Aye, merry Christmas indeed. I just got my internet service back today after going out last Monday...gotta love holidays.
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"Damned spell casters. Damned Drow..." Grunyn mutters to himself as he slowly progresses forward; his extensive burns ache, and he grits his teeth against the pain. Seeing the nearby Drow literally beating his head against a wall, Grunyn calls down the forces of his God. "Irori, ka ike m ghara ịda mbà taa!"
A good warpriest (or a neutral warpriest of a good deity) can channel stored spell energy into healing spells that he did not prepare ahead of time. The warpriest can expend any prepared spell that isn’t an orison to cast any cure spell of the same spell level or lower. . As a swift action, a warpriest can expend one use of this ability to cast any one warpriest spell he has prepared with a casting time of 1 round or shorter. By strictest RAW, these don't interact. Spontaneous Casting, however, doesn't list any "time" for this transfer to happen; it's not even an action by RAW. So, on those lines, one could see a Warpriest using Fervor to cast any prepared spell, but then non-action it into a Cure. What say ye, Spiderbeard? Can I expend a use of Fervor to spontaneously cast a Cure as a Swift Action?
As the energies from his Shield Other spell wash some of the damage from Mutt to Grunyn, the Dwarf grunts, and, taking a few steps to center himself, throws a palm to his chest, waves of healing energy emanating into him.
Well, at least a few. The magic of the Shield transferred burns across large portions of the Dwarf, and his beard is nearly gone, with blisters already forming across his face.
Taking a quick step to his left, Grunyn lets loose two more arrows, these aimed at the orange Drow.
Ranged vs Blue Drow 1d20+7+1+2 -
Taking aa deep a breath as he can while drawing his bow, Grunyn bellows forth a taunt, while the twing of the string sends an arrow flying to the Drow on his left. "Where is your Matriarch? Nolveniss must be a eunic, then, to have your loyalty so!" - -
Okay, and it's a non-action at the start of each round to accept it or not, so the spell loss is okay; can always drop it the round I need to cast. Thanks!
@Fiona or anyone - What are those Spirit Motes? Is it an aspect of your song buff, or some story thing I'd've missed out on?
Happy Thanksgiving Americans! May the Pepto Bismol help as you gorge yourselves on food.
Finally able to complete his rest, Grunyn rises with a steeled will and renewed vigor; the grim Dwarf had vengeance on his mind as he meditated, calling upon Irori's perfect grace for the battle ahead. With belly full, blades sharp and armor polished, Grunyn trod along with his comrades until in sight of the library, where he would call once again upon his patron's blessings; this time for his comrades. "May the blessings of the Perfect One, and those of your own deities, fill us all will strength and resolve."
"Let me bring these bastards closer. I'm slow, and I have a score to settle; I need to teach a few Drow what happens when you mess with a Dwarf!" Grunyn readies his longbow, looking around for agreement.
Wow, Paizo fail; didn't get a single notification out of any of those, and now I'm stuck on my phone all day. Oh well, not like he'd disagree with the plan!
Grunyn simply listens, nodding as the plans of attack are explained, and eagerly agreeing to the frontal assault.
Congratulations!
Best of luck everyone!
It happens as wands age Thadd. I'm sure there are some herbs for it.
Hoisting his large hammer high above his head, Grunyn brings it down upon the siege weapon, striking at the mechanisms until it seems broken.
"Do you think you can handle that one yourself big guy?" Grunyn eyes the siege weapon while shouting at Lusk. Pausing briefly to stare at his shield, he nods, sliding it to his back and cajiggering the straps before squatting to grab his hammer. "Perhaps you are right Var'el. We shall see."
Final question from me (probably!) before I have something together. Can a Kensai Magus choose a natural weapon for their chosen weapon? Specifically, our claws.
Grunyn's ears ring from the impact with the Drow, and he fumbles about for a few seconds, getting his bearings. He places the large head of his hammer down, and presents his hand, palm flat and fingers slightly spread, towards the spellcaster. A triangle of light forms in the center of his palm as he shouts.
Translation:
"Stand and surrender, or die, vile, corrupt elf!
Also, I had edited this in, but it broke, and now it's been an hour. The Powerful/Deft Maneuvers feats don't mention the +2 to CMD that the original, non-clumped feats gave. Is that gone, and if so, is there a way to get it back? E: Something else: if we take a bloodline, would the hag one (Accursed) interfere with our hag-but-not-hag schtick?
