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Magnus looks at the small elemental creatures with some curiosity, recalling his studies in this regard, to determine if any advantage can be gained against them. Using that knowledge he launches telekinetic projectiles at the blue trying to finish it off. fancy crit success!
Magnus stares mesmerized by the water conjuring magic but unable to explain how it works, or why it is sputtering.
Adjusting his spectacles and smoothing out his damp robes, Magnus clears his throat before stepping forward to inspect the wounded. "Allow me to intervene," he announces, striking a thoroughly dignified and authoritative posture. "While my primary domain of expertise remains firmly rooted in the arcane and intellectual arts, I shall endeavor to apply what fundamental principles of emergency clinical intervention and basic first aid I happen to possess." He retrieves a roll of fresh bandages and a small vial of tincture from his pack, meticulously attending to the injuries with precise, deliberate care. Upon observing the meager results of his efforts, however, his scholarly composure gives way to a subtle frown. He inspects the bandaged wound, sighs softly, and remarks, "Well... I suppose such a modest aesthetic and physiological recovery is marginally superior to absolute non-intervention—though, regrettably, only just."
Magnus peers at the scroll also, nodding his head in scholarly agreement. "Ah, an exceptionally formidable incantation of force manipulation, Mellow! However, I feel compelled to inform you that my own repertoire of arcana already encompasses that precise ritualistic formula, so this one is all yours!"
This is a PFS character so remind me how loot will work in this game related to that character. If Magnus takes the Spacious Pouch, for example, does he get to keep that for PFS adventures? I don't know that I have ever crossed the lines with the same PC...
By way of apology, Magnus shouts, "A regrettable miscalculation in projectile trajectory, Smokey! I assure you, my kinetic calculus was aimed strictly at the vermin, not your whiskers!" He switches his spell attack to his phasing force bolt instead, aiming at the fly that is settled on Riccar.
From the second row, Magnus launches a dozen small slivers of metal at the fly in front of Riccar. He then spins up a warding spell on himself, just in case more foes appear.
I wlll be on the road this weekend, and may be unable to check in daily. Feel free to bot Magnus as needed. Gone Th PM through Monday PM.
Magnus sits on the bed and starts flipping through the book of Desna, oblivious to the others moving on to a door that appears locked.
btw, if you want to tweak your PCs, go for it. Will we start with fresh spells etc?
Magnus, a version at least, will stick around for this game. See you all on the 9th.
Magnus will flip to level 2 after the first floor ends. Signed up for part 2 as wellthis magnus (who is currently in the temple of the unlit star) won't level up until the end of Floor 2 -- you can assign the chronicle to any PFS Legal PC though (I keep forgetting that BegBox is Adventure mode). I know it's weird... Can I sit on this chronicle and apply them both after part 2 ends?
Magnus sustains the spell keeping the eagle in action against the flying bat thing. He asks it to make attacks again against the large target but directs it to a position that it can flank in melee with Sprax first.
Magnus will flip to level 2 after the first floor ends. Signed up for part 2 as well
Seeing the flying foe take wing, Magnus conjures forth his last wizard spell, summoning a purple and orange eagle which flies at the strange creature and attacks.
Round 2 Appalled by the smell, but not yet close enough for the full effect, Magnus calls out his heavy hitting spell, calling down a thunderbolt on Red Smelly Guy. First a sizzling fork of lightning, and then a bone-shaking burst of thunder envelop the undead foe.
Magnus will spend a moment studying the new creatures and any of their known properties. After his rumination is complete, he launches small stones into the air at Blue, but the magically propelled missiles fall short of the target.
Academic Research for downtime
Magnus loves libraries and all things books. He leaps ahead and starts leafing through the books strewn on the table, and peruses the notes, trying to make head or tails of what was being reviewed.
Well done with the puzzle Riccar!
Magnus blinks, his spectacles sliding down his nose a fraction of an inch as he processes Smokey’s crisp, no-nonsense translation. He clears his throat and puffs out his chest, attempting to reclaim the intellectual high ground. "Precisely, my sleek, semi-aquatic friend! You have encapsulated the core thesis of my supposition with commendable, if drastically simplified, brevity!" He steps forward, gesturing toward the piano’s keyboard with dramatic flourishes of his fingers as though conducting an invisible orchestra. "The avian taxonomy in ‘Call of the Two Ravens’ presents an unmistakable semantic link to corvid melanism, ergo designating the black accidentals! Thus, by extrapolating your pragmatic interpretation across the entire pentameter, the sequence demands that we strike the second black key, and thence follow the algorithm to completion." He turns to Riccar, beaming with absolute, unearned confidence. "Execute the sequence in that exact tonal arrangement, maestro, and I anticipate the arcane mechanism shall yields its secrets instantly!" Magnus has never been accused of being right before being sure...
