I'll wait if they're retreating and approach them at a more opportune moment, then.
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Is this a good time to introduce my character? Seems a little funny to have him come charging in just as the group turns around to go home.
All right, character made and submitted for approval. Soon as the DM gives me the thumbs up, he's going to wander into the situation, mere moments after Lukas died. The coincidence will be chalked up as fate, and I'm sure the group will embrace him with open arms.
* 10 = 200gp
No prob! I can do martial. Let me brainstorm a little and I'll run some concepts past you so that you can pick the one that makes the most sense in game. And as for poison resistance... What are the odds that my next PC will also die of poison? Impossible! Impossible I say. Surely the die roller would never... Oh. Hmm. Maybe I should take Toughness.
Well, I should probably play a martial character, right, to keep the party balanced?
DANG. That's the worst luck I've ever had with the die roller. On some level, it's actually incredibly impressive. A 2 for my final roll, when all I needed was a 6 or higher? I'm totally fine with Lukas' death (well, maybe a little sad), but am always happy to make a new PC. Perhaps my next one will have a little more luck?
Despite Khardir's desperate attempts, Lukas' paralysis doesn't let up. Instead, the large man shakes and shivers, and blood flecked foam begins to ooze forth from between his clenched teeth. His heels drum on the stone floor, and then he sighs, and relaxes. The light goes out in his eyes, and Lukas goes still.
Honestly, I think we can all agree that the die roller hates me.
Feeling feverish, nauseated, and cloddish to boot, Lukas tries to take a step forward, tries to focus on where the fight is taking place. The poison raging in his system however is too much. With a groan he collapses to the ground, eyes wide and staring, unable to move.
I'm going to start calling myself 'Lucky Lukas'. I'm now staggered.
With a groan Lukas rises to his feet, nodding his thanks to Khardir, but a fresh wave of pain and nausea ripples through him, almost laying him low.
I'm afraid I'm still confused. I know Lukas is under the effect of the poison for 9 rounds. Can you tell me what his penalties are for that duration? Thanks!
How long does this condition last for? *Also, Lukas is demonstrating for everyone watching how not to go about exploring this tower.
Before Lukas can react, the imp is upon him, stinger lancing deep into the thick muscles of his neck. Lukas roars in pain and surprise, and tries to spin, to bring up the bardiche, but pain clouds his vision as blood pours down to soak his chain. Lukas staggers, drops his bardice, and claps his hands to the wounds. "B...bastard..." he managed, before crashing down to the floor.
"All right. Let's see if we can't replace this tricky key mechanism with old fashioned brute force." Lukas props his bardiche beside the secret door, takes a step or two back, then hops forward and forward kicks, thrusting from the hips, letting out a grunt as he plants the heel of his boot in the center of the door.
Lukas steps back, scowling, examines the door, then decides to place his foot where the locking mechanism should be. If there was one.
Lukas hawks and spits. "Sit willingly in a torture instrument? I'd rather dig my way through these walls than do as you say, you s**$e bird." He looks to his companions. "All right, we've found plenty of secret doors in here already, haven't we? Let's just get to looking for this new one."
After casting about aimlessly for a bit, Lukas turns to examine the torture instruments, moving them away from walls, looking inside them, poking at different parts to see if anything might prove the secret lever to the door. When he reaches the black robed individual, he gives it a quick search to see if it has anything on it.
Hope you feel better, Nisany and Bel!
*pokes the gameplay thread* Where's everybody at? We seem to be slowing down to almost 2 posts a week...
At least I got to deal it a solid whack across the beak. My bet was that it was an illusion, a magic mouth kinda dealie-o that cast the suggestion spell on anyone that entered!
That's one tough Raven. Dang!
For a moment Lukas looks longingly at one of the cruel chairs, but then he literally smacks the side of his head and scowls. "Damn bird," he growls. "You take a seat!" With that, he dashes across the room and swings at it with his Bardiche.
"Around it is," says Lukas, drawing back and leading the group down the hallway, through the secret doors, and to the western tunnel. When they reach the closed door, he pauses and presses his ear to the wood.
