Updated Background, Plot Hook and Concept in the Alias.
Good luck to us all.
Search Posts
I hear that, Giz. *nods* No stat too good for a bard, really. None at all.
@ FNord, No problem about fey foundling. I have dropped it in my proposed fluff, and I will get to rolling the other missed stat.
please allow me to think on the plot hook a while. Obviously I will be replacing one of those 12s with the 11. Azure, please stop doing the GMs job. I read his message before. It really irritates me when you correct other players when you have not been asked to do so.
This is my Kari. She's was in a game that died before we met any bandits, but she was a lot of fun. The skinny:
Human bard, concerned with the social setting of the kingdom, but not from a FACE vantage point, more with having the information, and seeing how it is given out. She's been screwed over because perceptions are false, and well, just in general. Background has changed slightly. Kari has been with brigands for years, not quite adventuring, learning the value of morale on a hands on level. Mechanics: I originally took Fey Foundling with Kari (inner sea guide) to try to tie her into the fey aspect, but can easily ditch it. For traits I would switch up and change out Issian with Brigand to represent more time with bandits, and likely poverty stricken to have survival available to a character that has been foraging for years. Here's hoping for some decent rolls so I can make Kari more stealthy than she is presented in the alias... My vision for her has changed significantly from 15pt buy, etc... the dice:
= 18
replacing the 7 with oh my goodness. I have the makings of a MAD with a Bard. What hath the dice roller wrought? Believe you me, prospective GM, I build for flavor before an incredibly optimized DPR thing... Brief Crunch: Str 12
Traits: Brigand, Poverty Stricken
I believe that was intentional... to drive us to become bandits ourselves!! Or rely on Kari's perform checks to earn silvers per day from... Oleg and his wife. *sigh* Although I think perform checks are based on a metropolitan area, and not on the one place where traders gather...
Kari sighs loudly and as she tilts her head to the side rolls her eyes dramatically. "Aye, Kari Cat's Heat it shall be, Goodwife," she agrees and nods tenuously. "Jus' as well the men folk be hid 'fore them villains come to bear, else I am ne'er like to live down the shame..." Kari will wander about the catwalk in the evening, checking upon the condition of the catapults with Kn. Engineering and generally amusing herself with vandalism of fantastic butterflies, dragons, and rainbows for Craft (Caligraphy) . She volunteers to sleep in the stable if no one else will have her, having the ability to wash herself down thoroughly with magic in the morning.
Kari's got a gold. Yeah. She's not a sorc who can get away with buying nothing. :(
Got family in the hospital right now. I might be a bit slow posting.
"Goodwife, if ye believe strong that thine vows can survive a bit o' theatre, I woul' have it distract 'fore my magics," Kari says to Svetlana. "An' for ye safety, like. I thought we would make it appear as if yon Goodman eye were strayed til mine freshly ripened buds, and set ye to fury within," she looks to their house. Kari smiles and has the presence of mind to flush and look embarrassed. "It has in mine experience been, Goodwife, that if a man sees that a firm hand has broke a philly, he will covet for himself."
Only thing I would add to that is some embellishments with Svetlana. Because fascinate is a will save DC and Kari's built for support. She would try for a mundane distraction first. If these guys haven't seen a girl in a while, see, she could pull her bodice down somewhat and appear kinda slutty. To me this appears a more organic and viable solution for a distraction. Fascinate is good, but it breaks as soon as someone engages in combat, and then they'll know that the girly tried to 'spell em and be looking at me.
Mage armor lasts an hour, so it won't be that hard to get off before combat. Not sure about reduce person, is that minutes or rounds? Being prone in the back of the wagon would give you +4 to AC, but require you move before shooting. If there's any goombas near, yeah, you'd draw AoOs, but that is assuming that they are coming in armed for boar. Do we really know that these guys come in with bow or whatever drawn, ready to fire down, or is the presence of the weapons on their person enough to scare Oleg and Svetlana? A good question to ask in character...
