Chats aren't really necessary. As long as we have an OOC Discussion board, which we should if this is converted to a complete campaign, we'll be able to talk about anything and everything, keep treasure notes updated, etcetera.
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An arcanist wizard. Mithrael Sevireane is a member of the Sevireane family, a noble elven family that threw its lot in with the thrice-cursed house. He is sadly ashamed of the failure of his family and desires to see his family's honor restored, returning to the pantheon of the Elves.
Alright, this character has been updated. If you need any information on the alternative classes, most everything that's opensource is available on d20pfsrd.com, one of the best websites out there for all of the published books with the Pathfinder rules.
I also created this character for a Council of Thieves game that fell through. Not sure if its the same point build, though... Take a look at him and see if its about the same. EDIT: He has three traits instead of two... I can get rid of one of them if need be. :P
An arcanist wizard. Mithrael Sevireane is a member of the Sevireane family, a noble elven family that threw its lot in with the thrice-cursed house. He is sadly ashamed of the failure of his family and desires to see his family's honor restored, returning to the pantheon of the Elves.
Mithrael approaches the elven warrior. "Tahlali, I will keep watch. You can help the others move the bodies. I fear I do not have the training or the required brawn for such physical tasks."
"An excellent suggestion. Especially the scattering of the bodies." Mithrael returns to the previous battlesite and drags one of the bodies that had fallen partly on the side down a nearby corridor.
After only a few feet, Mithrael drops the body. "It is too heavy for me to move by myself."
"I should think death would be preferable, considering their systems of punishment." Mithrael stands firmly on the ledge, glancing over at Janiven and his companions, holding his staff at arm's length. "Mistress Janiven, decide this matter quickly, so we can continue onward."
Mithrael pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously attempting to hide his anger and disappointment. "Za'unda, there are other ways to defeat tyrrany, slavery, and fear than by killing their sources. Try to see the larger picture at hand."
Mithrael looks around, then looks at the flame bursting from the jewel set in his staff. "Whatever we are going to do, I suggest we do it quickly. Let Lady Janiven have a say in the matter, for I'm sure if we tarry here for long more will eventually find us."
Mithrael turns sharply towards Xaandros. "Ah yes. That is exactly what we need now. A hellknight that has seen us and can easily describe us to his superiors when he is rescued." Elim looks boldly at Xaandros, perched on the staff. Mithrael continues. "Do what you will with him. I wash my hands of the matter entirely."
Mithrael glares over his shoulder at the hellknight. Well Xaandros. Now you have a surrendered hellknight. What are you going to do with him?
Mithrael turns angrily away from the hellknight and his tormentors, gripping the staff as he marches back to Janiven and her young assistant. Do what you will with him, then. It is obvious you wish to be hounded by the beasts for the rest of the day. And Xaandros, I do not think he will be swayed by the offer of leniency. They are trained to do one thing, and they do it well. Elimnarel shrieks in agitation, flying up to perch on a lower branch of Mithrael's staff.
Mithrael approaches the hellknight closer, holding up his staff so the flame will light his features better. Stand up! Don't disgrace yourself! It does not matter who I am; all that matters is that you and your fellow dogs are interfering with the Queen's commands. The hellknight stands, attempts in vain to make his armor and uniform more presentable. I will explain myself only once, and then I expect you to do as you're told.
We, who you and your comrades so fiercely attacked, are following the Queen's commands to find and infiltrate an underground resistance movement here in Westcrown. She does not like it that her subjects are so eager to embrace ideals that are better suited for Andoran or other freedom-loving states. That is all I will tell you.
State of the PBP: We might have lost a few players due to the inactivity of the thread, but I'm trying my hardest to bring it back to life. Mithrael is basically an NPC now, or well, the DMPC. I was too emotionally invested in him and his future goals to completely let the thread die. We've fought some skeletons, and some hellknights just attacked us which we took care of quickly, but we're wrapping up some loose ends with Mithrael's character. Experience-wise, I'm not entirely certain because I haven't calculated it all yet. Needless to say, when we reach wherever Janiven is leading us, everyone will have enough XP to advance a level!
