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Hey, guys. I find myself having to sadly drop out because my upcoming sergeant's test preparations should take up all of my time. I wish you all the best. I guess Harroan will pass on this ship as too dangerous and join up with the next one. Best of luck, everyone!
Harroan steps forward while reciting his early lessons in his mind. Evocation - the act of harnessing the basic, primal forces of magic - had always come easily to him. So easily, in fact, that shifting a synaptic connection just slightly could drastically change a spell and make fire turn to ice - or lightning. His hands spurt a cone of electrical energy at the nearest two enforcers, forcing the energy from one form of raw power to another. It covers them, taking the path of least resistance through their bodies, through their ungrounded feet, and into the dock itself. He doesn't say a word as he simply cycles through the remaining spells that he has the mental capacity to cast before resting.
Harroan scrambles forward, gathering a flame in his hands. The pain of the crossbow bolt is almost a faint memory thanks to Vasrik's healing magic. At the last minute, he performs the rapid mental calculations to modify the spell and turn it from flame to ice - as he doesn't want to light the dock aflame. He launches out a peal of icy wind - though not even close to his maximum potential - that frosts both the leader and one of the thugs. His tattoos begin to glow just a bit with the orange glow of the flames mixed with the blue of the ice.
Harroan drops the crossbow bolt yanked from his shoulder. It could have killed him if it had only been a few inches closer to the center of his mass by piercing his heart. Fortunately, the damage to his body is mostly painful and not truly life-threatening. That doesn't stop him from feeling the horrible pain, nearly dropping to the ground in pain and fear. Fortunately, the strange man with the dinosaur companion casts a divine spell upon him and heals the wound with a primal surge of power. He feels the pain subside, croaking out a word of gratitude. "Ahhh, that hurts. Thanks."
Vasrik, there's an edit function within 1 hour so that you don't have to leave in extraneous stuff.
In combat, I find that giving the PCs the stats of the NPCs saves a lot of time. It's metagame knowledge, but they don't abuse it in my games.
Harroan sneaks next to his new dwarven ally, trying to keep the pole between most of the crossbow-bearing thugs and himself. He doesn't have the speed to blast them all with fire before they shoot him full of bolts, a very negative outcome. Still, with violence unavoidable, Harroan strikes first; he points at the nearest thug and emits a thin ray of concentrated cold, pulling the warmth from the air. The icy ray hits the thug squarely in the chest, leaving a patch of ice on his armor.
Harroan peeks out from behind the cart, seeing that the situation has predictably deteriorated. He begins the mental process of funneling magical energy into his mind to unleash its refined power in the converted form of energy.
I suggest rolling Initiative in a single post for the whole party. I find that it saves a lot of time.
Harroan meanders towards the confrontation, trying his best to appear non-threatening (not that he normally does, so long as he isn't spurting flames from his hands). He angles towards the wagon on the dock, trying to put it between him and the maniacs with the crossbows.
Harroan may not be from Xer, but he certainly knows the type of men that this is - violent, brutish thugs who utilize whatever fig leaf of official power they can to take what they want. In Korvosa, they would be criminals or Ileosa's guards (if she allowed men to be part of her guard). Here, they are almost certainly affiliated with the church of Razmir. He whispers to Nub, "Razmiran thugs. You may want to ready your concentration."
Harroan quietly joins the others as they prepare for the onset of violence upon their ward. Most of the other guards seem quite dangerous: Cordell's shield will make him a likely target in any melee, and Alarien's sword will likewise buy their attention. Vasrik and his dinosaur are clearly an attention-grabbing pair because of the inherent danger of the animal and because of their relatively exotic nature. If the thugs are in any way associated with the religious zealotry that plagues the city, they will likely quickly fall upon Bellamin. Even Nub seems to have a slightly unhinged quality with his cleaver that suggest mental illness, which may draw their attention. Harroan looks like an accountant, average in every way and unarmed except for his staff. It is as close to a certainty as can be had that he would be the last target in a melee - until he begins to produce flame and lightning ex nihilo - in which case he will quite quickly become the center of their attention, should they survive.
"One would hope that we have sufficient ability to ward off the envious eye of the priests." He looks at them suspiciously. "Unless one of us you is a member of their number, surreptitiously assessing outgoing ships in order to check for contraband. Presumably we have no contraband, and have fulfilled the rest of their onerous requests?"
Harroan perks up when he hears that another arcanist has joined the ship's roster. "Ah, where did you study? I wasn't aware that there were any arcanariums in proximus." His questions don't seem to take into account the possibility of natural talent or self-taught magic, even though a considerable amount of his own learning occurred after he left the Academae.
Harroan steps from the pier onto the boat, eyeing the other recruits. "Yes, I had a run-in with the priests. Hence my reluctance to stay in the city, and my willingness to accept a deal. I'm afraid that I'm not particularly useful as far as physical combat goes - but I have other talents that could prove quite useful." He offers his right hand in greeting to Cordell, exposing a runic tattoo that runs up his forearm.
Harroan's face darkens when he hears of the premature departure of the Tatzlwyrm. "What are the odds of two ships departing the same day that seem willing to take on guards? Who is the captain of this ship?" He seems a bit suspicious in his analysis of the situation.
A man walks down the dock, occasionally tapping the wooden pier with his walking stick as he meanders towards the Water Wraith. From his dress and mannerisms, it is clear that he is a scholar; all he needs is a pair of spectacles to make the impression complete. He carries a worn backpack over his threadbare clothes, but that does not diminish the impression of his intellect. He walks over to the Water Wraith before calling out from the pier. "Excuse me, is this the Tatzylwyrm? I should be on the manifest. Harroan Sallemore."
Boo, illusion! Subtlety's for losers!
Despite being second alphabetically, we are first in teamwork!
Profession: Barrister, Linguistics? Perhapsenlarge person?
He needs to shout out, "Objection!" frequently during bouts.
DM Barcas (Team Bravo) here. Character is built and ready.
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