Husarq's page

Husarq is silent the entire time Benarry speaks. Especially when she speaks of traveling to Leng across planar barriers. His only reaction is a quirk of the mouth, perhaps a smile or a doubt. Which, it is impossible to tell.

To anybody watching, it is curious that the exact same quirk of the mouth appears on the ifrit, Mareq. Smile or doubt?

Traveling tomorrow, Friday, followed by five days of work trip. Should be able to post, intermittently. At least once per day, I hope.

Did we go north or straight ahead. The room straight ahead is the one that looks like the captain room covered in wood. But It seems we're looking left first?

Harrow follows Husarq into the room. "What you find? Everything look old."

[dice=perception]1d20+16

I'm confused. Hubbub said northernmost door. Whichever. Happy with either.

Husarq squeezes through the small, human-sized doorways and into the northernmost room Uncle Hubbub has opened. He stares at the weird face hanging from the wall.

"How beautiful a trophy," he says upon examining it carefully. "This Sevenfingers fellow knows how to flay. Usually the face is very hard to remove without destroying."

"Always go left," pronounces Husarq, for no apparent reason, and with no further explanation.

"Open the door. Or shall I?" asks Husarq, brusquely. He flies forward and opens the door.

"Thrall, come!" commands Husarq to Mareq. For his part, Mareq carefully walks the narrow walkway to the farside of the room.

Husarq floats just behind Oberon and Persephone, watching them examine the door.

"Excellent, thrall!" shouts Husarq as the duppy adjacent to him seems to become more corporeal for a moment, affected by Mareq's sorcery.

OMG! Ghostbane Dirge worked!

Husarq swings mightly at the duppy with Al-Saif, his huge efreeti blade! And then swings again, instantaneously!

Power Attack: 1d20 + 19 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 19 + 3 = 24 Slashing dmg: 3d6 + 26 + 2 ⇒ (1, 4, 6) + 26 + 2 = 39 Fire dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 1

Hasted Power Attack: 1d20 + 19 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 19 + 3 = 25 Slashing dmg: 3d6 + 26 + 2 ⇒ (3, 5, 5) + 26 + 2 = 41 Fire dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 1

The duppy attacking Husarq rolled a Natural 1.

"Ghosties!" Harrow gasps, coming face to face with his greatest fear.

"Thrall! Give the green one your dose of spectre moss, from when we were last here!" commands Husarq from the air over the bridge.

A good bey knows when his troops require support to accomplish their task, thinks Husarq. If Hakim-Sharif had not suddenly left for some mysterious reason, he probably would have observed how suspiciously friendly Husarq's command seemed, knowing Harrow's fear of ghosts.

But without the janni observer, Mareq only sees that his Master has commanded him to walk out, amidst devils, across a narrow walkway, into combat. A potentially deadly task, for certainly.

Husarq howls at the thing's attack. He swings mightily at the duppy who left itself vulnerable.

AoO,Power Attack,Magical: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (18) + 19 = 37 Slashing dmg: 3d6 + 26 ⇒ (1, 2, 5) + 26 = 34 Fire dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 3

Seeing his Master's attack only partially affect the duppy, Mareq pulls forth a scroll and attempts to read it.

UMD: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (18) + 16 = 34

The writing on the scroll vanishes as its magic targets the duppy Husarq is fighting. Ghostbane Dirge, Will DC13 (ugh)

Husarq swings again at the dupply he's previously engaged.

Power Attack,Magical: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (18) + 19 = 37 Slashing dmg: 3d6 + 26 ⇒ (6, 5, 3) + 26 = 40 Fire dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 3

After attacking, Husarq moves, upward, slightly, hoping to draw the incorporeal foes away from the ground-bound pathfinders. 5ft step

@Haraq - I do not want to leave you out of the Lemure assistance program (LAP). Next round would you like better AC vs attacks or help hitting?

Neither, thank you.

Husarq, flying above the walkway, reaches forth with his great scimitar, slashing at the thing.

"Ah, a wild creature to act as prey on our little monster hunt!" he cries with joy.

Power Attack: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (8) + 19 = 27 Slashing dmg: 3d6 + 26 ⇒ (5, 4, 2) + 26 = 37 Fire dmg: 1d6 ⇒ 3

"Hakim-Sharif, what are you doing over there, when there is blood to be shed and prey to be slaughtered?"

His "efreeti great scimitar" is also known as a "greatsword" in Common. But no efreeti would deign to call their sword something so mundane.

Husarq wrote:

Mage of the Wyrmkin wrote:

@GM Qstor - Could you make the map editable by everyone? I see it as view-only now.

Ditto.

How did you summon the genie btw?

