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I love that there are three pets so far in this game, and only one of them is a class feature. :D
hey y'all i thought i was done, but here i am, drawn back into that PbP lifestyle anyway i like the new avatar options, but what i really want is a tiefling. but like, slightly more monstrous that what's available. also hot gay twink tiefling boys when
After Morrow goes to bed: Morsel slinks up the stairs to her room with a mug of water, accepting the magical disguise from Ganzorig and waiting patiently as he disguises her. “Oh, ‘Zo, make me the prettiest belle at the ball” she whispers in a deadpan. She puts on the sleeves, and lo and behold there stands the spitting image of Morrow. She picks up her tail and wraps it around her waist as best she can - it’s not the most comfortable, but she didn’t want to knock into anything with it. She nods at Ganzorig, ready to go.
Morsel follows the plan to the gnome’s specifications. Properly disguised, she bolts down the stairs (careful not to push herself to her full, uninhibited speed), stumbling a bit as she makes her way outside. Once in the snow and out of Phe’s sight, she pours the mug of water out, hoping the sound of the splash reaches the bartender. She waits briefly outside, starting to shiver in the cold, before heading back in. She does her best to look drained and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She then makes a big show of checking her pockets and growing more exasperated and defeated looking. Giving Phe a defeated look, Morsel approaches the bar, putting her hand up in front of her mouth as if to block any other alcohol-fueled offense it might cause. It’s up to you now, ‘Zo… --- Later, with all that done, Morsel returns to her room. She sits cross legged on the bed and makes a clicking sound with her teeth as she pulls a piece of dried fruit out of her pocket. Her rat squeaks happily in response and climbs into her hand to take the prize. Morsel watches for a while, quietly enjoying the company. Once the rat is finished, she holds it up and looks into its eyes. She extends her consciousness, letting her mind follow the pathways that The Thing in Her Head had bored into it, until her consciousness reaches the rat’s. She has trouble reaching along those pathways at first, getting lost in a maze of thoughts that she should nest for the winter, but eventually she touches its mind. She extends a little of herself into it and mentally whispers a tempting suggestion while imagining the adventurers, I bet those new people have some food worth investigating in their room. Don’t you think? ---
Arla is quiet once Perrin explains the situation, processing the situation. Her head is somewhere else as the conversation continues. She refuses Perrin’s offer of the magical supplies. She hadn’t quite worked out how she felt about the whole situation, but it was best to avoid even the appearance of accepting a bribe - especially in front of the captive elf. She mechanically reciprocates Kelian’s introduction, and avoids asking after his family given what she had heard about Brookside. That would come later, if ever, and in this field of death it felt inappropriate. Arla keeps a sharp eye out as she marches with the remaining guards through the sticky mud, although she seems distracted for the rest of the journey. --- Once in Helm, when Hannady speaks to her, Arla seems to come back to reality. She nods solemnly at the guard captain. “I will testify to what I witnessed, in all my capacity as Coroner.” Following Hannady into the meeting room, Arla suppresses a groan. It had to be the head of the watch, didn’t it? She had never properly met the man, but she had seen him enough to develop a distaste for him. The fine clothes and polished medals always made her want to roll her eyes - clearly the man was interested in pretending to be some sort of nobility rather than putting in any honest work. True, Arla had a taste for jaunty hats, but at least they served some function on the road. She guessed this man wouldn’t last a mile on a palanquin. She tries to divert her focus away from the head of the watch and toward Mel’s recount. Her eyes widen at the woman’s revelation. Arla looks at her with a mix of awed surprise and caution, as one might look at a beautifully hued snake that one has just moved a rock to discover. Her head rushes, and she looks over to make eye contact with Hannady. He should never have had to get wrapped up in this, but she agreed to help him. She would honor her word now and deal with the spinning in her head later. “Head of the Watch,” she says as she steps forward, assuming a formal posture and trying to ignore the man’s contemptible sneer. “I am Arla Fuller, Helm’s Coroner. I cannot verify any of… this elf’s story,” she starts, risking a nervous glance at Mel, “but I was on my way to assess the situation at Brookside in my duties as Coroner, to see who might be held accountable for the dead there, according to reports. However, I encountered the captain and his charges with a full contingent of guards and horses as they traveled to Helm, under attack by what seemed to be bandits. I helped to drive them off, in accordance with the outlawing of banditry and my experiencing dealing with such robberies as a collector of taxes. Hannady’s guards, the Brookside residents, and I drove them off. We found as we examined them that they were all elves who had deliberately disguised themselves.” Arla took a moment to catch her breath, shooting a dirty look at Elrin before continuing. “These elves risked mortal peril to push past me toward the prisoner with a singular focus. In my experience traveling throughout the Bishopric and Iustia, it is rare to find so many elves in one place. Additionally, they are not known for banditry, and even if these elves had resorted to such measures, I find it unlikely that they would stray so far from the Elven Lands to ambush a road so deep within our borders. And I have never seen bandits act with such desperation to get to a single person; a coin purse, perhaps, but not a prisoner. That is,”[b] she continues, looking to meet Elrin’s eyes,[b] “Unless he is one of their number. “In my official capacity as a representative of Helm’s interests, Head of the Watch, I can confirm that I witnessed a band of roughly a dozen elves attack a contingent of Bishopric guards who were escorting an elven prisoners and potential witnesses to his crimes. I give my official recommendation that Helm and the Bishop take this attack on our guards seriously, and give ample weight to the testimony of these Brookside residents regarding Elven interference that resulted in a costly attack on one of our towns.” Arla finally finishes, breathing out a heavy sigh and stepping back. She assumes a more relaxed, but still formal posture as she looks over to Captain Hannady. She shoots him a look to try to say “You owe me a drink,” while trying to calm her queasy stomach. ---
Morsel keeps a fairly neutral expression as Morrow explains himself, only shooting an annoyed look at Phe before turning her attention back to the strange tableau in front of her. She wanders over to the bar counter and hoists herself up to sit on it near Phe and Katsanóron, feet dangling playfully. “What’s your take, Kat?” she rasps out, leaning over to pull a small bottle and a clean pewter cup from behind the counter. She yanks out the cork and pours herself some mead before she continues, “Ever seen wounds like these? I don’t remember you ever being so busy all of a sudden, no?” She jumps a little in surprise as Ganzorig’s tentacled visage suddenly appears on her shoulder. Her cup sloshes over and spills some of the mead on the front of her robes. She hisses out a dagger-sharp syllable in Infernal of complaint before grabbing a nearby cloth and starting to blot at the dark, cold stain. She shoots a frustrated look at the gnome, breathing out a huff of hot air in annoyance that leaves the air briefly smelling of brimstone. She closes her eyes and concentrates for a moment, trying to locate where her own mind meets The Thing in Her Head’s. She mentally prods for the spaces in that connection and follows a twisting passageway like a rat through the walls of a house until she emerges at the end of Ganzorig’s broiling consciousness - or at least, that’s how it always felt to her. When she opens her eyes, there is a glint of something deep and malicious and alien there before it fades. She looks across to Ganzorig, saying nothing.
