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Guys, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I have *just* landed one of my dream jobs. The bad news is that it is over 40hrs/week and so my gaming time will be severely hampered. I am sorry to say that I will have to withdraw from the game, but I've thoroughly enjoyed playing with all of you and I hope you have great fun going forward! I hate to give up on a Forgotten Realms game, but something has to give. Happy adventures!
Mazhir smiles slightly as he sees the approaching thunderheads. "Anhur is a lord of storms, hopefully he smiles upon us now."
Crinkling his nose, Mazhir objects. "That doesn't strike you as a trifle...barbaric? The sea devils are vile brutes to be sure, but they're still sentient creatures and I'm not comfortable with using their corpses in such a manner any more than I would be if it were one of us."
Mazhir will assist Calamys with his own Mending spells, scrounging around the floor for pieces of deck to seal back over the hole.
As of tonight I'll be back in the US and can resume my regular posting schedule.
As the fight ends, Mazhir lets out a wordless moan of pain and presses a hand against his torn cheek as he slumps against the wall. Fishing out his wand, his manages to grate out the spell-trigger and sighs in relief as fresh skin stretches over the wound.
"Ahh...well, it seems I should stick to picking at the edges of the fight and leave the dashing weapon-play to others." Standing, he points at the hole hacked in the outer hull. "Um, can anyone do something about that?"
During one of the bots Mazhir tried a stab but missed, would have made him visible again.
The big sea devil's claw misses him, but it's a near thing, and Mazhir recognizes when he is outclassed. Still, what he's unlikely to achieve through brute strength of arms he may accomplish with cunning. Stepping back out of reach, he bends the air once more and vanishes from sight.
Grinning at his adversary's anger and confusion, the priest moves to interpose himself between the large sea devil and the breach in the hull--if he sought to escape with his prize, he would at least feel the bite of Mazhir's spear once again.
Apologies for not saying something sooner, but my wife & I will be traveling around Europe before our visa ends, starting on Monday (June 19) and going until July 12 when we get back stateside. My posting rate will probably drop precipitously, feel free to bot me. Mazhir will mostly rely on his Invisibility (he has six more uses of up to a minute each) for today, for healing or buffing or occasional attacks. Outside of combat he'll try to rely on his excellent Diplomacy skill whenever possible.
Mazhir, too, sees the leader retrieve that box in particular, and while no great warrior he has never lacked for courage. Turning as Laijiri comes up behind him he stage-whispers, "Stop there, I'm here. Warn Khaz that there might be swimmers on his side." Trusting his invisibility to protect him, he hops off the stairway to the deck below, picking his way around barrels and crates of cargo to reach the sea devil leader. As he lunges, the magic refracting the light through him unraveling at the sudden movement.
From behind the monk comes Mazhir's voice, "Lady Laijiri, if you and Master Cloudbreaker have things in hand here I will assist Master Herwonkir. But first, a small blessing."
As the priest catches sight of the imposing, four-armed sea devil his voice can be heard again, this time on stairs behind Calamys. "He doesn't look friendly."
Mazhir begins the weave his hands and murmur in his native tongue, shaping the air and bending the light. In moments he has disappeared from view, though his sandaled feet can be heard upon the deck.
As Mazhir is gazing out at the distant storm on the horizon, his head feels light, and see sees the attack coming. Without turning, he sees the webbed, scaly hand grasp the railing, hears the sailor gasp--then the choked gurgle as the trident buries itself in his throat. He sees all this, and yet he cannot move, his muscles will not obey his mind. He turns slowly, much too slowly, and sees the battle play out like ghosts on the deck. He sees spells cast, blades flash, the spray of sea and of blood. Forcing his hands to move he throws his arms wide and calls upon Anhur, the Falcon of Storms, to empower himself and those near him on the deck. He feels the thrum of power under his fingertips and he knows his god has answered.
"Oh mighty Falcon of Storms, spare us a few days more." Mazhir whispers as he follows the captain's gaze, a cold weight settling in his stomach. Perhaps on the sea my lord must yield to the authority of Talos...no, let it not me so."
As the ship clears the mouth of the harbor Mazhir looks longingly at the rigging. Mindful of his assurance that he would stay out of the way he doesn't climb them, but he wants to.
Mazhir startles to find Khaz standing beside him. "Sacred Storms, friend! Don't sneak up on me like that." Upon taking a closer look he notices the dwarf's tight jaw and grip upon the railing. "Are you unwell, Master Cloudbreaker?"
Welcome aboard Calamys! We seem to have lost Jovar, Khaz, and Vaelen entirely.
Mazhir turns from eager gazing out to see and offers a shallow bow. "Mazhir Ketamet, originally of Gheldaneth." He smiles politely and then turns to observe as the ship pulls away from the docks, watching the still-moored vessels go by.
We might need more than one :-/
Noticing the captain's frequent glances out over the docks Mazhir gives the dockyard a quick scan himself. "Is anything amiss, Captain?"
We appear to have misplaced half the group...
Mazhir moves to the bow, trying to stay out of the way but gazing eagerly out across the harbor. He was still new to sea travel, his first trip only a few short months behind him, but he had enjoyed it immensely--vague discomfort over the prospect of sea monsters notwithstanding!
After giving Captain el Ammar a small bow Mazhir steps out onto the street. "It seems we have a little time to kill, if anyone has a purchase they'd like to make with their share of our advance prior to departure I'd estimate we have two or three hours to do so."
"A tarp if it rains is all we ask, you have a deal sir." Mazhir proffers his hand to shake. "When do we leave?"
