Digging through old aliases, I'm happy to see you continued for such a long time despite my absence. My curiosity is pushing me to review what occurred since my departure!
Hoping you're all well in 2021!
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Hello all, I am sorry for my disappearance beforehand. This is not a request to rejoin, but it is an affirmation I recognize the difficulty I likely caused during the limbo period. Spoiler:
Though the reasoning why doesn't matter much at this point, two family members died in short succession, one of which had respiratory issues which may have been linked to the fungal issue I wrote about earlier. The mold I'd attempted to scour was not medically the cause of death, but I imagine the situation may have exacerbated her condition, and guilt is a b@@$# - justified or not. I haven't been in a good place these past few months, and this site didn't cross my mind until recently. A week or two ago, I checked-in to see how things were going, and it was a relief to see you thrived without me. With all the work you've done developing the setting and its characters, I would have felt doubly bad had the collaboration come to a halt. It wasn't until after my family gathering that granted some closure this weekend I felt up to writing this message; I imagine and understand any ire you have toward me for the unexpected departure. However, I feel you deserve closure in the chance it somehow betters you. Though I may try to find something interesting on the boards in the coming days, I'll make sure to keep both eyes on the development of the rich story - and on any essence embezzlement in the discussion thread. :)
My theory is the pack animals are in actuality vessels for the slain Hazards. In other words, things aren't going so hot!
Safe travels in Mexico! We're just getting into real winter weather here, which I've missed dearly! Is the idea that as we advance in the campaign, we form a herd of pack animals? :P I feel like there is some supernatural manifest destiny going on here on the apocalyptic Oregan trail.
The sorrow of parting was not lost on Gruskorb. For all the cruelty he'd experienced and dealt, emotions were something that went deeper than any dagger. These folk know the stakes. Brave. Yet bittersweet was overtaken by elation. Perhaps unseen until now, the scent of greenery filled the hobgoblin with hope. "So it's true! The land yet lives!.." The rogue ironically needed to be hushed by Niyut, but his mind spun with the possibilities. Maybe this eternal night will see a dawn yet. And if this is possible, maybe my cousin, my family... But he knew the strings at play with his cousin at least. The cold, calculating mind of Gruskorb came back to throw a wet blanket on aspirations of reunification. They're dead or with something that would make them wish it. He sighed with internal defeat, but the odds being against him gave him an angle for his assistance with the siblings. "Polite and light on our feet, yes - that I can do. Who do you think we'll have the honor of meeting?" A small smile spread across his face.
Vikkon. How would it know? Lockjaw was a circumstantial cobbling of sweat and iron, christened with blood. It had consumed the essences of the living, and now it aspired to channel the thoughts of the dead. Gruskorb’s creation not only had a voracious appetite for physical feed, but it seemed to thrive on dominating its maker mentally. The rogue did not have knowledge of how these traits came to be, simply that they were. He readied himself with these facts, turning them over and over in his head, seeking to gain confidence in their truth, seeking to gain new insights. He instinct told him when the two reconvened, Lockjaw would not be as easily appeased as before. It toys with my past life. It will try to control me with that. In his youth, Gruskorb’s manipulative cousin, Vikkon, had attempted the same. Egotistical to a fault, the eldest son of his mother’s sister made sure Gruskorb was always one notch lower on the totem pole. He often gave the boy the illusion of a chance at exceeding his relative in prowess – only to steal the contentment away at the last moment. This swindling happened with hunting, women, but most importantly, local respect. The town saw their family as a reliable bunch, but Vikkon was all the more talented of the those two youths of that generation. Gruskorb was strung along until young adulthood, where he stopped trying to compete with his cousin – openly, anyway. Magic was sword off as his rival took to it like a fish to water. So were politics. However, more shadowy wordwork and skullduggery were talents the diminished aegean honed in the moonlight. He hoped they would save him here… As his footfalls became the only ones in the vicinity, Gurskorb stopped to listen, to feel his surroundings. His head throbbed, but his feet still glided with deft grace; he veered left. Seeing nothing after many strides, the rogue scoured the ground with his eyes. Nothing. Maybe my feelings were misplaced, maybe… His thoughts were interrupted abruptly by a sharp, albeit shallow, pain on the back of his neck. Grimacing, Gurskob spun around to see the trap clatter to the ground. Doused in the vitae of the fallen, his machine had readied itself for a misplaced step once more. ”How do you know my past?” demanded the rogue, drawing a dagger out of instinct. ”What are you?” With his inquiries, the world became dizzy, his head impossibly heavy. Gurskorb’s stance broke, his legs wavered, and he collapsed forward – on what should have been the trap’s trigger. Instead, the world and Lockjaw faded from view, himself falling in a realm of darkness. The Realm:
After a moment of panic, he found himself … standing. He did not know on what at first, but the invisible platform beneath his feet felt perfectly smooth with a short drag of his boot.