"Oooookay," says Lukas, drawing back. "Lightning elemental? That sounds pretty bad. Anybody have a good reason why we should tangle with this thing? Khardir, can you figure out what that machine there might be for?" Lukas steps farther back into the tunnel and leans his bardiche against his shoulder. "Why did we come down here again? To find out what toppled the witch tower? Doesn't look like that old machine's responsible. Or that lightning thing. How about we continue poking around, see what we find elsewhere, and come back here if we have to later on?"
Lukas slowly relaxes, raising his bardiche as the roiling shadows evanesce and the hallway returns to normal. He gives a sharp exhalation to check if his breath will plume, then smiles down at Nisany and gives her shoulder a squeeze. "Sharp thinking, Miss Blim. Good work." That said, he pauses by the newly revealed hidden door and scrutinizes it, scratching his chin before turning to the others. "They sure liked their secrets in this place, didn't they? Anyway. Let's press on."
Lukas' suspicions are confirmed by Beldraim's words, and he draws back as the shadows begin to writhe and dance at the ends of the hallways. Unhurriedly he lowers his bardiche, pointing it at the roiling shadows, and then watches Nisany offer the ghost a waterskin with a frown, his breath pluming before him in the now frigid hallway.
Lukas shoulders the door open the rest of the way and then moves into the cellblock, bardiche held at the ready. He paused by the different cells to peer into their empty darkness, torch held aloft, and then finally ends up at the massive iron door at the far western end. "Huh. No peepholes. Wonder what's on the other side? Give me the go-ahead when you're ready, and I'll try to open this thing so we can keep on going."
Once it's become clear that the room has no further secrets to divulge, Lukas moves to the southern door where he pauses, pressing his ear to its surface, and then cracks it open to peer at what lies beyond.
Lukas peers more closely at the iron maiden. "Devil, hey?" The old blood stains cause him to frown, and morbid curiosity causes him to tap the casket's side with the tip of his bardiche, causing it to clink. "Anybody here up for checking if this things trapped?"
Lukas stands, wincing as he tests his ankle, then gives the dwarf a curt nod. "Thanks. Don't know what I was thinking, leaping down here like that. No more foolish heroics from me." That said, he picks up the fallen torch and crouches by one of the centipedes, examining its segmented form, then gives it a kick and moves over to the iron statue of the lady with the wicked teeth. He frowns at it for a moment then turns to the others. "What kind of place is this, anyways? Anybody get a history of this tower? Strange to have these kinds of critters and... decor... so close to town. In town, practically."
A quick swipe with a cloth cleans the ichor from his bardiche, and he takes a few tentative deep breaths to test his broken rib. With a grunt he puts the pain away from his mind, and moves to the southern door when the others are ready.
Ack! A 20 foot drop! I thought for some reason it was just ten. Next time I'll just shelve the dramatics and climb down ;)
"Nyzaj! Watch out!" Not seeing the centipede clinging to the ceiling, Lukas focuses his attention on the insect coming out from beneath the bed.
Not wanting to bother with the ladder, Lukas grits his teeth and simply steps forward into the void, dropping to land beside Nyzaj with bone jarring force. He smashes the iron butt of his bardiche into the ground as he does so, resulting in a piercing crack that echoes through the room, then staggers back to press his back against the wall as he spins his weapon about him with dismaying ability, whipping the head before the centipede's maw with such speed that the metallic surface appears little more than a flickering tongue of flame in the torch's light.
Lukas listens to the others, crouched by the trapdoor with his torch held high overhead. The flames dance and weave about the torch's head, casting velvety shadows upon the ruined interior. "Whichever of you wants to descend first is fine with me. Nyzaj, why don't you go? Maybe you can ask these kobolds what they were up to before they attack us."
Lukas crouches by the trap door leading down, and pauses, trying to listen and see if there's anything making sound from below. Creakings indicating an imminent structural collapse, the chitter of kobolds, the moan of the wounded - he tries to get a sense of what may await them. Then, with a nod to the assembled group, he grasps the iron ring and hauls the trapdoor up to peer below.
