Monsanto knows his Cheliax; he's scary good in a different PbP. -waves-
I believe the scary title belongs to you and your little monster! Monsanto prefers the title of megalomaniac pedant. Thanks for the compliment.
GM Mug:
Axolotl is awesome, and has been a very active and enthusiastic player in the other game.
Doom with a side of doom sauce:
We all have our devils, and every devil can be tamed. I am, at heart, a pragmatist. There will always be evil, and there will always be good to oppose it. Where we should best intervene is when the evil gets out of hand and starts destroying order. The upper houses are fat, lazy, and corrupt. We need to bleed them a little, and purge the old blood with some new. All change starts with a small step. We wrest control over a devil here, stop a villain there, and along the way strengthen our position. When we find the source of Westcrown's rot, we should be able to cut it out. he pauses to wipe his spectacles with a fine silk cloth. My role, I think, will be to find a way to turn our enemy's strengths into weaknesses. Nightmares, devils, all of these are manageable - whether we oppose them with strength, or turn them against their masters. Who needs brute strengths when you can summon the brutes to work for you? he chuckles. You know what makes a hero? Someone who lives to brag about their accomplishments in the end.
The third son of an old Chelaxian noble family, he found himself as all Chelaxian middle children do- ignored by his parents in favor of the heir and youngest children and left to his own devices. None of his spoiled siblings missed him when he left Westcrown for the upstart Korvosa, where his aptitude for the arcane arts found him a place in the elite Acadamae. His distant cousins accepted him with open arms, despite not showing the family trait: wickedness. Although he's more mild of temperament than his extended family, he did inherit the family affinity for conjuring devils and binding to his will.
He was making strides among his classmates and earning respect for his talents that he long craved at home, when the messenger arrived. His father, mother, and older brothers were dead- and the family seat, businesses, and responsibilities had fallen to him. The mystery behind their deaths has not been solved, he was thrust into the light as the new Viscount. Scandalized by their murder, and more distraught than he believed he could be for his cold hearted family, he returned home.
He temporarily halted his education to right his sinking family's ship. Upon returning to Westcrown he began to understand just how rotten the core of his upbringing had become. Politics and scandal rules; good, innocent people suffer under demonic lash. His plan to return to Korsova has disappeared and has been replaced with some on the job training. With reluctance, he wades into the jaws of the political scene, while spending long nights pouring over long forgotten family tomes.
Corneleous is a young Chelaxian. He keeps his hair longer than stylish, and wears stylish last season fashions. He's tall and thin, with a small pair of spectacles perched on his nose. That, and his multipouched belt give away his more scholarly habits.
Hey Monsanto, does attacking the dogs break your command, or can we strike them down willy-nilly?
I think it matters if they're intelligent, free willed, or not. Zach, correct me if I'm wrong, but for something like a regular zombie we can beat on them if I order them to stand still- they only have will saves to resist if I'm opposing the command of their creator/former owner? Intelligent undead get a daily check to resist, but mindless undead are forever my slaves?
Monsanto strides behind his zealous companion. Ah, my friend, you mispoke. The parable is from the book of the 9th circle, and it tells of character's three opportunities to save himself. The first boat, he could have chartered by negotiating for souls. The second was a ship of fools that he could have out-witted. And the last was a boat of weaklings that he could have comendeered by legal force. Failure led to his soul being damned to freeze and drown for eternity. Monsanto grins.
One thinks that we should not divide our resources. Perhaps we should investigate the deadly dogs together? Monsanto licks his finger and adjusts his eyebrow.
The longer we dally, the weaker the trail. Patience and temperance are not virtues. Monsanto starts getting anxious out in the open, looking for eyes peering back from the house.
Monsanto cracks his knuckles.
They usually run out. If not, you raise them with a little unholy magic, no worse for the wear (and maybe even a little more respectful of their elders). Besides, it's not like the whole building is made out of kindling- it's likely that only a portion would burn.
