Ingle Farwen's page

Though perhaps he was mildly annoyed at the vanishing of the kobold - and secretly amused, he had to admit - Ingle managed to push it aside in favor of other thoughts. I thought had been forming in his mind for some time now, and he was beginning to get a hold of it. Once camp had been set, he moved to the edge of the firelight, finding a clear space where he could be alone. There he seemed to be absently toying with an empty vial: rolling it across his fingers, tossing in gently in his hand with varying spins, balancing it upon a finger tip before beginning again. Indeed, the dexterity of his fingers belied the gangley appearance that he otherwise portrayed.

As time passed he began to pace distractedly, grinning oddly. I think I may just have it... Perhaps... He stopped his pacing and regarded his companions for a moment and weighed the consequences if he were wrong. If I can control the splash, how much more effective will this be? Immensely, no doubt. But it's all theory at the moment. If I'm wrong... Heh. Preposterous... He pushed the thought away with little effort.

Looking out at the woods, the thought of the fey crept back into his mind. He looked at the vial in his hand, frowning. Then, an idea occuring to him, he reached into his belt pouch and retrieved two tindertwigs. Stepping outside the circle of light, he found a flat stone and laid the gifts out neatly side by side. "It isn't much," he said softly to the surrounding darkness. "But I found your little joke most amusing, so some recompense is in order, I believe." Then, as an afterthought he added, "Do be careful. You won't want to burn the forest down, I'm sure. And if you do burn it down, my name does NOT come up." He gazed sternly at the woods for a moment.

With a final flip of the empty vial, he deftly returned it to it's place and joined the others at the fire. To Rorgrym he said, "It's likely that they intended less to aid our enemies, and more to only toy with us. Amusement is likely difficult to come by out here," he looked about at the dark woods, "with nary a creature comfort to be found for leagues in any direction."

I'll be going with option D. I'm taking precise bombs as my first discovery so I can throw into a crowd with a little bit of control. It will also give me Poison use and poison resistance +2.

Kragath at first seems insulted by the Alchemist's remark, but then offers up an uncomfortable retort. "Indeed, Lord Duck. Perhaps later you would be willing to give me some sparring lessons?"

Without looking up from his pack, Ingle replies, "My technique is simple, good fellow. Stay in the rear." Removing several small containers from his pack, he wishes momentarily that there was a table at hand, then sits upon the grass and begins consulting the leather bound book he carries with him.

Having given up hope of finding anything to drink on the slain kobolds, Ingle returns his attention to the conversation, looking somewhat desultory.

Did I find anything else of use to us while looking for brandy? I realize I probably wasn't particularly clear that I was searching the kobolds. My apologies.

"Sadly, I do believe we should see this through to the end. Simply filling our map full of 'Don't go here' or 'Danger, avoid this area' markings would likely not serve to elevate our reputations. But if we do intend to seek out these villian's lair, I would ask for a short period to prepare another elixir." He pauses for a moment, glancing at Mr. Medvyed. "In the event that negotiations... deteriorate, if you take my meaning. Which I suppose you do."

Turning to Kragath, Ingle's face lightens with a smile. "Congratulations on remaining conscious, dear fellow. Bravo." He gives a little clap, and then removes his pack to begin preparing for the rest of the day.

Provided he's given the time, Ingle will perpare another True Strike in his unused extract slot. Also, sorry again for the slow posting lately. I've been very distracted by matters of the heart... :P

I also need to apologize for not posting as much as I'd like to lately. Work has been very busy and a few things of a personal nature are taking a lot of my time and energy right now.

"What were they yelling when we came up? Could anyone understand them?

Ingle looks up only long enough to say, "They were going on about 'spiceberries', from which I now gather they meant radishes. They seemed quite protective of them, considering they didn't even get the name correct." With that he returns to searching the area for a dropped bottle of brandy.

Ingle lets out a long sigh, seeing the last kobold fall. "Well, that was most exciting." And the paladin is still conscious. That's encouraging, he added to himself.

He moves among the brush, examining the burn patterns from his incendiaries, still intent on finding a way to control the splash. The more they encountered enemies, the more aware he became of the need to direct the damage only where he needed it. "I'm certain there is a way," he muttered, staring at the blackened grass. "A little back spin on the throw perhaps? A snap of the wrist, as they say. Hmmm...."

