Michael Thronedweller's page

Unfortunately, my computer situation has already taken a long time to resolve and it still hasn't quite finished itself yet. I'm going to go ahead and resign myself from this game with my sincerest apologies. I hope you guys find another player who is more committed than I am. (I feel especially bad since this game was my idea to begin with, but I just can't play when I don't have a computer yet...)

As it stands now, I can barely contribute to a single game (and the only reason I'm staying in that game is because it's been going on for almost two months and my character is already heavily invested and developed).

Again, I'm really sorry, and I wish I could have posted this sooner. Have fun, guys.

My laptop power cable has been irreparably damaged. I have a new computer on the way. It should arrive sometime next week, around the 13th of July. Until then, I will simply not be able to log on. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Michael, the violin might be more in keeping with the Gothic setting.

Air violin? That sounds hysterical, but I'll probably just have Michael buy one so he can whip it out whenever he's depressed or excited or just wants to play a violin solo. Thanks!

Michael blinks while Oorin just blows him off and gets wrapped up with the new visitor, along with everyone else. "What? Oh come on guys! Sure, we got some cool weapons, but I just told you about a way we could find a clue to the Professor's death! Doesn't anyone care?" He picks up his new sword and then sits in the corner like a kicked puppy.

Alchemical silver longsword! Sweet!

Michael, no more air guitar. It's anachronistic, it bothers other players, and it is not in keeping with the gothic horror theme of Carrion Crown.

That settles that then. Hmm...guess I'll do some OOC research on Gothic Horror themes and see how that plays with Michael's character.

Sorry for the trouble, guys.

Haha, Michael, I totally love the direction you're going with your character (I honestly laughed out loud at your last post), but do you think you could tone down the anachronisms a bit? Things like the air-guitar are just a little too jarring and out of place for this kind of campaign, I think. I'm sure you can find some sort of more period-appropriate way to express the same idea.

I don't know what "period" we're in, though. I mean, I don't know much about the setting at all, or what "time" we're in, or anything like that. But if bards exist, then I'm sure guitars exist, so there's no real anachronism then is there? (Other than the metallic sound effects, I guess).

Michael walks out with the rest of the group, finding himself next to the swanky-looking gnome. He clears his throat, searching for a conversation topic. "So, uh, Oorin Can-of-Thigh-Sins, you're some kind of...wizard, right? I mean, you look really smart and you seem to know a little about magic, like with those arrows. So, I was wondering if you could examine this special armor that the shopkeeper decided to-WAIT!"

Michael stops in his tracks and looks astounded. "Oh crap! Guys, I totally forgot to mention this, but the shopkeeper who sold me the armor is some kind of witch! Yeah! She's got like, this deck of cards! And she used them to tell my future! And she said I was a paladin, and then I did this epic air guitar solo, like Bwa na na na naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" He demonstrates for them with a quick ten-second metal rift. "Anyway, so she said she was using something called 'The Harrow Deck', and I was thinking that maybe we could use it to get a clue about how the Professor died!"

Michael walks over and touches Roland's arm gently. "It's over, my friend. I do believe you need to remain calm. You are...not yourself." Michael looks at him worriedly.

Are these creatures undead? Does Michael recognize them? Know (Religion): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

Michael rushes over to the last sarcophagus and attacks one of the other hands, using his powerful longsword to cut the creature down in Iomedae's name.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Damage: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8, +1 if the creature is undead due to my campaign trait.

Edit: It fills me with joy that you can crit undead in Pathfinder.

Confirmation roll: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
For: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5 extra damage, +1 extra if the hand is undead.

Initiative: 1d20 ⇒ 19

Michael draws his blade and growls. "Undead scum! Have at you!"

Michael uses his daily use of Smite Evil on one of the hands that Oorin did not touch. Then he will attack the hand with his sword.

Attack Roll: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11 (+4 if the hand is evil)
Damage Roll: 1d8 + 2 ⇒ (7) + 2 = 9 (+1 if the hand is evil, +2 if the hand is evil undead)

Sorry for the inconvenience everyone, but for the next day and a half I will be at my college's Freshmen Orientation. Expect normal posting to resume at 3 PM CT on Friday. Until then!

