Kragrak's page

Whew, that was trouble for a while there. Everything worked out well in the end, though. This is a nice enough place, so I don't mind sticking around town for a while. Maybe I can help some of the townsfolk catch up on their work now that the kids are back safe and sound. Not like I could leave now if I wanted to. Ever since I breathed the first spark of life into Sprout, she's been the one running this show. People talk about cat familiars being in charge, pheh. They've never dealt with a zealous leshy. Still, my life has been so much richer since she came along. And I've never seen her so happy and proud as she was when she helped Red. She'll grow into the wisdom she believes she has in time. To the rest of the party, he says, his gravely voice earnest and almost reverent in its sincerity, "Anyone else planning to stick around here for a while? Or are you all headed back to the Grand Lodge? You've been great to work with. Every one of you. Hope I get to go on a mission with you all again someday. Before any of you go, though. Sprout's got the right of it on celebration. Not much one for parties, but with you all there, it would be fun."

Kragrak's eyes boggle at the mayor's implication. He may not usually be one for talking, but this is just abhorrent. His voice grows faster and louder as he speaks, and he starts shaking.

Diplomacy aid: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14

"It's not Gellion's fault. That bile got into his mind and messed with him. Even adults would've struggled when exposed to that kind of evil, and he's just a kid. Worse, he's a kid old enough to think he knows best, but not old enough to have developed good sense. Punish him for being careless, sure, but not, not like that! What kind of example would you be setting for your other children? That if they find themselves struggling against an evil force, they should run away, because otherwise the adults they trust might just kill them? You'll just drive them farther into the arms of evil that way."

Kragrak sighs with relief and draws his cold iron scimitar. "What Braggett said. Thanks for being careful with him, everyone. Hopefully we can have all these kids back home safe for dinner tonight." He carefully prods one of the cocoons with the flat end of the scimitar's blade, frowning as the material reacts to the metal. He tries cutting the cocoon in a place past its occupant's feet to get a feel for how difficult the material is to slice. Once he is confident that he won't harm the person within, he joins Braggett in setting the kids free.

Kragrak sighs and shakes his head. "Please stop attacking us. We're trying to help you."

Kragrak is going to take his AOO to attempt to disarm the alchemist's fire. He continues to not have the feats to do this without provoking an AOO in return if Gellion still threatens. He'll forgo using a weapon in this disarm in hopes of grabbing the alchemist's fire and being able to stow it away on his turn instead of leaving it to clatter to the ground and explode on everyone.

Attack of opportunity CMB: 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 - 4 = 14

His action on his turn depends upon whether or not the disarm succeeded. If it failed, he tries again. "Come on, give it over."

If the AOO disarm succeeded, he'll try to help Zahkar's grapple with an aid another. "Need a hand there, Zahkar?"

CMB to Disarm or Grapple, add 4 if grapple: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Kragrak takes a close look at Gellion, seeing if he can spot any of the purple goo on his body.
Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (4) + 8 = 12
"We don't want to hurt you." , Kragrak says to Gellion again. To the party, he says, "Maybe we can use positive energy to help him, like Father Ruvarra helped the trees?"

Meanwhile, Kragrak's going to try to keep Gellion from hurting anyone else.

Kragrak's CMB to disarm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

He doesn't have any feats for his or anything, so if Gellion has a way to threaten, he might get AOOed.

Kragrak double-moves into the room.

Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

When he sees the situation inside and hears the talk of Nolaria, he calls out, "Gellion? Is that you back there? We're here to help. Your parents are real worried about you."

Normally, Kragrak would be inclined to search the room more before progressing, but he knows that he quarterstaff will be returning to normal soon. Pointing to it, he says, "This won't stay leafy long. Should we open the next door and see if anything else skitters out at us? Or does anyone else want to cast spells first?"

No additional preparations from Kragrak.

Kragrak squeezes his way past the bottleneck of PCs at the entrance. "I've got a bad feeling these centipedes aren't going to be the last of the goo's...presents." Realizing that he can't attack the bugs this turn, he decides to prepare instead. Grasping his quarterstaff in both hands, he chants, closing his eyes for a moment. The staff begins to glow, and branches and leaves sprout from the wood's weathered knots.

He casts shillelagh.