Experimenting with several odd looking wrist movements, he goes to join the others. Only as the cleric channels his deity's power does the half-elf even become aware that his head was bleeding. But it's Rorgrym's mention of drunkenness that really draws his attention.

"It would certainly be too much to ask that kobold's enjoyed a spot of brandy now and then, I suppose," he said, stooping to inspect the possessions of the nearest creatures.

Ingle, delighted at the effect of his first effort, feels the sting of the two bullets, mixed with the quickly receding rush of his extract. The blood trickling down his face fails at this point to garner his attention. "Bloody little hooligans," he calls out, shaking the sting from his hand, as he moves to find a clearer shot.

Drawing another of the small vials from his belt, he pushes the stopper in further, breaking the glass membrane inside, and allowing the catalysts to mix. "Bombs away," he calls out in Draconic as he tosses the grenade.

Move to W9. Bombing the dog-faced boy in X13

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21 Regular ranged attack + PBS. You can subtract for cover if needed

Damage: 1d6 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

Ingle feels the now familiar rush of the extract, his focus upon the battlefield sharpening. Just once I wish they would gather together in a group to discuss their plans, he thought as he moved to find a clear path to strike.

Moving to the south-east as he prepares the bomb, he comes to an open alley in the thicket. Now, aid Jonas or the paladin? Kragath seems to be doing better. I hope. With that, he heaves the small vial down the naturally occurring lane.

Moving to X6. I'm hoping that gives me a clear enough line on the two in front of Jonas. Aiming for the intersection of V8-U9. No direct hit, but hopefully not splashing Jonas this time.

1d20 + 3 + 1 + 20 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 3 + 1 + 20 - 2 = 27 vs. AC 5. Splash damage only: 6 each (5 normal, +1 point blank shot)

Ingle creeps along as quietly as possible, secretly sure that he will be the one to alert the creatures to their presence. He felt on odd sense of relief that it was instead Ser Jonas that gave them away.

The feeling passed almost immediately as he listened to their shouts. I've no idea what a 'spice berry' is, but they seem intent to protect them. Doing what he can to remain unseen, the alchemist removes the stopper on one of the vials he carries, downing the contents in one quick swallow. As he drinks he watches the group of kobolds, gauging distances and estimating the best placement for the grenade he has at hand. If they would group up.... Probably too much to ask for....

Drinking his True Strike extract for the surprise round.

What a sneaky bunch.... Are we sneaking while riding Harley's or something? lol

Ingle listens to the plan as he checks his supplies. "I'd like to get a bit more in range before we make ourselves known. If I can get within sixty feet or so I should be able to strike effectively enough, though I'm sure I lack the stealth of our little friend here."

He pulls two vials free of their bindings, giving them a quick look to ensure they are ready.

If no one objects to his moving closer, after Gathien sets out for his location, he'll try to move to U1 as stealthily as possible. Unless there isn't any cover there at all... He has his True Strike extract and a bomb at the ready. At the count of 49 he'll drink the True Strike, and then attack with the bomb. I'll wait for initiative before I do that though. But that's his general plan.

Stealth check, unless you roll those kind of checks for us:

No worries, Patcher.

"Do be careful," Ingle whispers to the halfling. "Remember, they're bigger than you. Though, now that I think about it..." He leaves his thought unfinished, grinning slightly.

One of the reason's I don't like to post in a hurry is that I almost always wish I'd done something different. If you don't object, Patcher, can I retcon Ingle's shout in that last post to being in Sylvan? If not, no worries. I was just re-reading and realized that that is what he would have done, had I been taking the time to think properly. :P

In response to the cold silence, Gathien whispers to Jonas, his tone light, "Perhaps they decided they didn't want to come out for fear Duckie would study them?"

Ingle snorts at the overheard comment. But, after a moment's consideration, he looks toward the woods, calling out, "Non-invasive, I assure you..." With no further response from the fey community, he continues to gather his things and tend to his horse as Jonas' had shown him.

As the evening goes on, Ingle retrieves a small book from his pack and begins writing. He seems to take special interest in Peregrine's description of the fey.

Short post from work. Ready to advance. Also, I just remembered that I volunteered to keep the campaign journal. Ingle's catching up on that now. I'll actually update that this weekend.

Nah, even Gathien's finding himself wanting to strangle Duckie less and less.

