Kuva takes the cup of wine, but deigns to bring it to his lips until he sees Clegg take a sip first. He doesn't say anything, listening instead to the conversation.
Kuva's eyes flash. "I would be more than happy to help provide cuttings," the halfling says fiercely. "The trees will find that I am not an easy meal to swallow."
Kuva takes his falchion from the half-elf, looking unusually bashful for the barbarian. He also picks up his sling-staff before they leave.
"The trees here are strong," he says begrudgingly, by way of explanation to his companions. Any other queries or questions he ignores, his raw skin not quite hiding the flush of embarrassment that crosses his face whenever he considers that he was almost eaten by a plant.
Ok - if it is possible for Kuva to move in the cocoon, he will (still raging) try to fight his way out. Is he pinned, or can he use his falchion? If he's not capable of using the falchion, I suppose he would try to bludgeon his way out with his sling staff, using his Powerful Blow rage power.
Attack roll: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19
Damage: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11 if it's the falchion,
1d4 + 6 ⇒ (2) + 6 = 8 if he has to use the staff.
That said, if he's dead, that would be a whole other ball game.
As Tyrrol points out the strange tree, Kuva turns towards it. After a brief moment of observation, the little bruiser walks straight up to the tree, falchion ready, to investigate.
Kuva believes that a 'safe distance' is within slashing distance of his blade.
Kuva observes the interaction between Clegg and the axebeaks with a detached interest, cleaning his blade as he watches. Afterwards, he walks past the crowd surrounding Mordecai and goes to bed, uninterested in the plight of the wounded.
Clegg looks down at Kuva and smiles. "Your wit's as pointed as your blade and as quick. You're one of the Akron's new recruits?" Apparently Zincher assumes that he needs no introduction himself.
Kuva nods at the much larger man. "Recruited earlier today," the halfling states. "Seeking the skymetal, same as yourselves - my allies decided that having your men as partners in the battledance would be wiser given the cat creatures' presence here."
The halfling doesn't offer his name either, presumably as he feels he needs no introduction either.
As Kuva follows Zincher and his hearing is restored, he looks about the clearing, looking for an available target. "You need better guards," he says conversationally to Zincher. "If they noticed more, perhaps your rug would not have been ruined by the blood of the fallen upon it." He fires a quick shot at the nearest akata.
I added Kuva's fort save to the bottom of Kuva's last post yesterday - sorry for the confusion. Putting this here so it doesn't clutter up the gameplay thread!
Gah, got me flat-footed!
Dex damage: 1d3 ⇒ 2
Con damage: 1d3 ⇒ 2
Kuva gives a soundless yell, giving the creature a crack with his sling-staff. He waves at Clegg to go raise an alarm, but in the swirl of noiseless melee, the message is indistinct.
"Kuva Azul, newcomer and guard. Simply investigating suspicious activity, comings and goings at night, sir," the halfling states simply. "I'll let you get to your rest." The barbarian turns around to leave, mentally cursing his clumsy feet.
Kuva looks to his two guard companions for a moment, but decides that they will probably be fine without him. He slips off towards Zincher's tent to investigate the strange comings and goings.
Kuva answers any attempts at small talk from the grunts with grunts. He stands with his slingstaff loaded and at the ready, peering about the camp for any suspicious activity.
Kuva, too, appears unphased by the news of the past inhabitants of the tent. His curiosity sated, the halfling retires without further ado, head on his bag of belongings until it comes time for his watch.
Kuva stands, fairly unflappable during the hustle and bustle. He nods at the trade of watches between Lecian and Lothan. "Sooner have you well-rested, wizard," Kuva says, graciously. "A tired spellslinger is about as useful as a bladeless hilt. Sooner have you ready for any dance that may arrive tomorrow."
Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27
Kuva's brow knits at the markings of the grass. He seeks out Akron in a quiet moment. "The tent, it was erected before," the halfling says matter-of-factly. "Where are it's inhabitants now?"