Giving the lad a knowing wink, Mazhir seeks out the harbormaster or, failing that, a bar frequented by ship's officers. He inquires as to ships requiring a few fighting hands bound for Samra, but of course keeps an ear out for mentions of any stopovers in Iljak.
"Oh no, we checked out half an hour ago. We're headed to the harbor now." He states this last bit as an almost-question, looking to the others to see if they had any objection.
Mazhir looks thoughtful as he follows Laijiri. "Well, under Mulhorandi law we'd examine your skills and then decide which temple you rightfully belonged to, but seeing as we are not in Mulhorand its laws do not apply. Frankly, I suspect that those outspoken mercenary paladins hired by the Pharaoh have the right of it, and my saying so is in large part why I am here now." Smiling at the boy, "So no, I wager you'll avoid slavery at our hands. That being said, I think it best if you stick with us for a time."
Standing, Mazhir brushes at the grime on his robes. "Yes, I believe we've concluded."
After using the wand, Mazhir stores it away in his robes. "I regret that I cannot restore your finger, but...could you identify the guard who was bribed, if you saw him? We have no authority to punish the ones who've done this to you," Yet, he adds silently, "but we can perhaps tip off the guard's captain...and find the woman who set you up."
Mazhir's jaw tightens. Kneeling a few feet away, he says softly, "Hello, young sir, are you awake? My name is Mazhir Ketamet. May I examine your hand? I'm a priest, if you want I can heal your injuries..."
It seems this 'Lorel Cravenhog'--ha!--has something of a grim reputation around here. I should make some discreet inquiries after this business with the boy is concluded. Giving the guard a perfunctory nod, he motions towards the jail. "I'd like to speak to the boy, and I received permission from Lorel Cravenhog less than an hour ago."
Mazhir smiles and shakes the elf's hand. As soon as he is gone, the Mulhorandi priest turns back to the others. "I daresay there's more to this story than that gentleman was letting on, and the show of force was clumsy and distasteful--but what a marvelous opportunity to learn about the intrigues of the Vilhon Reach! After breakfast, I think we should visit that young man." So saying, Mazhir walks over to the innkeep and his wife to apologize for this morning's inconvenience, and gives the man a golden daric for the trouble.
I'm okay with accepting this job, though admittedly Mazhir's motivations aren't financial.
Mahzir waves his hand. "I've no doubt at all that the good Lord Wianar will see us generously rewarded for our assistance in this delicate matter. A trifling thousand darics* to each of us for a job well done--and for our commendable discretion afterwards--could hardly be objectionable could it?"
*: just used a name for an ancient Persian gold coin, whatever local currency for "gp" is fine.
Impassively watching Vaelen stride away, Mazhir gives the courtier an apologetic smile. "I apologize for my traveling companion's manners, I assure you he doesn't speak for all of us. You have piqued my interest in this, and I agree to undertake this endeavor. Once we have succeeded, how would you like for us to get in touch? Simply returning here seems to lack subtlety."
Mazhir considers this information for a moment, then slowly nods. "I see. And what is it that you like for us to do, precisely? Trace the payments up the chain as far as we are able? Find this young woman? I'm not entirely clear on what we are being asked to do."
Uh oh, the Mulhorandi priest thinks, but he descends the stairs nevertheless. "Greetings, sir. I certainly hope you didn't put together this reception on our account, it was hardly necessary. I am Mazhir Ketamet, from Gheldaneth, how may I be of assistance?"
It takes some time for Mezhir to notice the familiar smells of fresh bred and grilled pork are absent, occupied as his is with his morning prayers at the thrown-open window. "Curious," he murmurs, dressing and opening the door from his room to the hallway.
Mazhir stares thoughtfully at the door long after they lawmen & the accused have left. "Curious, though. The boy and the young woman never said a word. In my admittedly limited experience with crime that strikes as noteworthy, but I suppose it's out of our hands now." Scraping his chair back, Mazhir stands. "I, too, must bid you a good night. We shall see what the morrow brings."
Weighing the guard's response for a moment, Mazhir slowly nods. It'd have to do,
Suppressing a sigh, Mazhir rises from the table. "Excuse me, I am a stranger in these lands, but this seems highly irregular. If your intention is to merely scare the lad then it's none of my affair, but I'm not willing to watch anyone be tortured at the next table over in an inn." Turning to the pair of alleged thieves, he asks (not unkindly), "Have the accused anything to say for themselves?"
I think as a just-starting-out group a name is premature, I think it's reasonable for adventuring types to not want their company to be "formal" until they're certain the group can/will further their goals. Let's adventure for a bit, get to know each other, and figure out something fitting from our personalities, deeds, etc.
Mazhir smiles politely at the barmaid and shakes his head. The drinks here didn't measure up to the wheat beers back home, and he had taken the job to refill his coin purse and would just as soon not empty it again right away. "I am content, thank you," he says gently while laying a silver on the table for the barmaid. Sharing the other patron's indifference to the heroics of he and his tablemates, he surveys the room, noting clothing styles and letting the babble of the crowd wash over him.
Hallo! I think your posting rules are good, but question. I don't usually say "@person", instead I'll put what I say to a person in a spoiler box with their name on it (particularly if it's an aside or whispered or whatever). Is that fine?
South would be my preference. Much of the "North" gets constant attention (Dalelands, Cormyr, Sword Coast, etc) but the Faerun's south and east have so much space still unexplored. Definitely my preference.
You of course know your limits better than any of us, but two tables of 4-6 players each is a lot of work. I've seen a few & heard more stories of DM burnout, and honestly I'd rather see this game be successful, even if it means I'm not one of the chosen players. The PBP boards have a GM deficit as it is, I'd hate for us to lose anyone. But it's your decision.
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