I definitely held my breath on those Fort saves. Don't have a reroll for those like Iron Will. We got lucky.
@SecondSight, you too, absolutely.
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After decapitating the enemies on Edmond's recommendation, Ian coordinates with the arriving guards to help get the scene cleaned up and the bodies brought back to the Tower. He's surprised when someone suggests the drow is Diguri. "The big boss? Gotta give her respect for showing up to do dirty work. Mistake, but still." Other than that, Ian was quiet. It was the second time in a relatively short time that he'd almost died. If not for Edmond, this could have been the end of a long road for him. Killed twice by the same c#+*s. They wouldn't bring his old ass back again, that'd be it. Last time he almost died he'd almost drowned in sewage fighting demons. This was way out of his league. The Mages needed people like Soliel and Edmond. Smart, able to adapt and overpower in any scenario. He was just an old man who could swing a sword, better suited for breaking up bar fights than stopping ancient vampires and demons. And he wasn't getting any younger. Every morning his jog up the tower steps was getting harder, not easier. His knees hurt from decades of living in steel armor, patrolling and standing around. He wanted to protect Coran, but the level of threats the Tower dealt with was beyond him, and he was already past his prime. He glanced at Soliel as they walked back. She looked like this was just another day for her, serving the Tower. And Edmond seemed even more fired up than usual. Ian was just tired. He looked down at his breastplate, with deep claw marks torn through the steel from Anthony's weird multi-armed ghost demon thing. The flesh was healed, thanks to Edmond, but he could feel the air on his skin underneath. ~~~ When they got back to the Tower and debriefed, Ian nodded to Veray, "We'll talk later," and headed back to his quarters without another word. After he shut the door he worked on prying off the damaged plate mail as it tore at his skin, then peeled off the blood-soaked clothes underneath that stuck to him. His own blood. After heating water in the hearth and filling a bath, he eased his large frame down into the wooden tub, displacing water until some sloshed over the sides. His whole body was a history book of scars, the most faded from back when he was a kid, picking fights and robbing other kids. He used to be skinny, just scrappy and mean, but that was a long time ago. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine what he would even do if he retired. He imagined building a cabin by hand near a river, sleeping in a tent until he could finally get the roof on. Buying food from the local farmers and cooking it over a campfire, then going back to work, felling tree after tree, building the home he'd die in. Sitting in the doorway at dawn to watch the sun rise. Ian wished his kids would be there, or visit, but he'd mostly given up on that. He didn't blame them, just hoped they were okay out there. The funny thing was, he wasn't thinking about Pesh for once, wasn't craving that escape. He could feel the itch, but the part of him that always gave in was done looking away. It was time to face things instead. He didn't want to die a coward. ~~~ After drying off and changing into clean, fresh clothes, he sat down at his desk and stared at a blank piece of parchment for a long time before dipping a quill in ink and slowly writing crude letters on it. Brother Tomlin:
Got Diguri. Got Anthonys gang and him. Cut there head's off myself
Thinking about retiring or trying. We done a lot of good here. Bet you done your share out there You ever back in coran track me down. Know you can Hope I see you around Little Brother
He folds the letter and puts it in an envelope, dropping it off with the Tower scribes and messengers before heading to talk with Master Veray.
