Oof! Sorry to hear that. Been there and it is no fun. Take the time you need.
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Ki'dhir looks around at the ruins and considers what he knows of the sun's yearly path.
Ki’dhir knows his strengths… being personable and charming weren’t among his skills. Instead of speaking, he and Histya use their bodies to subtly shield the hijab-clad woman from different angles of attack while warily watching their surroundings.
Stone-faced, Ki’dhir slings his falchion over his shoulder and retrieves his recurve bow. It seemed discussion was wasted breath, even with two of the professor’s beloveds in the halls of the dead. Far too frequently it seemed the city-born learned too late, if ever, the desert’s lessons: Arrogance paired with ignorance is as deadly as a great haboob. He makes a flowing hand gesture to the group. ”After you, sadah and sayyidah.” Moments later… As they exit Irizi’s mansion, the tribesman makes an odd chuffing noise. A man-sized Sand Panther materializes from the foliage decorating the entrance to the estate. Tail swishing, the large cat watches the group as it slowly circles around to accompany Ki’dhir. He offers the panther a warm smile and a heavy-handed pat on the shoulder. Then his eyes slide across every person, doorway, window, and rooftop - looking for any signs of threat. The cat, picking up on her companion's mood, gazes predatorially.
The tribesman looks to Irizi. ”Is the professor safe with you here? Did you get her here secretly or did she come openly?”
No worries, SF, I was just doing theatre. I knew why she was mad but like Ki'dhir I had to reread the text to see where the disconnect was... I read her initial hesitation to enter the room + teary post + "my life doesn't matter anymore" as her being despondent and planning to either take herself out of the game or hide with Irizi. So, ironically, Ki'dhir wasn't trying to sideline her but get her back in the game and/or if she wanted to hide, giving her a better option than sticking around town. Regardless, it's all good!
Ki’dhir reviews the conversation… trying to understand where he had given offense, how he had misunderstood the professor’s intent, and how she had failed to understand his. After consideration, he concluded that he parsed the intent of her words differently than she meant them. Then pride – or perhaps guilt – spurred her reaction. Curious. As the cult matter took precedence, he discarded the personal one. “The Great Library may contain the information about the tower, maps of its location, and possibly the lands surrounding it. It is my belief that stargazers – astronomers – could determine the position and length of the shadow at midsummer with those facts.” He doesn’t add that visiting the Library might draw out the cult, which could be both a risk and an opportunity.
"My life no longer matters, only stopping this cult from achieving its goal." "You may value your life - or not - as you choose, sayyidah... but I disagree. We will likely need your knowledge again before this cult is defeated. You could find shelter among the Yerbira until this matter is resolved. The deep desert protects and my people would make it difficult for assassins to attack you... I could make an introduction, if you wish."
Ki'dhir nods in agreement with the previous statements, adding only, "And what steps are you taking to safeguard your own life?"
The Garundi tribesman offers the professor an encouraging nod and clasps his hands (and the sheathed falchion) behind his back – the image of an attentive student. He studies the woman and her words carefully.
Ki'dhir proffers a small bow to the others now assembled. He regards Marius' hat curiously. "Striking feather."
There is an inner stillness to the Garundi man with the desert-burnished skin and sand-etched creases around his eyes. The loose desert robes over light lamellar armor, the traces of sand clinging to his ground-sweeping bisht , as well as the red-checkered keffiyeh and sash, all proclaim him to be a desert tribesman of some stripe. The slender and sheathed falchion he holds, much like a walking staff, does nothing to clarify his tribal allegiance. At Zahira’s greeting, he offers a slight bow, hand resting lightly on his chest to indicate that he will only speak his heart’s truth. ”An honor, Sayyidah.” He replies, using the Osiriani honorific. ”I am Ki’dhir, dunewalker of the Yerbira. May the Everlight bless your journey.”
...so as long as undead slaying stuffs is good with everyone else, we can have shared history... Ki'dhir picks his teeth with the bony pinky finger of a vanquished lich and he flosses with Banshee hair. :D
Heads up, guys. I will be moving across the country, from Sunday 2-Oct through approximately 6-Oct. I should have internet each night to catch up with the game and post as needed. But that’s a variable I can’t control. On or slightly after the 6th, I will be back to my usual posting rate. Thanks!
I enjoy a good character meeting... but it's not a hill I'd ever die on. So, I'm good either way.
Hiya! I'm happy to be playing with you folks!
Woot! Less than 24 hours to go... It's interesting that we've got no full-time clerics or desert druids in the pool.
Still okay to apply? Shadow_Fox put no 'dot by' requirement, so you are good. Your complete applicant is due by: Saturday, September 24, at 6:00 PM EST.
Ki'dhir is complete. Thanks for considering him!