okay, here's my thought. A lone, obviously non combatant girl is not going to miff these bandits too much. Here is what I am thinking for strategy: Since we know when these guys are due to arrive, we can have Oleg and Svetlana prepare the "tribute" ahead of time, say in a large pile near the little storeroom at A4, leaving that cart as it currently is to sort of funnel the baddies in and give them less of an opportunity to leave. So they come in, see Kari strumming away in some state of undress, maybe hearing Svetlana squealing about Oleg's wandering eye inside the house, lending to the illusion that there is trouble at home and that our dear Kari Catsheat is the agent of chaos that has inspired it. These thugs are beckoned closer by her song, at which point ya'll, hanging behind the doors, shove them closed, and Ratimir or... whomever is more effective in combat specifically targets the robbed dude. Right now we can assume that these guys are cowards, so if we cripple their leadership pretty quick and offer them no alternative they might be persuaded to stand down without prolonging hostilities. Or, you know, Kari could pull the crazy illusion effect and scare the crud out of them. And don't worry too much about her being in the thick of combat. She has Vanish, so if it appears as though bad things will happen, she'll pull that and quickly duck out of the way.
"May like, but known ev'n a daft bard to stray where their neck might break to peddle for copper?" Kari inquires. "Our reputation for seeking the creature comforts of life is well deserved," Kari purrs and smiles. "An," she says and discontinues strumming for a moment. "I dinnae say I woul' nae provide the distraction," she clarifies, "just wished it known who also be in the midst of arrows, bullets and magic." Kari turns her head to look to Svetlana. "If ye will excuse me, sers, I believe I shall 'ave some words with the Goodwife," she says and rises, then offers a bow before she approaches Svetlana. Svetlana: "Beggin' ye pardon, Goodwife, as the subject clearly upsets ye, but... fra the sake of thy mates, I must know. What were the words Kressle's hounds used when they looked upon ye with hunger in thine eyes?""
"I, hypnotize bandits with my beauty?" Kari deliberately misinterprets. "What ever do you mean, ser?" she teases and grins. "Save for the threat of physical harm to mahself, I cannae see the effort bein' a failure," she says. "Let it be known, that if thee intend to engage, with arm or spell, the spell be broken."
"Nay," Kari says, for a moment wearing an exaggerated frown and expression of consternation, before grinning like a fool, "but you cannae say that I have not the way of motivatin'," she looks about them for the location of Goodman Oleg and his lady wife before she makes a few simple hand gestures and transforms into a hideous chimera with cat's eyes, a raven's beak and snakes for hair. Spellcraft DC 15:
Kari cast Haunted Fey Aspect she bellows.
Then the illusion fades and she giggles, and returns to strumming her lute. "Weren't much cause for speedin' the drunks ta their beds," she apologizes, "but I will think upon it."
"Aye, and seems we 'ave discovered who it is wit' talent ta repeat truths we all hold," Kari purrs and smiles broadly at Sirian's expense concerning his strange behavior. Her fingers did not slow, nor her song as she appears to drop into thought once more, rocking forward and whispering in her flower language. "A question." she says after a moment. "If we know this Kressle to be a horrible manish beast what rule by fear, how we know that these bandits nae be victims, themselves?" Kari's amber eyes bore holes into Osmond, and Sirian's. "Are we resigned to do murder toward them?"
"Do I?" Kari inquires and begins strumming her lute. Her fingers work over the frets with impossible speed and the melody is quite alien to human ears. She scarcely pauses and continues with her train of thought, as though simply adding lyrics to the song. "I believe it can be agreed, Osmond, that our perception of bandits is like to be incongruous for a time, yet. I see men, and silly as men can appear to be, they might also be cunning and skilled at their craft. "Now then," Kari continues and looks to the gates. "We know which way the doors open, but do we know that they will close? Will it take the strength of one man, or woman, or two? It is clear that none of these scoundrels should escape to warn this Kressle about our retaliation..."
Kari pulls her lute into her lap and begins moving her fingers rapidly over the frets, but the only sound is the whisper of the strings beneath her fingertips as they move. Her mouth moves silently, not even Osmond would hear a whisper if the spell was in effect. "Cannae be over confident," she says, her amber eyes apparently fixed on a point beyond the party. "Yon Goodwife spoke of this hooded character using a bow. Why..." she trails and plays at strumming the lute, glancing down to look at how her fingers were composed on the frets. When she speaks again, her voice has regained its adult qualities once more. "Why would he willingly give the advantage of threatening at range, unless..." her eyes narrow, "perhaps he is just as fair a shot in close quarters?" she suggests and shakes her head. "And who is ta say they be ignorant of us?" she inquires further. "I nae be an expert on the ways o' the wilds, but it is nae very difficult to tell the track of wagon from man. Or Dimitri's. The lady say they camp a day away. Say they send scout ahead to ensure the Goodman complies same as last month, why... they may already know we are here!"