Tristalt is a tricky thing to work into a character's background; justifying Wizard-Monk-Druid, or any other sort of combination with ostensibly varied lifestyles/training methods, is a bit of a chore in any circumstance. Coming from the "hamlet of Wicken" would make things even more challenging; such a disparate group of individuals wouldn't likely be found in such a small location. Would you be able to provide the names of a few other, perhaps larger, locales where we could opt for a more believable background? I noticed you included "or currently live" with Wicken, so I would assume it's safe that we be from elsewhere initially. I just don't know where said "elsewhere" might be.
Do we at the ballista benefit from Fiona's song? I don't see a range anywhere.
Grunyn blinks and works his jaw a few times, the teleport short but still somewhat jarring, as he watches the caster blur out of focus. He swiftly turns his attention to one of the cowering Drow, moving to strike.
Oh no, everyone wants a ride on the Thad-train!
@Keanu - Grunyn -will- want to chat with you at some point, though it's not that big a deal; I can assume he hates you like he hates everyone else (slash not really, he's just grumpy. Or was; right now he's happy to be back in the game!) @Everyone else - It's only been a short bit of time in-game, but out it's been a while. I'd like to take this opportunity to remind the casters that Grunyn's got Spell Resistance and if he's not conscious (which, with Diehard, is less likely to happen now than before, but still), it has to be bypassed with a check, and even if he -is- conscious, it's a standard action for him to lower it. Fortunately in this exact moment, Dimension Door doesn't count SR, so it doesn't matter. Never know when it might though. He may or may not still have his smelling salts in his pouch, though...and by that I mean he does, but y'all as characters don't know. E: Also @Keanu - You need heals. Charges from my CLW wand inc.
Grunyn raises one blued fist, the other clutching tightly to his shield. He speaks carefully, the iron spike, formerly his beard, protruding from his face hindering his speech.
Grunyn grunts, pounding his fists together a few times, and takes care not to look directly towards the coming daylight.
Enjoy everyone, and congrats!
Site sucks. I'll adjust his header text tonight if it's up when I'm off. Same excuse and apology for the delay and crappy phone post. E: Was there any more healing? Fio...forgot the other char's name...? I'm out of fervor, so it's spells now. Or a wand, that works too, burn those charges off and not need to worry about spell slots. I fake-used some, but I still have two dozen or so left I think.
Grunyn is pissed that his sleep, finally peaceful, sound, and surrounded in safety, was interrupted by a rude stranger's inability to handle himself. Hurrying still takes Grunyn minutes, and help, to don his heavy armor and many weapons, and he makes no rush on short Dwarven legs to reach the meeting tent, either. Nodding in agreement with Mutt, Grunyn taps his breastplate. "Var'el has tried to teach me steath, but I am not built for it, either. A direct assault can be risky, but we are strong, and Irori walks with us."
Response:
I hope you enjoyed the trip!
You mentioned a variety of I get everything I want from Fighter by 5, and I would love to grab more Arcanist, especially exploits. My preference would be a composition that would allow for alternating Ftr/Arc, but a pure martial focus is okay as well if it's necessary, or even just tends to be my go-to as the game plays out. In any event, he's sticking to melee and supplemental magical trickery over any kind of pure caster focus. Thank you for your consideration.
AoE costs double; if we take the first four d6s from my last post (for 17), I can have that have been AoE. However, I can also just Fervor Thad twice for 4d6 of his own, and it'd probably work out more efficiently. I would still, maybe(?), have had 5 CLWs and 2 CMWs left, so given that we assumed we'd be sleeping, it's fair to burn through them. Fervor first:
Edit: Looks like you're perfect Thad.