Oh, no, I'm fine with annoying Gathien. I was just talking about the others. ;)

And yes, Kragath, that's a good idea.

"We can roast those on the fire tonight. Well done, Duckie."

"Yes. Well." Ingle turns to retrieve his gear from Flash when he is distracted by Jonas' odd behavior. He gives the man a curious look, taking a step back and blinking several times. "I say," he says to himself.

Suddenly a look of understanding dawns upon his face. "Oh, jolly good," he chuckles, looking around at the surrounding woods.

Are you enjoying the campaign?

Definitely. There were a few parts where I wasn't sure what to do with Ingle, but that's to be expected. He's sort of an oddball in this group I think. His kind of seriousness is different from the other character's kind of seriousness, so fitting it in, without just being disruptive or annoying, is proving a little challenging. Hopefully no one is finding him too annoying though. (But he is intended to be a little annoying.)

Kn: Nature checks
1d20 + 11 ⇒ (4) + 11 = 15
1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26
1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

The clouds had finally broken, and despite the lingering dampness, this seemed to lighten Ingle's mood. As the day moved on, his clothing and gear drying out, he also noticed that the aches and pains of riding were lessening to a bearable level. And on top of all of that, he had somehow managed to not come down with the cold that seemed to be going around. By noon he almost seemed his usual self.

They found the river sometime after the noon meal. At least mildly pleased that they seemed to be making some progress, Ingle's satisfaction was soon tempered as he recalled the river's connection to the bandit camp. As Peregrine is interrupted by the splash of water, Ingle eyes the fish curiously. "Odd. Small fish. Big splash. I don't suppose you've gone and annoyed Rorgrym's god somehow?" he asked the diviner, playfully.

Later, as Jonas is stopped short by the crashing down of a rather large branch, the half-elfs suspicions are renewed and he begins watching the passing forrest with increased vigilance and a curiously hopeful look upon his face.

At days end, having found a suitable campsite, the alchemist dismounts - a move he still finds more akin to a controlled topple than the graceful motion that Jonas displays - the first acorn hits his shoulder. Looking ruefully at the halfling and about to say something pithy, he is interrupted by another, and another, and finally a hail of the small hard nuts. Waving his arms ineffectually to ward off the small projectiles, Ingle stands amidst the acorns looking up at the trees overhead.

"Are you quite finished?" he calls out, apparently to the trees around them. Brushing the dust from his shoulders he says to the halfling, "You may want to mark down 'fey' on your map in this general area. It's quite exciting, don't you think?" And the alchemist does, in fact, seem quite thrilled. "I wonder if we could capture one... It would make a most fascinating study."

So, based on the current plan, it's SW -> E -> E -> NE -> Olag's, I believe.

I'll back this plan.

To add to the stiffness of learning to ride and the constant dampness or worse, Ingle had a days worth of being slapped in the face and scratched by low-lying branches to add to his dispiritedness. Climbing from his mount, he walked in small circles around the clearing for a few minutes, hoping to relieve some of the cricks and kinks that had settled into his joints. The prospect of a night without fire pushed him over the edge.

"Nonsense," he said, looking into the darkening woods for some fallen limbs and the like. "We'll have a bloody fire if I have to burn the whole forest down in the process," he said, as much to himself as anyone, and obviously agitated. With that, he began to gather what wood he could, trying to choose drier pieces if any existed in this miserable wet wood.

I'll have to think for a bit as to whether he's reached a point of discomfiture that he's resort to using alchemist's fire to get a fire going. I'm assuming that would work.?

Fort save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18

In character I've kind of set a precedent for staying out of these decisions. Seemed like it would make things easier, actually. And now we have a tie. :P

Anyway, I'm fine with letting Kragath have the final say, if someone needs to be chosen for that. IC'ly he's kind of stepped into that role, IMO. I think if anyone disagrees with his choice strongly, they can work that out ic'ly. But I'd rather not get stuck in a mode where it takes 2 or 3 real days just to move one hex.

Ingle rose that morning to the sound of rain beating against the pavilion. With a groan, he pulled himself from sleep. He went about his morning preperations, pouring the unused extract from the day before out on the sodden ground with a shake of his head. "I cannot believe I'm looking back with longing on that night in Oleg's barn," he said to the group dismally.

