I'll echo the sentiments of my comrades, I loved this game, thank you for running it, let us know if you find the time and space for it in the future
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"His armor is heavy but will make the wearer, one of us now, faster while in the mountains. Potions are Protection from Evil. Maybe the orc thought the threat in the mines was extraplanar?"
Maggs' hand does more to help with the excavation than she herself does, moving rocks with surprising strength and agility. Once the body is properly exhumed, she busies herself by detecting magic and trying to root out the reality of the broken potions. Rolls:
Met with the smell, she does not recoil, but simply nods in response to Drask's assertion, her mind elsewhere
Maggart points out the dead and buried orc at the base of the rockslide by tapping its hand with her toe. "We wanna do something about this? It'll take time to dig them out, or I could try a spell I have to turn all this back into mud, but that might just start another rockslide." After any investigation, she opens a jar on her belt filled with spiders, which frantically leap and spill out as she opens the lid. The druid quickly closes it before they all escape and start their mad scramble out and away, catching a few stragglers for her troubles. Squishing these in between her fingers, she rolls and rubs their gooey insides across her hands and goes around touching Byron and Drask and Hyacinth, champing her teeth and sniffing as she casts a spell to enhance their movement.
"No one needs to know where we are going or why, not the townsfolk, not the orcs, and not some dumb kid looking for his brother." Maggart volunteers herself to keep first watch, and should the night pass without incident, sleeps soundly.
Reporting for duty
If we're not trying to be stealthy, I never declared the rest of my spells, I can spend 15 minutes to prep and then make us a web shelter and a campfire wall
"Layla said they shouldn't be trouble if we leave them alone. She's usually right about these things. But if they are avoiding the mountain altogether, they might be worth visiting, interrogating."
Wild shape. Probably a dire rat or other gross thing that's faster than people
Back still turned to the child, the grimy woman murmurs to herself, "Don't be surprised if we bring back his bones in that coat," brushing each beast with a black cloth as she does. "We ready to ride out? For a day's travel, these beasts will stand by, fight and die along us if needed. Through both magic and understanding, they respect me as their better and we have reached an accord." Her hand twitches, clicks and chatters, agitated and antsy.
Maggs wears it, without doubt.
Maggart and her hand pick thru the refuse of the city, finding plenty enough to fill their bellies in the night and morning, earning a new and unkind smell for their trouble. She sleeps pressed firmly against the dirt, rising with the sun, red hair alight in the morning glow. She paces, muttering to herself as she collects twigs and leaves and bits of bone and insect, long reeds and weeds and ferns, wrapping them around each other, squishing unripe berries into her hair and against her clothes. The woman's stench, eliminated days prior and slowly building since, has fully returned, and to make matters worse, she begins applying- perfume? No, wait. Very not perfume. A thick, heady smell, bitter and acrid, with a rising heat and an unpleasant subtle sweetness that sits in one's sinuses and makes their eyes water. With the party reunited at the gate, she steps past the boy and his shoes to begin calling steeds, whistling and shrieking into the woods and fields beyond, calling forth two horses and, by earlier request, a buffalo. She begins with the bison and then each horse, allowing her fellows to deal with the child, a situation which she tries to entirely ignore.
"I can perhaps commune with the wilds to find us," she pauses, choosing the right words, "willing beasts. But I will need to prepare the right spells in the morning."
Maggart glares at the dragon without saying anything and leaves the tent, wand in hand. When the others join her, they find her picking something out of her teeth; she asks "Should we visit the orcs or try and stay out of their way on our way to the mines?"
Maggart nods at Byron, grabs the fullest wand and pays the man 630 coin. "You meet that thing around here?" she inquires indelicately, pointing at the faerie dragon. "What's it's motivation for sticking around? Food, companionship? It dangerous?"
Thank y'all for the help
Maggart pokes around, searching for a curative wand, but when the shopkeep's illusion starts dancing, it startles her and she accidentally knocks something large and expensive over. Returning it to its place takes up the rest of her attention. Wrestling with the heavy thing, she grunts and asks "Who, or what, is Kraka? Do you've a dog or a kid or something?" The item returned to its place, she sighs and wipes the sweat off her forehead with the bottom of her tunic.