Magnus spent the better part of their trek down the corridor in an uncharacteristically sullen silence, his brow furrowed in deep academic frustration. To be utterly confounded by the lingering conjuration matrices on those training dummies was insult enough, but failing to determine whether their construction bore the distinct, refined hallmarks of ancient Azlanti spellcraft or merely some crude, modern imitation rankled his scholarly pride to its very core. He muttered occasionally under his breath about "unrefined residual dross" and "lamentable gaps in historical taxonomy." His gloom momentarily lifts as the party discovers the piano. Adjusting his spectacles with renewed vigor, he casts detect magic and announces his findings to the room with grand importance. "Fascinating! A quick arcane sweep confirms what my acute senses immediately deduced. This instrument radiates a distinct aura of magical enchantment! A revelation of paramount significance, surely!" He pauses, realizing the party had likely already assumed as much given their surroundings, before clearing his throat and gesturing grandly toward the keyboard. He steps back, folding his arms to observe Riccar’s attempt at deciphering the musical key sequence. As the bard plucks out the notes, Magnus’s mind immediately begins categorizing the variables. "Observe the nomenclature closely, my musical colleague," Magnus interjects, leaning in to inspect the sheet music from a safe distance. "While your numerical sequence of 2-5-1-4-3 is undeniably logical based on the titles, we must not overlook the chromatic and tonal attributes embedded within the text! The explicit references to light and dark, along with the distinct color motifs, almost certainly correspond to the visual arrangement of the keys, perhaps mapping the dark keys against the light, or signaling an alternating shift across the octave. We ought to calibrate the sequence to account for both the numerical ordering and these chromatic indicators before striking the final chord."
Magnus studies the devices to see if he can determine what Riccar says to be true about this being from Azlant.
Magnus casts Mystic Armor on himself, but then spends the rest of the time thinking about how to dismiss the orc or at least how the mechanism works.
Magnus follows closely behind Smokey as they advance toward the training dummies. "I shall gladly defer to your physical vanguard, my aquatic colleague," the intrigued wizard remarks, peering intently at the constructs as they step closer. "A pragmatic proximity will undoubtedly yield superior empirical data regarding their conjuration parameters!"
Magnus’s eyes light up behind his spectacles as he takes in the room's arcane residual hum, practically vibrating with academic curiosity. "Fascinating! A dedicated conjuration matrix calibrated specifically for sparring exercises!" He steps forward, peering intently at the shadow-clad dummies without touching them. "While I have dabbled in the intricacies of spatial displacement and conjuration theory myself, the stability required to maintain automated magical combatants over extended durations is truly remarkable." He strokes his chin thoughtfully, leaning in to inspect the bronze plaque and the surrounding weave without invoking any spells just yet. "Let us see if we can decipher the precise mechanism before attempting to initialize or dismiss the entities..."
I should return home tomorrow night, and will be back to posting the next day. Sorr for the delay, run Magnus as you see fit in the meantime.
Magnus moves in front of the others, hopeful that they will all charge in front of him soon. He then casts a spell causing a glob of acid to appear in the midst of all the rats, bursting into the area occupied by all of them. If any remain upright, he follows up with a warding spell to shield himself if they charge him.
Is this for work or for pleasure (or both) :) Pleasure in this case. A week on the beach in the Bahamas. Let's keep the hurricanes away!
Round 2 Magnus follows up with another Phase Bolt cast at the swimming sea hag, seemingly scoring a hit. Then casts his Shield spell to protect himself if things get too close.
I will be out of the country the first week of August, and may not have reliable data access. Feel free to bot Magnus as needed during that interval. If I can get access, I will try to keep updated and post as much as possible.
Magnus reacts quickly, casting a pair of spells that bridge the watery gap between the party and the sea hag. First he sends a coruscating bolt of energy that flips in and out of phase across the distance, which seems well aimed. AFter, the tosses his First World staff across the distance, which disappears, reappears swinging at the hag, and then zaps back to his hand.