He didn’t release his grip on the blade, but tightened it. ”Ah, cousin. You always were one step behind – both in perception and manners, it seems.” Rising up through the unseen platform which could well have been black glass, his cousin Vikkon arose as if elevated on a platform. He was dressed in a robe of goldcloth, somehow visible as if well-lit in this otherwise pitch-black realm. I can see myself too though. Odd. I wonder… ”Yes, yes, this is quite the place, isn’t it? Amazing what you can do with a bit of imagination. Or what I can do, rather.” Anger overtook his curiosity. ”What do you want? Why mess with my memories?!” His cousin smiled in the infuriatingly smug way he always had. ”Let’s just say these aren’t just memories. Also, I’m a who, not a what.” Steeling his resolve beforehand had worked; the hobgoblin lunged forward to stab whatever being was pretending to be his kin. Inches before the blade were to slip between his cousin’s ribs though, the wizard vanished, reappearing to Gruskorb’s right. ”Still a brute. Once you come to your senses, let’s talk.” Gruskorb took another thrust, then another. The evasion repeated itself. ”And you still can’t hit a target as well as I can move it. Truly a disappointment.” ”Fine. Speak.” Gurskorb spat the words. With no other option, he listened. ”Your cousin and I are, well, in a rather complicated arrangement. We have been for years. Since you were pups. His form is reaching the end of its use though, and I’d like to make the both of you a deal.” The image of family smiled back at Gruskorb. It took the rogue a minute to process what was being said. He tepidly ventured with a hiss after a minute. ””And I”. More mind games. I don’t know what you drugged your teeth with, but I swear…” ”Enough swearing. That’s what forged our bond in the first place.” Vikkon stepped closer to Gruskorb. ”See, your cousin needed some help. Ah, yes – help. Vikkon HATES it when I say that, don’t you?” The being closed its eyes, seeming to revel in some internal thoughts. ”Pity you never got to see this needy side of him – its worth a king’s ransom. Anyway, help – at becoming adept in the realm of magic. He had natural talent in a great many things, but sorcery wasn’t his forte. He appealed to me, and we forged an accord.” Vikkon turned to his side and half-shed his robes, the tattoo on the left side of his check glowing red. ”You thought this was just him getting in with some crowd? No, this is our deal, etched into his body. The problem, Grusky, is his flesh is weak. Past its expiry, really.” Vikkon’s robes reasserted themselves. Gurskrob interrupted. ”He’s dead. He has been for years.” Laughter was returned to him. ”Only his hopes. But this vessel can’t do what I need it to soon. That’s where you come in.” Vikkon’s left eye twitched slightly for a moment. ”I need a stronger place to stay, and you’ve a couple nice options in your midst. Those twins, for example. Either would do.” Apparently the manifestation expected the rogue to say something. Gruskorb waited it out. ”No? Why not?” Vikkon’s voice was a too-syrupy pout. ”You’re out of your mind! Vikkon was an ass, and I’m not in the business of selling either of them out.” A cold chill ran up Gruskorb’s spine. Vikkon cocked his head slightly to the right. ”Maybe, but how much of that was really Vikkon? How much of that was me? You – “ ”What ARE you?!” The vision seemed upset for the first time. It raised its hand, Gurskorb feeling force pushing in from all sides upon him. In a breathy, harsh whisper, the creature returned: ”Who. Someone who could crush you like an ant.” Gruskorb felt trapped physically, but he’d practiced the shadow game of words before. I’m getting under its skin. He pressed his advantage. ”But you haven’t. You won’t. What is it you wan – UNNGH.” The intensity of the weight pressing-in on him increased substantially. Nothing was spoken for a few minutes that seemed like an eternity while the creature squeezed him. However, Gruskorb didn’t break. ”You will do three things for me. You will collect blood from the Hazard of Abjuration. You will feed the potency of the departed to your creation. And you will lastly take them both when I tell you to your cousin.” Until that moment, Gruskorb assumed the visage of his relative was a ruse, nothing more. He wouldn’t risk life and limb for the belittling Vikkon, but what if that’s not who he really was? And Vikkon could provide some information about the rest of his family if any survived maybe. But Gurskorb wasn’t born yesterday. ”So what’s in this for me?” The image of his cousin faded, a cloudy-gray humanoid form, featureless, appeared in its place. ”Your soul. I cannot use the form of one of close blood if I leave the body willingly. Your cousin would live if I do, and so would you. If you fail to help me find a new form though…” The threat was clear to Gruskorb, but he’d already spoken on the matter. ”No. The twins aren’t for you.” ”No, they’re not. I wanted if you’re still the person your cousin said. You’ve changed some. No, I need someone of greater fortitude, greater potential…” ”The Hazard?” A raspy cackle sounded from the being. ”No. I would not be so foolish as to tell you who. You’re quicker than Vikkon thought.” One remaining facet bothered the rogue. ”Sounds like you’re trapped to me. Desperate. How’d you find me in the first place?” A thousand stentorian whispers filled Gruskorb’s ears. ”THE SAME WAY YOU WILL BE FOUND IF YOU FAIL ME.”