Yes! Finally a skill check I can succeed!
Know (Religion) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20

Damnit! I finally succeed a check and the information granted is "There is no information!" *rage*

Michael examines the crypt with suspicion. "Very strange. This tomb is completely neutral. There is no sign of any worship or deity. Which is odd, I mean, you'd really have to go out of your way to build a crypt without at least a statue of an angel or something, it's almost part of the architecture style...Almost like...this place wasn't really built to be a resting place for the dead at all."

Michael draws his sword and walks forward, slashing at the lock to break it completely and knock it aside.

Michael blinks. "Wait, but...where did you guys...ah hell, why not? Wait for me!" He smiles and follows the rest of the group.

"Ah hah ha ha! No need, ma'am! Sorry to have bothered you!" Michael turns and runs away. He runs into the middle of the street, next to the temple, then stops and pants. "Damn, she was scary. Has everyone in this city lost their minds, or what? Where is Oorin-Can-Handle-This when you need him?!"

Michael blinks in surprise. "Well, that's not the Councilman!"

"Ahem. Sorry ma'am. Is Councilman Hearthmount at home? I need to speak with him. Won't take but a moment, I assure you."

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 4

Michael blinks as Kendra grabs his arm and guides him out the door. "Oh, well, okay! You can count on me, Miss Kendra, I'll make sure the scroll gets to him!" The door shuts behind him and Michael sighs happily. "I'm glad to know she's alright. Ah well, it's time to go deal with this other thing. Hopefully the Councilman is in a better mood now."

Michael walks up the street, crosses the river, and finds Councilman Hearthmount's house. He knocks on the door politely.

Everyone, I give you Michael Thronedweller. The most clueless paladin ever.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Michael smiles in relief. "I'm glad to hear it. You have a package that needs to be delivered? Absolutely! Shall I pick anything up for you at the market while I'm out? Do you need any food restocked or anything like that?"

Hee hee, Michael got so excited he forgot to get his armor resized...

She said "Drop by later", so Michael's going to give it a few hours. He didn't forget though.

That was an entertaining response, and sorry for my short reply, but Kendra left you all when you had just started looking around the statue. As far as she knows, you've been hanging with the deputies for this whole time. :)

Haha, wow. Yeah, that's quite the character. I'm....gonna have to keep an eye on this one.

Why, thank you. :D Yeah, Michael is pretty much how I picture a paladin apprentice to be. Young and idealistic, and taking pleasure in small victories because he hasn't really had that many of them in the past. But he doesn't let all of his problems get him down, instead he tries to remain jovially positive.

Michael laughs sheepishly and rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, about that..we kind of got separated earlier. Now I don't know where they are. But I bet they'll be back sooner rather than later. In the mean time, I came here to check up on you. How are you doing today? Are you feeling any better?"

Michael is, frankly, kind of hopeless on his own. So, if you guys want to go ahead and just keep playing the temple scene out without him, that's fine with me. It's more in-character for him to forget what he was doing after such a great reading, so I'm sorry if I'm inconveniencing the group here.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 3

Michael's chest swells up with pride. The Harrow Deck had called him a paladin! Marta said the reading was "strong" with him! This wasn't just some trick or some fate...no...Iomedae Herself had intervened and guided Marta's hand to show her the truth. Michael was sure of it. Which meant...the Divine had truly accepted him as a paladin of Her glorious being!

Michael grins happily and as soon as Marta is out of the room he throws his head back and starts banging his head forward and back, his hair flipping over his face. He puts his hands in front of his body, one parallel to his shoulder, palm facing upwards, and the other towards his stomach, his fingers dancing across the air, as if he were playing a guitar. Michael makes a few sounds like a metallic beat with his mouth and strums the air guitar in an awe-inspiring, high-paced solo. After a full thirty seconds of invisible air rock, Michael stops and pumps his fist into the air triumphantly. "Recognition get!"

Now that that was settled...huh. Michael crosses his arms, lost in thought for a moment. "There was something important I was supposed to do with the rest of the group today...but...I can't really remember what it was? Crap. Ah well, they probably don't need my help anyway. Oorin-kun Aneurysm is there with them, he's a wizard (I think) so if they run into any trouble, I'm sure he can just summon an angel or something to help them."

Frowning, Michael bites his lip. "Wait, but then what am I supposed to do all day? Oh, I know!" Slamming his fist into his hand excitedly. "I'll go check on Miss Kendra. We've been gone all morning, someone should really go check on her to make sure she's alright."