This is stormraven offering Ki'dhir. He's a child of the desert and a switch-hitting Ranger, decent at both ranged and melee combat. The only thing I'm still working on is his background.
Ki'dhir happily throws on his familiar gear. The brown, ground-sweeping, bisht barely conceals the heat-deflecting loose tribal clothing of the nomad. A well used but sharp scimitar is slung at the end of the parched leather bandolier running across his chest. A fine longbow runs diagonally as well. Wrapped around Ki'dhir's hips is a red sash and his long black-and-white patterned keffiyeh loops loosely several times about his shoulders before it wraps over his dark, Garundi skull. He draws the scimitar and warns up his arms and wrists with a series of swift circular swings.
The sorcerer thumbs through the spell books. He nods approval at some of the spells but is confused by others. Snapping the last book shut, he looks to the surviving thug. "Two questions: Where are my things stored? And," he raises the spellbook, "what bodies were you disguising that your spellslinger needed a Sculpt Corpse spell in his library?"
"Yes, I'm attached to the university in Manaket. Sure, I can tell you what I know. I'm not sure it adds up to a "path" exactly though. Unless wandering around blindfolded could be said to result in a path." The nomad chuckles. "If there is a difference between where you started and where you stand, you're on a path. Maybe not the path you want, but a path it is." Status:
Making himself useful, Ki'dhir searches the corpses with practiced efficiency. He piles any valuables or magical gear. He doesn't know if his new allies had qualms about searching the dead... but the desert had taught his people never to waste resources.
Ki'dhir considers her words carefully. "Magic is not as simple as some might think. How much of it is purely will, or blood, or a magnifying glass?" He takes a step closer to the witch and regards her scorpion in a new way. "If it interests you - when time permits - I would enjoy hearing about your magical path." Deflecting away from the awkward request, he quickly adds, "Linguist and historian? You must be very well educated. Were you at a University?" He says the last word with a dollop of reverence. "I don't have a profession. Sometimes, I act as a guide for outlanders to ensure they survive the desert."
With the matter of honor settled, Ki'dhir rises and says lightly. "Who am I to stand in the way of one destined to carve her reputation into legend?" At Sefanit's comment, he glances over at her. Then he looks again, both at the scorpion with which she converses and at her intriguing freckled skin tone. She was, at least in some part, Garundi. He briefly smooths the firmly-entrenched wrinkles in his robe before offering her a respectful bow. "Blessed day, sayyidah. I am Ki'dhir... of the Yerbira. Do I misunderstand you that you are a Fatespinner?"
The nomad takes the fuming halfling seriously. His people could be prickly about matters of honor as well. He takes a knee to speak with her eye to eye, his tone sober. "I apologize, sincerely, for poaching your pigeon. I may have been down the well when you claimed him or perhaps I missed it in the heat of battle. I pray that - given the circumstances - you will forgive my lapse on this occasion. In future, I promise I will not step between you and your kills." He offers his hand in peace, hoping her honor would be satisfied.
Ki'dhir cautiously boots the weapons away from the limbs of the smoking corpses... a not-quite-subtle reminder for the remaining cultist of what his fate could be. He nods at Francis' comments, finding the terms more than fair. "It will be so. I am indebted." He cocks his head as he puzzles over the final words of Pharasma's servant. "It seems you have already dealt with some of the worst that Wati offers here," he indicates the dead cultists, "I'm sorry if they have soured your opinion of the town."
Ki'dhir leaves the fate of the remaining thug to his rescuers, offering no opinion or judgement. He takes a moment to stretch his back and shoulders, loosening the knots caused by the beatings and confinement. Suddenly conscious of his bedraggled appearance and stink, he wipes away much of the accumulated grime, dirt, and blood with a small spell. Feeling a measure more human, the nomad bows politely to his saviors and offers a strangely fluid looping hand gesture that briefly touches his forehead, lips, and heart. "I thank you for my life. The spoils of this battle and these criminals are yours... However - if I may ask an additional kindness of you - these men stole objects precious to me. I would be grateful if they were returned."
Status:
Ki'dhir delivers a kick to the downed spellslinger's skull as he steps over the man's prone form. From his position by the well, he unleashes another punishing blast of flame on the nearest cultists.
BOOM:
Status:
As the flames wash harmlessly over him, Ki'dhir gives the enemy spell-slinger a menacing smile and repeats the man's threats back to him. "Tell me... who will pay to save your worthless life?" He weaves another spell requiring no fiddly components to send a trio of barely visible bolts stitching viciously across the other caster's chest.
