So, as much as I am completely in love with this character, I really can't continue to be in six play-by-post games at once now that I have a full-time job, and some of them have to stop. This one is one of the two I've been involved in for the shortest time, so I'm going to have to drop out of the campaign.
Good luck with Skull & Shackles! I'd appreciate it if you don't kill off Malicar - just have him swim off on his own and never be seen again.
Thanks for everything, and sorry I wasn't able to stay!
-Malicar
Malicar follows, fire smoldering in his belly and ready for burning.
Just to let everyone know, I am leaving tomorrow for a 3-day pathfinder convention and will have very little time to check the forums, so I will most likely not be able to post during that time.
I'll see you all again on Monday!
Malicar is halfway through stuffing the obviously-magical trinkets on the spellcaster's body into his pack, having scanned them with detect magic, when Pew-Pew speaks. "Yes, 'magic stick' indeed."
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
I wouldn't say it's annoying, but it does (in-character) make Malicar assume that the hyperactive, shrill gungan kobold is probably deranged. He's certainly a cripple, what with his blindness (his vision relies on light like some primitive softscale!).
Malicar glares at the tasy-lookingu squid monster before grabbing Mopsank and dragging the stiffened kobold to the surface. Moving to the back of the cavern - is there any solid ground he can put Mopsank on?
Once on the surface, he exhales another cloud of smoke, hiding himself and the paralyzed Mopsank from view. The first smoke cloud vanishes as the new one forms.
Concentration DC 21 - Fire Spell Underwater: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23
Concentration DC 15 - Spell Underwater: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (13) + 7 = 20
With a smoke cloud between him and the squid, Malicar takes a deep breath, letting the dragonfire in his belly heat it hotter and hotter as he swims down towards Mopsank and the kobold called Quinn. Taking careful aim, he breathes his fire at both of the undead, avoiding the kobolds with his breath. The flames super-heat the water, boiling it instantly in an outward explosion of scalding, scorching steam.
Burning Hands (Reflex DC 15): 5d4 ⇒ (3, 4, 3, 4, 3) = 17
"BURBL DRUBL GRBBL GLRBL DRBB!" he shouts triumphantly underwater.
Seeing the octopus-like monster approaching from behind, Malicar exhales with an obstreperous snort as thick, black smoke emerges from his nostrils. A heavy cloud hangs in the air, completely blocking the tunnel as he scurries (40 ft. move speed) deeper into the cavern.
Malicar is using his Ash Cloud revelation, which creates a 10 ft. radius cloud of black smoke that acts as an obscuring mist spell in the mouth of the cavern.
"MUAHAHAHA," Malicar cackles with delight. "WITNESS ME, DAHAK!" He steps back and his laughter turns into a roar as he unleashes his dragonsbreath a second time. He moves again to max range. If that costs him an AoO, so be it - he just wants to make sure the AoO doesn't hit during his spell.
Burning Hands (DC 15 Reflex Half): 5d4 ⇒ (2, 1, 3, 1, 2) = 9
"Time to show you why Malicar is called Dragonspeaker," the charred kobold quips. Scurrying to just within range of the giant 'squiddie' (15 ft away) Malicar inhales deeply and unleashes a searing vortex of flame from his mouth. Burning hands.
Fire Damage (Reflex DC 15 Half): 5d4 ⇒ (3, 2, 2, 2, 1) = 10
1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13 Stealth Synergy: Malicar gets a 27 stealth, using Skrelznit's roll of 18.
Now clad in his armor and armed once more with his magical equipment, Malicar stays far away from the deranged kobold with the damaged vision, who is now waving around a light for some reason.
Good, good. He is a useful one to have - loud and visible. The monsters will eat him first while the rest of us slay them, he thinks.
I was wondering the same thing myself. I sincerely hope that's his attempt at speaking common, and if he switches to Draconic (which is the only language Malicar will deign to speak to fellow kobolds), he'll have correct grammar, heh.
"What did you find?" Malicar asks after Mopsank seems to spot something in the water. Shrugging, he dives in after him, a surprisingly skilled swimmer for a red-scaled kobold.
Malicar grins proudly at Mopsank's mention of his scales. "Malicar is blessed by dragonfire. Once, I was Dragonspeaker of the Bloodscale clan, who served the mighty wyrm Thryymvranax. She bathed me in her breath, and her fire burns in my flesh still." Native speakers of Draconic can tell that 'Thryymvranax' roughly translates to 'glorious inferno who consumes the dawn' - a characteristically grandiose dragon name.