Hey I'mhaving difficulty logging in, changed my password, sent Paizo an email, I can access the site on my phone but not on my PC sorry I genuinely don't know what is going on
I really feel connected with the story and the characters, am eager to see more of it. I do regret my spell choice for the day; I had assumed when I picked it that we would be adventuring in the mines and prepared mostly terrain spells and things to help us navigate tunnels and quarries but we certainly did survive the crocodiles with minimal damage. Sorry for the delay in response in thread, forum maintenance kept getting me.
"I'm going to take some of our reward and go shopping, without our paladin, we'll need some extra healing power and I hope to find a wand. Perhaps also some snacks and climbing supplies. If someone wanted to join me, it would be appreciated, I am," she sucks air in between her teeth, "bad at people."
Maggs does not look much at Joanna as she departs, but waves a hand dismissively when asked for permission and good tidings, feigning disinterest. She would miss the paladin, in her own way, but not the dog. "We should really head into town, see what we can find. Maybe get a wand if we're lucky."
Maggs grimaces at Byron's offered kindness, blushing and looking away. "You're more useful alive than you would be as dinner. I bet you taste terrible, all that pipeweed." She stays on the deck with Drask for much of the night, retreating inside once she's sure the paladin and dog are asleep.
Maggs pulls herself off the deck and stands upright as her field of hands collapse, having served their purpose. She approaches Byron and the sailor, her loose hand jumps into her grip and, holding her severed wrist, she smacks the junkie with the limp and loose appendage. "Next time I cast a spell like that on you, climb up the f++*ing mast." She reattaches the creature to her wrist and begins walking around, mending the more intact wreckage with her magic, spending the better part of the next hour doing so.
Maggs watches unblinking, both terrified and indifferent, as the reptile swallows Byron. As a youth she watched Gulreesh, the oytugh king, eat many of his 'subjects', and grew numb to it, but in her mind she is back in the sewers, being chased by Gulreesh, his tentacles reaching for her to swallow her whole. Fleeing. She gulps, and throws herself on the back of the beast, gripping its jaws and trying to pull its mouth open.
The field of hands jumps from the carcass onto Drask and the hull, scrambling up and over the half orc, pulling at him uncomfortably but leaving him unharmed. As the owner of their body wrestles with the reptile, the severed hands each open mouths on their undersides and begin sucking in the air rapidly, intensely, pulling on the crocodile's exposed throat, latching onto Byron inside and, should their gambit succeed, yanking him out and to comparable safety, where they each bite down on him as he lands in their mass.
The hand had been screeching and clacking about on its sharp nails, and as the crocodiles burst onto the boat, it excitedly climbs into a mouth and begins clawing and scratching, bothering and distracting the creature, hoping to be bit and swallowed in lieu of a greater threat. Upon any reaction from the beast, it explodes into hundreds more of itself, each digging into the crocodile as they scatter about the surface of its great form, clinging to the side of the ship and the reptile itself.
Its owner, meanwhile, skitters across the hull, resting beside a crocodile and poking and pushing it to try and aggravate it, draw its attention away from Joanna and Hyacinth.
Maggs throws her hand necklace again, thinking at the very least it'll help keep the alligator at bay temporarily. Her loose hand skitters alongside the hull and waits patiently for an opportunity to strike, hanging gingerly on the bowsprit.
Absolutely fine, don't mind at all. We have a history, share pieces of common backstory, anyone may elaborate on past experiences. As far as the nightmares, I imagine the inspiring event pretty simply: Maggs surrounded by a bunch of goblins, each with their happy little 6 HP, then boom, Graphic Description of Goblin Death:
a sea of hands fall from the ceiling, peeling back the goblins' skin with their long sharp nails, using the strength of their grip to pop their limbs clean off, tearing the little guys apart. One lone survivor runs off and the hands collapse dead but one scurries after, opening a mouth on its underside and thru strange magic pulls the goblin into its grip, where it strangles and chokes the melon headed green thing until its eyes roll back and its body falls limp. Then the vicious thing happily climbs up Maggs' leg and body and perches on her shoulder, pulling lice out of her hair.