Ah ha! I suspected that was Diguri. Had a feeling this fight was the wrap-up. (Ian hasn't made that connection yet though). Bittersweet. This game was my very first real experience with D&D or anything like it. Pathfinder is a tough system to learn from nothing but it was worth it. Still one of the most layered and deep stories/worlds I've had the pleasure of RP-ing in. And the most ambitious format for a PbP game I've seen someone run, having three simultaneous campaigns of players in separate factions in conflict with each other. I have never envied the amount of work this game must have taken from you throughout, but I've always felt like Ian Marros existed in a real world. Props to Secondsight for always bringing your A game. Each of your chars has been distinct and interesting and even over 5 years I wish I'd had more time to get to know them. And props to Tenro for playing consistent, understated and believable characters (and for inviting me to the game to begin with). I still miss Tavrus, the old dead bastard. Just for a little nostalgia, June 30th, 2013
Reporting in to the tower Jori greets the group. "Akane, Aurelion, and Tunny, we have other duties we would like you to attend to. For the others of you I'd like you to meet Serelina Bellafini." He gestures to a beautiful woman with pale skin and icy blue eyes. "And Ian Marros." A middle aged man with touches of gray in his hair. He is clean shaven and shows a number of battle scars on his tanned skin. "Well met. Looking forward to assisting." His voice was as rough as his demeanor. This is sounding weirdly like an Oscar speech or something, so enough of that. Some of the RP elements I'd like to hit before the curtains close: -I'd like to write another letter from Ian to Brother Tomlin. Response totally optional.-I'd like Ian to ask to retire from The Tower. He'd probably go to Hast or Veray. If they allow him to retire, he'll stop by Bellafini to say goodbye. But since that players gone, don't need to play that scene out unless you want to. -If he's allowed to retire, it'd be cool to do a goodbye scene with each of the other players too, probably Ian stopping by their quarters to tell them the news and goodbye. -Speaking of the old dead bastard, awhile back Ian wrote a letter to Hast: "Hast, Did Tavrus get brought back? Where's he? -Ian", did he hear back?
Ian is still panting when the dust settles and the medusa-thing lay still on the ground. He starts to chuckle when Soliel shows herself, exhilarated and victorious, wanting to celebrate, but when Soliel starts giving orders he focuses back on the task at hand, picking up the drow woman over his shoulder and jogging back towards the other bodies. When he gets back to Sic's body (if it's still there), he spits on him then stabs his greatsword down through the half-orc's neck. "Been awhile, Sic. Good f~@@in' riddance," he wrenches down, halfway decapitating him. He wipes the greatsword's blade off on Sic's armor before sheathing it, then rips Sic's head the rest of the way off with brute force. Then Ian searches for the body of the one-handed man that attacked Edmond, still carrying a severed head and a body over his other shoulder. He knows Soliel said to search the bodies, but he can do that after, right? This is personal. This is history. If he finds Vaek's body, he'll drop the drow lady nearby and take out his dagger, kneeling next to him and showing the unconscious human Sic's severed head. He takes his dagger out and pokes Sic's face with it. "Whatdya think of that, huh? Like a family reunion. Sorry old friend, we ain't arresting you this time. That just leaves the hard way," he says as he moves the dagger to Vaek's face, pressing it into the corner of his eyesocket and down into the skull--not too fast either. If any bodies are missing, he'll do a quick search and let Soliel know, otherwise, he'll probably be there finishing off Vaek when they regroup.
Ian rounds the corner and spots Soliel fighting the drow, "Soliel!" he shouts, and runs up to assist her. For a moment he slows, wincing as the snake-heads come into view around the corner, but clenches his jaw and shakes it off.
Ian runs after Soliel as fast as he can.
Ian glares back at the Drow and turns his great sword point-down over Anthony's chest. "I'm gonna enjoy this more," and stabs downward with all his weight.
Just as Ian is beginning to waver, healing light washes over him, sealing bleeding wounds. He gives Edmond a surprised look, then nods and clashes back into the fight with Anthony, hammering viciously with his greatsword but still unable to land a solid hit.
Ian will 5' step west to stand in front of Edmond, shielding him from Anthony. In the melee he shouts over his shoulder to the halfling, "Whatever happens, swear you'll burn them all. If I'm dead, you find them anywhere they hide and f%$@ing burn them all."
Ian grits his teeth as the claws rend through his steel plate easily, but he's still standing, despite the blood seeping out of the torn armor. Pure stubborn anger seems to be keeping the older warrior standing. He swings back, more strikes uselessly glancing off Anthony's armor.
Ian grunts in surprised pain as the arrow sinks into the joint in his shoulder plate, piercing the mail underneath. He briefly leans against the wall to catch his breath as a second arrow deflects off his chestplate harmlessly. He shouts, "We got more down here! Archer on the roof!" Then runs up to meet Anthony.