Ganzorig:
“The tentacles are a nice touch,” she comments, replying in Gnomish directly into the gnome’s head. “With the way the boy’s putting away ale, I’m guessing he’ll be out cold past noon. ‘Spare key’ might work, but I think Phe’s mad at me right now.” She glances toward the elven bartender, grimacing at the thought of having to wheedle something out of her one-time lover.
“For now, though, I’m actually more interested in that mansion. The… The Thing brought me up here, and something weird is going on. I can feel it gnawing at my guts. The dwarf wants to go there anyway and he might actually have a way in. I bet Kat would come with if we suggested looking for survivors.” Morsel looks over nervously. She didn’t talk about The Thing often, if ever. She had mentioned it a few times to Ganzorig, but with obvious discomfort. “What do you think? There could be something actually interesting happening in this backwater for once.” ---
Morsel flinches against the cold wind and pulls her cloak’s hood tighter around her face as she stuffs the bandages into her pocket. She pats another pocket to check that her rat is safely secured in a relatively warm spot and trudges forward into the snow with Ganzorig and Thurin. She trails behind them, seeing that the travelers Ganzorig spoke of have arrived and attracted half the village to them, including Ganzorig’s dog. Having so many people around, especially so many strange humans, starts to bring up bad memories of the fights Morsel would get into growing up in this cold armpit of a town, so she hangs back and observes. Luckily the humans seem far too injured to be jumpy about her appearance after their ordeal. She resolves to move forward once Thurin approaches the injured travelers. Not wanting to surprise him with potential danger about, she steps over to him trying her best to suppress her instinct for subtlety and be obvious about crunching through the snow. “You don’t get to demand those things of Katsanóron,” she chides the dwarf. She looks up and aims to make eye contact with the woman. As far as Morsel was concerned, Katsanóron was the other village freak. More helpful, attractive, kind, and generally liked than Morsel was, yes - but the tiefling couldn’t help but feel a kind of connection to the strange half-elven woman. Turning her attention back to Thurin, she adds, “Either ask nicer or offer to pay for a lesson, and don’t interrupt her work.”
Got all my gear done! Including a pet rat. It's not magical or anything, just a standard, mundane rat. I'm assuming a little bit of agency for it, hope that's okay. Maybe an effect of the rat bones is that it makes rats like me.
As far as maps go, I've found Google Slides to be quite useful for these games. Roll20 is nice but I can't access it when I post from my phone. For PbP, I tend to like having a map, especially now because so many of my abilities have specific range requirements. Otherwise I'd be concerned about either having to verbally confirm all of my distances (which I imagine may be annoying), or to be not so worried about that in which case I'd be concerned about ignoring the rules potentially in my favor too often. So ultimately, I vote a Google Slides map if you (BBEGM) are more concerned about me following my close-range distance rules on my abilities correctly, or mapless/light mapping if you're more concerned about the technical stuff getting in the way of the game flow. We can always switch or try out different things, too. There was a 20000 gp Trapmaker's Sack which I was oogling... I still make the check, but it plants the trap instantly.Hmmm. To be honest, I'm not sure why that item is so pricy. Approved, unless one of our rules experts can point out something I'm missing. I think the reason it's so expensive is that 1) it requires a high level caster to create, 2) it has a combined effect of being an extra-dimensional space (it's got a workshop's worth of trap supplies in a 2-pound bag) with the trap creation element, which increases the price, and 3) it creates basically something out of nothing very quickly, which tends to jack up the costs of these things. That's just my guesses for why it's at the price point it's at, though. It doesn't seem overpowered to me, and it may actually be a way to introduce more PC-trap-using, which is fun. The only change I might suggest is that instead of it creating a trap up to CR 4, instead it can create a trap up to a CR equal to Ganzorig's HD. That way it's a little tamer right at level 3 but it can scale in a nice way once we get to higher levels.
Okay everyone! I've put your chronicles here: Thanks everyone for sticking with it, I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Let me know if there are any problems with the chronicles. Thanks!