Kragrak shouts, "Hundreds of spiders coming out of the crate over there! Watch out! He reaches into his pouch for something caustic to throw at the creatures. The bottle from Gellion's house is bit more rounded at the bottom than his own acid vials, so it catches most quickly on his fingers. "Only right to use this acid to help Gellion," he mutters.
However, with the positioning as it is, he realizes that if he were to hurl the flask now, some of it would splash on to Lord Braggett.
"Please step back, Lord Braggett. Don't want to get any acid on you." He readies an action to throw his acid flask on the swarm once Braggett steps back.
acid flask: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 211d6 ⇒ 2
Hey, natural 20!
critical confirmation: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 41d6 ⇒ 5
Nope!

Kragrak turns his head toward the quasit. "Nasty threats. But I wouldn't get so smug if I were you. Show yourself!"
He takes a step backwards, and then chants several low, grumbling words. A glittering show of light coalesces around his fingertips. With a forceful pointing gesture, he directs the lights toward the giggling creature.
He takes a 5-foot step back and casts faerie fire.

Lacking the requisite planar knowledge to identify the creature, Kragrak says, "What is it with tiny murderous creatures today? D'ya think this is another one of Gellion's homonculus things?"

Whatever it is, I can't let it hurt Sprout like the last one did. With that thought, he reaches for a weapon.

Sprout Knowledge (planes): 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (7) - 2 = 5

Sprout isn't sure what this thing is either, so she doesn't have any helpful advice to share. Kragrak draws his trusty quarterstaff and charges at the flying creature. Grasping the stick in both hands, he brings it down on the creature's head.

Attack and damage, basic quarterstaff: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 241d6 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Watching the other PCs fly into action so quickly warms Kragrak's heart. Lots of good-hearted agents on this mission. People I can count on. I'm honored to have been chosen as a part of this group.

He does what he can to help Wetbeard and Zahkar hoist the couple onto their shoulders. Once they are ready to depart, he nods and says, "Thanks, Wetbeard. Zahkar. I know they're safe in your hands.

"Also. Braggett. Thanks for helping her feel better. Yer good with words. M'Hoping we have the whole family together and safe again very soon. And Wetbeard's right. There's no time to waste."

To that end, he follows hot on the heels of Castiel's determined stride.

Fort against smell: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
Kragrak has a strong stomach. He decides to hang back with Sprout for a moment to make sure that she's OK. When combat begins upstairs, however, he decides that he's waited long enough. He waves to Sprout to get her attention and hurries up the stairs. The leshy nods and follows close behind him.By the time he reaches the top of the stairs, his fellow Pathfinders have made short work of the threat. He looks around the second floor to get his bearings. First, he peeks into the washroom and notices the message behind the fallen mirror.
Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27
He thinks aloud, "More of those bloody footprints? Did the doll write that message? This place just gets creepier by the minute."
He doesn't linger long before seeking out the other PCs. When he reaches the entrance to the room, he flinches at the hideous sight before him. "A lot going on in here. Hard to make sense of it all. Mind catching me up one what's happening with all the notes and webs and goo?" Pushing past his initial aversion, he strides into the room, being careful not to step in spider guts.

Kragrak takes a scroll out of his pack along with a handful of fresh berries. She’s probably too distracted to realize what I’m up to here, he thinks.
Bluff: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (6) - 1 = 5
“Erm, I was just thinking maybe we should eat. I mean, it’s gross in there. Not saying that smell makes me hungry. But maybe after, so we don’t get hungry later? I can make these berries healthy, and they’ll also provide some healing. And erm, Sprout, as the lady of plants, you should try them first. For your health. I mean, erm, obviously you’re fine, but...plants.” His voice trails off, and he pointedly turns his attention toward casting the spell from the scroll.
Eesh, I doubt even Kibble can cover for me there.

number of goodberries: 2d4 ⇒ (1, 1) = 2

Kragrak had been planning to scan the area with detect magic, at least until he realized the nature of the substance on his blade. “ This is all blood,” he says gravely, bowing his head and motioning to the stains around the windows. “Looks human. I’m praying I’m wrong about that.”
He gingerly cleans his blade and approaches the building, considering how to open the door. Before he can come up with an idea, however Braggett makes his bold charge. Kragrak flinches briefly as the blood sprays out from the door before following his fellow Pathfinder into the front room. “Most valiant, Lord Braggett,” he comments approvingly. Once inside, he tries to make sense of the mysteriously tiny footprints.

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24

Kragrak carefully approaches on of the first floor windows, drawing his new cold iron weapon as he walks. He speaks in hushed tones, “This isn’t purple like the bile on the tree. Doesn’t mean it isn’t related.” He carefully scrapes up some of the bile on to the edge of his blade to see if it reacts to cold iron. “Anyone know what this is?”