As the others engage with the creature, Magnus stiffens slightly, his sharp eyes taking in the glowing, translucent skin and the rhythmic sway of tentacles lurking beneath the water. He subtly steps back half a pace, positioning himself behind the sturdier members of the group, and clears his throat with deliberate, academic gravity. "A most fascinating, but thoroughly perilous, specimen," Magnus whispers to his companions, his voice low enough to avoid immediate provocation while carrying a sharp edge of warning. "Do not be deceived by her siren-like demeanor or current affectations. That is no mere stranded maiden, but a sea hag." He adjusts his spectacles, leaning in slightly toward Smokey and Riccar while keeping an eye on the creature. "Her kind are notorious for exploiting the gullible and desperate with tragic, excruciating bargains that invariably end in ruin. Should those fail, they are quite content to simply drown and devour anyone foolish enough to stray within striking distance. I strongly advise against entertaining any offers she might extend, nor should we permit ourselves to wade any closer to her clutches." He tries to say all this out of earshot of the hag herself.
Rubbing his forehead, Magnus seems at a loss for words, for once, when faced with this strange sea-creature. And he pauses before answering, trying to recollect anything he has read about such a being.
"You have my profound gratitude, Master Stonefist," Magnus murmurs, dabbing at his cheek as the immediate crisis of his hemorrhaging abates. The sudden lethargy of blood loss still clings to his small frame, a somatic reminder of how narrowly they escaped disaster. He looks around the chamber, his sharp eyes narrowing as he considers their environment with academic detachment. "An unsettling specimen. If such trivial pests possess wings like razor blades, I shudder to think what manner of apex predators or mechanical aberrations the deeper recesses of this place might harbor. We must remain exceedingly vigilant."
Magnus flings more debris at the Blue flying foe, hoping his telekinetic toss will be enough to drive the pest away. When it appears to have been ineffective the gnome sighs heavily, and spins up his own shield just in case they buzz him.
Magnus’s posture stiffens further, his brow furrowing into a tight, disapproving knot as the utter absurdity of Smokey's suggestion registers. He looks at the druid as if the otter had just suggested using ancient parchment to kindle a camp cooking fire. In his most clinical voice, Magnus delivers his rebuttal with absolute finality: "No one has ever been helped by intoxicants, no matter the variety," he states, adjusting his cuffs with meticulous, rigid precision. "They are depressants, you see, and they actively denude the central nervous system. While a mug of fermented dregs may temporary dull the senses or create the passing illusion of comfort, it is never 'help' as you so flippantly say. It is merely chemical obfuscation." He gives his staff a single, sharp tap against the stone floor, thoroughly satisfied with having corrected such rampant medical ignorance before turning back to the task at hand.
Magnus gently leans upon his staff with an air of profound, long-suffering patience. He adjusts his robes, looks at the fractured gemstone on the altar, and then directs a decidedly pitying gaze toward Ragnar and Smokey. "Vandalism? 'Poetic license'?" Magnus sighs, the sound dripping with the quiet exhaustion of a scholar forced to explain the alphabet to toddlers. "Oh, my dear, practical friends. If only the cosmos were as delightfully simplistic as a broken windowpane." He steps forward, lightly tapping the side of his temple with a single, manicured finger as his eyes scan the runes. "What we are standing in is not a mere basement, but the hallowed remnants of a Zenith Temple. Specifically, the Temple of the Unlit Star," he lectures, his voice adopting the rhythmic, rhythmic cadence of a high-tier academic address. "It was established centuries ago by the faithful of Desna, the goddess of the stars, dreams, and travelers, for those of you whose theological education ends at the bottom of a tavern mug. Its purpose was noble: to serve as a bastion of protection for desperate wanderers traversing the notoriously haunted, shadow-choked lands of Ustalav." He gestures with a flourish toward the shattered crystal sitting upon the dais. "And this fragment is not an ordinary rock. It is the literal namesake of the order. Enshrined here was the Unlit Star itself; a profoundly powerful artifact of the faith, explicitly designed to transmute pure, heroic will into a localized radiance capable of utterly banishing any shadow, no matter how absolute. The fact that seven of its eight points have been deliberately sheared away suggests a historical catastrophe of staggering arcane proportions, not a casual act of rowdy defacement." Magnus crosses his arms, looking back over his shoulder with a sharp, expectant glint in his eyes. "Given its capacity for dispelling absolute darkness, I strongly suggest we do not leave it behind to gather dust. Oh, and do try not to drop it."
Magnus flings a magical mobile projectile at Red Dress, then follows it up by throwing has staff nito the air, and having it magically strike the target 30' away, and then return to his hand.
