Kamil succumbs to the Mark of Avarice - and begins eyeballing the dwarf's most prized possession - his clan dagger!
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"What do I do!?" he cries. "I have used many of my best spells!"
"What should I do?" Ezren panics, asks the group again!
"Ah yes, that: ... waitaminute... with what!?" Then he realizes that he had dropped his staff upon the ground when he had fallen, and goes to pick ip up. ◆) Interact to Pick Up Staff
Ezren reports to Endra's side. ◆) Stand
"And now what?"
Ezren stands to his feet finally, and back towards... ◆) Stand
"Where do you want me to go?"
"I'm lying down - what do I do?" He awaits instructions from his allies to act...
"Smokus Pocus!" Rising, the Reactive Strike narrowly misses the brave wizard, who tries to calcify Red! ◆) Stand
"What should I do?" Lying on the ground, Ezren seeks his party's advice (again).
Flory dodges the glaive strike, clearing the team to move around. Ezren recovers, and let’s out a magic missile at the skeleton that felled him!
Lying on the ground, Ezren regains consciousness. "What should I do now?"
"Guhhuuurrghgh" Slump...
”What should I do?”
"I can't hear myself think - what should we do!?" our wizard her panics!
Status: 8/32 HPs
If you like, yes - I will populate this alias with his stats!
Ezren it is. If during an Encounter, someone wants to "Command" Ezren as a Free action, I will have him follow suit. =)
Isaku takes aim at the most wounded foe...
◆) Devise a Stratagem
Saving the bullet, he settles for remaining in melee, continuing to skirmish with the elf between him and Tao. for
◆) Devise a Stratagem
Seeing no clear shot on White, Isaku advances upon Red, and jabs with his bayonet!
Dirty and ragged, not to mention grumpy, the wards of Rahmet I, first of her line, cleanse the witch, who burns with shrill shriek!
With nary a "Hmp" she crumples, first banging her bad knee with a horrid "cruUunch" against the hard sandstone before passing out completely...
...later, back at the ranch... ”Gnarly!” as the PCs recount their story, he exclaims - followed by ”Tell ye what. One my does bore a little’ un while you all was away. Say I don’t name it after one of ya?” he looks around expectantly, wondering what the baby alpaca’s name will be...
”Puncture wounds you say?” Harjack goes to inspect the body again ”Dunno how I missed ‘em” Then ”Should I call the sheriff back over?”
Harjack elaborates "Those studs you found - one for each pup my Shadow sired - takin' after his stud of a keeper 'course - funny thet they wasn't tooken too - lemme git those back ya don't mind?" aware of their value, he holds out his hand, then answers Shimmer "I don't doubt your capability little'un - least not until ya kin bring me back the killers!"
Tapping his foot on the ground, he scratches his bearded chin and asks ”So. I got good money posted fer the bounty. What is your professional opinion what could be done thar? Kin ya git ‘em? Them varmints whose tracks ya done found?”
”Ayup” the farmer responds to Shimmers question, then turns his own head where a matching earring is prominently displayed ”Harjack Tacks!” looking very pleased with himself. Then to Toavandil ”Like I said doc, didn’t think much of it until it was a more’n one”
...hovering uncomfortably by with genuine curiosity, our farmer NPC sticks especially close to Toavandil, who perhaps to him, seems the most intelligent of his interlopers, and when he sees the opportunity to minimize interference, asks him ”Whelp. How’s the ‘vestigation goin’, eh? You able to determine the killer?”
“It all started about two weeks ago someat, when I found one o' my alpacas, "Lucky Shadow", plum dead near thet there northern fence" he points yonder to indicate the structure "An lookin' like she got spooked something fierce and was caught up in the wiring we use there. But yaknow, didn’t think too much of it until we found more alpaca bodies in the comin' days. An now, wit ol’ Rockford gone, that makes four 'em dead alpacas” “An well, aside from Shadow getting caught up in the wiring, it’s been all right strange" he points to the alpaca carcass barely visible from where you stand "The other alpacas look like they just dropped dead from fright (but we arty got rid dem bodies, bein' thet this bein' a pattern as a yet weren't clear so much). An, uh, can’t tell much else, bein' as I don’t got no medical background nosir, but uh, maybe you fine folk could take a gander?”
Beaming with pride, Harjack explains that “That’ll be my pride and joy, my Majesty. He’s the stud ‘round this farm and the daddy to a good chunk of the herd. He’s one of those fancy baccalia breeds they have out east. Bought him years back from a Prophet and the farm’s fortunes have only soared since. I’m worried whatever’s killing the herd stragglers might get some courage and try to attack Majesty. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him!” Seeming to decide what to do with the party, he nudges one direction ”Be you fine folk in the market for a pup?”
