Search Posts
Hmm, okay, sounds interesting. I'll put in a vote right now, however, for sticking to 1E PF for the duration. I'm no grognard, it's just a matter of what I have the money and mental energy to keep up with these days. Perversely, I did like aspects of the Sphere system. While some of the stuff was confusing or bothersome to figure out, the ability to add totems to Marcusic's songs was pretty useful.
With the battle over following their remaining foe's flight, Marcusic stops his melody and slumps wearily against the stones making up the well's body. In the light of his ioun torch, he looks himself over, then casts his attention over to where Thomas is. "Did it work," he calls to the half-elf, softly to avoid drawing any attention that the sounds of combat might not have attracted already. "Did you find whatever it was you needed to get him back to normal?"
Marcusic drops under the transformed dragon's vicious assault, the song cutting off in mid-word and taking its boons with it, the spectral soldier blinking out of sight just as it completes its own attack. He doesn't know how long he's been down and out, but Marcusic isn't at all unhappy to return to consciousness to the sight of the bear giving the dragon a mauling in turn, and as the reptile goes down in death, the soldier stumblingly gets himself back upright and resumes singing; there's still a foe remaining to see to, and he can't slack in his part.
With the archer momentarily stymied, and Maddok roaring--literally so--into the fight, Marcusic feels a definite sense of relief, though it's tempered by the knowledge that they still have to win, and make their way back to the Bright Tower's safety. Not to mention the situation with their nascent undead and reason for being here to begin with. But that's for later, right now there's a dragon, or dwarf, or whatever he is in need of putting down, and the soldier's blade lashes out yet again, as does that of his spectral cohort.
Though the dragon is a startling change of pace--and Marcusic's more scholarly side idly wonders if this is a true dragon, someone of dragon blood tapping their heritage, or just clever spellwork--the skald doesn't stop singing or attacking. With the unarmored Denenor at his back, he doesn't dare shift postion to engage more favorably with Maddock aid, so Marcusic settles his shield and prepares to receive the dwarf-dragon's answering attacks after his sword stroke.
The vicious flurry of clawing strikes leaves the soldier reeling momentarily, though his song continues with only the faintest hitch in his voice indicating the pain he's in. So Thomas' unexpected and quite timely intervention is a welcome surprise, and he quicky sidesteps to interpose himself beteeen the healer and the dwarf. Still, though the worst of his wounds have sealed themselves shut, Marcusic is still a bit unsteady on his feet, and his next swing of the heavy sword isn't quite as sure as the previous one was. The spirit aiding him seems likewise to falter in its own attack.
After turning back to the dwarf, the song resuming quite easily following the brief pause, Marcusic and the spirit simultaneously lash out with their respective weapons.
Rolling his eyes at the dimly-heard shout from the bodyguard, the skald pauses his song long enough to yell back down the well,
Whoooo, reading up on Marcusic's tricks to get reacquianted with them was fun. It's noted in the rage power rules that spirit totems don't benefit from the effects of a raging song, and I'm assuming this holds true for most of the effects Marcusic can generate via his spherecasting as well. Totem of Screaming Skin, however, applies the effect to enemies and so the spirit totems' attacks will trigger the effect (nifty trick, that :D).
The soldier stares in surprise at the unexpected dwarf, though his surprise quickly turns to shock--leavened with a hefty dose of foul language--when the latter charges and bites him. "Gods, you sawed-off, filthy whoreson, did you just bite me? What is wrong with you," Marcusic exclaims angrily as he shakes the biter loose. The soldier then grips his sword and begins to sing, a glare fixed on the dwarf as the song fills the small garden and echoes off of the walls surrounding it. As the song's magic takes hold, Marcusic feels a welcome rush of strength and vigor, and a wisp in the shape of soldier slowly takes shape at his side. The spectral creature, its form and features more hinted at than defined, lashes out at the dwarf with the weapon it grips.
Periodically peering into the mouth of the well, Marcusic nervously paces back and forth, his sword and shield gripped tightly in their respective hands. There's little else the soldier can do at the moment, and the lack eats at his patience and self-control.
It takes Marcusic some moments to make sense of what he's hearing--the distortion made the walls of the well don't help any--but he eventually makes out Maddok's name, and shortly thereafter who's calling it with some urgency. Cursing, he turns to his fellow guard and jerks his head in the direction of the poorly-lit opening. "I think something's happening down there. I'm not able to get down there in this armor, so it's up to you." Shooting a quick, worried look around the area, he continues. "I'll hold up here and hope it doesn't turn into more trouble while you're down there."
Eyes straining to peer into the well's darkness for the slightest evidence of movement from something other than their absent allies, the soldier eventually gives up the task with a disgusted grunt before moving back a short distance. "I can make out nothing down there," he admits with a grimace "But that means little enough beyond my eyes being unsuited to this damned endless dark."