It was with that the rogue came to consciousness again. He wished he wouldn’t have though. ”Help me get this off him!” Some military men were helping Gruskorb escape from the clutches of the trap. It had clamped somewhat on the flesh of his torso, the teeth causing great pain in his flesh. *
Sleep rescued him from his thoughts. He awoke some time later and stumbled to bed to resume the hiatus from the struggles of the world. When he awoke, Lockjaw was still at his side. The guards thought he was a few pints short of a gallon when he’d insisted on them bringing it with him, yet they did. You will get yours, fiend. I’m not going to be bound to this pact! From his thoughts with Querkus from before, Gruskorb was almost certain Lockjaw couldn’t “hear” him discuss with his spiritual inhabitant what he was thinking. However, his observable actions would have to satisfy the thing’s suspicions for a time. Conveniently, they were in the vicinity of one of the Hazard’s associates…
Alerted by Querkus, the rogue snapped to his wits and his companions. What’s this?! Flashes of light, ice, and fire peppered his eyes. As they were reunited, however, Scarlet seemed to have rescued them for a few moments. Without much of a tactical plan, Gruskorb’s mind agreed with Malthazir’s inquiry, though it was his mouth that spoke his emotions in support of Niyut: ”Tacal must come!” He didn’t know what method of travel they would be needing in their new location, but without the beast of burden, they’d have many more hardships.
I have now completed what turned-out to be around a short story's worth in the process of rounding-out the corners of Gurskorb's encounter with Lockjaw. The pertinent bits to the situation at hand I'll post tonight along with ratification text to bridge to my absence. A few questions' answers would help the segue of the post though, but I'll do it later tonight regardless and tweak as necessary: 1. How extensive has the damage to flora & fauna been due to the darkness? 2. Would it be acceptable to predict economies have drastically shifted in terms of what has value and doesn't - and how much those values are? 3. With regards to the Hazards, how famous are they to people not attuned to magic? In the series of recent events, would this fame (or infamy) have increased? 4. Lastly, what would the Aegeans' general take on Elves be - and vice-versa? Sorry again. I prefer my writing to be of acceptable quality, and I'm not used to being in mental/physical states of incapacity.
Then that is what I will do. Absenteeism is anathema to PBP games, and I feel guilty for having furthered it, regardless of the pressures causing the vacancy. And on the office, no - I was part of a team which helped folks who did. Inquiry: Have mushrooms become noticeably more/less prevalent in the world since our arrival at Talanor?
Hello, all. Though I do not deserve forgiveness for my absence and understand you may have moved-on to someone else without me, you deserve an account of my disappearance. Reasons being are actually four-fold. I received a message from Niyut, who correctly remembered I wasn't feeling well. It turns-out what I thought was a cold from one of my kids was actually a fungal infection from when work I did on my mom's place. I don't recommend them; the treatments had me barely functional for nearly a week. It was especially not a good time, for I had lame duck nonsense to deal with in Michigan starting around that time. My setting changed from the bedroom to the capitol quickly. Then there was finishing of the gift purchases, which I very much dread and function like a 3-year-old when it comes to wrapping. Lastly the actual holiday visitations, which I've just returned from. Earlier this week was when I saw a message from the alias Niyut uses IRL, but I didn't recognize it. I thought it was someone from my time in Lansing or someone wanting a gift. Neither was getting a view/response for a week, so here we are. I'd completely forgotten about the game in the whirlwind and overlooked the thoughtful reminder. Let me know if you want me to write a wrap-up for Gruskorb. As for now, I am off to get groceries. I need something without a million calories, or I'll be starting off the new year with diabetes!