Lukas kneels as the others find their way up to the top, and pulls out a tightly bundled sheaf of branches whose tip has been dipped in tar. This is lights with several strikes of his flint and steel. It flares to life as the tar catches, and holding the torch overhead he peers below as Nyzaj and the others gather about him. Without a word, he drops down to the floor below, sets the torch in an empty iron bracket, and grabs hold of the stout timber. He takes a deep breath, crouches then, then slowly straights, the muscles of his back, shoulders, and thighs straining as he levers the heavy beam up, up and then with a cry he heaves it aside so that it crashes back down, causing a fresh plume of dust to erupt about them. Lukas looks at his palm. "Damn it. Splinters." He then looks up at the others. "Looks like we've a way down." Peering into the gloom below, Lukas grunts in frustration and simply drops his torch to the ground floor. Then, unless anything presents itself, he descends, bardiche at the ready.
Lukas squats by the second corpse, long enough for the others to notice the object of his scrutiny, and then rubs at his chin as he shakes his head. "Two dead in the collapse. Doesn't seem quite... purposeful, does it? Looks like something went wrong with their plan. That, or their engineering was downright awful." Nisany places her question, and Lukas sucks on his teeth, trying to get a sense of any further or imminent collapse. He can't tell, however, which is why when the dwarf steps forward to make his comment, Lukas turns to him, arms crossed. "Master dwarf. You reckon it's safe to climb on up that southeastern slope? Any further chance of collapse? Perhaps you'd consider coming with us a ways, just to make sure we don't get buried in there?" As Nyzaj retreats behind the group, Lukas catches him by placing a hand on his scaled shoulder and arresting his retreat, deftly guiding him so that he remains planted by the larger human's side. "Stand tall, Nyzaj. You got nothing to hide from. C'mon. Let's extend our cartographing to the inside of that tower." Then, unless Khardir says otherwise, Lukas begins to climb up the slope, feet sliding occasionally on the rubble, bardiche held crosswise for balance, till he gains the top and is able to peer into the tower's interior.
Lukas grins at Deputy Mulle, clearly enjoying her irate manner and not at all put off by her orneriness. When Lady Origena stalks down from her manor house and imposes some measure of order, he sets to slowly walking the perimeter of the fallen tower, examining it from all angles, pausing occasionally to sink down into a crouch so as to peer into a shadowed nook or crevice.
Finally he returns to the group having made his inspection, and nods to the Lady as she finishes up her request.
He eyes her speculatively, his mouth pursed in thought, but then gives a slight shrug as if letting go of a query. He's clearly happy to let the others handle the conversation, and so waits, arms crossed over his broad chest, bardiche slotted through one elbow, waiting for the go ahead to get started.
Glad to report interest from another great player! We should be hearing from him very soon :) I told him we just lost our healer/face, but encouraged him to make whatever he wanted to play.
I could do some more recruiting...
Sorry to see you go, Kitsu.
Lukas jackknifes out of bed at the sound of the rumbling roar, twisting out of his sheets while still waking to half collapse onto the floor, hand fumbling for his bardiche which stands propped beside the headboard. He's up and crouched, bardiche trapped between ribs and elbow, sharp end before him, before he understands what's going on. "What the...?" Rising from his crouch, he moves to his window and throws open the shutters. Unfortunately his view is over the Verduran Fork, and affords him little more than the quickly flowing black waters below and the nocturnal forest beyond. Hurrying, he struggles into his travel gear, wrestles his spiked chain shirt on, and then, hopping as he pulls on his boots, makes his way out the door and down the stairs to the common room below. "Bring me some ale!" he bellows to nobody in particular, then finally his heel sinks into his boot and he's able to stride forward properly. Nisany is already confronting Deputy Varyl Hodd, so Lukas moves past the two of them to the front door, out into the street, to see if he can spot what the source of the disturbance is.
After that last question I'm also good.
Lukas pushes his plate away at last, having eaten enough for three, and settles back, fingers interlaced over his now slightly straining gut. "Thank you for the fine meal, my lady. One last question before we go. There anything we should know about Belhaim before we start getting involved with the folks here? Legends about the countryside, any cave systems that come to mind, strange geographic features, or information about the townsfolk so that we don't tread on any toes?" His companions have heard him ask the same question of every steading, hamlet and town they've passed.