Having re-prepared his extract for the day and eating listlessly, he packed his things up and listened in on the discussion. He really had no desire to comment on the choices. They were equally miserable as far as he was concerned. Best to let them work it out, he thought as he stared through the tent flap at the downpour. At least my legs and back feel a bit better.

Preparing same extract as last time, keeping one spot open.

A friend of mine is moving to Indy in a couple of weeks. So now that I'll have a place to stay down there - maybe next year. :)

"Jolly good idea," Ingle says, his aches momentarily forgotten as he scrambles onto his mount. "Might I suggest angling our route past the bear carcass. He wants food, and maybe that will be enough to sate his appetite."

Keeping an eye on the beast, Ingle leans forward in the saddle and speaks lowly to the horse. "I've decided on a name for you. Flash. Now live up to that name, if you please." Having, so far, not ridden any faster than a canter, Ingle does everything he can to hold on as he joins the retreat.

"A good idea," Ingle says as he packs up his kit, having finished his morning preparations. "It will give our warriors more time to heal as well. Though this miserable weather is not particularly conducive to recuperation." He casts a dismal glance at the grey skies and then helps himself to a bit of the roasted meat. As Jonas had predicted, the half-elf ached in places he had never ached before. He cast a baleful look at the horses and sighed.

Preparing another True Strike extract, keeping one slot open. Also refilling bomb slots.

Slicing a strip of meat from the bear's flank, Ingle pauses at Rorgrym and Peregrine's exchange. Wiping blood from his finger he rises. "Perhaps I can be of help there as well," he says, pulling to vials of light blue liquid from his belt. "A little bit of the gods in a bottle."

Handing one each to the paladin and the barbarian, he nods toward them. "These will heal your wounds and return a bit of vigor. But, out here, I have limited resources for replacing them. They are fast acting however, so I'd advice that you, perhaps, hold them until you need them. Or until time or the dwarf's god attend your needs instead."

Potions of CLW, 1d8+1

I'm also good with moving on to day 2 whenever the others are.

Ingle can "aid another" on the check, if it helps.

As the others discuss slaughtering the bear and moving camp, Ingle studies the burn patterns from his explosives. There must be a way to control the spread and still achieve the same detonation... Or a greater detonation, even. May as well dream big, dear fellow. May as well..."

Rising with a tuft of burned grass, he waves it beneath his nose, a cockeyed smile lighting his face for a moment. "Hmmm."

Tossing the scorched grass aside, he says to the halfling, "I'd be happy to assist you with that, little fellow. It can't be very much different than cleaning a fish - a task for which I have some familiarity. A very large, furry fish... " He pauses for a moment, aware that it's probably nothing like a fish at all. "Oh, and that was a respectable blow you struck there at the end. Impressive. Majestic, even. All things considered."

On an unrelated note, how do you feel about taking the Rapid Reload feat and applying it to slings? I'm not sure if I'd want to go this route, but knowing that will help me decide. The blowgun will work for what I need, but I like the range that a sling provides.

I feel grateful too, for having found such great people and players to write and tell a story with. So I wish to thank you all.

The feeling's mutual, Patcher.

And don't worry about making me uncomfortable. If you knew some of the clowns I hang around with, you'd know I've grown fairly immune to the feeling. :P

Ingle stands swinging his loaded sling in lazy loops for several moments as he stares at the bear. Is it dead? Finally, deciding that it must be either dead or incredibly clever, he stops the sling's motion and shifts his attention to his companions.

The dwarf seems to have the worst of it under control, he notices with relief. Turning to Jonas, the alchemist offers a reconciliatory and somewhat pained look. "Are you quite alright, good sir? I don't know what I was thinking... there was a bear... quite close, really. It puts a fellow out of sorts a fare bit, I must say." Ingle realized that the man's horse was also caught in the blast and that Jonas probably cared more about that than he would the damage he himself had received. He moves to approach the animal, cautiously. "It really all happened with alarming speed. How does one apologize to a horse, I wonder?"

"Sorry," the half-elf calls out in Jonas' direction, his gaze still locked on the hulking bear. I simply must find a way to control the collateral damage with those things. Useless in close combat otherwise, he thinks as he pulls his sling free of his belt.

Sparing the weapon the briefest of glances, he retrieves a bullet from the pouch at his hip and shakes his head. "Ridiculous, really," he mutters, loading the weapon.