Mithrael slowly approaches the hellknight. It is not my justice to which I refer. But that of Queen Abigail.
As the hellknight begins to look worried, Mithrael advances on him. Why did you attack us?
Mithrael projects his voice down the stone corridor, attempting to sound imperial. In the name of Her Majesty, Queen Abrogail II, you are commanded to halt and face justice!
Mithrael turns to his companions, lowering his voice so that the Hellknight hopefully cannot hear him. Lower your weapons. I have a plan.
Are we still playing?
Mithrael follows after his staff, surprised at how slow everything has become. It was almost as though everything were moving through clear molasses. He almost catches up to the flying staff as he runs down the narrow ledge of the sewer.
Mithrael turns to his lute-wielding companion. Never have I before been in such a silent and still pursuit. I cannot believe I am saying this, but lets see how we can make it a bit more active.
Accelerating down the corridor, he too finds the confines too narrow to pursue safely. Mithrael thinks rapidly then pursues the fleeing culprit carefully, holding out his staff. With an arcane word, the staff flies from his fingers, and Elim jumps into the air with a shriek.
Elimnarel flutters madly in the air, then settles down on Mithrael's shoulder as the staff flies madly towards the fleeing hellknight.
Stepping from the shadows, the robed elf surveys the scene. His staff is held up over the water's edge, Elim bobbing up and down as she looks around in the fiery glow from the burning crystal. It seems that easy work was done here. But one has escaped, I fear. We had best be on our way. Mithrael turns away, as though to proceed further into the mire, searching for the signs at the intersections. This time, let us strive to be less observable. ooc: Sorry everyone. I had lost internet connection over the past month and just now got it back.
Sensing that their presence was about to be discovered, Mithrael calls his spells to mind, wary but uncertain about those who were chasing them. He whispers to a nearby companion I hope there are not as many as were surrounding the tavern. Elim flutters her wings nervously but remains perched on the staff.
Mithrael looks closely at the mark, surprised to see that it was similar to the marks that Janiven had pointed out but which now had been blurred out. "Aha! See here, Mistress Janiven. The mark has been erased by something, or someone. Can you tell which way it was once pointing?" Elim flutters out of the shadows, perching on the staff as she too glares at the marking on the wall, bobbing her head excitedly.
Noticing Janiven's difficulty in finding the markers, Mithrael takes up his staff and searches with the light from the magical flame, hoping to help her find it.
Mithrael attempts to comfort the orc, as he wipes the end of his staff on the hem of his robe. "Do not be surprised by the inefficiency of your blade, Wuglat. A skeleton's body mass is approximately half of what its body originally was. It is only natural that your blade will fail to strike it approximately twice as much."
Mithrael looks around, glad to see that everyone was rested up since the last encounter, and nods in affirmation. "It seems we have lost the priest of Nethys. I hope he has not gotten lost in the sewers, this place seems dangerous enough." He lifts his staff from the sewage it was standing in, attempting to shake the odoriferous liquid from it. Elimnarel flutters nervously, but flies ahead as if also anxious to be moving.
"Now is not the time to halt our advances, not when victory is so near." Mithrael's voice rings out, almost musically intoned to match with the music played by the bard. Spoiler: Just bumping the thread a bit.
OOC rules stuff:
It might be possible to use a weapon as an improvised weapon that does bludgeoning damage for its size - i.e. you whack it with the flat of the blade. A skeleton's DR makes it so that slashing and piercing weapons deal less damage than bludgeoning weapons. Mithrael raises his hand again, shooting a ray of brilliant energy from his fingertips at the skeleton attacking Za'unda. Elim is calmer now, watching the ongoing combat warily.