At Grauchi, he asks, "Take over a softskin ship? You should start from the beginning. Tell Malicar how you came here. And what in Dahak's Breath are 'squiddies?'" His jaws snap hungrily. "Are they as tasty as they sound?"
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11
Do I have my possessions on me or nearby?
Malicar almost cackles with glee when he sees a group of kobolds coming to rescue him. His voice is hoarse and scratchy as he speaks in Draconic, deep for a kobold. "Malicar thanks you for freeing him," he announces with a grin. He rubs circulation into his veins as the ropes come off, tingling pain shooting down his arms. In the pitch darkness, the color of his scales cannot be seen, but the lean, muscular kobold looks like he has been burned alive in a great fire, his scales cracked and charred. "You're hunting 'Squiddies?'" he asks.
At Mopsank's question, he scoffs, snorting a puff of flame from his nostrils. "Malicar is dragonkin. There is no greater proof of heritage than mine."
Hello, everyone! I'm honored to have been selected.
For teamwork feats, I highly recommend Escape Route. With good positioning, we can cover for each other and become nearly immune to attacks of opportunity.
Malicar (Morphling's Submission) is officially complete. I look forward to seeing who gets picked! I've got high hopes for this game - you've gotten me very excited.
If he's just been sold into slavery and shipwrecked, I'm assuming his gear isn't stuff he's brought with him. I imagine he scavenged whatever small-sized equipment and gear he could find, being lucky enough to stumble on a few scroll cases which survived the damage.
I can switch around some gear (or the 2nd teamwork feat I picked - Escape Route) if the group would prefer it.
"I used to be a Dragonspeaker, you know," the red-scaled kobold remarked miserably into the darkness.
Back home, back in the old magma tunnels of the Hellrung mountains, Malicar's tribe had served a dragon. When the red wyrm Thryymvranax discovered the dormant volcano in her youth, the Bloodscale tribe lairing there presented themselves to the mighty dragon as servants, ecstatic at the prospect of serving such a master. For her part, the dragon enjoyed having kobolds to patrol her lair and worship her, taking to the role of goddess rather well. Every few generations, she would choose one hatchling from a particular clutch of eggs to be the Dragonspeaker, who would bathe in her 'holy breath' to test his worthiness to serve. Those who survived were transformed - their scales charred and cracked, eternally smoldering with the dragonfire they had weathered. Malicar was one such chosen. He would never forget the feeling of being engulfed in his goddess's breath, elevated to the emissary who relayed the dragon's commands to his tribe and who was granted a taste of her awesome magic. He never wished for anything but this, a life of power and prestige, serving the greatest master a kobold could know.
And then the knights came. Cursed, vile, horrible knights, with their red-and-black banners and their masks. Cursed prayers to their puny god and his puny devils. Devils who endured the fiery breath of the dragon. Prayers which shielded the knights from her claws, her teeth. Magic which brought her low, tore her from the air, dragged her to the ground to fight the unworthy interlopers. The knights slew the goddess, slew the dragon. And they butchered the Bloodscales, sending fiends into the tunnels too small for the knights to follow, rooting out the kobolds like rats.
Not many made it out. The survivors fled, abandoning their once-impregnable home as they scattered deeper underground or out into the wilderness. Malicar found himself on the shores of the Steaming Sea, lost and confused. He snuck aboard a ship - he had always been sneaky. He buried himself in the hold, amid crates of supplies and stores, and mourned the loss of his home, his tribe, and his god.
That was three years ago. Since then, Malicar's life has been a series of miserable experiences, one after another. Discovered by the crew of the ship he had stowed away on, he narrowly escaped being thrown overboard, instead being beaten and forced to work, cleaning the deck and pumping the bilge. When that ship made it to port, he escaped, desperate to get back onto dry land. The port city turned out to be even worse, however, and the kobold found himself not just threatened but hunted, the softskins seeing him as nothing but a monster. Fleeing again to the only escape route he could find out of the city, he found himself again a stowaway, this time on a Rahadoumi merchant vessel. He hid better this time, but when the ship was holed in a skirmish with pirates, stealth could help him no longer. As he abandoned the ship, he was captured by the attackers, who happily clapped him in irons and sold him to a slaver at their next port. His bad luck continued to mount as the next ship he was stuck on sank, destroyed outright by one of the terrible storms spun off of the Eye of Abendego. Now, wet, miserable, and alone, trapped in some cave so far from home, Malicar laments just how far he has fallen.
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