The janni, acting as a herald for the Great Husarq al-Shamir, was summoned using Lesser Planar Binding. His remit is assistant, herald, skill-checks, support caster, and (roleplay) facilitator. He resists combat situations, as he is 1) clearly outmatched in these situations (only 6HD) and 2) his summons/binding does not mention combat to the death, and 3) in character, he would not wish to insult the great genie lord Husarq by assuming he needed combat help from a lowly janni.

Mechanically the spell requires conditions for completion of a "requested service" or somesuch. I've vaguely assumed that would be a week of service, before departing. In character, I was planning on using dangerous or difficult situations for him to depart, as he is not a slave of Husarq, required to risk life and limb.

In character, he was originally tasked by an efreeti mage to transport the troublesome Husarq away from the City of Brass to the Prime Material Plane and see that he remains. Further participation by him on Golarion has been at the request of Mareq (who is actually powering the summons). Given that he is no longer bound by the efreeti mage to a task, his summons by the less powerful Mareq gives him more leeway in how he behaves and what he does for Mareq or for Husarq. Though, of course, he puts on a placating face when dealing with the slightly deranged Husarq.

@GM Qstor - Could you make the map editable by everyone? I see it as view-only now.

Ditto.

Harrow looks at Husarq. "Harrow not know what a mortel is, but he can go first too."

The half-orc readies his weapon and proceeds shoulder-to-shoulder with Husarq.

[dice=perception]1d20+16

Husarq is flying.

"Ladies first then!"

"No, mortal. I shall go first," intones Husarq, flying forwards. "Hakim-Sharif, follow!"

The janni accompanies Husarq, flying forwards, his feet not touching the walkway.

Husarq stands in the glow of the red light, looking about.

Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22

"What do you see, mortals?" he asks as he slowly slides Al-Saif from his back sheath. Red flame, nearly black in the ambient glow, ripples across the blade of the massive efreet great scimitar. "What about your eyes, Hakim-Sharif? Do they reveal anything?"

Hakim the janni looks about, his own blade bare.

Janni Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30

Outside, Husarq waves Mareq forward. "Ward me, thrall," he commands.

Mareq pulls forth a rune-encircled wand and gently stabs master with it's sharp end. The glowing silver runes on the wand swirl about the wand, from the bottom to the tip, where they transfer onto Husarq's flesh, glowing gently before vanishing from view.

"Ahhh, you are a pathetic wretch with your silly little wand. You think I care that you stab me? That you draw blood? The sacrifice is worth it and I hardly notice," chuckles Husarq as he feels the magic ward taking effect.

Mage Armor

"You half-ling like Harrow? Half elf, half dwarf?"

LOL. Everything is either a halfling or an elf.

The Venture captain screams "Arrgh..Husarq you arrogant bastard get through the portal and off my ship!!"

Husarq puffs a huge ring of smoke out of his mouth and sets down the hookah. "Ahh. Nothing like a smoke, before the bloodletting begins. Remember, Sharif. You promised to find me something entertaining on the other side of this portal. Mareq-Thrall, come!"

The efreeti bey slowly tromps his way towards the door, Mareq and Hakim-Sharif following.

As he passes Harrow he looks down at him. "Ah, the green one. Remember to eat your apple tarts, halfling. Killing on an empty stomach is... terribly unfortunate."

He ducks through the small doorway and emerges into the open air.

"Mareq, is Husarq going to gain control of himself, or would it be best if he returned to the plane whence he was summoned?" the elf asks, polite yet direct.

"Heheh. That's not really an option anymore, elf. I wish it was," rumbles Husarq as he turns to look at Oberon. He puffs on his hookah, before standing up and looking down at Hrethnar, then to the Venture-Captain. "If I didn't apologize to the Sultan of the Efreet before he struck my head off the first time, I don't think I'll be apologizing to that mortal swashbuckler anytime soon. Do you have time to wait?"

He cocks a red talon towards the Gloomspires. "Or shall we find some treasure?"

Calisro Benarry holds out her arms in front of Hrethnar and grows angry. "Hold it! And Husarq you apologize. I've had enough of your mouth!"

Husarq laughs an evil, deep laugh, and sucks deeply on the hookah before exhaling smoke in rings through the room.

"Strange lot you've picked. Have them watch their tongues!"

"You mean, this one?" replies Husarq, letting his long forked efreet tongue languorously slip out between his lips and lick the steaming blood from his cheek.

Husarq looks closely at the human cleric, Helgar. He leans a bit closer and <SNIFFFFFFFFS>.

"You have an infernal stench about you, human," he says with a pleasant grin. "I like it."

elves elves elves

The efreeti smiles at all the mumbling about elves.

"I hear you, dwarf. More elves would be helpful. In case we are stranded and become hungry. Heheheh," he says, with a wistful look in his remaining eye, recalling perhaps a memorable feast in years past.