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Olandil seems relieved, but he keeps his weapon drawn. “Hostages? We don’t have time for that. I’ve wasted five years in this miserable city and I don’t want another thing to deal with it ever again. Just kick them out and let’s go.” Poppo briefly looks over his shoulder from the front of the whale, where he is still desperately trying to perform the ritual to keep the spell moving the vessel. “I don’t know! Does it matter?” he shouts frantically before turning his attention back to the ritual. ---
--- With the boarders and the strange creature defeated, the remaining sailor slowly lugs his fallen comrades up the rope ladder and out of the whale. As Niome sketches the incutilis and its puppet, she also notices some pearls tucked into the corpse’s pocket, one of which is magical (although it apparently did not help its previous owner much). Finally, Poppo starts the whale moving again. The body of the whale drops as it glides forward, and those looking out the glass eyes can see that it has completely submerged. Poppo takes it down low enough that when the whale passes under the blockade, the ship bottoms are but dark shapes against a watery sky closing in on the coastline. Poppo takes the whale to the rendezvous point given to you earlier by Venture-Captain Bennary, and the Pathfinders meet up with the Grinning Pixie. The Venture-Captain herself helps get the Pathfinders and Olandil into her ship, a huge grin that shows off her orcish tusks plastered on her face. “You lot had me worried! I watched the blockade closing in, and I was starting to think maybe I’d need to send in a retrieval team for you too. So, tell me, what happened in there?” Benarry listens intently to the green Pathfinders’ report, occasionally jumping in with her own comments and suggestions for embellishments to “get the story ready for the Chronicles.” Venture-Captain Benarry also offers Olandil a sincere apology for how long he was stuck in Pezzack. In reply, Olandil gives his rescuers a sheepish look. “I’m… I’m sorry. For how rude I was during this whole mission. I doubted you, but look at where I am now!” He sighs as if releasing a great weight, finally free from being trapped in Pezzack. “I will need time to reflect on this experience before I decide what my future with the Society will hold,” he informs his rescuers. “However, you all saved my life, and for that, I am grateful. At the very least, I will complete my original mission, and share with you what I have learned of the situation in Cheliax, as it relates to establishing a foothold for a new Pathfinder Lodge, as well as everything I know about the current situation in Pezzack. Thank you again.” ---
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Lord Arthur attempts a repeat performance of his earlier attack, but to no end. The smug sailor manages to parry it, although he's obviously harried and frustrated by being surrounded on all sides. Meanwhile, Niome holds the line and casts a spell at the approaching creature. Silent to everyone else, it alone is buffeted by a wave of sound. It staggers, as if hit by a massive invisible blow, its already tattered clothes ripping in places. Scrutinizing the strange creature, Olandil recognizes what it is. “How did an incutilis get in here?” he demands. “Nevermind! It's a parasite, that tentacle creature on its head! The body is just a puppet!” he shouts to the other Pathfinders.
All the while he continues to try to distract and interfere with the sailors.
Noam scolds the vengeful woman, emphasizing his point with a blow from his sword. Noam buries the huge blade deep into her shoulder and she staggers back from the force of the blow, crying out. The deep cut proves too much for her, and she collapses. Arisha, unseen, suddenly enters the remaining sailor’s vision just as her kukri slips between his ribs. He gasps and clutches the bleeding wound with his free hand, then coughs up some blood. He still stands, but barely, hunched over with legs trembling. He still manages to shuffle out of the way of Aggie’s attack, though, given her disadvantageous position on the ground-flesh. ==========
The last remaining sailor, bleeding and alone, looks at the Pathfinders, clearly afraid. The blood has drained from his face, his smug expression gone. “Please, no more. I yield,” he begs weakly through blood stained teeth. Meanwhile the tentacle creature - or rather, the incutilis and its puppet body - stay where they are. It seems to still be trying to recover its balance from Niome’s sonic attack. ---
GM Rolls:
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Lord Arthur’s rapier pierces the cocky sailor’s leather armor, who lets out a cry of pain and anger. He grits his teeth and whips his head around toward Niome as she casts her spell. It seems the pain helps him shake off the spell, and he yells at her, “Get out of my head! I’ll kill you next!” before turning to face Arthur. After Arixana and her lackeys make their moves, Olandil moves up, drawing his rapier. He holds it out toward the cruel-looking woman, trying to interpose himself between her and Till. “Back off!” he snarls.
Noam then brings his huge sword down on the Chelish Lieutenant. The blade briefly catches on an invisible magical barrier surrounding her, but the force of Noam’s swing is easily enough to crash through. She is left with a huge gash of a wound, and collapses unconscious. The woman with the yellow sash scowls at him and declares. “You’ll regret that!” Arisha begins to fade from the blue-shirted man’s attention (although he’s got plenty on his mind already). The man then blinks against the distracting starlight swirling around him, muttering curses as his assault continues. ==========
Suddenly, a sickening sound of wet flesh and cracking bone is heard from deeper in the whale’s throat. A corpse emerges from the fleshy wall, stumbling awkwardly. It faces the melee, groaning low and miserable. There appears to be some sort of creature latched onto its head: a pink and white shelled creature from which tentacles descend, running down and buried into the corpse’s flesh. It lurches toward Niome with jerky, awkward motions, as if it were a clumsy marionette. DC 11 Knowledge (Dungeoneering):
This is a lesser incutilis. It is a lesser form of an aberrant marine parasite that latches onto other creatures’ bodies (dead or alive) and drives them like puppets to find more prey or better hosts. DC 16 Knowledge (Dungeoneering):
Destroying the lesser incutilis’ puppet does not directly harm it, but simply deprives it of a host. It will then seek out a new helpless creature to take control of. Attacks that affect an area affect both the creature and its puppet. The lesser incultilis can be attacked separately from its host, although it is somewhat more difficult. Till gives a rallying cry to inspire his allies. The fight is going well for them, but it isn’t over. The smug blue-shirted man realizes that Arthur is a threat, but finds the bowled over Aggie an easier target. He brings his scimitar down in an overhand slash at her. However, he seems disoriented enough that his strike goes wide and cuts into the dead flesh of whale tongue that makes up the floor. The cruel looking woman, in a bout of vengeful spite, steps up to Noam and takes a swing at him with both hands on her blade. In her anger she overcommits on the swing, however, and Noam is able to easily step back from the telegraphed attack. Olandil steps up and delivers a swift kick to the yellow-sashed woman. “Not so fast,” he barks as she stumbles. It’s not enough to hurt very badly, but the shove puts her off balance, and Noam could easily take advantage of that mistake. He then brings his rapier to bear against the smug sailor, batting at the man’s scimitar to knock it away and leave him open to Lord Arthur’s attack.