I'm still getting errors, during inconvenient times, so to preemptively get something in here, allow me to provide you with a bullet history, as well as some previous PbP posts. Hrothgar Durgensson:
1) His mother was from Andoran, ostensibly pregnant by one of the military officers entering Rolgrimmdur for education and training; however, on the day of arrival for the latest batch, a squad of Hellknights attacked the convoy, targeting a top official of the Eagle Knights. While the Dwarves were able to drive them away, the convoy was slaughtered, and they found Hrothgar dangling from his mother's abdomen, which had been viciously sliced open. 2) He was raised by a famed instructor named Durgen as part of his family, until he was fourteen; unable to mentally keep pace with a pubescent human, Durgen called in a favor, and Hrothgar was shipped to Absalom, where he was enrolled in tutelage under a rich patron. 3) At eighteen, Durgen returned home, more mature and civilized, and completed his military training with his adoptive father. 4) His style of combat was inappropriate to the tactics of the Andoran military, and so, in search of employment, he found the fledgling mercenary guild in Tadloton. 5) Being fairly intelligent and educated, as well as adaptive (Improvisation), I assume working his eclectic mix of magic and mutagen archetype into the missing two years wouldn't be too difficult; Arcane Temper suggests latent magical ability, so perhaps he studied some, found that there are very few spells that his armor won't interfere with, and worked to manipulate new ways of using magic (the arcanist exploit, as well as the Mutagen fighter) while still holding true to his fighting style. Or something, since he doesn't remember! xD
Example Posts:
Intro Post as a replacement into a campaign; the sequence that follows with Cecelia and Valence is also very nice. Recruitment Post for the aforementioned campaign; included in that post are also a combat example and RP example from Grunyn here, and feel free to look at Grunyn's posts in his campaign, as well as his background. You will notice I was only present for a brief period, and then gone for nearly a year and a half; a series of debilitating family events pulled me out of much of my free time. I have fortunately had all of that settled, and Grunyn's campaign is still running, with the GM gracious enough to allow him to step back in. Thank you; with any luck, I can get an actual narrative on his profile.
@Mutt - 2 Fervor uses left, and still some Cures.
Hrothgar Dergunsson has his crunch largely complete; just need to spend about 3k more gold, and get the flavor bits for you.
These things go together in my response; I have no idea how many spells I'd've had that day, though I've wasted two 2nd levels with my shield shenanigans. Assuming I -had- spells/fervor charges that day, I can still do 5 CLWs, 2 CMWs, and 7 2d6s worth of heals, which should cover.
This silly website is complicating this process far too much. Placeholder Icon 1 has the proper ability scores and skills on, but the equipment is still a holdover from my template; things seem to be working now, so hopefully I can get it updated in the next hour or two.
Grunyn gives a nod to Mutt, tapping himself on the forehead. "In my mind, more clearly than you speak now. As for the rest, I must assume it is a blessing from Irori, that I might silence Var'el's incessant chatter; I prayed one morning for peace, and was granted my petition in the form of that spell. Watch." This time, Grunyn simply raps his knuckles across the shield. "Kpuchie ọnụ." It shatters, and Grunyn manipulates it around, striking random points of ground nearby. "This way it is still useful, but I am granted a respite from its incessant lecturing." He gives nods all around, with a particular good evening to his newest elven comrades, before retiring to bathe, groom, and have a sound night's sleep.
However, I also saw Intimidating Glare/Terrifying Howl/Battle Roar. That would seem interesting to use. Dude yes. I always catch sight of the various intimidate schticks and think they look great, but never have the ability set for it. I'd love to see this is action.
@Mutt: Given my choice in combat strategy, I'm a fan of Powerful Blow/Bleeding Blow. Hack 'em up style. There's also the option of Superstition/Disruptive/Spellbreaker (later if you can get another one), which seems like a fair caster-killer. And the last option I see, keeping in mind this is one of the few times I've looked at rage powers, is something like Increased Damage Reduction and some other health/healing buff. Also, for the tl;dr of my post: Grunyn was kidnapped and tortured by Drow, led by Noveliss.