On the off chance this is natural...
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (11) + 6 = 17

He walks about 200 feet back from the house and then casts detect magic , focusing on the substance on his scimitar. Unless something else happens to interrupt him, he will continue to concentrate on the spell while scanning the building’s exterior for magic auras.

Kragrak mutters to Prince, “She doesn’t actually mean that, does she? If y’need someone to watch your back, I’m happy to help. As for me, I’ll be seeing this mission through until the kids are home safe. I’m sure Sprout will too.”

Kragrak grunts affirmatively as he watches the bird soar away. "Good point, Castiel. 'f'anyone knows who Yellowfoot is, it would probably be Father Ruvarra." Kragrak scratches his chin, "Unless its a local legend. Then Alcie might know best. People tell lots of stories over good food and drink. O'course, it could also be literal. Some creature the bird saw with a big yellow foot. Best to ask around a bit first. Shouldn't waste time, but also shouldn't rush in unprepared. As for Sprout, she'll probably be ready." He smiles, shaking his head. "How long it will be before I can convince her to leave Saringallow after this mission is over is another story. "

I'll go with a cold iron scimitar for Kragrak and a Small cold iron spear for Sprout.

In response to Braggett, Kragrak curses under his breath. "I'wish that wasn't what the evidence points to. 'M pretty sure you're right though. We'll have to be very careful. Might need more than just cold iron. The trees couldn't move. It wouldn't've been too tough to remove the bile if we'd all had cold iron. An infected kid though..." Kragrak's brow furrows. "I really don't want to hurt any kids. Maybe if we had some way to get a kid stand still for a minute while we treat the infection? Or more positive energy? "

Turning to the rest of the party, Kragrak asks, "Thoughts?"

When the party reaches Saringallow's Sundries, Kragrak begins scouring the shelves for anything that may be useful. Wait, why don't I just ask Miscsup about his own wares? We should probably explain ourselves first though.

Clearing his throat, Kragrak reaches his hand out to shake Miscsup's. Though his hands are clean, they always feel gritty and rough, somewhere between heavy calluses and sandpaper in texture.

"I'm Kragrak. Necessities today, not luxuries. Like Ms. Pricknettle said, it's an emergency. Kids are in danger. We need cold iron. And other things too."

Diplomacy aid: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (12) - 1 = 11

Kragrak smiles at Oak Sprout, pride shining in his eyes. He reaches for his handkerchief to wipe away the tears that are beginning to form. "Right, Petrello has it," he mutters, before resorting to wiping his face with his cloak instead. "D'we do go to Pricknettle's place to ask about the bile?"

Kragrak hangs back by the door, not wanting to leave Oak Sprout alone when she is so clearly distressed. "Th'won't be long, Sprout," he reassures the leshy. "They just have to tell the Father what's happening. Then he can help us help the trees. Braggett cut off enough. It'll take time to grow back to where it was." He decides to reserve questions about Nolaria until after the group has finished investigating and clearing the demon bile. Instead, he follows the group to the orchard, as quickly as his stony legs can carry him. He silently prays to the spirits of nature, that they keep the children safe from this awful bile as well as other unnatural threats.

Kragrak interposes himself between Prince and Sprout, lest the leshy's indignation inspire her toward behavior that would be inappropriate between Pathfinders. He raises his right hand up into the air in a gesture of peace. "Prince. Let's not be rash and hasty. Zahkar has the right of it. Th'temple should know about clearing evil, and about the missing apprentice. Sprout, the best thing we can do for the trees now is look for a reliable cure.

Kragrak solemnly nods to Braggett. "W'can't let this spread. Good you know how to deal with this. I've never heard of anything like it. Cold iron and positive energy? 'm afraid I don't have any of that, other than a few potions." Kragrak unfastens his cloak, re-pinning it so that it covers the two cacti on his shoulders, giving him the appearance of someone wearing comically large shoulder pads. "If anyone has spare weapons or doesn't want to get close, I'm ready.

Kragrak thinks, I've never needed cold iron before. I heard back in the Lodge that if you hit hard enough, you can harm pretty much anything, but it seems this evil is too strong. I should probably buy a cold iron weapon back in town in case we run into anything else that is corrupted like this goo. I hope we don't, but better safe than sorry. This problem is bigger than Red, after all. The children are still missing.

Hmm, can you fill me in on how blocked initiative works with regards to establishing things like whether or not you can flank, if there is a clear charge lane, etc? The existence of a charge lane based on the terrain is far from certain anyway, so I'll just give two options based on circumstances.

"Stand back, Sprout. Kragrak pulls a gnarled, hand-carved quarterstaff off his back and...