The large red-skinned outsider, Husarq al-Shamir, sits amongst the Pathfinders, smoking a hookah. One of his eyes, hidden behind a ebony patch, oozes blood down his cheek, which he occasionally laps up with his unnaturally long tongue. Like a flickering flame, it bursts forth from his mouth to lick away the blood with a burning sizzle and puff of steamed blood.

He passes the hookah to his nearby jann servant, Hakim-Sharif, and addresses the Venture Captain. "I don't give a wild salamander's a@#~%&~ about your Explore, Report, Cooperate dung. The treasure sounds nice, however."

He stares Hrethnar and his tattoos. "Why do we not flay this one alive, take his skin as a nice, smooth shawl against the chill of the Gloomspires, and use it as a map during our exploration? I believe my thrall-son, Mareq the Halfwit, remembers how it is done. Don't you, S#&~-for-Brains?"

The ifrit summoner Mareq dips his head, carefully. "Aye, Master of All You Survey. I remember."

Husarq dabs at the bloody unhealing wound on his bare torso, licking the blood from his fingers. He smiles at the frightened, deferential ifrit summoner. "Oh yesssss. You remember. Heheheh."

PC NAME: Husarq al-Shamir, Lord of All He Surveys, Master of Bayt Shamir in Fommok Mahdinat, the City of Brass, Father a Thousand and One Worthy Sons

PC FACTION: The Lord of House Shamir does not deign to align with any petty mortal faction. His one weakling bastard son, Mareq ibn Bolthune, begs favors of the Liberty’s Edge faction within the Pathfinder Society, like pathetic wretch that he is.

PFS#: 1676-2

After Christmas is fine. Let's do it!

Efreetis are hot!

Ah, finally. A right-thinking individual.

What's with all this elf-love? Husarq would prefer your efreeti-obsessed PCs, please. ;-)

No worries.

Glen, you're very welcome to continue adventuring with us. :)

Is there any interest in #10-17: On Sevenfingers's Sails? Y'all have done the previous Sevenfingers scenarios. It might be a nice finale.

That sounds good!

Sign me up! Very excited to continue adventuring.

Do we want a pfs scenario or a mod? Ideas?

Mareq watches as Dralneen casts thaumaturgic energies into Husarq's scimitar, structured to cast an outsider back to its home plane. He pales as al-Saif drinks the energy up and Husarq begins laughing his dangerous, diabolical laugh.

Oh no, he thinks.

"You are such a fool, Yndri! Your clone, or your daughter, or whatever this is, isn't nearly as smart as you," says Husarq, staring at Zarta Dralneen. "You've only confirmed that you are, or are in league with, the White Mage. Why would you have a dismissal at the ready, if you aren't in league with a genie binder like Ysalaa?"

Husarq pauses, mid-rant, and draws the eternally sharp edge of al-Saif across his own tongue. Efreet blood wells up and dribbles from the corner of his mouth.

"Ahh, my ticket back home. I can taste the theurgy already," he crows in some sort of weird ecstasy. Having drawn blood, al-Saif releases the dismissal Zarta cast into it. A shimmering tear in the aether opens behind Husarq and a sorcerous wind picks up, drawing the efreeti to the tear.

"Goodbye Mareq, my half-breed son. I return to the City of Brass to begin my long-planned revenge. Try not to die while I'm away. I still have lessons to teach you, thrall!"

The planar tear sucks the efreeti into it and closes in a rush. And with that, Husarq al-Shamiri is gone.

Husarq bends down and looks closely at Zarta Dralneen. "Such pale, pale skin, human. You," says Husarq menacingly, "Look like somebody I once knew."

He thinks she looks like the City of Brass's White Mage, Yndri Ysalaa. She taught Mareq to bind Husarq after he was executed by the Sultan's guards and how to escape the Plane of Fire. Not Husarq's friend, certainly.

Husarq bends down and looks closely at Zarta Dralneen. "Such pale, pale skin, human. You," says Husarq menacingly, "Look like somebody I once knew." He draws al-Saif. "Prove you are not her who sent me to this wretched plane. Cast إقالة into my scimitar!" Ignan for Dismissal

Mareq stares at Zarta the entire time, sometimes smiling, but sometimes frowning with brief uncertainty. Zarta, no doubt having been in a few taverns and the focus of uncertain attention, recognizes his expression as a variant of 'I think I know her, should I say something? No I don't know her. Yes, maybe?'

When Mareq hears Husarq tell Zarta to cast dismissal he begins to get scared.

Purchases done. READY.

17 Arodus 4715 Four years ago
"Oh yes, yes, PERFECT!" the ifrit cries out as his efreeti slave, Husarq, explodes into flaming globules of gore and charred bone. The pieces cascade around Mareq, like a summer's rain across a lover's brow. A particularly large bone, a leg bone by the looks of it, rolls to a stop at the summoner's feet. He bends down and picks it up, a sudden gleam in his eye...