---
GM Rolls:
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The earth elementals continue to follow the leopard’s lead, heading toward Thrax despite the cage. The archon swoops down and brushes against the leopard’s fur, instilling it with vigor. The big cat jumps at the cage, roaring at Thrax, trying to claw the metal. Faustinia manages to shake off the blinding flash that appears, although perhaps part of it is screwing her eyes shut from the queasiness of her stench-ruined stomach. She starts to move toward the cage exit, gripping the metal wall with white-knuckled fingers as she staggers away. Lady Drovenge warned us about this. What are this sore loser’s intentions? Oh gods, my stomach… don’t heave, don’t heave… ---
Augmented small earth elemental stats:
N Small Outsider (earth, elemental, extraplanar)
Init -1; Senses darkvision 60 ft., tremorsense 60 ft.; Perception +4 Defense AC 17, touch 10, flat-footed 17 (-1 Dex +7 natural +1 size ) HP 17 (2d10+6) Fort +6, Ref -1, Will +3 Immune elemental traits Offense Speed 20 ft., burrow 20 ft., earth glide Melee Slam +8 (1d6+7) Special Attacks earth mastery Statistics Str 20, Dex 8, Con 17, Int 4, Wis 11, Cha 11 Base Atk +2, CMB +6, CMD 15 Feats Improved Bull Rush, Power Attack Skills Appraise +1, Climb +9, Knowledge (dungeoneering) +1, Knowledge (planes) +1, Perception +4, Stealth +7 Languages Terran Abilities Earth Glide (Ex) A burrowing earth elemental can pass through stone, dirt, or almost any other sort of earth except metal as easily as a fish swims through water. If protected against fire damage, it can even glide through lava. Its burrowing leaves behind no tunnel or hole, nor does it create any ripple or other sign of its presence. A move earth spell cast on an area containing a burrowing earth elemental flings the elemental back 30 feet, stunning the creature for 1 round unless it succeeds on a DC 15 Fortitude save. Earth Mastery (Ex) An earth elemental gains a +1 bonus on attack and damage rolls if both it and its foe are touching the ground. If an opponent is airborne or waterborne, the elemental takes a –4 penalty on attack and damage rolls. These modifiers apply to bull rush and overrun maneuvers, whether the elemental is initiating or resisting these kinds of attacks. (These modifiers are not included in the statistics block.)
Augmented lantern archon stats:
LG Small Outsider (archon, extraplanar, good, lawful)
Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision; Perception +4 Aura aura of menace (DC 13) Defense AC 15, touch 11, flat-footed 15 (+4 natural +1 size +2 deflect vs. evil) HP 17 (2d10+6) Fort +6, Ref +3, Will +0; +4 vs. poison, +2 resistance vs. evil DR 10/evil Immune electricity, petrification Offense Speed fly 60 ft. (perfect) Ranged 2 x light rays +3 touch (1d6 ignores DR) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 3rd): At Will—aid, continual flame, detect evil Statistics Str 5, Dex 11, Con 16, Int 6, Wis 11, Cha 10 Base Atk +2, CMB -2, CMD 8 Feats Improved Initiative Skills Diplomacy +5, Fly +14, Knowledge (planes) +3, Perception +4, Sense Motive +5 Languages Celestial, Draconic, Infernal, Truespeech Special Abilities Aura of Menace (Su) Any hostile creature within a 20-foot radius of an archon must succeed on a Will save (DC 13) to resist its effects. The save DC is Charisma-based, and includes a +2 racial bonus. Those who fail take a –2 penalty on attacks, AC, and saves for 24 hours or until they successfully hit the archon that generated the aura. A creature that has resisted or broken the effect cannot be affected again by the same archon's aura for 24 hours. Gestalt (Su) [won’t be relevant] Light Ray (Ex) A lantern archon can fire beams of light to damage foes. These light rays have a maximum range of 30 feet. This attack overcomes damage reduction of any type.
Augmented celestial leopard stats: N Medium Animal
Init +4; Senses low-light vision, scent darkvision 60 ft. ; Perception +5 Defense AC 15, touch 14, flat-footed 11 (+4 Dex +1 natural ) HP 25 (3d8+12) Fort +7, Ref +7, Will +2 Resist cold 5, acid 5, electricity 5 SR 7 Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 20 ft. Melee Bite +7 (1d6+5 plus grab), 2 x Claws +7 (1d3+5) Special Attacks pounce, rake, Smite Evil Statistics Str 20, Dex 19, Con 19, Int 2, Wis 13, Cha 6 Base Atk +2, CMB +7 (+11 grapple), CMD 21 (25 vs. trip) Feats Skill Focus (Stealth), Weapon Finesse Skills Acrobatics +8, Climb +13, Perception +5, Stealth +11 (+15 in undergrowth) Special Abilities Pounce (Ex) When a creature with this special attack makes a charge, it can make a full attack (including rake attacks if the creature also has the rake ability). Rake (Ex) Gains two free claw attacks that it can use only against a grappled foe. The bonus and damage caused by these attacks is included in the creature's description. A monster with the rake ability must begin its turn already grappling to use its rake—it can't begin a grapple and rake in the same turn. Smite Evil 1/day as a swift action (adds CHA bonus (+0) to attack rolls and damage bonus equal to HD (3) against evil foes; smite persists until target is dead or the celestial creature rests).
When I say "condemning his abuses" I mean he was abusive in his relationships with women and as an employer. Is that callous? Maybe, but maybe so is making this thread where I'm apparently expected to overlook the exploitation of a multi-millionaire just because he died recently. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Evidence of this, Irontruth? I've seen a whole host of various hot takes and recent articles condemning his abuses and overall scummy behavior. I'm sure it wouldn't be hard to find a few. Anyway, good riddance. An exploitative boss who's open and blatant about sexuality is still an exploitative boss.
