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Hey folks. I just logged on for the first time in almost two months. I've been dealing with some addiction stuff, mental health stuff, and general life stuff. I don't think I'll be able to continue with the various games I've committed to online, but wanted to jump on and say that I appreciate all of you for reaching out and trying to work with me. Thank you and good luck in your future adventures! Richard
I'll keep it! Thanks for the notice, GM. I'll send you my updated sheet, probably by tomorrow. Do you just want like a PDF, or HeroLab, or something else?
Korum snarls at the nearest Pugwampi, conjuring another ball of acid and hurling it up toward the creature, keeping one eye on the ladder, waiting for a chance to move after it's clear.
Korum takes a deep breath, mutters a silent prayer to himself, and follows behind Layaali, giving the woman a short, wan smile. "I am sure that we will succeed, today. I have faith." He half-whispers to her, watching the others congregate near the base of the ladder.
Korum finishes his somewhat heated debate with Jobu, slinging his pack over one shoulder and his axe over the other. He looks around to find the others gone already. "Damnation, I seem to have lost track of some time..." Swallowing hard, he departs after the others, and peeks into the library to catch up and look around. He find himself lost in thought again as he gazes upon the library, staring in awe at the shelves. He snaps to his senses at Layaali's presence, resting his hand on her shoulder. "My goodness, this place must have been a wonder...pardon me, Layaali. I seem to be more myself today, but perhaps prone to bouts of daydreaming."
Korum sputters out another cough as he wakes in the morning, wiping the sleep from his eyes and sitting up from his bedroll.
He turns away from the camp, hacking loudly, a thick, gurgling noise as he coughs up the guck that had been inside his lungs and throat. He spits a thick wad of the substance onto the floor of the ruined temple, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand. After, he turns, sheepishly looking at his comrades. "Forgive me. This was not well-mannered behavior. But I had to be rid of the foulness. I feel much better today. Thank you, Layaali and friend Uzma. You seem to have gotten me through the worst of it. I am in your debt."
Korum frowns, examining the piece of jewelry. "I'm afraid that I can only determine that it is magical in nature. Nothing more. Perhaps later, I can study it more closely." The wizard's eyelids droop as he speaks, nodding off without another word.
Korum sits cross-legged, Jobu beside him, the broad shoulders of the half-orc wrapped in a thin blanket, which he clutches in front of him, shivering and coughing. "Uzma is right - there is not much here. We were given a task, not a research project. It is time, I fear, to tend to the Pugwampis upstairs."
Korum wipes the saliva from his lip, suppressing another hacking cough and approaching Uzma, his Orcish eyes piercing the darkness easily. He whispers, a throaty, hoarse sound after the day's sickness. "Friend Uzma...what do you see?"
Korum squints at the staff as he begins to examine it, shielding his eyes and turning away after a moment. "This is a powerful staff, to be certain. It has some magical properties as a weapon, though this seems far from its most powerful use. It can also be used to bolster the prowess of one's allies - I have heard of warriors brining minstrels and orators with them, to similar effect. I can carry it, though it may be better suited to Uzma, as he uses staves."
With Layaali's return, Korum shoulders his pack, following after the rest of the group. "I pray that whatever else we encounter in this wretched place is kind to us. We could use some good luck."
Korum stirs in the morning, a thick, productive cough echoing from his chest. "Blech. In the camps, when a man woke with a sickness like this, it meant he would die soon. He would be unable to work, and not be fed because he did not work. I will do what I can for you today. I hope it is enough for me to still be fed. Now, Uzma, let me see this stick." Upon standing and packing his bedroll - a process made slower by periodic coughing fits and wiping mucus from his lip - Korum retrieves the staff from Uzma, turning it over in his hands. "Hmm..."
Korum will not take a watch, since first and last are taken, and will instead examine the curved quarterstaff, to determine what he can of its nature . Additionally, he will accompany Uzma during his watch. "Friend Uzma. You have heard things, and seen things. From where did this vision arrive? What manner of voice imparted her wisdom upon you? Might this be a thing of the Gods?"
