*spit-take*
<.<
>.>
Walks out of thread quietly.
Search Posts
Yes. Yes we were. Ghoul fever, now in halfling size.
[Sad face] It seemed difficult near the last, almost like holding conversations with myself. Still I can't argue with the end result. Any advice on how to properly recycle a drunk Halfling? Eh the next build will be better optimized, this one was a bit of an experiment.
Lorn takes in the Mugwort's observations. Looking over their bedraggled group, not at their finest moment, but the chips are not in their favor. ..."When are they ever lately?" escapes from her inner monologue. "No ship? Was it a head from one of the effigies or a bit more recent? Was it Sandra's? Her lower lip trembles a bit and voice wavers with this last few words, of course this could be because of the cold breeze. Who gets cold on a hot tropical island like this? An inner resolve visibly steels her backbone, "I have a confession of sorts. I can scream silently but only the person who hears it is hurt, sometimes stunned. I might be able to keep one of them out of the fight long enough to kill the other fish-creature. It is how I was able to survive those two sailors knifing me in the bilges, much thanks to Mugwort's killing the other before he got to me."
In other news, I had my last final of semester today. I will resume posting with increased frequency and verbosity.
Fighting ghoul fever right now. Does the American Care Act apply to TarkXT's PBP?
Not feeling the paradise island love, in a foul mood, dirty and tired, her paranoia or perhaps raging pessimism cautions her to whisper to her cohorts, "Lets guard the barrel while Mugwort listens to some unguarded talk. These are Plugg and his cronies afterall. I don't trust him. Shanhai'd me, ...us, into this crew, set me up for murder in the bilges, time in the box for self-defense."
"Get the barrel, return to ship. Already tired of this too sunny island paradise." ;) Lorn will head out to collect the barrel to fill it up, and start rolling it to the ship. She motions for Sierra and Mugwort to follow, mumbles some platitudes to Rhialla and Sylvestra. TarkXT: Point of order mister Tark, I believe Lorn made her initial fort save against Ghoul Fever; so no dex or con dmg. She'll have to successively save a 2nd time to fight it off completely. Am I right or is there a story arc I am not privy too? Either way I am OK with result.
108. Because Hratha Aleslinger needs to put another notch on her barstool. 109. [b]"Oh that was your barstool? That explains why floor has a permanent beer stain there. Of course, you can barely see the floor underneath the mound of peanut shells. So no worries.
You tease...
Test1... [smaller]test2[/smaller]
"Lets get that barrel filled but not yet hand it over to Plugg. I wonder if that undead beastie was a shipwreck survivor or intentionally stranded here? Can't help but think, Plugg would love to take advantage of our current status." A fully dressed, damp and physically worn out Lorn straightens out her almost 3' frame. "First: water. Despite those bugs, I'd like to find out more about the former inhabitants. We may have to if the Wormwood is already gone."
Cracking open an eyelid, she croaks out "It ain't toughness. Its a determination to settle couple of scores." With that said, it serves as impetus to roll over and slowly, painfully gather her clothes. "Buxom. My thanks for the knife gouging. I don't feel any active creepy-crawlies." The naked Halfling stumbles to "clean" muddy bank to begin a painful mud scrub to purge her skin and clothes of blood, sweat and grime. The occasional overly vicious slap of a just landed flying insect while bathing lets you know she is alive.
What's a little sepsis and red filth among friends while enjoying a nice bout of ghoul fever and burrowing parasites? I look forward to abandonment issues when we return to find the ship missing.
Concur. I have to get creative with her combat as you saw onboard, choose spells that grant no save and don't require her to get upfront and personal. Makes her a bit more effective if only just barely. Still feel as if she is a drain on the party; at best an excellent primary target while the others attack. Well. She aint dead yet.
Test post from new iPad. . Test out.
The Halfling resists no one. She has minor bouts of consciousness with even less coherency.
"Bugs. I hate them." She coughs up and starts to scratch. "Hate them. Lets get the water an' get outa here."
Is it weird that I read the above statement with Aussie inflection?
Head pounding. Hangover? No. Explain why my skin itching and painful creepy crawlie sensation. Can't. Why am I bouncing? Open your eyes. View of Siera's front side, up close and personal. Awareness of passing through brush and whole lotta pain. CLOSE! Close your eyes! Bad dream! No more rum, I promise!
Lorn is squinting as hard as she can. Facial creases where her eyes should be. A brief tensioning of her body tells Siera she is awake, clearly in pain but not struggling.
Deliciousness. I am enjoying an evil chuckle. Well played, Tark. Well played.
Lorn is looking a bit pale and parched as Mugwort gropes, drags her away. Probably salivating as well. Not that she is complaining at the moment...
Did curiosity ever kill the Kender? How about Halfling? If she recovers, she'll be having some serious avoidance issues. On a related note, regarding Tark's comment about dealing with swarms: Sorcerers have a limited selection, but one spell I almost chose "ShockShield" would've been an effective bugzapper. Of course, she would've died earlier in the game if I had. Meh.
Its all good. Just chillin' on the planet Hoth.
Not to mention a waste of a living sacrifice.
That was a most impressive crit. Truly the dice gods have a favorite.
It was noted that one of the Representatives(D) tried attaching a rider for Obligatory signs for these businesses that have sincerely held beliefs. The rider, ironically, did not pass.