Yeah, that's just her playing a dumb country hick. The accent tends to disappear when she's actually passionate about something, like when she snarled at Lebeda, but Oleg rubbed her the wrong way. It'll go away soon. I think. :P
"Five cowardly thugs with one sadistic b*tch of an excuse not to reveal a thing," Kari replies to Ratimir's line of thought after a pensive expression. She waves... vaguely in the direction of the Goodman and his wife. "You cannae say the Goodman and his wife dinnae know what they purchased here," she continues and looks to the fort and its shabby state. "It is plain even to mine eyes! "They be a'frighted after but one meetin' with tha beastly Kressle. These lads of hers," Kari frowns and shakes her head. "Ain't no merry band, yeah? Not companions like us. Nor like to have much in terms of morale, morals, er brains," she concludes and casts her eyes down. "Five broke men, like," she says softly, and looks to Osmond. "You squared with the like, Sir?"
Kari has been small most of her life, small and different. She knows Oleg's eyes and his derision well. Heat climbs to her face when he suggests that he expected something more. More than a beautiful priest and a scarred knight to defend his dump in the midst of bandit infested lands? What manner of business model was he defending here? Kari's fingers move to the fangs and teeth worked into her hair, fearsome foes her inspiration had assisted her mate to fell in spectacular fashion. She can almost feel their meat in her belly, warming her, and as her fingertips brush the charm Duma had made of his hair in hers she calms. Oleg has removed himself while she has done so, and just as well. Kari can find no kind words for him, none at all. "Women can be cruel," Kari says to Svetlana. There is none of her usual childlike play in her voice. It is apparent the meeting has affected her. "Almost as cruel than men in their ignorance," she continues, her eyes darting to Oleg at the wagon. "Like as not, she say such faire to upset yon Goodman, keep his rage and despair peaked," Kari evaluates, "and his arms at his sides in fear for ye. Compliant..." Kari looks to her party and frowns. "I know this fear well," she says. "We can spend just as long assuring the Goodman and his wife of their security when we have dealt with the current threat. Osmond," she looks to the scarred knight. "What make ye of our advantages?"
Eh, mostly the "i'm here to bring order" thing sorta irked her at the moment since she is a fairly big agent of chaos. Its more of a visceral reaction to the implication that she'll be forced to act a certain way to belong. Again, because our characters don't really know each other yet. She just has gut reactions to "order" thinking it's all mighty.
Sirian, don't read too much into Kari's hurt burt. She's not built to be a face. She's built to be a skulky operative. But we gotta have the adjustment period.
Kari shrinks at Sirian's words, gripping the hem of her tunic as though she were caught with her buds evident at a festival honoring Erastil. The dew upon Kari's face feels heavy now, as though some cruel laundress had tossed the contents of her wash water at Kari Catsheat she loped down the street. Perhaps, though, brother man does not recognize the effect his words had upon his fellows? Kari muses. It would be... unreasonable for someone to break camp with her for six nights and not have garnered at least as much as if Kari had little discipline, that she tried to restrain herself from affecting the party negatively. Kari puts Dimitri between herself and the priest, and rubs the horse's flank with burgeoning affection. She learned better than to stand directly behind the beast several days ago, and though her nature dictates that she embrace her magics to comfort herself after Sirian's thorough dousing, having neither asked or received permission in kind to attend the animal, Kari manipulates the feathers dangling from her hair.
Kari's eyes widen at the suggestion that she has taken Osmond to her bed. The man were elder enough to be her sire at least twice over! "The knight i' nae mate of mine," she calls up to the carpenter. "If ye'll nae believe it fra mine mouth, hav't from our celibate brother yon!" she says and hooks a thumb over her shoulder in the general direction of the wagon.