While the rogue had the temperament to hear out the man, his jaw was tight and his fists tighter as he responded. "There is much about my doings I don't discuss. Your ears may be friendly, but my words might not be for either of us." His breathing was forced, words measured, and Gruskorb's countenance turned away from Garidan in short order after finishing his terse bit. "Let's have a diversion getting into some of those places we shouldn't be in. That's a bit more profitable than words at least."
******* Looking as if he were to respond to the chipper halfling, the rogue's mouth stayed agape for a minute as she departed, then closed. His left hand shook slightly a moment before he pressed it against his thigh. That's the same attitude! But there's no way she would have known... Seeking to make himself scarce after they were shown in, he availed himself of the indirect exit offered. "Wälutur - I'll join you. They scare easy." Paper thin perhaps, his feet carried him along with the livestock to a moment with less chatter. Gruskorb's stay with the handler was short-lived. While he did give cursory courtesy to him and the animals, it was time for him to seek-out his trial.
Hearing Niyut but processing her indirect request as periphery, Gruskorb was transfixed on the small one as she spoke. He tossed the dice gently: "Scarlet..." he tested the name "... you seem in warm spirits for such a taxing day. We must know your secret before we go on." The creases and scars on Gruskorb's face bent into a dark smile - one of shade, not malice; perhaps it was her stature or her helpful nature, but Scarlet took him out of the concerns he had at this time. It also helped him avoid thinking about the headache present in his mind. That I must deal with tonight. Something has to give... The rift between Niyut and Malthazir wasn't missed on the rogue as she suggested a course of action for him. For once, he was glad not to have delved into the realm of magic. There's always sniping going on between them. Magi seemed to not even do it for personal gain, just the idea of superiority or dominance. The learned and the barbaric are somewhat alike in that regard, he mused. Cricking his neck, he responded to the apt oracle. "I'd be willing to assist in your journey. After all, we less civilized types might need to get back to our basics after all this time in posh luxury!" A short laugh erupted from his mouth, the bit of jovial relief only postponing the coming confrontation he knew he would have with whatever was developing within Lockjaw. Tonight, I'll need to take care of that. I know it won't let me go without a fight... He didn't really know what to expect from his creation-turned-creature, but he had a hunch there would be more visions. How it pried into such a vulnerable time in his past was a sore spot he had to stem before the chasm opened deeper though. I just hope I don't have to involve them in that. They'd think I made a deal with a devil or something. And maybe he had, but the time for negotiation - using whatever means he needed - was fast approaching.
Not as incested as Niyut, Gruskorb was nonetheless put-off by Malthazir's diction. Perhaps the hobgoblins - particularly the Aegeans - didn't have it as bad as orcs, but the ostracization was poignant in its offhandedness either way. They all look down on us, even in this dark hour. The rogue brushed that aside though as the king's commands came steadily. And what's this? He grasps at succession and authority yet? Hmmm ... thin threads holding the tapestry of this kingdom together. Gruskorb had no want to sever them - presently - yet he wondered if this princess and third-in-line would be as helpful as they would be asked to. Given their circumstances, Gruskorb couldn't imagine anything but. Still... As they walked, he glanced on the siblings, speaking with each other. At least they have that. Lucky to protect their family in this time. Those soldiers won't know what family is for long. He then laid eyes on their target and her helpers. Let's get this going. Striding forward, Gruskorb spoke in an uncharacteristically loud voice for him. "You lot with the strong magic? The king asks for your help with protection while the Hazard prepares swiftly for travel." It was blunter talk than he would normally do, but he had no angle with these people. Their skillset was apart from his, and their aims were secure enough he need not manipulate them.
Mind altering substances that make people suggestible?Are starfruit included in the bountiful banquet? Pernacious platypus venom, perhaps.
Are starfruit included in the bountiful banquet?
I wasn't knocking your specialization in stealth at all, Niyut! I'm saying if essence boni were dropped on top of that (as in any skill - Gruskorb could easily do the same with Sleight of Hand), it's less of a skill "check" and more of a skill order. The creative features are what I like about the essences. Things like Lockjaw are more interesting to me than another +2 on melee damage, for example, even if they are strategically worse. One of the things I appreciate about Pathfinder is the mechanical foundation that can be customized to allow for specific, albeit sometimes impractical, purposes. Valjoen's essence system allows for further fractalization of those specializations, so it's a positive idea for me. I'll be posting in the other thread tonight!