With that, Michael heads back to the Lorrimor Estate. He opens the door and walks into the foyer. "Miss Kendra? Miss Kendra, it's me, Michael! Are you in?"

"I can only ask questions about myself?" Michael asks, frowning. That tool could possibly provide some information about the Professor's death, but he would have to get Kendra in here so the cards could focus on her, her link with the Professor was most likely the strongest of all of them.

"Very well. I will ask a single question. One about my future, and that is relevant to our current dilemma. If you gave me that armor and I were to wear it into all my battles, will I accomplish great and noble deeds that would make its former owner proud?"

Nine d10 rolls:
1d10 ⇒ 10
1d10 ⇒ 5
1d10 ⇒ 7
1d10 ⇒ 5
1d10 ⇒ 9
1d10 ⇒ 9
1d10 ⇒ 9
1d10 ⇒ 7
1d10 ⇒ 8

Michael frowns and rubs the back of his head. "I suppose you have a point there. I am still a novice paladin, so unfortunately I do not yet possess the touch of healing or the ability to cast spells granted to me by The Divine. However, I do carry this symbol." He lifts up a finely crafted holy symbol of Iomedae, which he wears proudly around his neck.

"The Harrow Deck?" Michael repeats, looking down at the cards. "I've never heard of it before in my life. What...is it?"

Michael detects evil. On both the cards and the woman. If he senses any evil he will first spend a move action to analyze the deck, then concentrate and spend a second move action to analyze the woman.

You assume correctly, sir!

Michael bows politely. "But of course! Let's see, what to tell you? Well, I am a follower of Iomedae. In fact, Iomedae has seen fit to reward my devotion by blessing me with Her divine grace. I am a paladin of the church. I grew up in Ustalva. My mother died when I was very little, and my father did his best to raise me on his own. I like to think of myself as a caring and compassionate person who fights for justice, but everyone's opinion of themselves is likely a bit biased and not quite truthful."

Michael then smiles and extends a hand towards Marta. "So, this armor was part of your family line, then? Please, tell me a bit about its history."

Michael enters the general store and smiles at the shopkeeper. "Good day. My name is Michael Thronedweller. It's a pleasure to meet you. I have heard tell of a special suit of armor that is located within this shop. Could you please let me examine it?"

He smiles politely.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

Michael shakes his head firmly. "I will not interfere with a legal investigation if I am not wanted there...I don't want to get in the way of these fine men and their work. Besides, Karl almost fell off a barn while he was attempting to 'investigate'..."

Thinking about what the Professor said to him...about never losing faith and standing up for what he believes in, Michael grits his teeth. "No...wait. That's not right. Forgive me, friends. I faltered, but for just a moment. We are here to help Miss Kendra first, but we can also help the town second. If there is someone here who means to do harm to the town, then I will defend it."

Turning to his companions, Michael frowns. "So, Shanoa. Roland. Arthur. Did any of you find anything out?"

Michael gasps, completely taken aback by the councilman's behavior. He frowns and raises his hands in shock. "M-my sincerest apologies, I had no idea that we were intruding on an investigation, I just...I thought...I'm sorry." He hangs his head sadly. When Karl suggests they walk away, Michael nods and keeps his head down, following his companions to the inn.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 = 17
Perception: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (11) + 0 = 11

Michael goes with the rest of the group back to the tavern in order to meet with everyone and explain the evil power emanating from Karl's arm. When they reach the square, Michael spots the councilman Hearthmount, and smiles, walking over to greet him with a friendly "Good morning!"

Michael realizes that his detect evil ability is still active, and, out of habit, concentrates on the councilman, just in case.

"How are you doing today, Councilman?"

Yeah, let's retreat for now. Sorry I didn't get a chance to make an IC post today, I'm in the process of moving to a new apartment. Tomorrow isn't looking good either. I'm sorry guys. Feel free to DM my PC, Hadrin.

"You have definitely been tainted by evil, my friend, but it seems to be fading..." Michael looks at Karl with a worried expression. "How do you feel? Does anything feel strange or different, or are you just in pain?"

I just want to know if I fell off that roof...

Reflex save to react and catch Karl if he falls off the roof: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15 (Damn Divine Grace not coming until level 2!)

Let's hope I roll high...

Wow, 16 new posts and I still don't have anything to respond to, lol. Guess that's what happens when you split the party. Still, it's interesting to read the back-and-forth between Roland and Arthur.