With the druids stopped and their ritual interrupted, Bitter Plum wakes the two living druids with a rough shake, standing over them with her sword drawn. She gives them a grandmotherly lecture about behaving themselves and not trying to turn entire populations into degenerating werebeasts against their will, emphasizing her point by gesturing with the sharp point of her still-bloody sword. Stripped of their weapons, and with the Atavistic Splinter secure, Bitter Plum allows the druids to flee with their lives to let their allies know the consequences of their foul deeds. --- After the debriefing of the successful mission, she approaches Itami again. "That sleep spell of yours is pretty potent!" she praises. "I don't suppose you're secretly a follower of Desna, are you?" she asks with a glint in her eyes. "What do you say we go celebrate with a few drinks?" ---
Jit sets in on the food and drink, scarfing down breads and soups, downing a full mug of whatever’s around in one go ending with a satisfied sigh and a belch. She also sheds her wet outer clothes, taking off her jacket and even her pantaloons and leaving them in a wet pile near the fire with her pack. With a plate and a refilled mug, in her damp underclothes, she wanders around the hall briefly before running into Lisa Penbury and the priestess Annabella Tullia. “The whole thing was wild!” Jit declares to the printsmith, grinning from ear to ear and letting the excitement of the weather lift her from her exhaustion. She takes a swig from her mug and leans her head down to pick up a piece of chicken from her plate in her teeth and chew on it while she recounts her tale of the storm. She gestures toward Chest Thumper as he moves to the fire, confirming, “Yeah! There was a lizardfolk raid in Islandtown, and this lizardfolk lady who told us that she was out to destroy the town for Gozreh. “There were some angry water elementals, and these weirdly concentrated lightning bolt clusters. Then we found the raiders and the sheriff (she tried to hold em off, but what can you do against a lizard lady who can shoot lightning at you, right?). But we got there just in time! This lizardfolk was chasing me, right, and the others were fighting and knocking lizardfolk off roofs, and, uh, some buildings collapsed…” Jit continues on, listing the details on their fight (perhaps exaggerating the excitement of her own chase, and being vague about the reason the chandlery was destroyed). “...And then that weird guy,” she says, indicating Pious, “gave her a blade to the gut before the sword got struck by lightning! There was something going on with that, I could feel it in my gut - I got a gut for storms - and then an explosion, and when we woke up the storm had calmed down!” By the end of her telling, Jit has finished her second mug and is rambling a bit, but she seems satisfied with the telling. She gives the priestess a tipsy look. “Ms. Tullia, is that enough for the statue, you think? Do you think it’ll be as pretty as you are?” she asks with a wink.
Bitter Plum nods at Itami’s suggestion. “Sounds good to me. I’ll help you lead up the geriatric arm,” she jokes with a jocular elbow jab at the old man and a beak-smirk. She keeps her katana drawn and ready in front of her, expecting close quarters and the possibility of more invisible fey. She tries to catch Abdul’s eyes from across the way, nodding to indicate she’s ready. ---
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Till launches into an inspiring rallying cry as Noam moves up and Niome displays her vast knowledge of insects and their ilk. As Arisha disappears to find a way to get around the creature, Noam simply moves up and takes a swing. Guided by Till’s inspiring oratory, his blade finds its mark. The giant maggot hardly has time to make a chittering sound in protest before Noam slices the grub open and it lies twitching in a growing pool of its own light blue hemolymph.
--- With the grub no longer posing any threat, the Pathfinders are free to continue their exploration. The tunnels of the Guts continue to twist and turn, their winding paths and damp walls living up to the name. Arisha’s doubling back leads through some long twisting paths, but they eventually lead back around. It looks like going right would have avoided the maggot, but in the end everything proved to work out anyway.
Jit raises an eyebrow at Pious’ declaration. “I dunno about saints and sinners and all that, matey, but I think you’re right that there’s something strange going on with this storm. I’ve seen storms, but I’ve never seen one so angry that the damn water itself was trying to kill me!” she exclaims. Letting the others deal with the boy, Jit watches Aza as she watches the storm, following her gaze and admiring the flashing lightning and the huge peals of thunder. She may be a bit trembling, but I know a fellow storm watcher when I see one, she thinks with a grin. Her attention comes back to the conversation as the others start to head off toward Oyin’s shop. She follows along as best as she can, doing her best to wade as quickly as she can despite what is relatively deeper water for her. "Here we come, Oyin!"
The man’s yellow smile broadens at Noam’s offer. “Listen, listen,” he says in a harsh whisper, trying to soothe the Pathfinders’ discussion in case it attracts wandering ears. “No need for trouble! I see we’ve got a bit of a disagreement here, but you all want a subtle approach if possible, right?” he asks, picking up on Arisha’s comment. He blinks a little and looks over the group again, unsure where the voice came from. He shakes off the strangeness, though, and continues. He smirks at Till. “Yes, I’m quite the shady character, aren’t I?” he mocks, looking at the rope tied to the window bar. “Your friend’s offer is amenable to me. Two pounds and my services are yours. You slip in, I slip away, we all get what we want!” He turns his grin to Noam. “You’re a shrewd business person, ain’t you? It’s a real pleasure to work with someone with a head on his shoulders.” *** Once inside, the Pathfinders can explore the warehouse unimpeded. There are numerous crates stacked up with various merchant company logos, and as it appeared from the outside it’s far too large for a poetry reading to take up the whole space. In preparation for the event, one wall is lined with stacked up canvas chairs, and a space is cleared near the front with a nearby stack of wooden pallets that presumably will be used to create a makeshift stage. Toward the back of the warehouse, the place is labyrinthine in places, with crates stacked in disorganized towers that form maze-like twisting spaces between them. DC 20 Perception:
Hidden in a back corner, there is a cleverly hidden trapdoor. A cursory examination reveals that it is unlocked, not trapped, and leads down underground, presumably into some section of The Guts. ***
The man follows in afterward, running his tongue over his teeth in anticipation. He runs a dirty-fingernailed hand over a couple of the crates, glancing over toward Lord Arthur, just waiting for his vigilance to slip.