10 Gozran 4716 Three years ago
... Mareq drags the arm bone, all that is left of his recently vanquished thrall, back from the battle site. His fellows think, erroneously, that he secretly mourns the repeated death of his father-thrall...

3 Pharast 4717 Two years ago
Mareq smiles as he looks at the day-old body of Husarq. Mareq hadn't been able to collect any of the dismembered parts after the battle, just the mostly intact torso. He turns and yells at Husarq, "Don't stand there gawking, slave! BEGIN!" Husarq bows and grips the bonesaw his master has given him. He steps forward and begins cutting into his body-that-was, his corpse-from-before-his-resurrection...

30 Sarenith 4718 Last year
The pile of painstakingly gathered efreeti bones, glittering with eldritch silver, shudders in the meltemi winds of northeastern Garund. Mareq closes the tent against the high winds, sits back down and continues molding pieces of bone together, chanting in Ignan. With each phrase the bones liquefy and merge. And then another bone and another bone, until the bone pile is gone, completely melted into the shape of a large staff. The task is nearly done, thinks Mareq...

1 Calistril 4719 Last month
Mareq rolls over in his tent, blood spilling from his mouth where Husarq, recently ascended to mastery again, has beaten him for his impudence. Husarq licks the blood from the fingers of his left hand. In his right hand is a staff of gleaming white efreeti bone, nearly complete silver runic etchings of Ignan sorceries wrapping from its base to its top. "You thought to secretly bind me again with this thing, this charnel, ossuary staff?" Husarq looks at the blood of his chastised half-breed son on his fingers and raises his eyebrows, an idea already forming. "Oh, the irony will warm my evil heart whenever I need to be cheered. Mareq, Mareq, Mareq, tsk tsk. When will you learn? You cannot beat me!"

He grips Mareq's right arm, cuts it open with a sudden slash of his efreet claws and lets the ifrit's burning hot blood course down over the white bone staff. "My genie bones, your sorcerous blood, and my diabolical will now create the most ironic of ossuary staves!" A burst of light and the staff is no longer white, but efreet-red, bound with silver runes that dance and move when nobody is looking.

Husarq tosses the ossuary staff into Mareq's lap. "Take this now, thrall. And weep every time you use it to free me, heal me, EMPOWER ME!"

Let's go with 9-17 Oath of the Overwatched.

The bard takes a look around as the ifrit talks to her. She gives him a flirty wink of the eye and does a little wave.

As the Efreet enters into this present plane of existence, she looks up and seeing that is a regal being will take down one knee and introduce herself

Your Munificence Husarq of the City of Brass, I am Phoebee of well, every where. I have been so many places. If you would allow me to demonstrate my talents she says as she brings out her mandolin and begins to play and sing.

Having left the mortals behind, Husarq barely registers the song below. He begins to survey the town for potential.

At least the half-elf recognized her duty and proper station, thinks Husarq as he recalls her bowing and diplomatic words. More than either of the others have ever done in my presence.

Husarq floats inches from the floor, staring down at the half-elf.

He gives an exaggerated sniff and then grins a terrible smile, a smile that has been many a person's last sight.

"A half-elf. And a singer at that. I had my last court rawun flayed alive when he was no longer entertaining. His flesh made a wonderful cloak. It is one of the many things I miss from my days in the City of Brass."

"THRALL!" he shouts. When Mareq arrives in a split second, Husarq slaps his face. "You are getting better at anticipating my needs, but you are not yet fast enough. Let that sting remind you of your duty!"

Mareq wipes the blood seeping from his lip due to the slap and awaits his Master's commands, afraid to actually recommend or anticipate anything.

"Learn how this rawun can complement your fellows' efforts to support me in my endeavors." He begins to float up and out of the building. "I shall be surveying this pathetic hamlet."

So sorry to hear, Berosius. Hang in there.

"Pastry-loving halfling and brutal efreeti looking for temporary meat shields and ethically flexible priests to accompany them on likely one-way trip to City of Brass. Copious quantities of blood, fire and revenge expected. Treasure a possibility. Shorter trip to the Boneyard from Plane of Fire a definite bonus!"

Apologies for the wait. Here are your chronicles for Beneath Unbroken Waves

All of them say "Harrow" as the PC.

My preferences:

#8-09-Forged in Flame, Part 1: The Cindersworn Pact
#8-11—Forged in Flame, Part 2: Cleansed With Fire

City of Brass, BABY!

Glad to have you back. Sounds like your convention was fun!

Is there a preference on what to play next?

Hmmm. Husarq, Lord of All He Surveys, shall consider....

I'm happy to wait until March for another game. Love playing with you guys.

Honestly, I'm not sure Mareq or his Master, Husarq, would suggest rebuilding the ruined monastery.