"Crocodiles. Two of them." She points them out to the sailor beside her. "Big enough to seriously damage the ship if we hit it straight on. And we're about to. Yell for the helmsman to veer away and help get the crew ready. I'll distract the beasts." The druid nimbly hops onto the railing and climbs to the end of the bowsprit, drops down beneath and hangs from it by planting her feet on the hull and hooking her elbow over the prow. Surprise Round?: The hand she wears on a chain around her neck hangs dramatically, swaying in the wind and the spray from the river; she clutches it and pulls, shattering the hand into a twin of itself that wriggles and writhes in her grip.
She throws it with a hiss and a click of her teeth, and in the air the hand splits into three, bouncing across the water and each landing above one of the reptiles, multiplying into dozens and hundreds more. They surge atop the water, ripping and tearing down into the flesh beneath them.
Maggs approaches the bow, gently grabbing the sailor standing there as she does; the smell fish rotting in her pockets wafts up to them. "How fast do we move?" she asks, gazing over the river.
She fishes some of the meat out of her pocket and tosses it to her hand, click-clacking along the barrister beside her. With a jump, it grabs it out of the air and shoves it somewhere inside itself, hissing and snarling. The pale woman, too, eats of the rotting flesh, licking her fingers clean as she does so. The ones still attached to her, that is.
"Pay no mind to the creature. Nor to what you will see it do if we are threatened. You are under our protection."
Maggs slowly unscrews her hand in preparation for something larger. She walks around murmuring to herself and casting wards and boons on herself, her hand and her companions, touching each in turn, except for Hyacinth.
"We'll see what they're worried about in short order. Or it'll come from them. And they'll die for it."
Maggart doesn't bed down until the last opportunity, hoping a room has been left empty for her and not wanting to impose on someone who might not want to be with her. If a room has been left empty, she takes that one, otherwise she drops her bags in the room with Joanna and Halli, trusting the paladin not to snoop and the dog to stay away from her. She returns to the bridge for the evening, finding the movement of the river beneath them more bearable when she can see it and is there when the boats pass.
But she notices nothing untoward. If Drask's observations make it her way, she offers to join him on an infiltration mission, should he be interested in such.
Maggs unscrews her hand and sends it out to scurry and explore the ship, making sure nothing and no one has stowed away what shouldn't have.
She continues to stick tightly to Hyacinth to quiet her stomach, but does not yet unpack, recognizing that most would prefer not to share a room with her. Sporadically throughout the day, the woman eats parts and pieces of her pilfered pocket meal. Currently she chews on some fish guts, trying not to think about the river beneath them.
As much as the woman unnerves her, Maggart takes advantage of the ghoran's offer and sticks tightly to Hyacinth, fidgeting awkwardly and occasionally trying to start conversation. She nods along during Byron's talk, but fails to see the point and keeps mostly to herself. "I guess the only way we'll know for sure is to find it."
Maggart stays on the deck until the course is underway, staring glumly out at the water. "River," the plain woman mumbles in response to Drask. "For a solid day and a half. Can look at that all you want. Probably some rocks, trees, desert, mountains." She leans her body against the railing, facing the deck. A sigh. "I don't think the trip will do well for my stomach." From her pocket, she pulls some of the fish she has been secretly fidgeting with and eats it raw, scales, skin, bones and all.
Maggs' avatar will work as well. Can use rat swarm squares for hand powers, and I'll get a good Hand image for you soon
Maggs nods and gives her name. "Do you see a lot of pirates or other trouble on the river?" In her pocket her sharp nails pierce through a raw fish, fidgeting with the meat and scales.
