Meligaster maintains his assault on one of the bandits, bringing his axe back up to catch the man in the leg.
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Meligaster bellows a roar, more annoyed than truly angry, but also not one to pass up a chance to roar at someone trying to kill him. He dashes toward the archers, slapping his shield with his axe and bellowing at the enemies. "Stand down, or this blade will be in your gullet soon enough, lads! We've no quarrel with you, but no wish to become flesh quivers, either!"
Harcourt nods at the front door, pointing at it and nudging Cinro. "Why don't you go make yourself acquainted with our quarry, comrade. I'll wait near the back, ready for him, should he attempt to be uncooperative." The burly soldier circles the building, waiting near the rear exit, weapon drawn.
As the group approaches the Theater, Meligaster points at the various doors, turning to face his comrades. "We should post someone at each point of exit, and send someone more charming than myself through the front door, to chat with our comrade. What say you, gentlemen?"
Meligaster convenes with Cinro and Shamsiel. "Sham, I trust you. Besides, we have better things to do than buy snake oil. Shall we proceed to the theater?"
Hey folks. I'm writing to all of my games to let you know that I'm going through some stuff right now. A dear friend of mine just passed away, and the past few days have been rather hectic, with friends and family visiting from out of town, a memorial service this afternoon, etc. I'm not abandoning anyone, but I do appreciate your patience and understanding while I take a couple of days to get things sorted. I estimate I'll be back sometime before the end of this week. Thank you.
Meligaster sets to work devouring his breakfast, hacking enormous pieces of pancake and shoving them into his mouth with uncharacteristic gusto. He washes each bite down with a swig of coffee or ale, ignoring his colleagues and their musings about the man outside.
"Still haven't found what we're looking for? Who is we? And what were they looking for?" Meligaster mutters to himself, loud enough for the others to hear. "The guard station seems a fine place to lodge for the evening, thank you, officer."
"A truly tragic thing, madam. Our condolences for this tragic turn of events. Please, is there anything we can do to help?"
Sir Meligaster hefts his axe over one shoulder as the wolves retreat, dashing for the nearest shelter as the ground begins to rumble and quake. "Quickly! Retreat, chaps!"
Meligaster snarls at the wolf he's hacked into already, his arm pulling back and delivering another heavy chop to the creature.
"Heh, time for another bit of rough-and-tumble." Meligaster muses to himself as he springs forward, drawing his axe and cleaving down at the howling wolf.
Sir Harcourt Meligaster will slap the flat of his axe against his shield, laughing as he steps over the body of the orc he'd just felled. "Simple work, lads and ladies! Not a scratch inflicted upon my body, thanks to lovely Madam Katherine, here." He lifts his shield up, to make it clear he's named the circular slab of treated wood and metal affixed to his arm. "Now then, a play, you say? I adore the arts. Let's take in a show, shall we?"
"Now then, to the priest? I believe he's promised some manner of reward, and it will serve us best to speak with him. What say you, comrades?"
Harcourt deflects the wild swing, his own arm more controlled as he whips his axe around, freeing it from the skull of the orc's friend, and toward his most recent assailant. "Enough of this!"
Sir Meligaster rebuffs the assault of two orcs against his shield before swinging his axe down at the closest orc
Harcourt Meligaster charges the nearest orc, roaring in anger at his fallen comrade as he brings his axe down hard. "BACK, vile beast!"
Harcourt hefts his axe in one hand, banging the flat of it against his shield and rushing the stage.
Harcourt Meligaster enters Trunau, hefting an axe in one hand, a surprised look on his face. I've never been anywhere quite so...rustic. He mutters to himself as he enters the Sanctuary. "Best be done with this expeditiously, then."
With Baka's tragic withdrawal from the game, I've redesigned Harcourt as a soon-to-be Eldritch Knight Fighter, so we have someone around in heavy armor with a high Strength and a lick of intelligence. I think it helps fill more gaps. He's almost entirely out of the PHB, so there's nothing weird. Profile has his stat-block.
Dotting for a short bit before I post.
Final Submission: Harcourt Ebenezer Meligaster CG M Half-Elf Bard 1 Init +3; Senses Darkvision, Perception +0 Defense
Defensive Abilities
Offense
Special Attacks
Statistics
Proficiencies Bonus: +2
Background: Guild Artisan
Equipment:
Horn, letter of introduction from my guild, traveler's clothes, belt pouch (15gp) Diplomat's Pack (39gp): Includes a chest, 2 cases for maps and scrolls, fine clothes, a vial of ink, ink pen, lamp, 2 flasks of oil, 5 sheets of paper, vial of perfume, sealing wax, soap
Meligaster thrusts his hand onto Valeros' leg, implanting a bit of his psychic power into the larger man. "There. This should help to keep you safe."