Hearing the splash, Marcusic draws Maddok's attention to it before cautiously investigating the noise. "I'm not seeing either of the other two," he remarks after a long look down the stone work to the etxtent that he can see. "But random sounds don't just happen either. Could be they loosenend a bit of the masonry during their passage, and it just now gave way." He shoots a dry look at the bodyguard that quite plainly expresses his absolute lack of confidence in this possibility as he continues speaking. "However, I don't think we'd necessarily be fools to assume a potential foe may have made that splash. I can see someone trying to hide down there in desperation, dying down there, and maybe now stirring on account of the activity going on above it."
The soldier can't help but snort dryly as he considers this advice, which is sound enough were it not for their particular circumstances. "Bet that trapper didn't have to try that against risen dead who'll keep coming no matter the damage done or the losses they take. That puts a right damned nasty wrinkle in holding a chokepoint."
With half of the party down the well in pursuit of... something, Marcusic falls into a nervous patrol that visits each of the garden's all-too-numerous entry points, his eyes and ears straining for that first, precious bit of advance notice that danger approaches. He peridocially checks in at the mouth of well in addition, peering down into its depths for a moment before resuming his circuit. "I do hope that whatever they're doing is done with quickly," the soldier mutters as his route brings him within earshot of Maddok. "This place is too open, too exposed for our scant numbers. And I'm not getting myself into whatever snake hole those two slithered into," he finishes with a pointed look at his bulky armor.
Taking several quick looks around the periphery of the garden, Marcusic shakes his head in dismay as he answers the bodyguard's query. "Too many, far too many. And no way to cover or block them that I can see from here. As for a look into these alleys, it's a sound idea. But not one I'm suited to doing with any measure of quiet or subtlety," he concludes with a nod downward at his heavy armor. "And I'll wager that Thomas won't by pried out of here by anything less than impending death before he has a chance to give it a thorough search. Or three. So you'll have to get Denenor to watch your back, because going alone is an invitation to trouble to come and find you."
Having apparently reached their destination--blessedly, without incident--Marcusic returns his ioun torch to its place circling around his head, then takes up a guard position just inside the garden, staring intently at the path leading to it. This business doesn't seem anything he can help with, and Thomas' franctic desperation likely wouldn't take well to any impediments, however well-intentioned. Catching Maddok's attention, he waves the warrior over. "I'd be glad to share this watch with you, if your charge can get on without you right now." With that offer made, the soldier resumes his watchful examination, occasionally switching his attention to the buildings surrounding the garden as well.
In considering the wraith, Marcusic becomes aware of a very important detail; his ioun torch is shining quite brightly. Muffling a curse, he snatches the stone from its orbit around his head and crams it into the pouch at his waist. Then, using what little light is available to his limited eyes, he points down the road and mutters softly. "Let's be on our way and hope that thing doesn't feel the urge to turn around."
Marcusic is able to put a name to the undead creature in short order, and he doesn't like what he recalls of them. Eyes fixed on the wraith, he informs the others--very quietly, lest he draw the thing's attention--of what he knows regarding such horrors. Not least of which is that mundane forms of attack, such as though used by himself and Maddock, are utterly useless against the wraith's form. "Unless you two can apply your gifts with as much power as you can muster," the soldier murmurs with a quick look at Thomas and Haessen. "This is one fight I think we should do our best not to start. Otherwise, we might try the unlikely prospect of negotiation, since they're not entirely mindless like those zombies." Marcusic's tone and expression make clear what he thinks of that suggestion, and it was mostly made just to ensure that his allies know it is possible.
Asked about something he has some experience with, Marcusic responds to the priest's suggestion with a thoughtful look out of the tunnel's exit at what little he can see in the light of his ioun stone. "Main thoroughfare is more exposed, we'll be in easy view for pretty much any thing the entire way. And since some of our number need light to see, we'll be announcing our presence as well. But there's more room to move in fight and run if we have to. Those side streets offer cover, concealment too. We can duck into buildings, maybe even move through some to avoid problems. But those streets could also be a nasty trap, if we find ourselves taking a route that sees foes appear before and behind. And some of those same buildings are no doubt occupied by the bodies of their owners, and any fight could draw them forth." After offering his thoughts on their prospective routes, the skald falls silent for a moment, then adds. "I favor the main road. Go at our best speed, avoid fights as we can, and just blow right through the ones we can't. But just keep moving."
Taking up the rear, Marcusic says little as the party evacuates the temple, other than to make it unquestioningly clear that he will not be hauling Gunther out on his back. Never mind the weight of his armor and what that does to his mobility, he doesn't want that corpse anywhere near his tender portions should it finally "ripen"--so to speak--in transit to this grove.
During the discussion of what must be done about the twin issues of restoring Gunther and getting out the temple alive, Marcusic moves to the door and keeps watch for the enemies they already know are present. Relying mostly on his ears, he leaves the door open a bare hand's width to avoid highlighting himself in the frame, or potentially exposing those within to that damned archer.
"Look folks, whatever we're doing, I think we should get on with it and do it somewhere less likely to be overrun by a horde of risen dead. To say nothing of the foes that are elsewhere in the building for whatever purpose," he remarks without taking his attention away from the hall beyond.