Did we scare him off already?
That leaves only Sic around the corner.
Ian grimaces as the spell washes over him, "Not this time, Sic." He steps up and takes two huge arcing swings, scraping and slashing against the wall of the building beside them.
"Maybe I'll carve your face off after I kill you. Keep a f#@%-ugly trophy."
Ian runs straight for the priest, recognizing him and instantly enraged. He thrusts with the greatsword, yelling, trying to pierce the platemail and impale his hated foe.
Ian will apply manacles to her unconscious form, preferably restraining her to a support pillar. Hearing the fire, explosions and flute-playing outside, Ian will run out to see what the hells is going on with Edmond.
Ian steps after her and begins swinging at the images he thinks are the real ones. "Been awhile, Roscomia," he growls coldly.
Ian recognizes the bard immediately, running up and swinging at her with his greatsword.
Ian kicks the door in with his sword drawn, and starts yelling. "Everyone stay put, we're with the Tower. Nobody draw steel, nobody run."
Ian nods wordlessly and starts making his way over there.
Ian describes Anthony's gang in detail while they wait.
"They're the ones who did it. Them. Best I can do is see 'em dead."
Ian leans against a building, under the overhang in the shadows and sharpens his sword, jaw clenched and focused. He says to Edmond. "Anthonys gang, none of them survive this. No captives. Don't hesitate, just do it. More painful the better." After Edmond's response,
Ian nods. "And what we gonna do when they teleport away again? We should have a plan. Mages got any counter-measures for us?"
Ian watches Soliel go, half admiring her figure, half afraid of her. He shakes his head and strides after her to catch up. He just gives Firyin a nod.
~~~ "Yeah I'm good. The more time we wait, the colder the lead gets."
Ian looks surprised, never particularly good at hiding his emotions. "Yeah? Figured you were the type to follow the mages' orders to the letter. Alright, let's wrap this up. And thank you," he seems to consider patting her shoulder but thinks keeping his hand attached is a better idea. Back at Firyin, Ian doesn't add anything, just watching the Drow and trying to discern anything under the surface as Soliel speaks.
Ian steps up to Soliel's side and says quietly, "Can I have a moment?" Tilting his head away from Firyin.
He lowers his voice to a harsh low whisper. "I know we got orders, but this feels like a bad call to me. He keeps supplying us with useful information, sometimes the only f+$$in' leads we got, and we share the same enemies. Seems the best move would be stay friendly with him at least until we ain't got bigger fish to fry or he makes himself a problem," he's clearly uncomfortable with the idea of up and stabbing Firyin in the back after everything. "I'll follow orders if I gotta. Just feels like the wrong call."
Ian looks him over, and nods to Soliel. "We're after Anthony's gang. You got any new leads? I ain't stopping til they're dead."
Ian leans on his sword and looks around the dark (now brightened) exterior for Soliel, but quickly gives up on that and just trusts that she's out there, watching their backs. Realizing they might be in for a long stakeout, he settles in leaning on the wall beside the secret exit, crosses his arms and appears to nap.
"My votes with whatever you think is best, Sis. I'll back you," Ian finishes his food.
Ian follows Soliel's suggestion without comment, joining them for dinner. He eats and listens to her talk. The only clue that he's paying attention is that he stops eating when she mentions Anthony's gang, but doesn't look over. When she says 'sentimental reasons' he finally speaks up. "They killed my friend, they killed Bellafini, and they f!~@ing killed me. I want them dead. Every day they're loose out there is a insult to us and danger for the people of Coran." There's something more emotional than patriotism or altruism when he says 'people of Coran', it's personal, family. He looks to Dareon, "We've caught them by scrying before, they've wised up. You pry that information out of Firyin and I'll owe you a drink, new guy." "As for disguises, Soliel can get in anywhere, but I want to be close by just in case. I don't like the idea of splitting us all up--us who can hide in plain sight and us who can't," he drains a tankard to wash down the food then belches. "Any reason we can't just walk up as agents of the Tower and ask politely? Maybe put some guards at any escape tunnel exits case they bolt?" He nods to Soliel, "Whatever you think, Sis, I trust your judgment and got your back."