Meligaster stands at the ready behind Amiri, sword-cane drawn in one hand, twirling it idly as he awaits the inevitable success of the brutish woman's endeavor. "I do so hope this little task, at last, will go smoothly, though it is sufficient to say that things are not hopeful in that regard."
Meligaster leans heavily on his sword-cane, chuckling at the question. "'Hero' is naught but a title given to those who do what others cannot. I'm a hero because I've slain an enormous scorpion, talked to an ancient tree, and saved a boy's life. Our legacy is no more than the deeds we perform, and in that regard, the content of your character is meaningless when compared to the actions that your stories are made of."
Meligaster guffaws in delight at the sound emanating from the sword. He sheathes his own blade into its cane-scabbard after wiping the ichor on his sleeve.
Meligaster maintains his stare, boring into the scorpion's mind with as much psychic force as he can bring to bear against the creature. He throws his sword into his right hand as he jukes his body to the left, hoping to catch his opponent off-guard. Then, hoping he was convincing, Meligaster slips his sword back into his dominant hand and slashes viciously at the scorpion. Mechanics:
Hey folks, I'm posting in all of the games I'm a part of - I've had a TON of trouble accessing the site this weekend, but it seems to be working for now. I'll be posting today.
Meligaster nods his tacit agreement, and turns to follow the others, hoping they're more capable of such trifling activities as following tracks.
Meligaster snorts in disdain. "We'll find the sword. With luck, your son will be on the proper end of it. Where might he have gone?"
Meligaster steps imperiously in front of the group, approaching the guard, leaning on his cane. "Excuse me, you are the help, yes? Would you be a good lad and fetch the Mistress of the house? We've business with her, and it would not do to discuss it with the riff-raff, nor for her to discover you've delayed our arrival."
Meligaster approaches Brother Valicus, a sneer of disdain on his face, obviously not happy with this whole ordeal. "We've dealt with your damned problem, and have your doo-dads and tchotchkes."
I've been dealing with the same thing - I can sometimes get on with my phone, but any actual internet connection is spotty at best.
Meligaster races down past Amiri and the slain rat as quickly as he can, attempting to corner the creature nearest Seltyiel. He summons his will as he moves, staring the creature down.
I'm headed to Seattle tomorrow afternoon for PaizoCon, so I wanted to let you folks know I may not be able to post much from tomorrow-Monday night.
Meligaster steps around behind the dazed rat-man, shifting his hypnotic magic and taking a swat at him with his sword-cane.
Meligaster moves 20' directly toward the furthest rat-man, redirecting his stare towards it.
Meligaster approaches the door as well, whipping his sword from the cane and patting Valeros on the arm, implanting his Mesmeric Mirror into the human's mind. "Best be on with it, then."
Meligaster descends into the darkness, using the light of Estra's dagger to see. "I hate the dark. I hope we can figure this out quickly..." he mutters to himself, eyes narrowing to focus in the dank catacombs.
Meligaster proceeds after Estra, asking follow-up questions as needed.
Meligaster steps between Brother Valicus and Remaio, hands held up and out, creating space between them. "Easy, gentlemen. There is no need for such an accusation to be made, and there is certainly no need for harsh language or raised voices. We are all civilized men here. Let us behave as such."
"Thank you, Elder One. Your explanation helps shed some light on Trejet's actions. It is important, as members of our society, to remember the customs and cultures of the people we strike bargains with, so as to avoid these perceived insults. Forgive my brashness in attempting to strike your friend, I was overcome by a dread that this could not be resolved without blood spilled. I am glad to see I was mistaken." Meligaster steps closer to the tree, standing directly before it and dropping to one knee, one hand on the ground, wrapped around his cane. "In our society, one of our friends has been distressed by some rumors regarding Honaria. We come simply to seek the record straight. We ask only for your recollection of her life, and ultimately, her death."
Meligaster sighs, I suppose they simply have a death wish, as he approaches the prone dwarf, staring at him and imploring his mental prowess to crack open the stout man's mind.
He brings his cane up and swats at Polgrin on the ground, anger obvious on his face. attack:
summary of actions: swift - hypnotic stare move - move standard - attack v. prone Polgrin
"You know nothing of us, nor our motives, friend Tajet." Meligaster says in a placating tone. "We have no need of your material goods. We came only seeking knowledge. To right wrongs and correct ages-old errors." Meligaster turns his attention back to the tree, ignoring the gnome.
Meligaster saunters over to Otha, waggling his eyebrows and extending a hand to grip the taller man's, mouthing the words "Trust me" as he attempts to implant a bit of his power into the human's mind.
Meligaster stares at Polgrin, his suspicions of the man growing with every step. He stops walking about 25 feet from the tombstones, unwilling to intrude on anyone's right to pay respects to the dead, but even less willing to turn his back on Polgrin. "Take your time, friend Polgrin. We are in no hurry." He says in his most ingratiating voice, leaning on his cane casually.
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