Maggs recognizes the crowd as guild members but thinks nothing further of it. Her mind is distracted by the presence of the Corsairs. To calm the nerves she returns to an old habit: stealing. She absentmindedly grabs a few river fish and a handful of cheese off a merchant's stall as they pass by, doing it so coolly and quickly no one really notices, stuffing them in her pocket in a single motion. As the gnome excitedly chatters at them, she idly plays with the fish in her pocket, largely ignoring the goings on and leaving the conversation to those more personable and chatty.
Hey all, I'm traveling, speaking at the launch party for a literary review I'm featured within, please feel free to move without me, sorry for my unavailability, I'll be back home Tuesday but hopefully I'll be able to get some posts in in the meantime.
I'll be following Jo's lead and buying hot and cold weather gear. Wow that journey is a lot shorter than I was expecting both by boat and horse. I like the image of us on camel or horseback (and wolfback for Joanna) better than us on a riverboat personally, especially if we can get our mounts for free, on credit or loan or, without disclosure, steal them. Sadly, Byron, the Mind Steed power doesn't last terribly long for overland travel and is limited to a single beast.
Oh man cold weather outfit is a smart investment probably
The redhead narrows her eyes. "Water is fine. Used to water, reminds me of childhood. Not a good swimmer though. But boats, all up and down and to and fro," she trails off, gazing to the middle distance. "Nauseous, just thinking of it."
Maggs scowls and starts rubbing her arm anxiously. "Layla said Pol's just upriver, not like we're crossing the ocean. We could just follow the river."
"Do we have to do boats?" Maggs asks of the group as they walk away from the picnic and begin to head their separate ways. "Can't we just do horses or a caravan? We can spare a day or two, cant' we?" Only a few hours out from her bath, she is already starting to accumulate a smell, and when she follows Byron into the library, a wide berth forms around them until their separation. Wherever she went, people neither liked nor appreciated her presence. This place had been her home these twenty years, and yet, there are certainly few, if any, that would dare call Maggart Craft 'friend'. She requisitioned a few books on the World's Edge Mountains, terrain, deep caves, things that live in them, and left, expecting to do her reading on the journey.
C R O A T O A N . I've no further questions for Mom.
Maggs bites at the nails of her good hand, focusing. "Any magic mirrors in the mines? That seems quite an oversight if not." She opens a book and starts writing. "Was the operation a skeleton crew, or a larger endeavour? Do you've a rough count of the missing? Or better, was there an employee charter or census? In a situation where we are forced to make choices about who to rescue, did the client state a preference for specific individuals to receive preferential treatment?"
"Blood argent, the crimson coin," Maggs nods. "Excited to get a look up close at one of the big mysteries of metallurgy." She sticks a plum in her mouth, pulls a face and ungraciously takes it back out with two fingers, wiping them on the grass. "We just being sent in to find out where people went, deal with any danger what's showed its head? Or there anything specific we're wanted for?"
The sight of the child quickly slithering towards her elicits a rare smile. Maggs swoops the child into the air and at Drask, but they only manage two runs before she's forced to set Hesla down. "She's almost getting too big for me to do that anymore," she apologizes to Layla, still grinning. She only nibbles at the provided food herself, but Maggs does tricks with the stuff to impress the small child, taking a whole boiled egg and palming it.
"Where did it go?" Perception DC 34:
Better or worse, you know exactly "where it did go." Her hand ate it with its weird mouth. Gross. She continues playing with Hesla idly, but her face turns serious as she turns to Layla. "What's needed?" Diplomacy DC 2:
The group knows easily and thoroughly that Maggs does not like or tolerate children, but her care for Layla and her daughter is ready and apparent. Drask, Diplomacy DC 15, or K. Local 18: Layla helped care for Maggs during the early days of her tenure here at the House and they share an odd friendship.
Maggs raises her pale eyebrows and leans in towards Joanna. The stench is overpowering, flowing off the woman in warm, wet waves, and it makes the paladin's eyes water. Confused, the older woman replies back in whisper, "Are you asking," her eyes dart back and forth between the group, suspicious, "to bathe me? You believe I need help or something?" Despite the confusion and never mind the reply, Maggs shortly sets off to the bathhouse alongside Byron (and perhaps Joanna as well).
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