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Keeping his large, leathery wings, Lener rests on a branch watching as the others annihilate the garrison, judging there to be no need for him to act.
"How nice." growls Lener, before viciously pummeling the elf.
I noticed that I had not updated my combat talent choice properly, so I'll be removing a few illegal choices. As a consequence, I'll pick up one giving me additional damage and a bit more synergy between trip and grapple maneuvers. So, if my damage increases in a bit, all as usual.
Lener rushes to the furthest one, attempting to grasp him, but his fingers slip on the silky vests. With a frustrated snarl, he follows up with a thunderous slap.
Next time I'm staying as a bat. Lener sprints towards the foes, walking on the tree trunk as if it was a floor.
If we're really hurting for it, I use light armor so I could snag a level of caster next time we level.
"Might I suggest that you and the midget keep to the back? If it's not much trouble. Or we could just charge, fine by me too, but let's get on the same page, eh?"
With a jump and a flap of wings, the bat-like form of Lener pounces against the elf closest to the tree trunk, driving an impossibly strong punch against their chest.
Called it. Focusing on the beast inside, Lener's form twists into that of a large bat, leathery wings sprouting from his arms.
Welcome to the party!
Lener's feet are silent and the robe blends with the surroundings as he sneaks forward.
Lener puts on his grey robe, enjoying in a small measure the feeling of the refined fabric on his skin. "I can move silently as well. But let's just move swiftly towards our quarry, then we may dispatch her retinue, our disguises should hold for long enough. A mercenary group shouldn't be hard to locate, especially if someone knows Elven."
I'll get a dark grey cowled robe of the best available quality. Spider silk, if it's not too expensive.
Yes, yes. But Lener is hot-headed, impatient and dislikes everything "proper" or "artificious", so he's pushing for action. I can tone it down, if it's unpleasant.
"We look like hideous fops and we can use silly weapons. Got it. Are we moving soon? Because I feel a growing need to break something."
Ok. Very minor point, could you mark me inactive on the other (Quest for Eternal Night) campaign? Just my little obsessions about the Campaigns page.
"I'm the cranky one."
Lener makes a show of yawning theatrically. "Just go ahead."
"Might I just say what a charming place this is, simply delightful." drawls Lener. "And your choice of words, just fascinating, what with the calling us test subjects, I am shivering. Truly a show of a maniacal and twisted but still brilliant mind. Please, my dear Sir, will you also cackle madly? I always enjoy a good cackle."
A show of resignation on his face, Lener passes his hand in his hair before opening his mouth. "Alright, so, these are fangs. They mean that I am a vampire. Vampires can turn into bats. Big bats. We can also walk on walls and ceilings, turn into mist, and dominate people's minds. On the downside, sun kills us, we may not cross flowing water, and a handful of other inconveniences. Oh, and we hunger for blood."
"We can fly out. I can carry you."
Lener slumps on the chair, waiting for Ilnerik to answer the others.
"Yes, quick is best. With a bit of luck, those others will stop on the way, indulging in mindless slaughter for the fun of it, and we'll be through before they know it."
"Or we can decide once we secure it." drawls Lener. "We don't know what it is, we don't know what it does, we don't know if we could control it. For now let's focus on keeping it out of the psychos' reach."
"Oh, a play for power. How unexpected."
In a caricatural baby voice, Lener answers Zelic. "A fwee leffon? Fank you, teecher. You awe fo wise and genewous."
"Now why the Hells would I speak again to those pompous, pretentious guys, if not forced? I won't say a thing. The way things are going for me in the last years, I'll likely not speak to a single soul for a decade."
"Bait and switch, Mister Slade. One would think that I was speaking about the wolf, then I turned the tables and the halfling was my target. You'd better get used to sarcasm while I'm around."
At Kisara's words to Saban, Lener growls quietly, as a territorial animal instinct fires inside him. The arrival of the halfing, however, distracts him. "Oh, what now? Are we that sorry-looking that we'll pick up stray beasts filled with fleas and disease? Not to mention the wolf!" At the tavern, he slouches on a chair. "Deer steak, bloody raw. Cured boar sausages, aged sheep cheese and roasted potatoes. A bottle of vodka, or any other strong, flavorless liquor."
I don't have time for a post right now but I'm alright with traveling together. Bot me if needed.
I punch things. I grapple things, possibly sucking out their blood. I throw things off high places. I can also be a decent sneak.
Present and ready!
"I still believe that hiding the sun and being forced to use magic to grow cattle is an asinine plan -thank you, by the way, Count Duncan, I appreciate the honesty- and will make life more unpleasant in the long term. At least for those of us who prefer to prey on healthy, nutritious peasants, without leaving a trace; I can understand that those who are turned on by their fear fetish, turned on by keeping defenseless victims, gloating on their terror of what's going to happen might like that."
Lener rises from his seat and sits on the ground, cross-legged. "Those chairs are extremely uncomfortable, I'll have you know."
I think I'll allocate some more skill points to Punching and Clawing, while we're at it.
"And not a moment too soon."
As the servants enter, Lener rubs his hands over his face in despair. It's just like those posh nobles and their vintages, I know it, I'm going to die of boredom here. I wonder if I can write my own epitaph. Here rests one who cared for substance over form.
Soooooo, you're saying that good old antimagic field is the best tactic against you, alright.
Murnau: (You really enjoy making empty anonymous threats, don't you? Just like those weak kids who want to feel strong and powerful, but lack the strength to act. What else? Do you creep on girls while they are changing clothes? Do you spread filthy rumors about those who think you are ugly and unpleasant? Oh, no, wait, I got it! You must write poetry! Can you tell me a limerick? I once met a goblin bard, he had made one he was very proud of, it went something like
"There once was a bard with a lute that looked so incredibly cute he blew a big sneeze and flew with the breeze that bard with the very cute lute" Uhm, no, the cadence is not quite right, I don't know, but the bard had a really nice voice, and people started saying things like "no, no way, goblins can't sing that good, you must be a gnome in disguise" and he was like "no, no, I am a goblin, but I was raised by halflings" and, oh, I don't know, maybe you had to be there. Anyway, the moral of the story is, your words are empty and you don't scare me any more than that goblin did.)
You just need to have a lot of patience.
Oh, but it's far better if they stay alive. You can wait for fast healing to do its trick and then start smashing again, ad libitum.
Lener smiles back at Kisara and winks. "I'm just speaking my mind. Unlike someone who is too much of a coward to speak, and would rather hide behind a spell. Sorry excuse for a predator." Murnau: (So what if your master's master is supposedly strong? It just means you are a lackey's lackey. Unlike you, I don't grovel at other's feet, I live and die at my terms. Enjoy living in the shadows like a worm, enjoy hiding behind petty magic like the craven you are. And keep hiding within the skirts of those stronger than you, so you'll never know what it feels to take your destiny in your own hands.)
Spirit Walker actually has an ability that allows me to affect undead with mind-effecting spells. What a coincidence, I can affect undead with "smashing one's head against a rock" effects ^_^
Lener slumps in his chair, looking at Murza like one looks at an annoying kid. "You know, I get it, the whole psychopath murderous child is fun in the beginning, but it quickly grows tiresome and stale. Have some composure." Murnau: (Oh no, a disembodied voice making empty threats, how terribly scary. What, are you too much of a coward to speak openly? Or are you aching that much for a fight? I'll gladly oblige, if you aren't too scared to show yourself.)
"Yeah, you missed enough self-centered antics and pompous, empty talk to make me long for the final death. Other than that, not much."
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