Kari seems a far different creature in the wilds than she was in Restov. In the evenings, she plucks upon her lute, slender and quick fingers moving impossibly fast. The only noise that emits from her in these sessions is the occasional whisper in her flower language, as if in response to... something, as she muffles the strings of her lute with a piece of cloth to reduce incidences of attracting hostiles upon the camp. At Sirian's words, Kari blinks several times, for a brief moment, or perhaps it were a trick of the light, the pupils of her eyes appear slitted like a cat's. She hums in her flower language and makes several subdued gestures in Sirian's direction which remove stains, scents and wrinkles from his kit, and invoke a bit of sheen into his hair. "I nae hav't ta see ta beards," she apologizes concerning his. "'Tis a man's province." If Ratimir and Osmond ask for the like, she will comply, although she will be far more expressive and generous with Ratimir's kit. Finally, Kari sees to herself, raising her arms above her head like a dancer and humming a which, while enjoyable seems a failing representation of something far more beautiful. She slashes her white hair with fits of greens, reds and purples, colors occurring in nature, and suffuses herself with the scent of apple blossoms. When she releases her hold on her magics, her face is in high color, and her complexion is almost dewy. Touching the neck of her lute, she runs her fingers over the strings, and casts another spell, then points to Osmond as he departs and her lips move. Osmond, Perception DC 25:
"Should anything be amiss, Sir, long as we stay within one hundred feet of another you've only need to whisper to reach me." Kari quickly follows after Osmond, but allows him to take the lead.
yep. absolutely. Perform (Strings)
the formula for rolling dice is [1"d"## +/- (mod)] without the quotations around the d. so 1d20+2 would look like (again, do not put the quotations in for it to work) [1"d"20+2] and 1d8-1 would look like [1"d"8-1]
In an effort to prove solidarity, and mostly curious, Kari swallows her reservations and takes Sirian's offered hand, but shudders as though one damned when the blessings of a lawful god flow over her. The... order is diametrically opposed to her very being, and feels like a heavy oil attempting to suffocate her. She gasps, a dank sweat standing out from a sickly pallor and nearly fails her hold upon her own magics. "Th-thank ye, brother man," she mumbles as she withdraws her hand, and holds it to her chest as though wounded before wiping it on her pant leg. "Til the mornin', aye?" she offers amicably as they separate, shoring up her personal morale. When Osmond rolls out his bed and blanket, Kari takes to her own, suffusing the cloth with the scent of lavender. "That cannae be truth," she teases the older man and smiles as she plays with the feathers in her hair once again. "Were ye nae afforded creature comforts? Ye a horse!"
"Aye," Kari agrees with Ratimir's sentiment, nodding to Sirian. "If thy fellows cannae stand the sight of ye, less like they to take kindly my affect," she says. Kari smiles at Ratimir's mention of bathing. "Oh, but why suffer exposure when magics can aide?" she wonders, and speaks and signs in a flurry of fluid gestures, weaving brightly colored magics like ether about herself to add splashes of color in violet and crimson hues to her white hair and a faint scent of apples. "The simplest of magics has the greatest possibilities, its use limited only by imagination," she continues as she weaves the magics to change minor details of her outfit, like the strands of color in embroidery on her bodice.
Kari's amber eyes shift uncomfortably between the lawyer-priest and the halfling, and she draws her lower lip between her teeth and sucks hard upon it, causing the blood to drain away. Such noble ideals had lead these men to effective banishment, and she, Kari Catsheat, mounted the stag prince and rutted with him for nigh a week besides. To say she was banished for being a silly girl was to discount her supposed crime and were too close to a lie for her comfort considering that she must now depend upon these men for her life. Kari gathers her few belongings to her side, fully expecting even this lot of men rejected by the state to dismiss her for her next words, but takes a large breath. she says a touch more loudly than she ought, considering the silence that had befallen the men after their admission. She flushes again, appearing quite awkward as she plays with the feathers in her hair. "I... traveled with a young hero named Duma the Sly. The Dragonscale throne names him bandit for preying upon merchants, but the people love him for his generosity," Kari sighs. "It was all terribly romantic, till his band left me to the Surtovans," she mutters the last.
At the entrance of the guardsman, Kari drops the crust of bread she had been picking at on the floor of the pantry and glares defiantly at the creature. She maintains the gaze as she steps closer, clearly illustrating their height and mass differences, and snarls at him in another alien tongue. Giant:
"You will never leave this place, Pig."