His head throbbed yet, but he reconvened with the group after no sight of Lockjaw. The two of us are linked, I can feel it ... why must it play these games with me? Garidan's request would help give him a focus to keep his mind off the pain. "The value part's easy: What people want, you keep. This?" he gestured at the battlefield after the two had set off alone, "Is worth little now. The remaining weapons are sturdy enough to survive, yet they are also plentiful. What will be rare soon are memories of this land as it was." A dark look hard to discern came over Gruskorb's face. Not usually of many words, he continued his appraisal of the situation. "Soon, these people will leave their home for the last time. They'll want momentoes, pictures - anything that can make them feel like their lives until this point had value or meaning. They'll cling to hope and family and love, believing somehow those things will make their situation better." He emphasized the words not quite with disdain, but with angry finality. Keeping his eyes open as he walked, the rogue's ears were uncharacteristically closed. "A son of a family that died defending this place? A portrait of him would be worth a thousand platinum to them - better hope he was from a family that could pay it! They cared for their boy, yes, but their own lives are in flow now too. The migration will eat away at their identity, feeding on their despair until they are hermits in an alley with nothing but the "Legend of Haemil" to their names, insignificant now themselves." Sense Motive DC 21:
It is clear Gruskorb is speaking about the emotional parts with some close personal experience. What is unclear is if he's the son or the family. His throbbing head caused him to pause a step and put his palm to the spot for a moment. "If you really wanted to find wealth, you're looking for an investment, an enterprise here. You exploit those hopes, manipulate them into new ones." He shook off the pain after a minute, looking into the man's eyes. He's sharp, but counts on his own resilience overmuch. "Take the sign of an inn from here. You bring that to this new place, set up a tavern? They'll all flock to it. The ale might be swill, and the meat might be tough, but they'll see each other, claw back what bits of life they still had here between themselves - and get drunk enough to believe - for a time - any of it mattered. That drug'll keep them coming back, keep coins coming in, until they're broke or dead." The hobgoblin coughed, looking for something to catch his eye in his surroundings. "Or you can pick up bloody boots and sell them to the guard captains. Your call."
Not as dismissive of the king as Niyut was, Gruskorb was curious to see how the carriage of power worked when the ruler's realm was seized. Not quite that same as what I saw back in my day, and yet there is opportunity here. The rider's horse made him think further: Who's going to feed these beasts now? Food will be tight.
I'll toss in my two coppers regarding essences. In general, I like the idea of essences. They allow for customization to be done by the players, yet streamline GM work by making them lore-appropriate. Fight a hag? Gain the essence of her with possibly haglike effects. 12 loot tables aren't necessary. However, in the process of players determining how to use these essences, dominant strategies can form. Pathfinder making d20 the dominant die means a character with a matched attribute and maxed skill ranks being "good" at something will need only +20 from some outside bonus (say, essences) to become an untouchable god with skills. Niyut with stealth is a near example. Chance to hit/save a d20 roll with an auto success/fail is in a similar boat, one being able to push the odds to a 95%/5% endzone. As I understand it, essences allow the former to be accomplished much easier than the latter. I don't know either is a "good" scenario. With spells as somewhat discussed, there is an essence-to-power issue. Part of that problem is spell level is not a linearly-scaling variable. I'm not even confident 9 essences to yield a level 9 spell 1/day is appropriate, for that Storm of Vengeance or whatnot can reap rewards far beyond the innate ability of its user with little risk. Consider those bows that were mentioned: They could have a middle-low caster level, say level 5. Purloining such items from a shop, battlefield, warehouse, etc. would be no harrowing feat over a period of time. If they allowed one to simply extract & transfer a spell-like ability to the user, Keen or something similar many times a day doesn't seem like a problem. Fireball though? Maybe. The bows could have been wands with a different army. If only 3 essences are needed for that level 3 spell and we could get 28 of them, that's quite a few fireballs/day. Much of the above paragraph stems from the Vancian magic power level issue. Spheres of power goes a good way in addressing that & encourage diversity.
Lockjaw is not going to compete for essences (unless the GM says so)! It's a vessel for Gruskorb's past/personality to have a stronger tie to the setting as we go. Usually, I don't play the quiet, edgy type. Niyut is quiet, but she is learned and forceful enough with her personality to forge the link between self and environment in a frequent, overt fashion. Being the thief-rogue and not a bard-rogue, Gruskorb did not have that level of ease in segueing, possibly due in part to my usual reliance on sagely/convivial characters' personalities to self-propagate.
Nothing escapes you, Niyut! I've some backstory-centric posts and whatnot that will link to essences/Lockjaw that I'll be posting tomorrow. Apologies for the sparseness this week; there were some issues at school.