DC 17 Perception check:
There is a faint sound of wood cracking from near the front of the warehouse, although it is strangely muffled. Immediately responding to the sound reveals that the burglar has expertly pried open a crate with a crowbar draped with a heavy cloth to dampen the sound. He snags a few handfuls of trade goods and stuffs them into a bag before sprinting out of the front doors. GM Rolls:
---
Faustinia wakes up blearily as her surprised butler rouses her with news of the strange people in the manor house. She mumbles an explanation about them being her guests before falling back into a dreamless sleep. She sleeps extraordinarily late, and blinks awake as the midday sun pours in through the window and across her face. She strips off the remnants of the costume, heading to a wash room to freshen up and try to get the spirit gum off her face where the false beard attached. As she descends the stairs from her upper level manor bedroom, the smell of breakfast awakens a deep hunger in her belly and she follows the smell to the dining hall. Faustinia’s manor house is an old design. Clearly pre-Thrune, it lacks the sharp angles and edges of the Egorian architectural style, instead focusing on a kind of elegant minimalism of white plaster, with slim pillars and marble accents. It eschews the red and black of House Thrune for soft off-whites with occasional hints of dark gray and navy blue. Decoration is sparse: antique dark wooden furniture stands like lonely islands in rooms far too large for them, with large glass windows allowing beams of sunlight to sweep across the interior uninterrupted. Carpets are scarce on the hardwood floors. The rare portrait of a Xerysis noble hangs on the wall along with occasional banners marking the House Xerysis crest: dark gray and blue colors behind a white heraldry of a many-ringed hand holding a yellow goblet. It’s clear that this place, when first built, was meant to accommodate fine tastes and an abundance of material wealth. The sparseness of the rooms and halls here makes the manor feel larger, but distinctly lacking and lonely. Even a quiet conversation in one of the living rooms feels loud and echoing. The dining hall, despite the emptiness of the rest of the manor house, feels the most welcoming. One of the more used rooms, it contains twice as much furniture (end tables, small statuary, hall drawers, etc.) as anywhere else, and the large glass window has a yellow stained glass goblet held by a white hand. The butler, a middle aged human man with a balding head and a thin black moustache, busies about setting the table for breakfast. “Thank you so much for preparing this for my guests at such short notice, Archibald,” she says graciously as she approaches. “I know it’s a bit unorthodox, but the Lord-Mayor’s soiree went very late. I so appreciate your accommodation.” Faustinia takes a heavier breakfast than usual, piling her plate with eggs, bread, breakfast sausages and pickled vegetables of various kinds. She pairs it with a hot cup of coffee, refilling it from a silver carafe on the table. Once she’s quelled her ravenous hunger somewhat, she converses with her fellow Irises to determine the next steps. “First thing first, perhaps we should head to the temple to help alleviate our… conditions. Although, perhaps Arael would know a way to assist us. Once we are healthy, we should go visit him and let him know how the Lord-Mayor’s party went. We can figure out our next steps from there: preparing ourselves, addressing what we, ah, recovered.” ---
Yup, looks like it all checks out and all of that is legal. This is the only id rager specification from the PFS campaign clarifications: An id rager gains only the emotional focus abilities of a phantom, not the base abilities of a phantom, such as slam attacks and armor bonuses. Edit: now I just have to go read up on what all of that does. It sounds neat, though!
Hey guess what I'm ready to get my gay little anarchist hands all over. The answer is the Pathfinder Society.
... but what came first, the mechaName or mechaPoems?Well, how do you think I got this name? That I just went on the internet and made it up?"Help! I'm being held by Freehold. He wants versions of Mechcommander and Mechwarrior that runs on Windows 10. Written from scratch." :)Sorry, nothing I can do about it. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a mechaPoem is no match for a mechaSword (not to mention the mechaCannons...). It's a real mechaThinker, huh? Practically a mechaKoan.
"Help! I'm being held by Freehold. He wants versions of Mechcommander and Mechwarrior that runs on Windows 10. Written from scratch." :)Sorry, nothing I can do about it. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a mechaPoem is no match for a mechaSword (not to mention the mechaCannons...). Well, how do you think I got this name? That I just went on the internet and made it up?
"Help! I'm being held by Freehold. He wants versions of Mechcommander and Mechwarrior that runs on Windows 10. Written from scratch." :) Sorry, nothing I can do about it. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but a mechaPoem is no match for a mechaSword (not to mention the mechaCannons...).
Coming to the series of fallen logs, Bitter Plum stops and concentrates. The butterfly-shaped mark on her beak glows briefly as she casts a spell - suddenly her scaly legs seem to grow somewhat longer and bandier. “This may shock you whippersnappers, but I’m not as agile as I used to be back in the day. But this old crow still has a spring in her step!” Producing a long length of silk rope from her pack, she holds it out to the others. “There’s no need to be risky at this point - we should tie ourselves together so that if one of us splashes in the others can pull them out. Now, let’s see what old Bitter Plum’s got in her!” Thus said, the tengu braves the logs first, doing her best to balance and hopping across the gaps as best as she can. ---
I know you've mentioned that the “just ask them what to do with the character” is not a great option due to their suggesting things they would later regret. However, it sounds like they only do this during the times that they've quit. So, if you can, I would try to address the issue with them when they've not quit, away from the table and not during game time. I don't know what kind of reaction they'll have, but presenting it as an issue of you wanting everyone to have a good time playing and having as smooth a game as possible - emphasizing the benefit to everyone and doing your best to make it non-accusatory - could be a good way to approach it. Especially emphasize that you want to find a way that's not punitive and that this isn't punishment, because punishing players is not ever going to lead to good results, especially for a player that's been burned before, and especially for this player in general. Now, from what it sounds like, they may react badly. But it sounds like they eventually do relent and apologize? And that they're getting better at self-correcting on this. You might just need to be patient as they work through this, and also realize that their progress probably won't always be at the same pace, and they may lapse, and they may never completely drop this behavior. I'm also not trying to recommend that you just suck it up, because as you said feelings tend to get hurt at these points and the hurt they cause is still real and not simply excusable. Don't accept that, but do feel free to accept (or not) the player’s apologies later. In the meantime for all of this, it might stink but I feel like the option of just having their character fade into the background or having them go off to do something until the player returns is probably your best option? It may strain fictional credibility a little, but I think it's your cleanest and simplest option. Finally, if you know specifically what this player's “psychological complications” are, maybe do some independent research on how best to be the kind of friend they need when they get like this. Preferably accounts from people who experience similar complications. Talk to them directly about it as well, again, preferably when they aren't in this reactionary mode. You may already be doing this or something similar, but I think it's important to emphasize that accommodating this person's needs (while also not just excusing the harm they cause) will likely lead to a better game and a better friendship. People should always come before a game, y’know?