"I'm Ian. Take a guess at what my 'skill-set' is. Nothing fancy."
Ian nods, thinking for a moment. "I don't like em either, but I like the results. I'm just glad to have smart people like Sister Soliel and Bellafini to point me where to go. Even Hast is pretty sharp." He finishes his drink. "You ever leave the Tower to be a hammer, and you'd like some help on somethin', let me know, I'll be there." After that, Ian heads back to the tower grounds. ~~~ At the meeting with Master Hast, Ian is still in his usual custom battle-scarred full plate mail, spikes on the elbows, knees, shoulders, boots, and gauntlets. Past middle age with some gray in his hair. Rough gravelly voice. Very tall (nearly 7') and broad-shouldered. He keeps his black-with-gray hair close cropped, military style, with a clean shaven strong chin and jawline to match. Those traits keep him from being outright ugly, but he isn't pretty either. A deep scar crosses his left eye, and the iris is slightly misty. His half-elf blood barely shows--pointier ears than most humans, taller, and green eyes just slightly too bright. He carries a huge well crafted greatsword slung over his shoulder in its sheath. He listens to Master Hast stoically, then looks the newcomer over, waiting for him to speak.
Ian nods slowly, and grunts. "Damn. Well, good f+*$ing riddance. If I knew what was goin' on I would have helped," he lets the silence hang for a moment, out of respect, then asks the bartender for something stronger, moonshine maybe. "Ever think about leaving the tower, hunting people like that on your own?"
"No s$@$? Think I remember that fire, didn't know they'd caught who did it. Why'd you do it, anyway?" Ian buys himself another drink and tips the bartender, seeming perfectly at home in a seedy tavern. "How long you got on 'probation'?"
While Soliel is away, Ian looks for Edmond, knocking at his door fully armored. "Edmond, you there? Want to go get a drink?" Ian's deep gravelly voice reverberates through the door. He acts like he doesn't care either way, but he waits there silently. If Edmond agrees, Ian will head to a favorite tavern in Tiny Town, somewhere the locals love best but probably isn't the most clean or safe, and buys him a couple drinks. "I spent a lotta time around this neighborhood when I was younger, in the guard. Still partial to it," he takes a drink himself. "Where'd you grow up? Or did the Tower just make you outta magic?" He seems to only be half-joking, scratching one of his slightly pointed ears uncomfortably. His armored frame looks absurdly large on the small barstool. "You keep things professional, I respect that. Hells, no one in the world I respect more than Miss Bellafini. Guess I should say Master Bellafini," he raises his mug in a toast to no one. "No one keeps things more professional than her," he smirks a little bit at some memory.
I don't remember Banmor, he was some kind of accomplice of Hezek? (found by searching his name)
Ian follows protocol with cold efficiency, helping with rounding all the suspects up, processing and interrogating them all. After the interrogation, Ian tells Soliel, "That half orc is Sic, no doubt about it." "You want me in the Iron Gullet just in case, or are you going in alone?" Ian is ready for wherever he's needed.
The Masters concurred that the Cena cultists need to be dealt with, tonight. That will be our first order of business. Tomorrow I will visit the Iron Gullet at noon for information on Banmor. Assuming that is not urgent we address the d'Alkenov's manor and Firyin tomorrow as well.
After glaring at the surrendering guard, Ian checks the spot on his leg where one of the cultist's daggers sunk through a joint in the platemail. Dark blood was coating the chainmail there. "Everyone alright?" He shouts, looking around for Soliel, then starts restraining and processing people in an efficient manner, rounding them up for the guard.
"Surrender! It ain't worth your life." To emphasize, he lays into the guard on the left. If the guard dies, he'll hit the one on the right too.
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