Immless eyes are growing brighter, and a keen eye will notice that his colouration in general is getting very slightly more vivid as he wakes up. His large eyes turn up from the small leatherbound tome he is jotting notes in, immediately fixing on the bump on his cousins head
"Are the women around here are rougher than I thought, or did you start a brawl last night? Either way, that's the last time I go to bed that early; I feel like I've been asleep for a month!"
The small creature stands up gently, careful not to spill any of the vials that are clustered on the table in a small box. you'd swear there was only tea in them a minute ago, but now they're frothing in a distinctly un-tealike way...
Immless walks down from his room a little after Kazgrym, and takes a seat a little ways away as the dwarf gets his tea. The normally excitable Gnome is still subdued, having not woken up yet. Still, he goes about a mindless routine: snooping about for breakfast, arranging his collection of oddities in just the right way, and jotting notes as he ponders how to turn his morning tea into an explosive.
Quickly rubbing his hand after being released from the handshake, Imless calls over to Brogimchiagle and introduces him to Morthos and to Elodie.
He follows the others into the bar and sits down with a mug of ale; listening to the tales of far away and the story of what just happened, amused and intrigued to find himself in a story. "I like this feeling. And these people..." he thinks sleepily, then manages to drag himself and his pack to one of the rooms and collapses as soon as his head hits the pillow.
"E...ummm... Elodie! it's Elodie!" His cousin forgotten, Immless walks up to the half-elf and her cat, confirming his suspicion with a more through investigation
"You got really tall." He says, and is about to say more, but he gets distracted by the dwarf.
"I'm Immless" he says, sticking a hand out to Morthos. "You're quite the goblin squasher."
Immless listens intently to the count, all the while absorbing the people all around him; fierce killers, all of them. the Gnome spends a minute wandering around each of them, inspecting their faces, weapons and armour; he's particularly impressed with the huge axe and hammer, each of them larger then he is.
As the warriors become acquainted, Immless looks over and as he realizes that he recognises the half-elf and her fearsome companion, a beautiful, cool feeling washes over him and he spins around in surprise. The astonished gnome watches a small cut on his hand, caused by the snap of the crossbow string, closes, leaving nary a scar. He turns to his cousin
The party seems to be moving on, and Immless decides to follow this strange group of extremely interesting people. He round the corner with the rest of them, cross bow still not re-strung but having swtiched to his whip while he walked over.
The closest goblin to him ends up being the same one that Brogimchiagle is attacking, and the two gnomes miss in unison.
Success!
"Bwahahaha! Brochim, are you ok?!" The words are probably lost between the heat of battle and the noise of the wagon burning but the mad, joyful gnome is waving and shouting them anyway as the scent of goblin-fire wafts its way across to mingle with the other smells about the area. The dwarves seems to be up to something but after a few quick notes on the battle in a tattered and inkstained book, the gnome is back to inspecting his entangled feet, staring at awe in the rest of this fighting group, and casting about for anything more interesting.
DM:
If there are any villagers in the immediate area that need to be stabilized, Immless will try and spot then stabilize them. If there aren't any in perception range, he doesn't have the attention span to try and look for them.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18 Perception
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9 Heal
So if there is anyone, I probably see them but don't stabilize this round.
Out of Game: Forgot to update Align a little while ago. When we started I shifted concepts, and have updated Align to CN to suit. hope that's ok.
The rush of battle is subsiding quickly into anger and frustration at the last few moments. Starting to get angry, he throws the broken bow to the ground and picks up another bomb. "This is what happens when I try to not light everthing on fire...
Immless simply picks a target away from anything living and throws a bomb at it.
Immless looks down in surprise as the vines trip him up, and watches his bolt fly off and stick into a hut roof. He quickly reloads and fires at the goblin again, before returning to the much more interesting inspection of the magically grown vines.
Last in round. If there are no targets out of melee, then ready an action for when there is one.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4 1d6 ⇒ 6
Too busy watching the glorious blaze to care too much about the battle, Immless simply waits at the edge of battle for any goblin stupid enough to try to run.
Action: ready attack for the first enemy target to leave melee.
init:delayed to end of round last round.
The smell of burning goblin is thick in Immless' throat, the stench of it almost drowning him. Palms sweaty and hands shaking with the adrenaline of his first real battle, he freezes for a moment and simply watches as this group of strangers springs into action. His mind is surprisingly lucid, gathering information and tucking it into compartments for later reflection. There doesn't seem to be much to do but give some cover, and he reaches for his crossbow and loads it while he has a moment.
The small bolt is in the slot and time is still running slowly for Immless when he hears Elodie's shout; he looks up and sees the pile of fuel, and the torch bearing goblin running towards it. "ohh, that's gonna be big." He tries to load his crossbow faster, hands slipping and getting it all wrong. "c'mon, c'mon..."
Somewhere in his ticking clock of a mind, a calm and almost dreamy voice is reminding him that there isn't a damn thing he can do that that cat and his cousin aren't already doing; there's no way to bring his crossbow to bear in time, and he simply isn't a good enough shot.