Magnus stands firm when the undead are encountered, pointing his finger at Smelly Breath and conjuring a bolt of magical energy that stutters in and out of phase in and out phase at is approaches the target. Butwinds up firing way over the heads of all the monsters. Magnus then spins up his magical shield, just in case the undead make it to his position.
"Fascinating," Magnus murmurs, withdrawing his gloved hand from the creaking cabinet doors. "While the structural integrity of this subterranean lavatory is remarkably preserved, the inventory within this cupboard is largely mundane. However..." He holds up two glass vessels, tilting them so the dim light catches the liquid inside. "...it contains two vials of highly aromatic, perfumed oil. Given the hydrocarbon composition, I surmise their volatility remains sufficient to serve as an emergency incendiary accelerant or lantern fuel, should our tactical illumination fail. I offer these to whoever possesses the manual dexterity to carry them." He turns his attention to Ragnar as the dwarf offers the journal. "Ah, excellent. Let us see what further historical or structural telemetry Brother Celluan left behind." Magnus adjusts his spectacles, his eyes scanning the elegant script with high hopes of uncovering complex ritual schematics or ancient engineering blueprints. Suddenly, his brow furrows, and his expression sours into one of deep academic disgust. He tosses the book back toward Ragnar with an dismissive flick of his wrist. "Bah! Absolute drivel. I expected an erudite treatise on the localized necromantic vectors or perhaps a schematic of the temple's clockwork lift matrix. Instead, it is merely the tedious, trite ramblings of a lovesick acolyte pining after a woman named 'Elna.' A profoundly disappointing expenditure of literacy."
Reacting quickly to the onrushing lizard-things, Magnus tries the same tactic as last time, flinging a burst of caustic acid just in front of the the pair, spraying both with acid. After the attack, Magnus spins up a magical warding to protect from any counter-attacks.
" Fascinating, truly fascinating," Magnus murmurs, adjusting his spectacles as he looks over the smoothly integrated handiwork of his companions. "The systemic convergence of physical kinetics and esoteric geometry displayed here is nothing short of exemplary. You have managed to re-align the thaumaturgic matrix with quite commendable precision." As the elevator grinds to a halt and the new threshold presents itself, Magnus’s eyes immediately lock onto the pulsing fragment left behind on the stone panel. "Before we vacate this rotating apparatus, however, it would be a gross oversight of academic methodology to leave this crystalline remnant behind. A fractured state notwithstanding, its latent capacity for light-based arcane retention demands closer inspection." With an air of clinical detachment, though his eyes gleam with genuine academic greed, the wizard reaches out and carefully pockets the triangular silver crystal. Stepping out onto the dust-laden tiles of the temple's main floor, Magnus holds his staff aloft, peering through the gloom at the branching paths. He gestures with a gloved finger toward the portal on the right hand side of the hallway. "While the northern vector and the eastern undulating phenomenon remain intriguing, tactical prudence dictates we eliminate potential flanking vectors first. I propose we conduct a rigorous initial assessment of these doors to the south."
Would definitely be down for a longer time adventure for this PC I will be traveling away from home all weekend, so some posting may be slower than usual.
Magnus peers into the newly revealed western threshold, his head tilting at an angle of intense, academic curiosity. He adjusts his spectacles, leaning forward as far as safety permits to scrutinize the interplay between the golden torchlight and the unnatural shadows. "Fascinating," he murmurs, his voice echoing with scholarly reverence. "The ambient obfuscation within this subterranean chamber possesses a most peculiar density. It is quite patently not a mere absence of luminescent particles, but rather an active, localized manifestation of thaumaturgical or perhaps divine occlusion. The structural integrity of the darkness itself is a marvel of arcane engineering!" He sighs, a sound of genuine academic lament, and pulls his journal from his satchel, tapping a charcoal pencil against his chin. "Regrettably, while the impulse to conduct a rigorous, empirical diagnostic of this phenomenon is incredibly compelling, we are presently plagued by a distinct lack of appropriate analytical instrumentation. To thoroughly dissect the chronological and magical provenance of this ward would require specialized divinatory components that we simply do not possess in our current inventory. For now, we must relegate this anomaly to the status of a secondary objective. Let us proceed, my friends, but keep your cognitive faculties highly alert."
Leaping into action, Magnus conjures a globule of acid just behind the remaining centipedes bursting it in the area around them, and splashing them both with acidic contents. He then spins up a shimmering shield in front to protect from any bites from the little critters.
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