Hey all, I'm trying to fulfill a Pathfinder Society Liberty's Edge faction card goal that's very difficult for my kineticist. Here it is: In a region where slavery is legal, deliver a speech against tyranny, slavery, or corruption to a crowd of at least 20 participants. Doing so requires a successful Diplomacy or Perform (acting, comedy, or oratory) check (DC = 15 + your character level). My halfling kineticist is level 4, has 9 Charisma, and has no ranks in the relevant skills. So in order to hit the DC 19 Diplomacy check, I would have to roll a natural 20, and after level 4 it will be impossible. What I need is suggestions for ways to temporarily and cheaply increase my bonuses on the relevant checks. They also can't require any ranks in UMD (on my character at least). If they're from hardcover source books, that's also a plus. If I play scenarios on the slow track I have 5 scenarios to do this in. Here's what I've come up with so far: Parade armor (UE): 25 gold, +2 circumstance bonus to Diplomacy in a specific country. Crystal-sweet concoction (AA2): 50 gold, +2 alchemical bonus to Diplomacy Mulberry Pentacle (Cracked) Ioun Stone (SoS): 400 gold, +1 competence bonus to Diplomacy (and Bluff) Potion/Scroll of eagle's splendor (CRB): 300/150 gold, +4 Charisma Aid another action: ask people to come with me and aid another to increase my result Class selection: try to convince people to play their bards or glory/luck domain clerics, etc. Any other low investment ways to try to help me make this check?
In my region, I don't see re-rolls done for GMs EXCEPT in cases of the dual-cursed oracle Misfortune Revelation. I'd love a way for the players to loop back time so I could avoid killing a low level party with an unfortunate crit... but local custom does not support this, and I believe that reroll rules are the sort of thing that we should be consistent about across regions.Speak not of local custom you do not know. I believe that by "local custom does not support..." she means her own local scene. If she meant ALL local custom, well, that's not really local, is it? Anyway, it would be really sick if y'all could cite some rules or make a case for clarification if you can't find any or what exists is unclear.
Faustinia starts to reply to the imp Livia, ”Wait, who is - or was - your master? Are you just going to watch us? Not interfere?” The old woman sighs with exasperation. They had some answers at least, but these devils were proving more and more vexing. Did House Thrune truly manage to get consistent use from infernal dealings? Shaking the stray thoughts from her mind as the others contemplate resting, her attention turns to Catina. She approaches the tiefling with a look of concern. ”Catina… I know that we have to press on soon. And I know that… thing you found is time sensitive,” she alludes, trying to avoid giving the invisible imp any more information by mentioning the runecurse. ”But I fear we're too worn out to push on heedless of the dangers ahead. What good would it do to speed toward the Crux and die because we pushed ourselves too hard, right? The cells will make us rested in a mere two hours, which makes some difference in our progress but not so much that it isn't possible to return to the mayor's party.” Faustinia, holding her hands clasped in front of her, meets Catina’s eyes. She takes on a sadder look, though her eyes remain dry. Lowering her voice she says, ”This isn't an easy situation, I know. But I don't want us to be so unprepared or worn out that what happened to Sev and Lorenzo happens to someone else.”
You can find tables and stuff online for converting your measurements into dress sizes. I know they can sometimes be site specific (because they're usually on sites that sell clothes), but the general ballpark should be close I would think. Also sometimes there are number sizes and sometimes just small/medium/large. But also! Dress sizes can be wildly inconsistent depending on the brand. The best way is to determine if it's generally in your ballpark and try it on.
Hey, OP. What's up? Alright, now that we've established a casual tone, you can read everything I'm gonna say in a nice, conversational way. First off, kudos for running a West Marches campaign. They seem neat, although yours seems to have developed under different circumstances than the original one. I think you're moving in the right direction. That includes both your initial drive to figure out how to make a more inviting and inclusive environment and the way you've handled the (admittedly not always subtle) criticisms and advice you've provoked in this thread. It sounds like we can latch onto a concrete example here to work on: you have a friend who is interested in playing, but she's worried about being the only woman there. Now, this problem is compounded in an interesting way by the West Marches format. If I remember the West Marches rules I read a while back, it is supposed to be the responsibility of the players to handle the work of scheduling the game. However, this rule was developed in the context of having a bunch of players clamoring to play, whereas you seem to be doing a lot more outreach. Here comes the recommendation: you already have one woman interested in playing - ask her for recommendations. If she wants to play, she probably knows other folks who would be interested, but haven't had the opportunity. This also plays well into the West Marches style, in that you can coordinate the scheduling of this game such that you don't have to include anyone in particular. It could be a group of just your one friend and her invitees. That way you can avoid their anxiety of trying to play an RPG with random dudes (especially for those who have no or little experience). Be explicit when you bring this up that you want to make that friend more comfortable. Encourage her not to invite any men or masc folks. Again, double kudos: West Marches is neat, and thanks for being open to some social criticism. Good luck!