I am seeking advice regarding roleplaying my character. Should I play "best practices" or stay within character? ie play the paranoid murderhobo or let the ignorant character learn via hindsight despite my player anticipation of an early demise? I do try to avoid the meta but still I cringe when I know the PC actions are likely to lead to hard times. Your opinion?
Lorn's reaction is not logical but instinctive. The sudden animation of the dead guy and immediate attack, even as the swarm engulfs her, makes her hair stand out on all ends. An immediate crackling of fragmented light engulfs her bamboo spear as she prods with a viciousness born of self-preservation.
As Mugwort's words sink in, Lorn starts to reflexively gag. "I... How could y..." *Gag* She stumbles away from the hanging body and the drooling gobo, bracing against the barrel in time for her to be overcome with the dry heaves.
Please don't feed the troll.
Troll.
Snow Thunder! I haven't seen any lightning in this snow storm but do flickering interior lights count?
"Poor guy. Stranded alone and then can't even die quickly." Her initial sqickiness passes, Lorn moves alongside Mugwort and gently prods with her spear, spinning the body for a closer look. "Bad way to hang. Most hangings are done such that the neck is broken or suffocation is quick. Looks like this guy might've been kicking until he died of exhaustion or thirst." Her hands loosen the tunic around her own neck. Perking her ears at Blackwater's comment, "Aye. Undead. Speaking of the dead. Where are the other inhabitants? Any signs of life? Graves?" She takes a long slow look and listen alongside the fidgety goblin.
Those ice giants got edged out by the ice trolls now inhabiting the packed snow/ice levees beside every street/walkway. Breath shallow, air hurts going in. To clarify: Michigan was at -11 this morning.
Slapping and scratching at another mosquito bite, "Living onboard leaves a lot to be desired; however, mosquitos are an incentive." These last words fade into silence as the group comes upon the village scene. "Oh. Oh my."
Your priorities are right. You have my sympathies.
Lorn is quite happy with her two improvised long spears. She can still stab while keeping away from the violent folk. She proposes once the barrels are stashed or not, they take a roundabout way to the structure on the way to the river. She'd rather meet the natives on her own terms, letting them pass to discuss trespassing violations directly with Mr.Plugg.
Lorn will lead the pack away. "Capt'n Plugg will take pleasure in correcting us if we go in the wrong direction. Embrace the freedom, such as it is." As the beach curves and bends out of sight, Lorn points to the island interior. "Slavery Survival Rule#12: Work smart not hard. Find a shortcut, milk the job difficulty. Stash these barrels in the forest until we find the river. But I am thinking..." And she pointedly waves the stained still-covered-in-gristle bamboo stake. "... we'll soon have other priorities. These barrels are gonna slow us down." With the beached ship out of sight, she heads into the forest humming a little Chelaxian halfling tune.
Yes. Lets get in the green soonest. Roll these empty barrels on the surf zone as it is the easiest and gets us out of sight of Plugg while doing his bidding. The surf will wash our trail. Then once we find the river, follow it inland. Stash and hide these above the high tide mark. I just want away from this cursed vessel. It is an eyesore and there is plenty of room for more staked crew on the beach. This last part is emphasized as she scrubs the last bit of gristle from her salvaged bamboo stakes in the sand and surf.
Mirroring the goblin's scowl, Lorn's says nothing and departs also. She, however, clambers back into the beached vessel to retrieve a handful of daggers. Back on the beach, she takes time to knock over several staked remains, if there aren't any boneless stakes; salvaging the bamboo as makeshift spears. Standing beside Mugwort, taking in the imposing view of the ship, she turns around to scan the island interior edging the beach. "I'd bet my ship wages we are being watched right now. Any clues as to where the river might be?"
"Mmmmmmm, Rum... from the top shelf." Blinking and rubbing the saltwater away, Lorn gets an upclose explanation for Rhialla's well-endowed nickname. "Rhi, tell me true, did the Lady of the Sea bless you to produce life-nurturing rum hidden underneath that bodice? I am in awe and curiously thirsty." Despite her teasing words, she rolls a bit away to see her surroundings and current predicament. Hands patting down her side and fingering the newly puckered scars, that will in a few weeks time be lost amongst all the others populating her torso.
Lorn's wounds sealed by Buxom's patron god, when Siera lifts her off the deck, the half-pint reference is given truth. A mere 35...40 lbs max soaking wet; yet her face scrunches up and a brief, weak struggle to escape Siera's cradling before losing the effort. Any evidence of blood loss is already washed away as the storm continues venting its fury without the help of minions of the deep.
Rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated?
TarkXT:
Not sure if this feat fell into consideration but here it goes. Stormlashed should make me a Med size IRT storm and I might be the only one with a chance for perception at -6. Just saying, I took a feat for flavor and here is a rare opportunity. Regardless, play on! ”Ooooofff” Blinking the water from her eyes, just in time to see another suckered tentacle whiz above her prone position. ”…………” Her words vanish as the wind steals her breath away, Lorn leverages herself upwards very happy to feel the friction of wood grain beneath her sodden feet. Them suckers need to be pinned down. With a firm grip on her dagger and a barely conscious thought, an electrical arc encapsulates her arm racing to the dagger. Stabbing at the writhing tentacled gobshark between all of them, ”Sneaky gobshark, ain’t sneaky” but her words are once again whipped away.
|