Kuva stands over the body long enough to work his falchion out the scabbard, then immediately sets himself in a wide stance, preparing to swing his blade with all his might. "Don't have any fire to use," he says. "Sword will have to do."
Going to attempt a coup de grace on the body, as long as the body holds still...
Kuva shrugs, non-commitally. "If you feel you are not prepared to dance with them, then I will wait until we are ready. A dance by oneself is fine, but the more that dance, the greater the glory," the halfling says. "I will follow the group's choice."
"Well prepared group," Kuva notes, with a hint of respect in his voice. "Tough fighters, to survive the island so far. Are you all prepared to fight them?" His tone indicates that he believes he is completely prepared to fight them.
Kuva's eyes narrow at the mention of his halfling status. He scans the crowd fiercely, searching for any that may find his size to be comical. He stands as tall as his small frame will let him.
Kuva ponders his options for a moment, trying for a moment to think of the best plan. Giving a frustrated growl, he detaches himself from the underbrush, joining his companions, but leaving his slingstaff loaded.
While I understand that Kuva's choice is sub-optimal in terms of tactics, he's not much of a tactical thinker. I feel that this is pretty much exactly what he would do - head out and not worry too much about who was following him. Worst case scenario, he cuts and runs, stealthing on the way back, to alert the party.
Kuva gives the party a signal to slow. "I'll investigate the disturbance," he says in a brusque manner that doesn't allow much room for argument. "Wait." He slinks off into the underbrush, moving stealthily.
"Riddleport folk," Kuva says simply, advancing on them as he draws his falchion. As they advance as well, Kuva gives a roar and charges into them recklessly. His falchion sinks deep into the center creature.
Kuva gives an approving nod to the surge of action, and Tyrrol's familiar battlethirst. He silently repositions his bag upon his shoulders and waits quietly at the door.
Kuva heads out, silently trailing behind the talkative Lothan and the... responsive Tyrrol. He peers about the place, his small features taking in the surrounding area.
Kuva cheerily bustles about camp, a spring in his little steps - apparently the night's festivities, as almost-disastrous as they were for the cyphermage, were to Kuva's liking. "Let us find and face the Riddleport bilgerats that dare to take what we shall claim as our conquest by right of battle," the halfling says. "My sword demands blood, something that our foe last night lacked."
Kuva nods approvingly at Lecian as the creature ceases to be. "Well shot, rune-reader." He sighs, allowing the boiling anger to slip from him, leaving just a deep fatigue. "Shall we sleep here again?"
"The only running a warrior does is to his enemy's doorstep," the fiery halfling says dismissively. "Perhaps they train spellslingers differently."
Amirite?
Out of character, though, I understand if the party wants to stop scrapping with an incorporeal beastie - I'm just roleplaying my suicidally incautious character to the hilt.
Kuva nods at Lecian's words, feeling the magic enhancing his abilities. He draws a deep breath and swings.
Attack: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (8) + 11 = 19
Damage, using Powerful Blow if my attack roll is a hit: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (1) + 9 = 10
That is it, I am retiring these dice codes. Can't roll me anything useful!
Kuva stands on his feet at the sounds of the melee, a savage smile upon his face. "Come, earth-ghost, and face a greater death!," the halfling crows. He charges to attack the creature, releasing a mighty howl from his small frame. His momentum, however, brings him straight past the creature, his falchion swinging wide past the incorporeal form.
Round 1: Stand from prone, draw falchion.
Round 2: Rage, charge, and surprise accuracy! Attack: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14
Hey, sorry about not posting initiative - just had a really busy week and am struggling to catch up online. Did Kuva's turn get skipped in the first round? We can say that he was still sleeping.
Kuva is down to 30 out of 38, so wouldn't say no to a little wand-lovin'.
The halfling sets his bag upon the ground, settling it as a pillow. Within a few moments, he is asleep, his ferocity melting away in sleep and leaving him looking simply childlike.
Kuva gives a wide smile at Lecian's words. The halfling drops his bag upon the ground, his falchion-hand restlessly twitching. "Then wait we shall," he says.