*Googles apotemnnophilia* Sounds like a similar basis of using Mayhem Law that made it illegal for trans women to get orchiectomies. In other words, whoever told you that is a gross transphobic jerk (whether or not you consider yourself trans). This sounds basically adjacent to the "autogynephilia" nonsense. I know you've done a lot of reflecting and introspection on who you are and what your gender might be. I think you've made a lot of progress and that it's also perfectly normal to still be processing and thinking about it. I'm sorry someone said that garbage to you, since it's clear even from what I've read you post here (let alone what I might learn if we hung out in person) that you have a complex understanding of yourself that doesn't deserve to be reduced to a gross transphobic off-the-cuff diagnosis like that.
Faustinia looks away as the devil’s brain matter splatters against the walls of its cell, and with a disgusted look casts prestidigitation with a snap of her fingers to start cleaning the gore off her companions. ”Nicely done, Alessandro, if a little messy.” She starts to vanish away the infernal blood soaking through Alessandro’s clothes as Catina explains the glaive’s effects. Her brow furrows as she’s distracted by the information, leaving Alessandro with a large splatter of gore on his shoes as she steps away to examine the strange weapon. ”Hmm. You know, I have just the thing for something as...unique as this,” she explains to Catina before starting to cast another spell. She pulls out a thimble-sized container of liquid from her spell component pouch, opening it to reveal a small amount of wine. She mutters a word of power and then quickly drinks the thimble of wine, causing her eyes to glow a dark purple as she stares at the glaive in concentration. She nods as she gets closer, examining the weapon’s magical properties, and then starts to explain as the magical light fades from her eyes. ”Ah, I see. This weapon is quite rare - it contains a fragment of the soul and mind of some individual. It is essentially a construct of sorts, a manufactured body with a will of its own. Like Catina said, it can’t actually speak, but can communicate empathetic feeling to whomever holds it.” Faustinia backs up from the weapon and turns to face the rest of the group before continuing. ”It is a powerful weapon, to be sure - magically enchanted and sharper than any mundane weapon of its kind could be. It can bestow upon its wielder strength in battle and make sure those who fall in battle die of their wounds. That said, whatever being’s will now lies within this glaive is a staunch servant of Asmodeus, and it will use its magic only in accordance with The Prince of Lies’ wishes unless wielded by someone who also worships The Dark Lord.” Faustinia places her fists on her hips and lets out a sigh. ”All in all, it would be a great boon to us if we could tame its, well, frankly evil impulses. It would be very difficult to trick it into thinking that we were aligned with its goals, but the conscious part of the weapon is merely an echo of whatever mind it used to belong to - it would be very difficult for this weapon to assert dominance over any of us.” Her explanation given, Faustinia shrugs. ”Use it if you wish, I suppose. Perhaps the evil mind within it can somehow be purged, or at least suppressed. It is quite valuable, in any case, and perhaps the temples of Iomedae or Shelyn would pay a bounty for it. For right this moment, let’s focus on getting cleaned up and our wounds closed.” Faustinia offers again the potions in her bag and finishes cleaning up the gore from the Irises’ valiant close quarters combatants. ---
There are a lot of good canonically queer fictional cats around, I guess!
I must disagree with you. It is possible for more than one thing to be wrong, and while i will keep my creative fantasies regarding what i would love to see happen to thieves to myself, I cannot see how capitalism, which is an incredibly flawed system to begin with, is at fault for someone else's criminal behavior, or absolves them of guilt. While I respect your disagreement, I think you misunderstand me. I don't mean to imply that capitalism absolves a thief or is always inherently responsible for the act of thievery (although it can be - the bread thief often steals out of need, not malice). It sounds like we can agree that stealing and the exploitative failings of capitalism are both wrong. But there are two things I think we really ought to think about, especially in a marginalised community: 1. We should aim for restorative justice rather than criminal punishment. If my belongings are stolen, but then returned, I'm good, that's square. Death, torture, imprisonment (which in America also means slavery), etc., are wildly disproportionate to the crime, not to mention a huge resource investment that doesn't improve my community. 2. We need to be wary of the separation between legality and morality. It's a federal crime to steal personal property, but corporations and government forces commit all sorts of thievery under different names without legal repercussions. Both are shitty behaviors, totally! But capitalism legally excuses one and not the other.
Hey friends, quick reminder that the Community Guidelines discourage advocating violence against real people. It's against the guidelines because it's considered advocating for an illegal activity, but I'm bringing it up because it makes me uncomfortable to read about violent and/or incarceral retribution against petty thieves! John, I'm sorry that your account was targeted. That stinks, and I hope you can work things out with your bank to restore what was lost. Lean on us and the rest of your community for help! Treat this like an injury and reach out for some help as needed until the damage is repaired. But let's also remember that the reason this is so damaging is because of a system that will kill us for not having money. The folks who run the bank that your account is in are far bigger swindlers than a single petty thief or even a ring of credit card scammers. The bank is not on your side; hell, they'll legally steal money from you for having been stolen from if your account drops into the red. I'm not saying you can't be angry or upset. I would be, too, if that happened to me, and it's a bad place to be in. But if we're going to advocate violence, let's please direct it towards the dismantling of the biggest scam, i.e. capitalism. We don't need to enact punishment on petty thieves - our justice system already does that while not criminalizing large scale hauls like wage theft. We don't need vigilante justice, we need some perfectly legal executions of the folks in power who would see us die for daring to be poor.
So... I have an appointment next week to go to the doctor's for a check up, since I haven't been for one in a while and I haven't gone since I got my new insurance through work. I'm also going to be talking about potentially starting HRT (with a doctor who comes well-recommended as someone who specializes in caring for trans folks). It's exciting but I'm also a little nervous. Like... what do I wear? Casual-femme chic? Should I go for the good eyeliner? Idk.
May I interject to say that the oft-heated rhetoric around grammar arguments suggests that perhaps something more than grammar is being argued about? Nay, thou art a villain for e'en suggesting such a thing. Ere now, grammar has been unassailable and fixèd. The way we speak (especially regarding pronouns, as I'm sure thou art aware) has ne'er shifted even as our cultures have changed.
Boy, do I have some news for
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