OOC Rules:
Actually (I just realized this), according to the rules, only thrown and ranged weapons suffer a penalty when firing into melee. Mithrael again releases the positive energy from his hand, targeting the same skeleton.
Elim flutters her wings nervously but remains perched on Mithrael's shoulder, as though ready to spring into the air at the first sign of serious trouble.
That is so cool. Don't tell anyone, but I'm loosely basing my Azlanti off of them.
OOC:
Here's where it gets tricky for me. I'm not sure who's engaged with what. Am I adjacent to a skeleton now? Can I use disrupt undead again without suffering an attack of opportunity? If I'm at range from the combat, can I use it without suffering the -4 penalty for shooting into melee? Murmuring certain words in draconic, Mithrael draws glowing white energy to his hand again. Then he looks around and tries to gauge the battle.
Mithrael looks back at the bard with a raised eyebrow. "The skeletons are fighting on. That's the problem!"
Mithrael moves forward until he can see the undead creatures clearly, and is within short range. "Blasted creatures of darkness. The existence of the undead has always been an affront to light and nature." Mithrael grips his staff with one hand and extends the other, a ray of brilliant white light shooting from his fingers at the closest skeletal creature. Disrupt Undead (1d20+2, 1d6=[16, 2], [3]) Elim watches carefully, readying an action to aid Mithrael if he is attacked. (+2 AC)
Is there an opposite ledge in the sewer and if so, how far away is it? Would it be possible to jump across it or is it just too far without a run up? It's a 5-foot tunnel. I don't think there's an "opposite ledge". Now, a little further ahead the tunnel might span out some, but where we are right now is just 5-feet wide.
"By the Pantheon, what is it now?" Mithrael attempts to peer around the line in front of him, being careful not to overbalance and fall into the sewage beside him.
Spoiler:
Mithrael slips the two vials into the bag hanging from the sash around his waist. "Be careful of the slippery stones. Keep an eye out, and for any unwholesome things that might make the sewers their home."
Finally back in lighted conditions he could actually enjoy, Mithrael looks around to make sure everyone made it and is well enough to continue on.
DM/OOC:
"Obscuring Mist" actually centers on the caster, 20' radius. (From the trap door.) And I can't shape it, so if there's a part of it that interacts with the explosive runes, the mist could be partly burnt away. Duration 1 minute. Mithrael tries to regain his composure, Elim also calms down, hopping from its narrow stone ledge on the wall onto Mithrael's staff. It makes a curious clicking noise and Mithrael nods in the darkness. "I agree. A little too dark down here." The elf reaches into the deep pocket of his robe and pulls out a red crystal burning with a bright flame. He holds it up near his staff, and Elim tilts her head, silently opening her beak at the sight of the crystal. She adjusts her position on the staff's "branches", and Mithrael sets the crystal firmly into a notch. The golden light from the flame spreads out like that of a torch.
Mithrael turns his head to contemplae Xaandros's argument, but the loud knocking on the door has turned to heavy thudding. "I have never seen a unit of Hellknights not fight in formation. If they've surrounded the building as the boy has said, then there are likely two formations upon us." He begins to wave his staff in the air, gathering up magical energies in a subtle sparkle of light. "Make haste down the ladder. They will be upon us soon; I intend to have as many leave here alive as possible. Shalathir Milayil" A strange fog begins to seep into the room through the cracks betwen the boards on the floor. With a flick of his wrist, Mithrael wards the fog away from the area near the front door, but the fog continues to rise. It is a dense fog and difficult to see through, but rising slowly enough for everyone else in the room to make it to the trapdoor.
Mithrael holds the trap door so that Janiven and Morosino can go down before him, as well as the priest of Nethys. He turns to Xaandros and Za'unda. Have you two ever fought Hellknights? They fight in units of 13, all heavily armored, all well trained in combat. These warriors do not fight fairly, and they have the advantage of numbers and experience. Do not let your pride and bravery prevent you from seeing the folly of attempting to fight them. Elim flutters into the air and screeches, diving down the hole after those that had gone before. Let us move quickly now and live this day. One day we will have justice.