Without looking to the others in her party, Kari observes, "I dinnae like how this one looks at me," then brushes passed the guard. Kari fidgets while Osmond makes camp, feeling grossly out of place. She grinds at the dust on the ground with the toe of her boot, and darts nervous glances at his horse, having never seen one before. When Osmond settles beside the fire, she puts the scarred man between herself and the beast. "I cannae say that I am free to answer," she replies to Osmond's question, coloring and looking to the ground. "If ever there were a stray that be caught in a fisherman's netting, well, aye... s'pose that is fair enough an approximation."
At Osmond's suggestion of camp, Kari drops the hand she offered Sirian and shakes her head vigorously, then pauses and shrugs. "May like. I ought strum upon mine instrument fer coin 'fore, an'..." she trails, stroking the feathers entwined in her hair again, clearly pensive. "Cannae say thar be patrons will be pining for mine art near." Kari grins and nods finally. "Very like, Osmond, ye of honest face and countenance. I will join ye!"
Kari hums happily and leans forward in the chair, wetting her lips and looking upon the Lord hungrily. "My baser desires, Milord?" she repeats. Her voice has changed again, achieving an almost alto quality thick with something animal as she shifts her narrow hips over the chair. She continues in this tone in her strange tongue, the visions they invoke now speaking to much lower quarters of the body. Sylvan:
"Quite, pig," she spits. "We know full well they will not be my only resource," she warns having been jilted. "I shall with my sweetest breath wait upon ye as a loyal vassal," Kari sighs lasciviously. Her eyes flick to Sirian, and when she speaks again, her voice has reverted to its childlike quality once again. "If naught else, then to please thine champion." Kari rises from her chair, spins it in place with a dexterous flourish like a dancer and then offers her hand to the priest. "Let ye not the lording's vanity keep ye from satisfaction, young Sirian. I a willing partner make in this dance."
The bread continues floating to Kari when the door swings open. While the Lord speaks, she tears the heel from the loaf, then a smaller morsel from the soft insides and guides it into her sweet mouth with magic and chews. She has the presence of mind to swallow before speaking. "Aye, M'lord," she says, her sweet voice twisting the title to indicate something less. What use in adhering to protocol if she has been sentenced to death in the wilds? "Several. "First," she holds up a finger to demonstrate "This wagon, do it have food? I tol' thine ilk, I cannae track beast or man in wood. "Second," another finger. "S'pose we dinnae perish, as ye will. There be naught ta keep ye, nor thy lordings fra what we claim, nay?" Kari's amber eyes are near feral at this point, and they pass briefly to the scarred Osmond before fixing on the Lord's with no impression of deference for his station. "What incentive have we else treat with the bandits to keep us fra ye?"
"Goodness me, did I fail to enunciate?" Kari wonders, the gait and tone of her voice changing considerably as she ceases rocking in her chair. Her legs spread to either side of the chairs as she sits finally and wraps her arms around the back and rests her cheek upon her shoulder, smiling broadly at Ratimir. "My name is Kari, darling cousin," she purrs, "no family name as none lay claim to me," she pauses and colors significantly, and when she speaks again her previous childlike voice is evident once more. "And, I do hope that you refrain from using that title in this place, as I believe the lady would be cross to hear it applied to one as low as myself," she demurs. Kari hums and begins playing with several locks of her hair hanging to the left side of her face, each bound in a plait with some manner of natural trophy. At this moment, her fingertips tease the feathers that obscure the line of her neck in this position. "Do you believe there are couples dancing, elsewhere?" she inquires, her amber eyes seeming fixed on some point that is not in the pantry as she twirls the plait in her slender fingers. Kari's free hand makes several gestures, and she speaks in the flowery language again, this time with a rapid tempo, and a crust of bread lifts from the table and begins floating towards her. Spellcraft DC 15: Kari has cast Mage Hand
Kari turns and looks in Osmond's direction, watches him pull a chair and gesture for her to sit, but her amber eyes do not appear to focus at all. Only after he has spoken does a spark of recognition light the area behind her eyes. She takes the chair, turns it about and kneels on the seat, then leans forward over the back, peering at Osmond's scars with no small amount of curiosity. "Expedition?" Kari repeats incredulously, her light, almost childish voice containing no small amount of musical quality. "What, like to the wilds? Me?" she inquires and needlessly gestures to herself by clutching a hand to her chest. "I tell them time and again, I cannae tell one pine from the next!" Kari grasps the back of the chair and rocks backward and forward several times nervously, teeth grinding on her lower lip, then is silent for a few moments. "Oh, Kari. Just," she mumbles after a time, seeming to grumble the last. Not Kari Horseface for the quality of her hair, or Kari Catsheat - the most recent alias causes her face to flush near mottled. She mutters something in a language that evokes visions of meadows and dew covered flowers, but her expression does not match the impression.