...Moments later, a rugged-looking Kellid man in dirty overalls approaches, using a pitchfork as an impromptu walking stick. The man waves to the PCs and quickly introduces himself. ”Ayup. Ain’ ‘e a beaut? I’d be the Harjack” Seeming to decide who to address, he focuses gaze upon Delta ”If’n my eyes deceive me, be I seein’ ya’ll younger generation comin’ up’n help out them elders?” and with soft eyes and a genuine grin somewhat wrinkled by recent stress, he awaits a response.
Grunting to keep up as the frontline keeps pulled back, our quiet dwarves hero draws and tosses the Ghost Charge grenade his compatriot supplied him with earlier, and tosses it at the red skeleton ◆) Stride
The blessed kobold, scales aglitter with icy sheen, moves into the room and opens a divine portal unto goodness, showering the mummies with divine light!
◆) Stride
You take a pee into the tunnels... Zipping up, Mister Smee heads right over to "Sir, let me wipe that sludge off for you, sir!" producing another rag from his pocket, and cleaning the guts from his rapier until it shimmers and shines again "There we go. How do you feel sir?" and when Don Jurri answers in the affirmative "Very good sir. I thought so sir" and whirling here, goes to wipe down the rest of the party as well, somehow producing another clean rag for each in the party as he does so, leaving everyone (who doth not protest) spic and span! Looking down at the burned bodies "So that was their fate. Pity. And fortunate that we were able to come out on top" he remembers his master's presence a few inches away and adds "All thanks to you sir. Well fought" After the party finishes documenting, Mister Smee looks pleased to be taking his leave "If I never have to go spelunking again it'll be too soon" then remembering himself again "Unless, of course, that is your wish sure. In which case I shall bring better boots" which, on the ride back to town, he takes a moment to shine Don Jurri's manly high-heeled boots, fiddling with the broken strap and muttering "We'll have to do something about that..." making a mental note to followup...
Mister Smee watches as Screech closes into the melee, and hurls a nearby rock at the fallen Blue Bones! ◆) Stride
"Very good Master Goblin" he yells from his off-screen hiding place, jamming his finger in his ears when the subject of his praise suddenly spouts a short haiku:
Mister Smee watches as his master makes an absolute fool of himself, nearly falling into the pit, waving his arms backwards, and reeled in by Screech or Zenith, then listens to his excuse explaining away his misapplied expectations. He turns to Tandang "I had the duty and pleasure, Master Dwarf, of raising Master Don Jurri from a babe, and have been in the employ of the family since as far back as I can remember. Sewed his first jumper I did, tailored his first boots, and smelt his first belt buckle" he remembers the deeds with pride "Even while he was away, the manor was kept, and when he took it back over as Master, we were yet there, kept at the wishes of the family, even as the funds began to nearly deplete..." his face turns a note sour "...but that was before the revolution, as it were. Things are different now..." As if having spoken too much, the good hireling falls quiet once more, but only for a beat, and turns to Harsk "Do you need help, Master Dwarf, with securing that rope?"
With proportional deference, Mister Smee rummages through his effects for a hankerchief, and approaches the "Master Dwarf, sir" bowing his head with politeness before moving in to wipe some sulfur smudges from "Your armor, sir, I've almost got it" now with a little more enthusiasm and vigor of his own! "There is it. Resplendent once more in it's shine!" bowing a second time, quite pleased with himself, our hireling hero re-stows the soiled textile upon his person, gives Tandang one last lookover, and follows him diligently, pressing along at an equivalent pace.
"It appears, sir, that we have reached a dead end" Mister Smee declares "And should probably turn around and retrace our steps. Don't you think so too sir?"
When Don Jurri yells an expletive (or two), Mister Smee, peeping out from his hiding place off-screen, is ready with the retort "I understand, sir, but I do wonder if, perhaps, the effect that it seems to have upon the mind is to perturb out an inner reservoir of latent courage?" Shielding himself from the venomous look his master cuts back at him with a downward wince, our hireling hero politely weathers one (or two) more expletives, then promptly excuses his actions with "You are probably right, sir, I just thought it prudent to offer an alternative viewpoint, if for no other reason, sir, than to steel the resolve of your own. Very good sir" and with that immediately dips back into his hiding place, off-screen...