Gruskorb breathed deeply. A moment of calm in the storm. Yet even as he formed that thought, a twinge of anxiety formed. Lockjaw has been quiet. Not pushy. The trap was farther away from him on the battlefield. He began making his way back, albeit slowly with the spoils of war delaying him. Though not overly interested in the knives or armor, the grappling hook, manacles, lockpicks, and dice found their way into his possession. So to would have the silver chain, yet its owner was not yet among the departed. Clearly in no state to fight, the squatting Gruskorb grasped his hand. He could live. Will he? "Quiet now. Speak your name. Let's see if we can make a deal and keep death away." In truth, Gruskorb felt a bit of mercy - a rather foreign feeling for him. The swath of destruction across this site gave him pause before adding to it. Practically, the survivor could maybe give them some information. Yet probably not. What are the odds he was a leader of some sort? He knew the humans would not show restraint in killing their enemy, and he doubted the siblings would either. Perhaps he was going soft? "Querkus, what do you think? Should this one be spared?" A throb was felt in his mind at the absence of Lockjaw nearby. I must find it ... and quickly.
Would it be possible to create a sidebar on our battle map that lists the various buffs in one place since updating headers can be tricky and it would be nice to have all that info in one place?I could add a line for everyone in the notes field. I'll cut/paste their header to start, then rely upon each person to modify their own. I'll use that line for current stats. Failure to update the stat line, won't be a reason to retcon... unless we have a ninja post problem. Let me know when we have edit permissions for this, and I'll toss Gruskorb's in.
The opportunity Truk'tosh shouted at the gnolls Gruskorb was not willing to grant so easily. He pressed the field advantage, dodging behind his allies to enter their proximity. So many bodies littering the field. I imagine a prisoner or two to talk wouldn't hurt the spoils though...
Garidan, it looked like Gruskorb got some decent rolls for a change, and I would imagine both effects succeeded. Exploit as you will.
Looking to abrogate some of the threat on Garidan, Gruskorb aimed for the enemy's legs in front of him, dragging him to the ground, then the weapon of the one on his right when the opening presented itself.
He should probably take advantage of that opening, but to escape or strike, who can say? Gruskorb took a step forward, ready to punish the fallen soldier if he dared to stand.
For each GM I've had do a campaign with large-scale combats, there have always been some special rules involved. I usually concede quite a bit of leniency for their sanity is necessary; having recently come into GMing a campaign with this style of fighting again, it is refreshed in my mind how important that latitude is. Maybe help with the digital rolls would be good. Maybe a handwave of god would be good too!
From Gruskorb's vista, the battle was a fierce one. Giants, footmen, archers, sorcery - it had all the hallmarks of a bards' tale. His actions to contribute, however, would be left out. Good. They won't mind omitting my name in the aftermath either... It was at that very thought he heard a chuckle in his mind. A moment was taken for him to recognize it, but it somehow matched what he ... expected?.. Lockjaw to sound like. This thought was both odd because he hadn't spent much time speculating to the thing's voice, but also because his thoughts were elsewhere at the moment. The laughter modulated mildly before increasing in volume. It was then he finally put his finger on the speaker. Cousin? Grusky, you're doing so well for yourself despite the harrowing circumstances of this skirmish! Your mother would be proud. She - a moment - Gruskorb could feel the iron jaws snapping closed around another victim from afar. Do excuse the interruption, but the energy here is so scrumptious! She would be happy to see you're doing something of worth with yourself. But would she be pleased to know why you're doing it? From youth, Gruskorb's cousin Vikkon was the older brother he never had. The boy exemplified the more scholastic side of the Aegeans where Gruskorb's intellect was more cunning of the moment, and Vikkon's penchant for being overbearing to downright bullying gave the two a checkered relationship as they aged together. The last time they'd spoken - which wasn't too long before the slavery incident - Vikkon had seemed rather dismissive of the backwater, shady dealings Gruskorb had bragged about. Instead, the young wizard was far more interested in his tomes. This situation made no sense though; that trap didn't even exist until after the two had parted for some time. His cousin was likely dead. Gruskorb tried to reassert control as the battle raged around him, though thankfully not in direct proximity. Lockjaw, heel. There are other soldiers that need ... Oh, enough with their petty needs! You have such more pious desires to be met! Dicing, wenching, looting of the dead - I'm sure that brute with an axe would like to join you! Though Vikkon was very bright, Gruskorb had learned through being under the older boy's boot when to extricate himself from a situation. He's trying to provoke me into doing something... The hobgoblin took off at a sprint, attempting to run away from the parasite in his mind. An Olympic leap sent him over the river as one of the corner towers collapsed, suddenly crumpling. Gods, what power!