I will have a more accurate list of Kari's equipment up by the end of the day. Is it assumed we've come for dinner with our full kit?
Nostrus:
Kari returns to her temporary abode and studies the invitation thoroughly. Kari, her temper and expression bright to be free following days in isolation and misery, whistles a bawdy tune she oft repeated for Duma's band while she traveled with them. Unlikely heroes, that lot, she mused considering their behavior, and wondered how they fared. Considerably greater than herself, she gathered, being free. No pawn of the powers that be, those lads. Nor the little lords and ladies of the wood... As the guardsman's expression flattens, Kari touches the strand of fangs woven into the plaits of her hair, the color of spider's silk and texture of horsehair. Duma had commented upon it several times with it gripped in his fist, how... pliable the gesture made her. Kari smiled nervously, and looked round the corner but found herself seized up by the brusque young man and physically directed to the area. Kari calls after cretin after he so rudely deposited her. "Churlish pig," she seethes in Sylvan. The very least he could have done was ask her to move. It was only polite. Kari pauses outside the door to the servant's entrance and tugs her bodice upwards, emphasizing the swell of her modest bust, and the narrow curve of her hips. Not tall or fat enough by half for most back country brutes, Kari nonetheless retains complete confidence in her desirability... to a more discerning eye. "Good," Kari starts when the servant opens the door, but her large, false smile falters when she is dismissed yet again, and left essentially alone in the pantry.
Kari takes in the tableau, and the striking Sirian. Recognizing both his symbol, and his position, she shrinks back slightly. A representative of order! Lords of the First World! The Surtovans might well have left me to rot. Finding the creature engaged with the extant partner, Kari steps closer to the contents of the pantry, wondering if she might ferret out some wine and cheese among its contents.
Rock on, tactics bard with 8 wis and a sling! I will preface and say that I do not intend for Kari to be an insufferable twit who doesn't contribute to the outdoorsy efforts. She will ask folk if they would like to teach her how to pitch a tent and what not, she just... has no patience or aptitude for such things. Although, if she sank a rank into the skill for three levels, she'd have a modifier there :)
Wandering minstrel reporting to play upon my lute and inspire ye masters to thine true potential!
No bigger underdog than being the fifth wheel in a group of four :P
Full write up forthcoming. Hoping to actually sleep tonight. Uh... so, they shouldn't be fugitives per se, but they definitely won't be welcomed back, right?
Preview: Right now I am thinking that Kari might have lent some support to a "subversive" puppet show about the disappearance about the former ruling family, and the various political dealings of the current. Nothing really risque or necessarily illegal, but I could see a bunch of politicos getting nervous about political commentary from a young and talented bard with contacts.
Velkirth Rimetongue, Perception DC 25:
"Civil?" she returns, and cocks an ashen eyebrow in a quizzical manner. "Tell me, what about the crossbows aimed at our backs was civil?" she hisses. "The walls of men limit them. "Make no mistake," Kari says from the back of the room. "This hall is a prison."
eh, she doesn't actually care who the leader is, just pointing out that it's ridiculous that no one else has gone "lol, our leader can't talk!" plus, you know, witches can make pretty quick work of a warrior. just sayin'.
Kari sighs loudly and turns to leave. "Ridiculous," she snarls, throwing her hands up. "How is this creature to command when none can even understand his speech! Sooner allow my bear to lead."
"Use of the large rude one in the hall, and my sling," Kari replies automatically, chin lifted defiantly.
Kari makes a production of folding her hands, fingers crossed and tucked into the curve of her back. When it is her time to cross the threshold, she gives the difficult b*stard a silent peck of her lips like a kiss and blows it in his general direction, and sways her hips as she slowly glides into the next room.
|