Grunyn pauses his much-needed meal, spoon midway to mouth, and glares at the elf. "A simple 'please' would be a welcome courtesy, Kaerishiel. Though I suppose even that is too much to ask from your kind." The dwarf takes several slow, deliberate bites of food, before placing it aside to rummage through what's left of his pack; a moment later, he removes a bottle, uncorks it, and takes a long swig before beginning. Armagedditon, or, What Happened in the Echo, Repeats in the Echo:
Alone on watch that night after the tower fell on Devil's Elbow, Grunyn's vigilance never faltered as several small darts pierced his neck; it was his constitution that gave, as the poison was too strong for the dwarf to even yell before succumbing to unconsciousness. It was a rough and bumpy journey for those brief moments when he gained consciousness. When at last he was groggily able to open his eyes, Grunyn at first thought he was underground, for the world around him was bereft of all colors save shades of grey and black. Only a flickering at the edge of his vision, too obvious to be anything but a flame yet still giving no color, gave any clue that he was elsewhere. Shortly, a coal-black elf, clad in robes and tingling Grunyn's natural magic senses, presented himself as Nolveniss. "It would seem that your kind, Kaerishiel, were too weak for the sort of...research...Nolveniss wished to conduct. I, being a Dwarf, offered a perfect specimen." And research the drow did. Grunyn lost all sense of time, and much of his sense of self, as various alchemical reagents were pumped, poured, and punctured into him. The only thing he could remember clearly was a phrase, brief, but in a tongue Grunyn did not know. It was said often, and served as a sort of tether, holding the dwarf to reality. Like all villains, Nolveniss was prone to expositions, and on the day of Grunyn's "final test," delighted in sharing his brilliant schemes with the dwarf. "I was bound to a stake, at the edge of what your cousin called the 'shadow key,' to witness the Divine Heralding - Earthfall, as it were. Nolveniss had been observing the event for quite some time, and this was the latest enactment. He declared himself capable of harnessing similar powers. Claimed he did the same recently, on Devil's Elbow. I had little choice but to watch." As the drow moved off, Grunyn spied a shiny bit of metal, just below his feet. Working intently, he was able to maneuver more of it to the surface, and found the edge to be remarkably sharp. With a great deal of effort, and little regards to the apocalypse beginning around him, Grunyn cut through the bindings at his ankles, and eventually, his wrists, the latter taking an unfortunate amount of his cheek with it. Grunyn's blood dripped upon what was apparently a shield - the same as the one he now bore. Hastily, he strapped it onto his arm, when a sudden heat caused him to glance skyward; the massive meteor struck with incredible force, surprising even one who knew of the tremors it caused deep beneath the surface. Tumbling to the ground, and instinctively covering his face with the shield, Grunyn knew only more heat, and a brilliant flash of light.
Another draught, this one much deeper, and Grunyn passes off the bottle to the nearest ally. "Spiced wine." Gingerly, he unstraps his shield, placing so leans upright and faces the majority of the group. He bows before it, and resumes his seat. "Var'el can not speak to me when I do not hold it, though I do not dare to leave such a relic unattended for long" Fidgeting with the iron band that stuck to his beard earlier, he resumed. Grunny Osmond:
"Let's Get Down to Business"
Then there was the impact; once again, Grunyn found himself surveying his surroundings to find his place. He discovered he was in the same location, with the destruction having somehow been reset. Marveling for a moment at what had transpired, the shield spoke once again in the dwarf's mind, snapping him out of his trance to remind him he was still in danger. He began to question what this shield was, but it offered no reply to his mental queries. It was only once he had found relative shelter did Grunyn begin to mutter to himself, inspecting the curious relic; that's when the shield replied. It explained that Grunyn's blood had snapped it out of its millennia of slumber. The shield had been crafted by the dwarves prior to the Quest for the Sky, a true artifact of ancient days. It had once possessed great magical powers, but the sands of time wear down even the mightiest; it could no longer even recall if it had a name, or how it had come to be separated from its wielder. What it did know was that the glowing blue palm of the Perfect Man had reached deep into the earth, to place the shield at the feet of Grunyn during his hour of greatest need. And at this, Grunyn wept. "To Defeat the Drow"
He spent nearly a week as far from other life as possible, practicing with his weapons and rehoning his martial skills. A small patrol of three drow happened upon his hideaway during one afternoon training session; the intense lesson was welcomed by the dwarf, and, after a brief debate with his shield, the ensuing meal, of the only viable foodstuffs around, was welcomed as well. Emboldened by his reclaimed sense of self-identity, Grunyn moved closer, watching as best he could for the patterns of the drow. "Do You Have No Honor, As Your Father's Son"