That impresses you, does it? You were always so easily wooed... called the voice. Drawing his whips, the rogue dashed to a familiar man's proximity - Garidan's. "We've repelled them on my side. One final push, and we've got this!" He flexed one of his wrists, cracking his left whip.
Having finally caught my balance again, I'll get caught back up on what I'm assuming are the substantial happenings tonight and post in the early AM (Eastern). It is my most sincere hope I didn't miss the platypus invasion in my hiatus.
Things have been quiet here since Thursday? Everything okay? Apologies on my end. I've been dead tired with work/canvassing this past week and completely neglected to post.
Gruskorb did not desire to join Garidan yet; no, the lot here must overrun this incursion first. Their confidence would give a much-needed shot in the arm for these forces. And then they can overlook my coming and going. A few more bites, then you must rest and digest, Lockjaw.
One more time on that one. The more unpredictable you can be, the more fear it will cause. Though he was not the creator of most of the mayhem, the dissolving of order in the approaching military was a sign of progress. These companions do good work. Gruskorb was happy he didn't count them among his enemies.
I think Frederick could show these lots a thing or three about the oblique stance, but would Truk know/benefit from an infusion of that?
Skip one, bite the next. The confusion you sow makes your marks weaker in reaction. If they don't know from what direction the threat comes, how can they flee it? Truth be told, that would be a lesson best taught by Niyut in this situation. Gruskorb's tenure as a manipulator saw apt effect in the machine's prior actions though. This one was not used to being delicate to get what it wanted. A dark thought left for a time less perilous.
I think asking Leontil will not reap the sought reward, but it also wouldn't hurt. And what's wrong with channeling Toramin? :P
Things were heating-up, but Gruskorb kept his distance. Instead, he connected with the ... other in his trap. Lockjaw... Focusing his mind on the tenuous connection, he considered this was his version of magic. A smirk formed across his face as he pictured himself in silken robes with a staff. But no spell is so sweet as sharp steel's slash. Yet as he attempted to order Lockjaw to consume, he found its owner ... out of touch. It was as if the being was someone different. He had the same ... feel, yet was somehow changed. Shuffled. Reconstructed. The mental connection felt juggled from facet to facet until finally a line of focus. It ... he ... was crazed. Berserk! "That's an all-consuming hunger - like that of a snake after a few weeks," appended Querkus. Gruskorb was far from that being's master, but in this precarious circumstance, he couldn't allow that asset to draw unwanted attention to them. "Hunger or not, it can't run mad through their ranks!" His fist drew tight around his weapons as he made every effort he could to direct his associate. It had already taken a few bites, he sensed, but there would need to be a method to this madness to best suit his survival.
"You're sloppy! You need my agility, my guidance. That one -" mentioned Gruskorb with his thoughts directing the device's senses to a confluence. "When it seeks to draw its leg, tighten your jaws. Let it's own motion and weight tear its muscles for you, fell itself."
The trap sprang into action just as he suggested, the movement to another target a compromise for now,though it was as if he was almost a piece of it with the actions taken. Even for his shady past, the rogue felt decidedly unclean; he could almost feel the press on the creature's leg, hear the crunch ... taste the spoils.
@Gruskorb: You are up in the sphere campaign. The two of us could really use some short range teleportation right now. Please save us. :-) I wasn't aware that was still in progress since posting dwindled after ... spring? I'll take a look.
Out of curiosity, if they did break ranks, would there be reasonable places for them to survive as outlaws? I'm not sure you should reveal such information to us, but it might provide a circumstance bonus/malus to such a will check.
With deadly preparation, Niyut had their opponents fell prey to the traps laid for them. I can only hope they don't have one like her hidden away, waiting for use on us later. Gruskorb doubted it though as the screams of the unfortunate souls nearby would be quite the waste in this momentous battle. Garidan's snickering drew his ears, and he shared in its relief, but not the enjoyment - yet. We have a ways to go before having a handle on this. The odds just aren't as long anymore.
"It certainly isn't all of 'em." responded the rogue to Garidan in a hushed tone. It could be they had a problem to deal with, but we have no way of knowing. There's no way through this point but here, so it's not like this is a choice for them. Gruskorb concluded this was but a trial before the true gauntlet. And I'm ready for the test. Soon, Lockjaw. Spending a moment to consider how this conflict would adjust the appetite of his contraption companion, Gruskorb felt a more direct confrontation with the thing would be necessary before too long. Help from some mages might be useful though. Not sure Malthazir is up to it. He kept his senses keen for the first draw of their side's steel.