Korum pants, hands covered in brush and sand, and straightens to examine the nest.
Korum brings the axe back up, trying to catch the ooze with the backswing as he grunts.
Korum grunts at the bludgeoning blow of the fetid ooze against his body, recoiling and bringing his axe down once more to cleave the creature, before stepping back in tactical retreat.
Korum snarls at the creature with uncharacteristic disgust, approaching it and chopping down at it with his axe.
Korum nods in agreement with Razif. "Your assessment is wise. This fungus is curious enough that I would not tempt fate by touching it. We are quite close enough, as it is." The wizard retrieves his water skin and a cloth from his pack, dousing the cloth and covering his mouth and nose with it, with one hand. "I would be concerned about inhaling the spores, if we disturb this place any more. As for the slime..."
Korum rushes around the corner to protect Layaali, the newcomer who has shown him nothing but kindness. He brings his axe up as he rushes, crashing it down at the spider with the full weight of his body behind the swing.
Korum waits quietly, watching his comrades move toward the antechamber. I am not so hardy as these folk, and do my best work from a distance, after all.... He attempts to justify his apparent cowardice as he watches for any sign of trouble in the small room.
Good to know! I wasn't sure where to look and didn't particularly want to sift through 300 posts to find her name. Thank you, sir :D
Korum nods his appreciation at Uzma for doing the deed, before retrieving a cloth from his belt pouch to wipe the pugwampi blood from the blade of his axe. He looks up at the newcomer, his scarred, rugged face bearing an expression of relief at the word "Sarenrae." "It is good to be meeting you, friend. I am Korum. No family name, as I was a slave, though I was called 'Scratcher' by others from my slave-hut. We are here to cleanse this place. We were sent by Princess to do this. You were simply...wandering through, when you found us? This is hard to believe. What brings you to this hellish desert, Sayyidi?"
Hello, Razif! I'm in Idaho, in the United States. My holidays are primarily going to be busy for work reasons, since I work for a security company and thefts occur in abundance during the Christmas season. But, I should be able to post just about daily, now that life has sorted itself out for me. I've been playing since the 3.0 days, when I was young and dumb. My group primarily plays through Paizo Adventure Paths - we've done Carrion Crown, Iron Gods, Hell's Rebels, Strange Aeons, and I'm currently GMing Ruins of Azlant, which I *highly* recommend, as one of the better ones I've played/experienced (2nd only to Hell's Rebels, IMO).
I'm back, and will await my turn. I've read the combat so I'm pretty sure I know what's going on. Thank you for your patience, folks.
Hey folks. I'm writing to all of my games to let you know that I'm going through some stuff right now. A dear friend of mine just passed away, and the past few days have been rather hectic, with friends and family visiting from out of town, a memorial service this afternoon, etc. I'm not abandoning anyone, but I do appreciate your patience and understanding while I take a couple of days to get things sorted. I estimate I'll be back sometime before the end of this week. Thank you.
Korum retrieves his axe, allowing his eyes to wander over the imagery, admiring the fine workmanship. "This place is a wonder. I want to study all of these paintings. I want to meet this artist and learn from him or her. I only wish we had such a chance." After searching the room, the half-orc follows Layaali and Uzma, taking in all of the work that must have gone into the completion of the structure. He proceeds down the cloister walk in darkness, his monochromatic vision not limiting the magnificence of the depictions of Djinni at all.
Korum steps into the small shrine-room behind Uzma and Layaali, agasp at the wondrous site.
"I see a beautiful shrine, made ugly by the deeds of ugly men. I see hands outstretched, perhaps asking for a gift. What do we know of this warrior? Might he accept a weapon?" Korum lifts his greataxe, gesturing at the open hands of the statue. He rests the weapon in the marred shrine's palms, waiting expectantly.