Lukas gives a one shouldered shrug as he continues to eat, clearly not upset about being corrected, and simply nods to show that he understands. As the feast begins, Lukas sits up, clearly intended to make as much room in his belly as possible. He sets to demolishing the feast with fierce delight, spearing slivers of venison, shoveling loads of vegetables onto his plate, enjoying the wine and not being shy about asking for more. Halfway through the meal, he leans forward, one elbow planted on the table and points his fork at Lady Origena. "My lady. Couldn't help but notice how young some of the folk around here are. The guard at the bridge. Young boy. Had to be, what, thirteen or so? And Talia, owner of the inn. Seemed just as young. Has Belhaim lost some folk recently?" He munches as he listens to the response, and then moves on to another question. "Speaking of youth, what's going on with your son Arnholde there? He under a curse or something?"
Lukas smiles and reaches up to take Dermot's platter of antipasto from the butler's unwilling hand, easing the tension with a smile as he scoops nearly half of it onto his plate. He hands it back as if it's the most natural thing in the world, and sets to shoveling it into his mouth, chewing with energetic ferocity as he listens to the conversation at hand. "Sounds grand," he says, wiping at his mouth with a bunched up napkin. "Bel and Mia got the rights of it. Course, me being the suspicious kind, I'd like some kinda evidence that we had a contract between us in case of misunderstandings down the road. Perhaps signed copies of a document that we each get to carry and can produce if there's ever any cause for confusion?" He gives Lady Origena a wink. "Set my mind at ease, that would." He reaches out for the panzanella. "This is really good. Really good. And yes, I think we could help you with this kobold problem. Any extra information you can share would of course be welcome. You looking to have them all killed, or removed, or...?" He sets to munching loudly on the salad, listening
Be safe, Bel!
Lukas sets to eating, hunching over his plate, forearms propped on the edge of the table, chewing with methodical intent as he works his way through the hors d'oeuvres as if they were a main dish. He doesn't hesitate to fill his goblet with the chilled wine, either; sipping to wash down the crostinis and bread, he listens intently as the baroness makes her case, then gives Bel a sly look as Lady Origena confirms his earlier suspicion. Still, he stays quiet. Well, relatively so; food crunches audibly between his jaws as he examines his companions, namely Bel and Mia, waiting to see what they'll say in response to this offer.
Lukas leads the way, pausing only as he emerges through the front door of The Piper to blink, gain his bearings, then turn right along Canteclure Road toward the distant Rogue Creek. He moves at an easy pace, bardiche propped openly over one shoulder, other hand on his hip. He meets people's gazes directly and has no qualms in holding them; his smile never slips, but there's a subtle hardness to his gaze that almost invites comment, seems to welcome somebody making an issue of Nyzaj's presence. No comments are made. Their leisurely approach affords him time to inspect Belhaim. It's to be their base of operations for perhaps a week, and as such he's got more than a passing interest in their environs. He searches for sign of why the smithy might be closed - a fire? Why such a large livery for such a small town - a mining operation close by in need of donkeys? The eastern bridge - an adequate choke point if pressed in an attack, and how easy might it be to collapse? Lukas slows as they pass the newer manor, so that even Nisany is tripping at his heels. "Barred windows," he mutters. "Iron door. Ruined tower keep. Interesting." When they reach their destination, he fades to one side, at ease, happy to check his bardiche in the hallway so as to not carry it into the presence of the baroness, and looking about the decorations with a muted, almost absent-minded curiosity. His eyes linger on the martial portraits and the weapons, but he makes no comment until he's addressed by the baroness. "Lukas Neidhart at your service, m'lady." He bows, a rough inclination of the head and shoulders, and lacking all courtly polish. "I doubt we've met, unless you've seen fit to explore some of the seedier sidestreets of Cassomir." He smiles wryly, enjoying the impossibility of that explanation. "I've been told I've an exceedingly common-looking face. Perhaps it's that near violent normalcy that caught your attention."
Loved the post! Absolutely no complaints here ;)
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