We do not stand a chance against the Hellknights! Let us flee while we can. The punishments of Westcrown are... too vicious to ponder right now, and for now I am focused only on the survival of our new fellowship. By the gods of my ancestors, we have no recourse here but to escape Hell's Legions. Elim flies into the air and flaps her wings agitatedly as another heavy thud erupts from the door, followed by more shouted commands from those outside it. There is no time to discuss this further. Fleeing is the only option we have right now, as distasteful as it may be for those who think otherwise.
Without having hardly any time to respond to the urgency in Janiven's voice or the sudden difficult situation of hellbeasts pounding on the tavern door, Mithrael urges his new companions to follow the lady of the house, moving swiftly toward the trap door himself. Hurry, do as she suggests. The hellbeasts are nothing to trifle with. Elim flutters her wings in an agitated motion as Mithrael's voice rises in worry. I will do what I can to buy us some time. DM/OOC: I will move to the ladder and cast Obscuring Mist back in the room as soon as everyone else has gone down the ladder.
Mithrael is thoughtful for a brief moment and looks toward Za'unda. "We do not yet know who he is referring to. If we can give Morosino an opportunity to explain who has captured this Arael, then we can try to determine if he might have been followed by them."
A large golden hawk flies in with the boy, alighting on the twisted head of Mithrael's staff. It makes a quiet clucking noise, and turns its head towards the newcomer. Mithrael softens his voice to a murmur. No no. Its alright. I believe he is a friend. Thank you for the warning though. Mithrael turns his attention to the adolescent. Morosino, is it? Please try and calm down. Tell us what has happened, and who this Arael is.
Mithrael sits down again, calming his features. I did not mean to imply that we act recklessly. Caution must be taken, naturally; but let us use our opportunities wisely. If there is a plan to bring this city, or this nation out from under the grip of the Hellknights, I am willing to listen to it. Even if it take a thousand years.
Mithrael concentrates for a moment, closing his eyes to feel his familiar's presence. After being assured that all was well, Mithrael quietly saluted Janiven with his glass of wine. Well said. Long have I watched the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune corrupt everything it touches. Everything! Mithrael grips his staff until his knuckles turn white. Even elves. Mithrael looks around the room, hoping that everyone would respond as he had. I am Mithrael Sevireanne. And the last true elf to bear that name. Knowledge (Local/Nobility/History):
The Sevireannes are known as the House of the Fallen. Once one of the noblest Elven families, the Sevireannes tainted their magic and religion with diabolic practices. Now most of that family are the lapdogs of the House of Thrune. My predecessors have turned from their culture, their history, and their gods to pursue a much darker path than the Brightening that most elves would seek out. Mithrael stands to his feet, holding his staff before him. I will stand with you, Janiven, and with whoever else opposes this House of Thrune. The darkness that corrupts this land not only instills fear, it holds back the light. It is an unnatural way to live. Death to the House of Thrune! I will not rest until the three curses of this House are cleansed by the Three Blessings of my patrons, and the balance of nature and order restored!
The elf watches the room with solemn dignity. He turns to the worshipper of Nethys. You need not hide your visage here, it is obvious you have been marked by your deity for a purpose, among the other gifts he has given you. I am curious to know what the god of magic has bestowed upon you.
The ruins of Westcrown hide more than just treasure. There are conspiracies, secrets, agendas, some of which might suit our needs. Mithrael spoke solemnly, sipping from his wine glass again at the end of his sentence. He kept a wary eye on the part of the building surrounding the door. Well played, Xaandros. It was premature of me to call you out on playing too loudly. Decades of caution have embittered me to the dottari and their hellbent allies. Mithrael looked out the window, noting that the sun was even lower in the sky. The shadows on the street were growing longer. Quietly, almost muttering to himself, The Brightening can rarely take hold in the places where darkness rules.
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