While he awaited the inevitable battle, Gruskorb sought the opinions of his visitor. "Tell me, Querkus - would you feel safer in these stone walls or in your grove? Those tall fires wouldn't fit so well there, but you might be able to escape it easier and save yourself." The rogue didn't expect his druid companion to flee his home, yet being alive and able to retaliate had its advantages. And he should know that's what I'd do. Along with the rest of his group, Gruskorb imagined. The siblings might stick up for each other, but they're already out of a home here and don't seem too off about it.
"The illusions look well enough, but worgs and their noses could give us some trouble." The riders of the worgs Gruskorb hoped would usher them toward the pits which clandestinely awaited. A plethora of projectiles as the new precipitate in this endless night panned his thoughts to the death under the umbrella of silence. And their brethren keep their tongues. Well-trained. Suspenseful as it was, this was more Gruskorb's style of strife. Well, minus the large approaching army. Quiet, clean ... but a bit busy. He waited for their approach at the threshold with Garidan. [i]"Say your prayers to the divines we don't end up like those archers..."[/b]
Can someone explain how range increments work? The rangers are at least 180 ft from the base of the wall. Most are probably 200+ feet away. A longbow has a range of 110'. What sort of modifier are we looking at? As I understand it, the modifiers to your attack roll would be: 0 at or below 110'
Gruskorb, if you are looking for a place to place your bear trap, I would recommend the north most blue lined square in the ruined gate. I don't think I have the permissions to add a photo for it, and I can't see it on there. Capital idea though!
What are damage spells? *haste* *slow*
Not completely trusting of the newcomers, Gruskorb still did not think they were saboteurs with another cause. And if they turn-out to be strong enough to stem this tide, I'll be pleasantly surprised. "We've had a good go if we don't come out the other side of this," he says to his companions, flexing his wrists. "Never thought I'd be doing this sort of thing - not even getting paid for it!" The walls about him in their belligerence against the state of the world gave a serious overtone to the pending battle. It wasn't the number of assailants coming, but rather the idea these waves of strife were as inevitable as waves on a beach. In this new darkness and shaped land, everyone is testing the boundaries. Gruskob had always been a boundary tester though. He just knew better than to break them and tell people about it. "Wülfwindt and Aedwynn, hmm? If you've got any of those divine favors before we're off to meet them, I'd be happy to partake."
Good idea with the pikemen. Gruskorb has repositioned himself next to Truk. He'll move Lockjaw just inside the barricades, though it won't arm until they're broken. With the 20' squares, I'll move Gruskorb to be in-reach to the best of my precision.
Gruskorb weighed Malthazir's description of his Black Tentacles spell in his eyes overtly. He is not like one of those dark mages, yet the power he has is like theirs. "Haemil will have to accept that. You and Niyut would do well in the darker places of the world. Guess that's just about everywhere now though," laughed the hobgoblin.
Although Gruskorb is good at disabling devices, he didn't use the skill on the Paizo forum. I promise.
GM, the life essence was used for Dexterity. The +5 to SoH with the one EE sounds good, and I'll take your suggestion with the whip ability for the other. Tricks are fun!
Empathizing with Querkus's unspoken worry, Gruskorb was nonetheless drawn forward by his handiwork with Garidan. This should be entertaining - at least to look at afterward if I can't see it during. He questioned how many high warlords or priests the gnolls might send. Were it him, he'd feint from one direction and strike from the other, but the city's altitude made that difficult. Something that burrows like Malthazir's elementals would be the worse thing. Fliers would be troublesome too, but they could be shot at by archers. Splitting from the talkative duelist, Gruskorb met with Malthazir to get some peace of mind. "Your earthy friends - you think the gnolls have things like that on their side? It'd be a problem if they bypassed our trench and had a tunnel to the city." He partially wanted to get a read on Malthazir's interpretation of army potency. "They use their magic to good results. What do you have planned this time?" In any event, Gruskorb awaited the arrival of their forces with cracked knuckles and a keen ear.
@Gruskorb: Back when we hit level seven last year, our GM told us to rebuild with our characters having maximum HP on our HD. I think you are supposed to have at least 80 HP. This might help with the durability. I probably missed the memo but will update his sheet!
Sure, but I'll do it here so the main thread doesn't get cluttered.
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