Pressed flat under a window, Grunyn could hear the chatter of drow approaching. As he hunkered in silence, he nearly gasped; he could understand their tongue, upon hearing the phrase which held him to reality. He knew it now: Armageddon Echo, and that was the name of this place. Returning swiftly to his belongings, Grunyn profusely apologized to the shield, who immediately chastised him for not speaking properly. Poorly at first, but with rapid success, Grunyn conversed with the shield in the language of the drow. It was a foul argument; both had radically different plans for his escape, though in the end, the shield was just a shield, and Grunyn shoved it to his back where it sat in silence as he gathered his weaponry and set forth to raid the drow. "You're the Saddest Dwarf I've Ever Met"
With a cry of resistance, Grunyn managed to distance himself from the chaos enough to cast a spell of his own; a minion sent by Irori himself, leonid in appearance but unfamiliar to Grunyn, brought more distraction to the area, and the dwarf escaped, hiding once again and spending several days magically healing. The shield arrogantly berated Grunyn the entire time; if nothing else, Grunyn is pious, and wore the shield constantly in devotion, with faith in Irori's test of the dwarf's patience. It was insulting, belittling, haughty, and positively elven in its lectures, and one day with a smirk, Grunyn deemed the shield should be named Var'el, in honor of an old friend with similar attributes. "But You Can Bet Before We're Through"
He noticed numerous, shadowy near-replicas of living creatures wandering about the grey haze, but none seemed to bother or care for Grunyn, and he felt it best to do likewise. Several varieties of outsider, some Grunyn recognized as the same as before and likewise Demon, flitted about, doing some business or another for a drow master. And once, startlingly close, Grunyn spotted a dragon soaring across the sky; a distinctive crest and broad tailfin reminded the dwarf of a similar threat that had hunted his monastery, and that dragon had been green. Decided chaos was in short order, however, as Grunyn overheard that Celwynvian, on Golarion, was being attacked by a group of elves. It was fairly easy, then, for Grunyn to stay nearby, dispatching two individual guards as he watched, and waited. "Somehow I'll Make a Monk Out of You"
Whether the blade had struck true or not, Grunyn did not know. The portal closed behind him without incident, and he was able to find respite and heal his grievous wounds.
Grunyn first retrieved another bottle of wine, drinking nearly half in a single go, before belching, rising, and replacing Var'el on his arm. "Var'el speaks to me only in Vudrani now. We have had ample time for conversations as I hid in the ruins; I relish the chance to hear voices again, even those belonging to arrogant, demanding, and self-important Elves." He smiles with another drink. "Does that satisfy you, Kaerishiel? And you as well, my friend Mutt; I hope that was a tale worth the wait."
Fiora's quick draw of a grooming utensil caught Grunyn off-guard, allowing the comb to whiz into his shoulder, skidding behind the dwarf... ...and landing at the feet of Variel. Grunyn puffs out his his chest, thumping it once with a tattooed fist. "I am Grunyn of the Pahmet, Fist of Irori, Wielder of Ancestral Tools! And you!" Pointing at the elf, Grunyn smiles. "Would you mind terribly handing me that comb?" He fruitlessly tries to run blue fingers through his beard, wincing slightly as a painful-looking iron band gets snagged, bringing with it a matted tangle. "Please, I think I have lice." With a nod to Mutt, he gestures with hairy palm to the room, frowning as he frets with removing his beard from the ring. "Story time can wait. I need to bathe." And with a sniff, his grin returns. "So do you, it would seem."
Ragged and unkempt, Grunyn rounds the dome, taking in the sights of the extra-large Mutt and Variel's mutant insect shadow with a shrug. Spying Old Horn, the dwarf tosses aside his pack and ancestral hammer in irreverent swiftness as he rushes to kneel adjacent to the goat, staring directly into one square eye. "You have taken care of my Mule, Eldest of the Horned Ones. I should see her at once." Grunyn rises without waiting for a response, and turns his attention to Fiona with a smile. "Please tell me you have a comb? I can not tolerate my beard in such a state for much longer." He then frowns, twisting sharply to land a solid punch upon his newest, and only clean, piece of equipment; a razor-edged shield, holding a sea green, polished hue and covered in deep-etched runic designs, archaic but still recognizable as Dwarven. "Kpuchie ọnụ!" The impact from Grunyn's punch, stout though he may be, did not seem near powerful enough for the apparent effect, as the shield shatters into five shards; the pieces begin to orbit Grunyn, as he returns to his recent, amiable behavior. "My apologies, friends. Var'el will not stop talking unless his jaw is broken. Now I can hear how you have fared! Tell me of yourselves, and your new friend-" he says, thumbing back at Lusk, "-who is it that is so ugly as to wear such a hideous helm?" After about half a minute, the shield reforms on Grunyn's arm, and he breaths an inaudible but clearly visible sigh. He eagerly looks at Fiora, his eyes clearly hoping for that comb.
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