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (4, 4) + 4 + 3 = 15

@DM: I think we're all for combat-narrating the encounter unless there is a big twist that necessitates play.

I've been reading along, but my overall motivation for PbP has been very low. I should be able to muster through one more combat encounter, but I'm not against narrating the end bit either.

RL got you down?

Or last encounter in this module. It sure feels like it; demons all over (including clear mind-manipulation), heavy hints of a succubus, and the resolution of the build-up since Myron's death.

I don't know how many players are left for the boss fight, or how much drive we have as players to wrap this up.

Are we still down, team? I think we could just narrate the ending if there is no interest to play this out.

As far as I know she's been restored to full health and the subtext is outdated.

One of the founding principles of the Wayward Wonders is not to profit from the mockery and exoticisation of bodies. As such, they have established their own brand of sideshow devoted to the idea that anyone can be interesting. In The Sideshow of Everyday Marvels, people with commonplace appearances tell the fantastical tales of their own lives.

Due to this, I think Grothog is embodying that principle now; the party is a mismatch band of circus performers who have the fate of the Abberton on their shoulders. Even they can be interesting. Even they can be heroes when there are no more heroes.

@DM: Please start the final encounter. We can bot those who don't play.

Grog says nothing for a long moment, observing the gate of the sanctum with the pearl in his hand.

He then turns to his party. He takes a deep breath, and looks at their faces.

"Ow'aight," he starts, voice starting with its usual gruffness but rising. "Wez nervous yez? Wez confus'd yez? But nobodyz elz iz 'ere yez? No more 'eroes; itz just uz."

He turns to the gate and back again, and adds, "If dis waz a story, a right shoiny knight shou'v been 'ere, aww right'us and 'oly, but all 'dem are dead. No more 'eroes. Iz jus' us. Wez got no godz or gre't destiny, but we 'ave ourselves. Da's wut Myron sayz: 'Everyone cud be interestin', and I trus' in Myron"

He raises his fingers carrying the pearl, and says, "Fer Myron."

He then pushes the pearl forward, and readies himself for battle.

@GM: I open the door.

*sad orc noises*

Grog nods as the party reads out the hermitage rules, and heads to the library to rummage through the priest's robes.
He ignores the book, and grabs the golden-engraved pearl between two large fingers. He marches back to the party, and stands before the gate to the inner sanctum.

He pauses.

"Rest?" he suggests, glancing at Katala.

Need your spells?

Let's finish this, girls.

@Party: I can drink an elixier but I only lost 3 hit points, so it's probably not worth it to top off if I have to wait an entire hour.
@GM: I think we all move on.

Grog, Is the 50/53 including the 8 from Katala's treating wounds? Is everyone healed up? I'd prefer to save the healing elixirs for when we don't have time to treat wounds.

Grog thanks the talking plant acrobat with a grunt, and stews in silence as the strange plants and herbal pastes disinfect his wounds and invigorate him.

"There you are, Friend Grog. I also have an elixir of life on hand. This 'Abbess' must be stopped before we can purge this hermitage of weeds."

Just as the plant piped out these words in her strange voice, Grog's heavy hand reached to touch her head.

"Be kareful," he said in a strained voice. The small beady eyes observed the plant-thing with a strange affection. He turned his eyes to the other girls: smart Katala, and vicious Finch.

"We'z gonna win," he says, without much fanfare. Despite the distance and apparent despondent air of him, the orc seemed to have an unshakeable trust in his fellow circus-mates. "Lez go."

The monk fell in a bloody heap, letting out a spray of blood soaking the orc. The fires licking the warrior's body faded, as the male monk withdrew.

His warrior instinct, the instincts of a predator who would pounce and tear limb from limb, urged the warrior to take an attack of opportunity, but the urge was muffled under a strange ringing sound in the orc's ear.

Grog doesn't take the opportunity attack. He is no less confused than Pandir, though for different reasons.

"No idea. This whole place is a mess that's impossible to understand. Probably the effect of the demons! Search for anything dangerous. It'll take some time to bind up all of the wounds."

Grog sits down, letting his friends, now safe and sound, heal him.

A foreign and unfamiliar dark feeling surged in Grothog, a black wave of hate and frustration welling within him.
They wanted to kill his friends. They did not get intimidated. Nothing else would work.
'Why are they like this?' he wondered, as the fires licked his ill-fitting dwarven plate, and he (as if in a dream) let go of the priestess's neck, hand reaching for his deadly pick. 'They are the ones forcing me. I am not evil. I am a victim, I am defending myself. All of this is right.'

Reflex vs. DC 20: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Grog suffers 13 fire damage.

He drew his pick, and, feeling a strange distance and sense of sick voyeurism, as if the hand landing murderous blows was not his own.
Even the pain of the sorcery felt ephemeral--for though the body suffered, the mind was so far gone that the flames barely registered. The orc's small eyes were glassy as he spilled blood with mindless repeatative motion.

Attack 1 vs. flanked enemy: 1d20 + 11 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 11 + 2 = 18
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (6, 1) + 4 + 3 = 14
Attack 2 vs. flanked enemy: 1d20 + 11 + 2 - 5 ⇒ (12) + 11 + 2 - 5 = 20
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (1, 1) + 4 + 3 = 9

I don't think magic weapon stacks with the striking rune on my weapon, Katala. I forgot to add that to my post.
If the GM says otherwise I'll use it, but that would mean a single strike deals 3d6 base weapon damage.