Something about appearance and behavior of the bound younger man tickles at edge of Marcusic's thoughts, but refuses to reveal itself fully. Hearing the words of the older priest, and Thomas' identification of the nascent ghast causes the soldier to curse under his breath. And the latter's tearful reaction to this mess makes it obvious that the cleric won't be of any help in doing what is necessary. "Thomas," he begins cautiously. "We can't leave Gunther like this. He's already dead, and well on his way to becoming something vile. If the Father here," Marcusic continues with a nod in the direction of the aforementioned Father Haessen. "Can't pull out a miracle and do it right fast, we have to put Gunther down." Marcusic is about to add something more, when the shriek interrupts him. Moving quickly to the window, he peers carefully outside, only to curse vilely as he runs into a significant issue; he can't see a damned thing through the darkness! Growling, he steps back and waves Denenor to the window in his stead. "Be so kind as to take a glance out there and tell me what is making that awful noise, if you can make it out," the soldier asks with an annoyed expression on his face.
Entering the room a bit more cautiously than Thomas and his transformed guard, Marcusic looks intently at the bound man that the former is attending to, then peers around the crates to look at whatever the latter is examining. The sight of another apparent prisoner, this one all but foaming at the mouth, stirs a deep sense of unease in the soldier. "Right, I'm thinking we want to be careful with that one then," he remarks to the hulking bear, apparently not bothered in the slightest by addressing a beast in lieu of a man. "Nobody muzzles a man unless there's damn good reasons for it."
Glancing back at the elf lingering in the hall, Marcusic beckons him in. "Might as well join the rest of us then, and see if you can close what's left of the door behind you. Hopefully, if anyone glances at it casually, they won't notice the shattered latch, just that it's closed."
As the party examines the first of the temple's rooms, something catches Marcusic's attention, and he steps in to retrieve what he realizes is a scroll, sealed with the insignia of the temple's patron. Noting that last detail, he hands it off to Thomas. "This looks more like your business than mine, given the sigil stamped in that wax there." The rest of the search is nerve-racking, and the soldier pointedly keeps his blade unsheathed the entire time, ready--no, expecting--for things to get violent in an instant.
When the gnoll drops, Marcusic turns his attention to the stairs for any signs of further enemy presence, only relaxing somewhat and ending his song when it becomes clear none are arriving. He then follows behind Denenor and the guard-turned-bear, but pauses when he realizes the party is short a member. Turning back, he watches Thomas gingerly handling the axe, remarking when the half-elf draws near. "Uh, didn't take you for the sort to favor an axe in a fight. And it seems a bit much in the way of a trophy as well. So why drag it along?"
With the gnoll escaping the transformed bear's deadly grip, Marcusic begins a mournful dirge about soldiers driven by their lust for battle to fight on after death. As the words spill forth, an apparation in the form of a soldier wearing armor found centuries past in Haemil fades into view and drives an insubstantial swordthrust into the gnoll's body.
Marcusic takes another swing at the restrained gnoll with his blade, but doesn't manage to get a clean hit this time either, to his considerable frustration.
With the gnoll off-balance, Marcusic is prefectly willing to step in and take advantage, delivering a hard two-handed swing of his blade.
The soldier is quick to follow the hired guard's lead, advancing into the temple with his blade at the ready. As he draws nearer to the gnoll, he raises his blade and begins to sing, granting himself and the others that innate understanding of how best to strike past the beastman's defenses, as well as steadying their nerves. He then address the gnoll directly. "While I'm minded not to do so ordinarily, I'll offer you just the one chance to yield before I spill your blood in this hallowed hall."
Grunting in pain, Marcusic shakes his head at the half-elf's odd outlook. "Fair enough, but maybe next time, you could try bringing that light from a bit of protective cover." With that, he climbs to his feet and joins the rest of the party in approaching the doors. Listening to what's being said within the temple, he shoots Thomas a curious look. "Okay, that's a bit odd," the soldier remarks quietly. "Seems they have a special interest in you now, and it's no challenge to guess it has to do with whatever they're in there searching so hard for."
The skald returns to awareness with a pained grunt. Finding himself alive, and obviously not captured, he lets the cleric do his work with a sour expression. "Do you have an urge toward self-destruction," he asks of the half-elf after a moment. "Because you seem to be doing everything possible to ensure that someone is in a position to end your life. Even when they're demonstrably hostile and it would be prudent to take cover or keep a distance."
In light of Marcusic getting repeatedly hammered in this fight--and still treating the character as more than a game test dummy--I think I'm going to dip into the Conjuration sphere for a companion that will, eventually after much talent investment, become an ersatz tor linnorm. Between songs, totems, a couple of momentums, and that thing, Marcusic should be better able to support.
-_- Gee, thanks ever so much. Will I have the satisfaction of having at least mangled that overgrown bastard with that crit?
Well, Paizo says that a character is always their own ally. And Marcusic has a few sphere-related things that specifically call him out as being his own ally as well. So I believe that it--and momentums in general--can be used by him as well as eligble others. I just didn't use it when he took that first hit because it wasn't needed.
|