Move action to draw a weapon. Move action to load a sling. Free action to feel like an idiot attacking a grizzly with a marble. ;P

Eek, it's looking a little grim. X_X

Well, at least Kragath isn't grappled anymore.......

And again, Sorry 'bout that Jonas and Mealstrom.

Sigh,

I forgot that bombs target touch AC, so maybe I didn't miss?

In case that's true...

1d6 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

Sorry, Patcher.

I was trying to think of another Elton John song to pervert, but then I realized we should probably knock that off before the cool kids beat us up. ;)

Kragath Lightbringer wrote:

Hold me closer tiny...beeaaaaaar.

Elton Lightbringer? Is that you? ;)

Nice :)

That was quite an explosion for such a little jar Master Farwen.

"Just a trifle, really," Ingle says, looking pleased with himself.

This only lasts for a moment before things go from bad to worse. It seems like a blur to the alchemist before the great beast is in their midst. "Don't let it-" he begins to shout, as the bear wraps Kragath in it's paws. "-grab you," he concludes softly, as he steps to the left and draws another vial from his belt. It takes him no time to realize that he needs to be exceedingly careful now. A little luck please, he thinks as he heaves the vial.

Five foot step to E8. Bomb directed at D5, trying to avoid splash damage on allies.

1d20 + 3 - 4 ⇒ (14) + 3 - 4 = 13 (-4 for throwing into combat)
Oops... Miss direction: 1d8 ⇒ 5 splash damage is 5
Sorry to anyone that may have hit.

Ingle visibly cringes, realizing he's let the intensity of the situation get the better of him.

Can you edit a post without affecting dice rolls, because that would be really handy.

You can also hit the "preview" button to see what your roll is going to be, fyi.

Reckon with splash weapons, the splash only goes to 8 squares - and for balance reasons, you don't hurt the bear with splash damage as well. Otherwise, it would be too strong, I'd say.

Sounds good to me.

Just imagine they're covered and shaking it off like a wet dog? :)

lol

I'm a little confused on the splash part of splash weapons. The rules definitely say creatures within 5 feet of the target take splash damage. But it seems odd that if I hit a Medium creature with a bomb I hit 8 squares with splash damage, but if I hit a Colossal creature, I hit 28 squares with splash. Kinda need to suspend disbelief on that one.

Whether consciously or not, Ingle moves with the Paladin, as if trying to keep the warrior between himself and the bear. Fiddling with another vial as he moves, his fingers seeming to know the routine themselves, he watches the bear's movement carefully. Confident that he has gauged the distance correctly, he let's the vial fly, grunting.

Move around behind Jonas to D8.
Bomb: 1d20 + 3 + 20 - 4 ⇒ (16) + 3 + 20 - 4 = 35 (added True Strike and range penalty) aiming at D-2 if it matters.
Damage: 1d6 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 Fire damage. Does a large creature also suffer the splash damage? If so, and additional 5 damage in each surrounding square - DC14 reflex for half on the splash.

I say absolutely let's give it a try. It looks to be perfectly tailored to the slower pace of a pbp where it can takes several weeks to level up (if not months).

Actually, I think the sling may be effective. I just need you guys to distract it for 70 or 80 rounds.

Climbing down from his mount (a move the half-elf still needs to work on), Ingle arches his back to work out the stiffness settling in there and lets his pack slide to the ground. About to offer a small discourse on the advantages of properly outfitted carriages, he's cut short by a rather disturbing sound from the forrest.

His hand goes instinctively to his belt, and he watches wide-eyed as the huge beast lumbers from the cover of the trees. "Anyone want to take him prisoner?" he asks the group, sardonically, as he pulls one of the vials from his belt.

Taking only a moment to judge the distance, he quickly downs the vials contents and moves hesitantly closer.

True Strike potion, and moving to F10. He wants to keep the fighters between him and the bear, but cut the range penalty with a bomb a bit for his next round in case the bear doesn't come far enough forward.

Edit: Oh, and Know:Nature check to see what I know of Bears.
1d20 + 11 ⇒ (19) + 11 = 30

I hope I don't "know" that bears can move 80 feet and hate alchemists....

Yay. Now I'll get a chance to see how well this sling works.... lol

Overhearing the decision to turn back, Ingle sighs. "Retreating already," he says to the halfling riding nearby. But, without further adieu, he clumsily turns his mount around to face the direction they had come from, slowing the horse to allow Kargath and Jonas to retake the lead.