Something snaps in Grog, and he barrels into the room on heavy feet, charging through the flames with a terrible roar of pent-up anger, and bodily tackles Lessa.

Stride - Shove - Grapple

Athletics to Shove: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15
Bad dice. I use a hero point
Athletics to Shove: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (6) + 10 = 16

If Grog fails, he stops one square in front of the monk instead of getting out of the area of effect.

He then grabs the monk by the neck, using his powerful build to shove her face-first into the wall, screaming into her ear. "DROP DA SPELL AND BE QUIET!"

Athletics to Grapple: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

Reflex vs. fire: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (5) + 7 = 12

Grog enters a guarded stance, growling at the humans to stand down.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (5) + 10 = 15

Edit: But the growl seems to have been lost in the sound of combat.

Waiting my turn. I think Finch would flank and stab, knowing her disregard of life for people who threaten the gang.

"Or be wearin' them," Grog said darkly. The monastary was clearly more of a house of victims than a base for evil.

We check the last room before we hit Pink and then Yellow.

"Oi, mefinks da' we might be facin' dis bloody sucky in bat'le," Grog says, before heading to back up Pandir.

Grog moves up to the corner, ready for more combat.

I think Grog has 2 potions in this case. I remember quaffing one.

Only 1 lesser healing potion is registered in my sheet. I hope I didn't forget to log the new potions.

Grog, once his wounds are bandaged, rises up. He took a lot of punishment today, but was sure (once observing the demons) that it was not over yet.

He looks around the library for clues.

Perception w/darkvision: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
If he sees anything interesting in the upper shelves, he cautiously climbs the bookcases to reach them.
Athletics: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (3) + 10 = 13

Grog marches up and hits the demon twice.

Attack 1: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (18) + 11 = 29
Pick: 2d6 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (4, 5) + 3 + 2 = 14

If crit
Pick: 4d10 + 8 + 1d10 + 2 ⇒ (4, 1, 6, 9) + 8 + (8) + 2 = 38

Attack 2: 1d20 + 11 - 5 ⇒ (13) + 11 - 5 = 19
Pick: 2d6 + 3 + 2 ⇒ (1, 6) + 3 + 2 = 12

is it my turn?

Ow

Grog staggers when the statue smashes into his ill-fitting dwarf-plate, the resulting cloud of dust blinding him against the demonic slash.

Will vs. Fear: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 (Frightened 1)
Fort vs. poison -1 fear: 1d20 + 10 - 1 ⇒ (13) + 10 - 1 = 22

My turn
Grothog focuses on a mix of offense and defense, raising his shield and striking the same demon in a series of precise rage-fueled strikes.

AC becomes 20, will use reaction to block
Attack 1 + flank: 1d20 + 11 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 11 + 2 = 18
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (1, 4) + 4 + 3 = 12
Attack 2 + flank: 1d20 + 11 + 2 - 5 ⇒ (16) + 11 + 2 - 5 = 24
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (4, 3) + 4 + 3 = 14

Grog's eyes flare into fury, and he gives a terrible roar, emerging from the secret exit to fall upon the foes, striking a the greasy-haired monster with his warpick.

Attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (9) + 11 = 20
Damage + spirit rage negative: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (1, 2) + 4 + 3 = 10

Grog follows cautiously.

Grog skids to a halt, pausing at the corpse. Why was this priest kept in here locked up?

"Good priest?" he asks.

Perception w/darkvision: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Grog nods, readying his huge shoulder, and pushing off the opposite wall to smash.

Athletics: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

I could use an aid another--can Katala use her check to aid me? If so, I hit the 25.

Grog emerges after a while, hafting his pick, and looking somewhat relieved.

He heads to the next door, and kicks it down with renewed vigor, shields up.

We proceed

Grog blushes dark green, and says in a low voice, "I'z got's to uz' da cloakroom."

He goes in, closes the door behind him, and heeds the call of nature. From the outside, the party heard a heavy plunk and a long trickle.

Grog moves to push open the brown door with his shield hand (electing to drop the shield it if obstructs his efforts).

Grog pats the talking plant with absent-minded affection, and then resumes his battle-stance and draws his warpick from the leather loop at his side.

Grothog sits down, expression hollow after seeing the demon emerge from the wolf, and feeling his constitution recover.

Fortitude plus Katala's help: 1d20 + 10 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 10 + 2 = 29

He also gets bandaged.

Katala's medicine?: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Wounds healed: 2d8 ⇒ (6, 6) = 12

"Demonz all o'er." he says in his gravely voice. He takes a breather, and then lets out a hot sigh, heaving himself to his feet, clearly intending to push further despite everything that happened.

Ahead unless anyone wants to do anything

He glances at the dead cook, giving her a long look, and then moved towards the door to the west, shoving it open with his boot, raising his shield, and stepping forward with a bitter battle-cry.
[ooc]Shield up[/oocc]

Sorry that was me. Other alias.

Continuation from the previous turn since I can't hold action
Grothog surges towards the wolf, landing a heavy pickaxe blow.

Attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (14) + 11 = 25
Damage if normal: 2d6 + 4 + 3 ⇒ (6, 4) + 4 + 3 = 17
If Crit: 2d10 + 8 + 3 + 1d10 ⇒ (4, 6) + 8 + 3 + (2) = 23

Will: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8
Am frightened 1