From a meta perspective, I believe the protection from evil spell grants the subject immunity to possession, which will is a ghost's most dangerous ability.

Michael staggers back as the evil from Karl's assailant overwhelms him. As Karl comes down, Michael quickly seizes the young man's uninjured arm. "Are you alright? Did that man say anything to you before he disappeared?"

The pulse of evil still lodged in Michael's brain, he looks down at Karl's bruise and concentrates on it, attempting to assess the entirety of the evil aura coming from it.

Will spend a move action and concentrate on the bruise to determine all information about it as if I had spent three rounds.

Michael will keep his eyes peeled and maintain his concentration on his detect evil spell.

Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 5
Survival: 1d20 ⇒ 13

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22

Michael nods slowly. "So it's safe to assume this crime took place close to three hours ago...let's follow the tracks Karl found for now."

Michael walks over to Riff, his detect evil spell still active and centered on the man, and speaks politely. "Good morning. I understand you were the person who discovered the statue like this. I have a few questions, if I may:

Have there been any mysterious disappearances recently? Perhaps a wife or husband who didn't come home?
"

The fire...Michael's ears perk up at the mention of that. The Professor's journal mentioned something of the sort. Michael turns to Kendra and asks, "Do you know any other details about this fire? Who started it, and how? Was it a magical or mundane fire?"

Michael steps up and closes his eyes, shaking his head in pain as he realizes someone has been gravely injured. He opens them again, and they glow a soft blue as he turns his divine gaze upon the statue.

Michael detects evil as a standard action, using a move action to concentrate on the statue and identify all evil auras or evil intent the statue might possess or have been exposed to.

"This is quite a disturbing scene. Sheriff, who exactly found the statue like this? Who reported it to you? I'd like to ask them a few questions."

Michael nods eagerly, now refreshed and ready to learn about his beloved master's death. "I am with you, Karl. Let us venture to Alendru Ghoroven's and see what information he may grace us with. Miss Kendra, I hope you don't mind? If you require some assistance, comfort, or company today, please tell us, and we will elect one or more of us to stay behind with you. Unless you have a preference, of course."

As Michael slowly unhooks his massive plate armor from his body, he thinks about everything he has seen today. Discovering the secrets of the intentions of the Whispering Way, meeting all these people, and attending the funeral where he did his best to touch the hearts of everyone.

Michael looks up at the ceiling and smiles to himself. So many people came to the Professor's funeral. The Professor knew so many different and interesting people. Michael was sure he was happy to have the chance to spread his knowledge among such a diverse and caring crowd. And seeing how everyone who knew him was so passionate about who he was and how he had helped them....yeah. Michael's smile widens as he nods firmly. The Professor must have been happy, to the very end.

That thought comforts Michael, and he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.

Alright I'm back. Had a good game today (though the cavalier in our group got insta-glibbed by a phantasmal killer spell. Death effects on a level 4 party? Ugh). How's everybody doing?

"I am Michael Thronedweller, a paladin of Iomedae. When I was a child, I was hospitalized by a skeletal guard in Ustalav, and he came to investigate why a 13 year old lad with no extraordinary powers had survived such an attack. He agreed to teach me how to better defend myself against these creatures, and has corresponded with me ever since. Though oddly enough, he never mentioned having a daughter." Michael adds the last part as an afterthought, frowning to himself.

"Oorin...Koona Bison?" Michael tries hopefully, but sighs as he hears himself cough it out wrong. "Well, either way, it's a pleasure to meet all of you. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who was a friend of the Professor's is a friend of mine. He was a good man, and had a good judge of character."

Turning to Shanoa, Michael raises an eyebrow. "Strange. Your story and mine sound remarkably similar. I suppose that's just one trait that we share. Though I'm pleased to see you're alright."

Sunday is my RL gaming day. In a few hours I'll be heading out and I won't be back for quite a while, but after I do get back, I'll be free to post.

Michael is stunned by the request, but he does not stay that way for long. "Miss Kendra!" he calls after her, as she starts to leave. "I just want you to know, I accept the tasks the Professor stated in his will. I don't need to think about it, I won't hesitate. I am here, and I will assist you however I can, so please, ask anything you wish of me."