Possibility #1: Kragrak can charge the beetle: ...charges forth at the remaining beetle. He swings the end of the staff in front of his body in an quick arc, attempting to smash the bug's head in.
Quarterstaff (bonus assumes I'm charging): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 181d6 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

Possibility #2: He can't charge the beetle: ...closes much of the distance toward the bug, holding the staff menacingly in front of him.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19

Kragrak approaches as well, placing a gentle hand on Sprout's shoulder. He activates his empathic link with her to transmit a feeling of calm and confidence. "We'll observe this goo carefully. Then we'll decide best to treat it. W'can make sure it doesn't spread to anyone else. Anything else we can do for you? Any beetles or other bothersome things you'd like us to remove?"

This goo sounds unnatural, but Kragrak only has knowledge of natural phenomena. He checks to see if he remembers any plant diseases that fit the description.
Knowledge (nature): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

For now, at least, Kragrak doesn't notice what Oak Sprout is up to. The leshy chose her moment well, when the heavy sacks of flour over his shoulders were commanding his full attention.

Embarrassed and flustered, Kragrak tries to sputter an apology to Drummady, "I didn't mean. Er. What I was trying to say... Um. Sorry. I'm leaving now." He slinks out of the building and away from the rest of the party. Once he's confident that no one can see him, he leans against a wall. Taking a deep breath, he ponders the impact his words. This isn't just about how most people don't respect directness the way they did back home. I've gotten pretty good at remembering that, even though it makes it hard to talk sometimes. No, Dad would've given me an earful for distressing a grieving parent like that. Well, all I can do now is give her space and help find her children. Kragrak spends a few minutes meditating to clear his head before returns to the rest of the party, just in time to see them heading off in the direction of the bakery.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (11) + 3 = 14

Kragrak decides to leave this next bit of questioning to his fellow PCs. Instead, he joins Zakhar in helping the boys. "Lots of weight on a broken wheel. I'll take some of those flour sacks for ye. Where do they need to go?

Strength: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23

Kragrak is somewhat taken aback by the interruption, but he agrees with Drummmady's general point. Before he leaves Petrello's shop, he says, "No more questions. Thanks. And sorry we have to get going. I'll tell Petrona she owes you some greens when we find her."

He walks over to collect Sprout before realizing that the leshy has already made her way over to Drummady's.

Perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (3) + 8 = 11

And let's see how good he is at talking to her...

Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2
Hoo boy, time to stick my foot in my mouth.

Kragrak chooses his words quite poorly, seemingly not realizing their implications, at least at first, "Y're being rude. There's nothing wrong with 'im worrying about his children. Thought *you'd* worry 'bout them too."

In response to Braggett's surprise, Kragrak comments, "Kids get old enough, they forget they're kids. Don't think about consequences. It's a natural stage of life. No matter how good the parents. I was a fool then. M'sure young Braggett was sometimes too. " Kragrak muses to himself, Of course, if I hadn't been a fool, I'd of never been a Pathfinder. Now's a terrible time to talk about the potential benefits of running away from home in search of adventure, though. Returning to the topic at hand, he realizes that Braggett has already covered pretty much every question he would think to ask. He adds, “H’long’s it been since Betrona left? And since Pavolus left?”

Noticing Oak Sprout getting up in Sir Kibble's face, Kragrak cautions, "Sprout. Lord Braggett knows his companion. He said be careful. Be careful." Oak Sprout pointedly turns her back to Kragrak and unconvincingly pretends not to hear his warning. The oread sighs, "Sorry, Braggett. Looks like she's not listening. To either of us. Doesn't look like Kibble's biting though. Maybe if you sang the warning? Y've got a good voice."

Sense Motive on Sprout: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Kragrak follows the rest of the group to the haberdashery, ignorant of the fact that Oak Sprout is a bit annoyed with him.

When he reaches Petrello's, he marvels at all of the fine pieces on display. Getting clothes fixed to go over the cacti without catching is a pain, he thinks. Whoever is in charge of a place this nice might be able to help. The sound of Petrello's sobbing quickly catches his attention, however, and he decides to do his best to comfort the man. He crouches down on the ground nearby to get closer to Petrello's eye level.
Diplomacy aid another: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (19) - 1 = 18
Wow, I'm rolling well on Kragrak's aids this game :)
"Mr. Petrello. I'used to be a desert guide. I'm good at keeping people from getting lost. And finding people who got lost on their own. We'll do everything we can to find Betrona. When Betrona's back here and safe, 'd'like to order a new coat. See what you two can do together with all this nice fabric."