...following closely behind - and keeping an eye out for the next nook to dive into in case of danger - our hireling hero continues the conversation from earlier... "Master Ithuriel Falsus Sacerdos - please forgive my common pronunciation, I am but a servant - does this "Living God" of whom you speak - does he take in the faithful of any creed, sir, or is there a selection process or precondition? It just so happens that my family and I are looking for a new sunday service""Of course Mister Smee. There are many steps to climb but the view will be worth the effort." He converses with the man, believing word of his deeds have been spread enough with Zenith. "Only those who believe in the Living God deserve a life of plenty and pleasure. Others must suffer and toil until they see the light of Razmir." Ithuriel offers a smile as he explains a few of the tenets along the path. Ithuriel doesn't seem to have a care in the world or danger around him. "Master Falsus Sacerdos, sir, and just what might be such a first step? You see sir, my thoughts are always with my family, but too, I am duty-bound, and, even if the pay is meager, I am to see it through with diligence" he casts a wary look at Don Jurri (who, like Ithuriel, seems not to have a care in the world, talking to himself, probably "narrating" each step in his head as if reading a concurrently-written book!) and seeing him preoccupied, continues "Might I, for example, lift your robe for you as you walk, that you shan't sully it upon this filthy dungeon floor?" But the question, it seems, was merely perfunctory, as Mister Smee, gracious and servile, lifts the train of the holy man's long dresses, trailing him gently like a bridesmaid stepping over a bridge of flowers on her best friend's wedding day!
From his hiding place, off-screen, "Let me look sir" taking a breath, wincing just a little, and scrounging desperately through his pockets, before finally "Turns out we left those at the mansion, sir, but perhaps I can come up with a solution once you are finished here..." Unsure of the veracity of this claim, he clears his throat once more, and immediately dips back into his hiding place, off-screen...
From his hiding place, off-screen, "Perfectly fine sir" taking a breath, wincing just a little, before elaborating "As of recent fashion, many different races - including the small but mighty goblin - have taken up the civil mantle of personhood" He clears his throat, eager not to offend his master, and believing he has succeeded due to clever word choice, immediately dips back into his hiding place, off-screen...
...who diligently obliges the request - taking a good minutes to render the text into a larger size, and with head bowed, presents it to his master with a "Good sir - the task is done!" Transcribed Notebook: Devotee's Journal Day 97,
Day 98,
Day 99,
Day 100,
Day 101,
Day 104,
With automatic obedience, our halfling hireling hero furls his brow in concentration. A few moments, and now pointing to the yellow triangle, he reports "It looks, sir, like someone wanted to arrive in this main room, tunneling around this trapped area here" now he points to the red arrow "By digging through here" and now he points to the white arrow "To do what? That seems, sir, to be anybody's guess!" When his master nods his head in approval, a satisfied smile creases Mister Smee's soft round face!
Mister Smee circles around to make sure everyone's clothing is without holes and generally intact. Party Hands Tracker: Don Jurri w/ ✋ Rapier Harsk w/ ✋✋ Heavy Crossbow (?) Ithuriel w/ ✋ Staff Screech w/ ✋ Recorded Tandang w/ ✋✋ Staff and Shield Zenith w/ ✋ Starknife
"Right away, sir" Pulling a hankerchef from his breast pocket, the industrious and dutiful halfling wipes the cave dust, bone bits, and bat guano off of his master's tunic. Turning to another master "Master Ithuriel Falsus Sacerdos - please forgive my common pronunciation, I am but a servant - does this "Living God" of whom you speak - does he take in the faithful of any creed, sir, or is there a selection process or precondition? It just so happens that my family and I are looking for a new sunday service"
Inside the cave, Mister Smee reminds his master of his wayfinder "You were scared of the dark as a boy, here, let's activate this" Shedding light like a torch, the illumination spreads from Don Jurri's neck.
Mister Smee looks over forms 2a, 3C-p4 "Hmm... Ah yes... here.... here... and there..."
...his Traveling Tailor tends to him with uninterrupted continuity "Master Don Jurri, please hold still while we I thread this..." SPLASH the barge crashes into water and the halfling hireling's needle perforates his shoulder which causes him to scream in pain "I'm sorry, master, I just with all this bobbing about..." SPLOOSH another prick "...oh there i've done it again, my apologies again master..." such is the back and forth the whole trip further north. Upon arriving at the Gold Falls, Mister Smee's jaw drops as he takes in the beautiful sunset -
From the safety of a nook he dove into, Wekk watches as the mighty barbarian Griss yells and cleaves at the Stegosaur! ◆) Demoralize
...A flare from the Eternal Arch cuts two material planes across different multiverses orthogonally for a moment, and Little Wekk sees GM Blake and says to him "His fence, not valet..."... ...the moment quickly passes and the flare dissipates...
Perhaps it is his height, or his lack of arms (just two), or his overconfident demeanor, but deep down, Little Wekk instinctually knows that he is not being well received, figuratively and literally out of his element. He shivers in his cold weather clothes, frumpy harsh fabrics and wools covering up his designer suit, and sulks just a little. Diplomacy Tracker (Three Rounds): One
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