Korum stares at the carvings, his jaw hanging open at the imposing sight. "They are...magnificent. I imagine they were even more so before they began to crumble. I've never heard of these Templars, though." He looks down at Jobu, tilting his head toward the courtyard. "Care to look, for me?" The armadillo scampers forward, lurking in the shadows of one wall as he approaches the open area.
Korum wakes, rubs the sleep from his eyes, and reaches down to pat Jobu, curled up behind his knees on the bedroll. He sits upright, cross-legged, and begins his ritual with the animal, muttering incantations at its direction, preparing spells in his mind. After, he stands and stretches, eating from his dried rations. It is a few minutes before he notices Rafyyk's disappearance. "I cannot say I blame him. He is a survivor. This is a hard thing, what we do."
Korum sets to work alongside Uzma, his cooperation a tacit form of agreement. After camp is established, the half-orc will produce his ink, quills, and parchment, and begin the relaxing task of inscribing his magic onto a scroll.
The "this penalty" referred to in the paragraph you read is referring to the penalty of -1 for every 2 points of damage, not the ability damage itself. I hate to belabor the point, I would just like to know so that I can plan accordingly. Have you come to a decision/researched this at all, GM?
Once more, Korum lifts his heavy axe, winded after the swings he's taken so far. He brings the blade down at the last remaining Stirge.
Korum sneers, stepping forward and bringing his axe to bear against the Stirge attached to Uzma.
Above that, it reads: For every 2 points of damage you take to a single ability, apply a -1 penalty to skills and statistics listed with the relevant ability. If you'd like to rule that the "Damage to your Constitution" paragraph is independent of the explanation above it, describing the 2 damage = -1 penalty, that's up to you. I'm happy to abide by GM fiat, but will *absolutely* be making Korum into someone that goes hard on Constitution damage in whatever way possible if that's the case, since, by your interpretation, 1 Con damage = -1 HP/HD instead of 2 damage = -1 penalty = -1 HP/Fort Saves. This will make Bestow Curse effectively doubly effective.
Korum snarls in anger and pain as the disgusting vermin latches onto him. He brings his axe up, swinging it wildly at the creature draining him.
Korum examines the creatures, his face impassive as he attempts to identify the nature of these creatures.
He steps into the fray as best he can, raising his hands to form the required gestures without inviting an attack by one of the bugs, the words of power tumbling from practiced lips. Soon after, a dazzling flash of light and color erupts from his hands, washing over all of the creatures
Color Spray Will Save DC: 15
I am, yes! Weekends are often a bit manic for me, especially around the holidays, but I'm still here, and now awaiting my turn against things that are (thankfully) NOT Pugwampis!
"Tch." Korum shakes his head, whispering to Layaali, Uzma, Drael, and Rafyyk. "This is not working. They believe themselves the victors. In truth, they may be right."
Korum shakes his head at Layaali's shouting. "This will not work. They speak only Gnoll. Allow me?" The surly, weary, annoyed Half-Orc begins barking and braying in the strange language of Gnolls, loud enough to be heard by the Pugwampis in the rafters. "Li bon ke nou gen zouti pou voye nan ti bèt ki viv nan plafon ak pike nan nou ak zam ti! Mwen pa ka tann yo sèvi ak zam sa yo pou netwaye po a nan zo yo epi chwazi dan mwen ak zo kòt yo!" Gnoll: It is good that we have tools to dispatch of small beasts that live in ceilings and poke at us with tiny weapons! I cannot wait to use these weapons to clean the skin from their bones and pick my teeth with their ribs!
Korum flings another splash of acid up towards the next Pugwampi, a triumphant roar escaping his lips as he watches his first target fall. After, he moves back through the mist, retreating toward Layaali, his head and shoulders bleeding from the tiny lacerations of small arrows. "Thrice-damned beasts simply will not die. They seem to have some manner of misfortune magic at their disposal."
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