Besides, if they should fail? "what a bang."
First delaying to the end of the round. Then full round to retrieve x-bow and load it. Keeping watch for any more problems.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24 Perception.
The simplest way to do it would be to roll initiative for the two groups (goblins vs. PC's) and then whoever posts first goes first. Individual rolls could be left for when there is a surprise round.
Immless looks at the seared goblin getting ready to charge him.
"Dammit! have to remember to get a blade I can carry. Hope this works..." The gnome mixes another vial, then breathes and takes his time before throwing.
Unless we have a battlemap of some kind, we have to freeform it somewhat. It takes far too long to post "am i within 5' of a monster?", or "can I manage to light this group of children on fire without getting soot all over my new boots?" and wait for an answer.
As long as the game is flowing nicely and no one feels like they're getting their toes stepped on (it is lame to blow a feat on quick draw when everyone else just assumes they have it) then run with what we're doing now.
Immless stares incredulously at the incompetence of the goblins. Seeing one immolate itself, he thinks "Anytime is a good time for fire!" and, grabbing another small vial from his sash, he shakes it up and tosses it at the nearest goblin with no one around it.
rolls:
attack with Bomb (touch attack)
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7 fire damage
1d8 ⇒ 7
If the bomb misses, then it lands just behind the gobbo, dealing 4 damage (reflex 13 for half).
The shadows are growing long when Immless wakes up from a nap under a tree, sleeping off too much food and beer. The cool evening wind is refreshing, and he wakes up quickly, eagerly jumping up to find something, anything that he hasn't seen yet in this town. The small gnome is contemplating where to go when he remembers that he hasn't yet seen Pillbug, and so he hefts his pack up and starts off in that direction.
By chance, Immless is only a street away when he hears the speech beginning. He wanders over, and listens to the story - it's one that he's heard before in this town, but the idea of turning into a butterfly has always fascinated him. When the Cleric raises the small stone, the gnome covers his ears, waiting for the the boom that he knows is coming.
The screams, however, are unexpected. Quickly tossing his backpack into a corner, the gnome looks down and realises that he isn't wearing his armour! reaching to his sash, he grabs two small vials, and dumps them into his mouth, feeling the hiss of the alchemical reaction a split second before the air around his body starts to buzz.
ooc:
Knowledge Alchemy to identify a thunderstone1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28 perception:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25 initiative:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17 Surprise round action: Drinks shield infusion
- changed my portrait, thought it was better to get the playful thing across then to show the doctors mask. Wish they would get a male gnome in there somewhere though ><
"... and another thing! How come there are never any short tables in these places?! It's like they think we don't like beer!"
Immless was still sitting with his cousin when the speech started. Stomach growling and head starting to spin, the tottering gnome gathers up his belongings and grabs Brogimchiagle, heading for the white deer, thoughts of venison dancing in his addled brain.
Out on the busy street, Immless manages to control himself enough to act normally, winding through the crowd towards the White Deer. Still nattering away to his cousin, without checking to see if he's following.
"I'm just back for the festival, but I lived here for awhile, and did my first apprenticeship with the Apothecary in town - how did you get here?" Immless Doesn't really wait for an answer, pushing Brogimchiagle into the tent with the two Knights, all the while inspecting the other Gnomes quipment, feeling the various furs and wondering where they came from, and why one was spotted, and one smelled of ashes.
The small adventureres plunk themselves down in any seats available (all the better if there is a table or two for small folk ) and Immless slides a few coin over for some beer and looks about to see if there is a pot of stew, or if they will have to move after the round. He looks about the room, suddenly interested in his surroundings, all the while peppering the more stoic barbarian with questions."When did you leave Sanos? How did you make it to the plateau? have you been to Caer Maga, it's amazing! Where did that fur come from? Do you think this tent is pretty fire-proof? Any idea what happened to Uncle Rickeltiat?" ... Immless is starting to get red in the face by the time the beer comes, and starts merrily drinking without pause.
fort1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 to stave off drunkenness, if the beer comes in human pints.
Varisians, festivals, and apothecaries all are forgotten in a moment. Brogimchiagle! how did he get here? oh, who cares, how can I prank him good? Imless then remembers something about pranking Brogimchiagle, and how it tended to lead to a beating. hmm... on second thought...
It's not easy to get through the crowd with the pack on his back, but somehow, Immless makes up behind the other gnome, [stealth=13] and immediately claps an arm around him "Brogimchiagle! How ever did you make it here! Come and have a drink with me!" And starts pushing him in the direction of whichever of those tents looks more likely to serve cheap beer in pints.
Immless looks around himself, tasting the air and absorbing everything. "It's a good fair, the town has really outdone itself on this one"
He watches the Varisians dance for awhile, trying to guess how old the woman is and counting her forehead wrinkles.
After standing for a bit, Immless' pack starts to get heavy, and he starts looking to see if Pillbug has a stall at the festival.