Kragrak enjoys his mug of dwarven ale, sipping it at first to savor the taste before slamming the rest back in giant gulps. He agrees heartily with Wetbeard's pronouncement, adding, " M'dad always said. If it doesn't burn, it's not dwarven. Not dwarven, not worth drinking. Basically water."
He listens carefully to the conversation about Morvinarr and the other apprentices, nodding and grunting, but mostly keeping quiet--that is, until Alcie's whispered comment. His face twists in horror, and he whispers back, "D'people really get burned at the stake? Just fer magic? That's horrible."

In response to the elder's question about people giving him trouble for his appearance, Kragrak says, "Sometimes. I'd'n't look much like my family."
He eagerly listens to the elder's tales about the younger generation, not sharing anything else about himself unless they ask directly.

As Lord Braggett begins his first song, Kragrak joins in with the stomping of feet, and erupts into a loud cheer as the song reaches its conclusion, joining the crowd in requesting an encore.
After Braggett finishes his second performance, Kragrak excuses himself from the table. He is reluctant to bother the kitchen staff when they are so busy, but it is getting increasingly difficult to ignore his grumbling stomach. Besides, the smells of the tavern's fare are so much more appetizing than the idea of eating rations while traveling around town.
He approaches Alcie and says, "'Scuse me. I'd like a mystery meal and some ale. Strong ale, please. Dwarven is best."

Kragrak doesn't usually feel particularly at home in taverns, but this one seems quiet enough. He steels himself, takes a deep breath, and then approaches the group of elders playing cards.
Diplomacy: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (19) - 1 = 18
"Can I join you for a hand of cards? He pauses, realizing that his unusual appearance may take these people off guard. "I know I look weird. Just born this way out in the desert. 'm still a regular person though. D'be happy to hear stories about your families." He smiles and shakes his head, "Kids are always getting themselves in trouble. Takes time for them to learn to see their elders' wisdom."

Diplo aid another : 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13
Kragrak speaks softly, "I'm here because I'm a Pathfinder, and because when kids are in trouble, I help. Anything else you can tell us about Gellion? Where he lives? Who his friends are?"

"Agreed, Wetbeard. Dangerous to locals' health. Not dangerous to us." Upon seeing Prince collect the pebble, Kragrak shuffles awkwardly and mutters, "Sorry, shoulda picked that up myself. Was hoping no one would notice."

Kragrak hesitates in the back of the room at first. He tilts his head to the right, scratching his cheek against the spines of the cactus sprouting from his right shoulder. A loose pebble separates from his skin and clatters onto the floor. With the pesky pebble dislodged, he sighs with relief and takes his place at the table.

He replies to the mayor, his clipped phrases dragging out at around half the speed of most people’s speech. “I’m Kragrak. Nice to meet you, Mayor. Thanks for the food." He stops to look over the list of missing apprentices. "Your information is thorough. We’ll find what happened and help the kids. No unnecessary violence." Kragrak frowns. "Also, big vermin sound dangerous. Disease and all that. What kind of vermin are they? Ticks? Flies?”

Kragrak cracks a small, commiserating smile at Prince, "Human age is hard. They call 60 old?"

Kragrak shuffles awkwardly, chiding his companion, "Not now, Sprout." He bows slightly to Lord Braggett. "Sorry. That was rude."

Kragrak nods approvingly at Prince's enthusiasm. His expression takes on a focused intensity as he ponders the details of the assignment.
"Missing children? I'dn't care if this isn't a usual mission. They need help. We can help. What are the names of all of the children? And their last known whereabouts."

Kragrak slowly takes a seat at the table. He takes a long sip of tea before addressing Zarta in a low, gravelly voice, "I'm from Osirion. I like nature. Sprout follows me around. Not as interesting as these other folk. Y'should probably ask about Wanda. Or the cursing lady outside. Or the possessed doll. Or the frog prince."

A stout, bald oread with sandstone skin stands awkwardly in the corner of the room. He is wearing green dragonhide armor, with holes on each of his shoulders to made room for the pair of barrel cacti that sprout from his skin.

A bipedal plant creature of about half his height stands beside him. She wears a cloak and armor made of oak leaves and an acorn cap.

The plant creature gently nudges the oread forward, and the oread speaks, saying simply "I'm Kragrak." He seem to be more interested in listening to his fellow Pathfinders and figuring out what is going on underneath Wetbeard's armor than he is in speaking about himself.

Right here, Sprout. No need to yell. And yes, they do show up.