After she retires, Michael will examine the journal and frown. "The Whispering Way? These men...they're responsible for all the undead that have been around recently. And yet, the Professor seems to think that there is more to them than even that. But what could it be? What does he mean, 'Undeath is their fountain of youth'? Surely the entire cabal does not plan to resort to lichdom, do they?"

Michael's eyes widen in shock. An entire group of liches, not only existing at the same time, but cooperating together. All the magic they had in life, all the permanency and strength they have in undeath. A practically unstoppable force. Even the grand cleric would have a hard time battling a single lich, but an entire cabal?

Despite his divine training, Michael feels his knees shake a bit in fear. Those kinds of commanders, at the head of an army of skeletons and wraiths and zombies and vampires...they'd be practically unstoppable. And their lives...or unlives...would be eternal. The world would forever be enslaved to their rule. And if they crushed the churches once and for all, no one would be able to study and learn the divine magic necessary to suppress them.

Michael nods to himself. The Professor was suspicious of this group, that was all the proof he needed. He would have to do some investigating on his own, to find out exactly what the Whispering Way was up to. And perhaps...they had something to do with the Professor's death.

The purple book was a bit odd. Michael couldn't open it. Something tugged at the back of his mind though, and despite his complete trust in the Professor, he found himself a bit suspicious of its contents. Michael placed the purple book in the chest, and then looked down into the chest and used his paladin ability to detect evil on every book in there.

Michael steps up to the grave, kneels before it, and closes his eyes, saying a short, silent prayer. "Oh Iomedae, Who Art in Heaven, Blessed be Thy Name. Your humble servant begs You, let this man, this man who was always a great scholar and a great friend, let him rest in peace. Let his bones decay, let his soul reach You in Heaven. Let his body never be desecrated by evil, let his passion for knowledge continue to thrive as he learns all he can about the afterlife. In Your Name I pray, Amen."

Rising and opening his eyes, Michael once again fights back the urge to cry. A single tear leaks from his right eye as he speaks. "This man came to me. He found me, a young foolish boy, in a hospital bed on the edge of death. And he sat there and he spoke to me for hours. I always wondered why he did that. Why he came to me. I couldn't help his research. I couldn't teach him anything he didn't already know. He knew that within the first ten minutes of speaking to me. Did he leave? No. He stayed, and told me to stick to my convictions. He taught me everything I know today about life and death. He taught me how to fight my enemies, how to protect my friends. And now, as I stand before his casket, I believe I finally understand why he stayed that day. It's because, at his core, Professor Lorrimor was a good person. He was a father. A teacher. A scholar. A friend. A friend to many. But above all, he was kind. And for that kindness, I say, 'thank you, Professor. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.'"

Michael steps aside.

Diplomacy check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24

Oh man, Oorin's avatar looks like a boss.

Glad to have you with us.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Michael's eyes narrowed and he calmly placed one hand on the hilt of his blade, looking up at the men with a fierce gaze. "I'm going to say this once. Don't you dare speak ill of him like that again. If you do, I won't show you any mercy."

Michael's entire face was an expression of rage. His eyes were sharp and his pupils dilated, his eyebrows pushed down and his forehead creased, his nostrils flaring and his lips drawn into a scowl. As his eyes fixed on the opposition, he looked directly into their souls.

Standard action: Cast detect evil.
Move action: Focus on one of the two men, read his entire aura and gather information about it as if I had focused for 3 rounds.

1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 - Sense Motive

A young human man wearing a holy symbol around his neck and a powerful suit of splint mail looks down at his hands, clenching his fists. "The professor? Dead? This...ARGH!" He throws his head back and yells in anger and bitter pain. The man's face falls forward, into his gloved and gauntlet-clad hands, and he weeps.

After a few moments, the man sniffs and he looks up at the woman. Tears stain his cheeks, but he tries to retain his composure. "I apologize, Miss Lorrimor. I know I have no right to act in such a way before you, when you are the person he cared about most. It's just...I'm sorry. Your father was a great, great man. He will be missed."

Standing up slowly, feeling the weight of the world fall down upon his shoulders, the man closes his eyes and wipes the tears from his cheeks. "I owe your father everything. Who I am and what I have become is all thanks to his teaching. But to know that he included me in his...in his last will and testament..." Michael choked and coughed, sobbing again, before taking a breath and continuing. "To know that I meant as much to him as he did to me...I'm grateful. I could never do anything that would pay the Professor back for all he has done for me, but I will do this."