BOOM:
Status:
Francis feels the weight of an unseen climber on the line until it cautiously goes slack. A disembodied voice - rich with a desert cadence - whispers, "Thank you, sayyid. Your kindness is a debt between us." Ka'dhir glances around, considering the situation. Step 3 - exact payment. Still invisible, the nomad begins the gestures of favored spell. A sheet of ravening flames lashes across two of the thugs. When the glare fades, a dark-skinned Garundi in dirty and blood-smeared desert robes appears, crouching ferally on the lip of the well.
BOOM:
Status:
I'm OK with however West wants to play it. He said we were in the pit 'near' or 'next to' Ptenimb's pit. On the map scale, it looks like each pit is maybe 5' in diameter and there is a 5' gap between the pits. So, for you to see which pit we're in and drop a rope easily, I figured you'd have to be standing next to our pit. If you've got a MOVE action left, you could certainly swing around to the south side of our pit and drop the rope there which keeps you out of combat and leaves a lane free for our melee teammates to do their thing. I apologize if I'm being too literal and map-focused and you guys play more 'theatre of the mind'. I tend to play highly tactical - particularly for casters - as positioning presents all sorts of interesting challenges and opportunities.
Ah, OK. So then Francis should be 5' right of his current position on the map? I'm assuming we are in that pit to the right of the one Francis is standing on. Also, since we have a rope, I'll let Farid go up first since he can double-move up the rope and I'm spending an action casting a spell. I don't want to impede his climb.
Freed from his bonds, Ki'dhir rubs at his abraded wrists to return circulation to his hands as he regards the walls of the well along with his cellmate. Step 2 - get free of the pit. With his ring and spell materials missing, Ki'dhir *hrmphs* at the fact that most of his preferred eldritch defenses are unavailable. A feral smile creeps across his face. He was a desert creature, not some soft townsman. Survival and adaptability were bred into his bones. With a whisper and a small gesture, the nomad fades from sight even as he begins quickly climbing from the pit.
BOOM:
Status:
West, how deep is the pit, i.e. how many climb checks/Moves do we need to make?
Roll for HP here and if the result is less than half (on each die), take half instead. Also, you have 6000 gp to spend.
ROUSes... I don’t think they exist.
You should see it, if you can. Lots of funny scenes and classic lines.
I just like to know what all my assets are before going into a fight."I mean, if we only had a wheelbarrow, that would be something..." ~ Wesley, in The Princess Bride :) Initially, I was tempted to post "Why didn't you list my sash among our assets?" But if you didn't know the movie reference, that could sound b%%@&y as hell. :D
Francis - thanks for the offer, I appreciate it! I should be pretty combat effective once I'm out of the well. FYI - I believe we are in a different well from the guy you came to rescue.
Alas, they DO have access to Detect Magic, so they wouldn't have let you keep the sash - sorry about that Ki'dhir. No worries! I figured the likelihood I'd have it was pretty small based on the 'eye candy' factor alone. I just like to know what all my assets are before going into a fight. Now, let's see if I can make them rue the fact they dumped me down the well before the rest of the team mops the floor with them.
The sounds of battle and the echo of a what-must-have-been-a-dream halfling battle-cry rouses the desert traveler from his fist-and-boot induced 'nap'. Ki'dhir bolts awake at the bottom of a pit, crammed against the other prisoner - another recipient of Silver Chain hospitality. He shakes his head to clear it while listening to the fighting above. This is likely our best chance for escape. Ki'dhir shimmies to a standing position, gaining enough room to try to work himself free from the ropes binding him. As part of his struggle against the bonds, he bumps the other prisoner. He hisses at the man quietly. "Wake up. Wake up! This is our chance to escape, sayyid."
Status:
I've got one question on the equipment I have with me in the well. Did the baddies take my sash along with all the obviously useful gear? It is his one colorful bit of clothing with some value (red fabric and has a red gold clasp) so it's possibly worth their taking from a mundane point of view. It would also detect as magic if they checked for that.
So - no gear, no spell components, stuck at the bottom of a well, probably trussed like a turkey, and possibly down on HP... what's not to love? :D Put me in the game, coach! We'll see if I can make myself a nuisance to the baddies. I'd rather knock myself unconscious falling back into the pit than sit out a good fight. FWIW - I like it when the odds are stacked against me. Besides, like Emilia, I have to create my legend! ;)
GM West, just to satisfy my curiosity... how deep is the pit and how smooth are the walls (i.e. what's the DC) assuming we were conscious?
No worries, I was just curious.
LOL Yes it does. Farid: *groan*
Looking forward to playing with you, Farid. That's an interesting build combo. Also, I think we are both unconscious and possibly stuck in the the same pit together. So you have that to look forward to. :p GM West, a question that will impact at least a few of us. How do you feel about Fractional Base Bonuses for we multi-classers? If you answered that question in the recruiting thread, I apologize for my reading-fu not being up to snuff. |