A vast majority of the undead are merely tools working for a more powerful minion. Filled with unholy energy, they are susceptible to both the light and the darkness. Although I am far from the most powerful wielder of this power, the weaker ones may bend to my will. Stronger, or intelligent undead, may prove to be more of a challenge. If I am not careful, my unholy powers could actually bolster their strength. Monsanto relishes the chance to lecture on his abilities.
Monsanto proffers the ranger athe traditional greeting of the Lord of Devil: a fist with a raised index and pinkie finger, to be btapped again the other person's clenched fist. As part of the gesture, he activates touch of law.
Panzah, Monsanto has the "touch of law" ability- automatically grants every roll for a round an 11 (no higher, no lower) + bonuses. So if you need to be touched... let me know
Am I to assume that our link to magic is severed here? And that it shall be restored temporarily while we are through the portal? Without my divine connection, I am ill prepared. However, if we may commune with our gods on the other side of the portal, let us go.
Monsanto looks around for someone to scribe for him, then decides to take the job himself. He licks the quill, and pens:
Form::
Monsenior Monsanto Chaundecy the 4th, Barrister of the 4th Ward, Envoy of Cheliax, and Bishop of the 3rd Circle of the church of Asmodeus, J.L.V.D.C.
Requisitions:
1 heavy Mace +1, spell storing
1 masterwork chain mail shirt and light steel shield.
Ink stain where item was crossed out.
1 double barreled pistol, 50 shot.
Potion of enlarge person, potion of feather fall.
@Jacinthe: I kind of like flavor, so I don't mind the loss of 3k. I thought about getting Glamoured armor as well. None of the lesser meta rods really spoke to me.
I don't know if I'll be rushing in to fight. I might do more damage just channeling energy at the enemies.
Bah! Choosing magical items is beyond difficult. Part of me wants to make him a combat badass by getting a mace +1 with spell storing, allowing him to drop 1 cause medium wounds into the thing for smacking enemies.
The other half of me thinks I should go the tactical route and get something like an immovable rod, which has oh so many uses.
Also, he didn't specify what the spending limit was for weapons. Even though Monsanto is not proficient, he's tempted to ask for a pistol, just for the prestige of it.
I'm sure we'll have time to discuss the various merits of our beloved/feared deities in time, Meester Saal. However, I think for the time being you should respect that the Great Asmodeus has never abandoned his duty to mankind, and has always made good on his promises. Even if those promises are made as threats. There is an old saying in the church, "The devil you know is better than the imaginary friend you don't." Asmodeus has given many great strength, fame, fortune, and any number of worldly powers through his contracts. What has Aroden given, except for disappointment? Let that sink in for a while.
Threats of death do not scare me. It is as Asmodeus wills; as long as you do not impede my faith, I will join your endeavor. Anything is better than wasting away in a dungeon without the chance to elevate my stature. Let us make a deal, and sign it in blood.
I think a little back and forth is fine. Monsanto isn't such a zealot that he can't see the value in working with the 'other side.' Right now we're all just on edge because we're in a hostile place with strangers that may want to take our candy.
Monsanto cocks his head slightly to the side and gives Cor Ignis a little smirk. Ah, my friend, I apologize. I see the problem now. In my country and among my race is customary to look someone in the eye when one addresses them. He holds up his shackled hands and raises both index fingers, indicating a direct gaze. I have just noticed your oddity. Tell me, does it give you great difficulty in seeing? He revolves one finger slowly, as if to indicate that the Cor's two eyes do not line up directly as if he has a wonky eye.
Quite pleased with his jibe, he ignores the djinni, and slowly assesses Jacinthe with a look that spans head to toe and lingers far too long. Andoran, eh? Meh. he suddenly finds the walls of the room and the pattern of his robe more interesting to pay attention to.
Twisting his mustache Hmm. Not myself, but perhaps one of my brethren. They deal with flamers sometimes. I am Monsenior Monsanto Chaundecy the 4th, Barrister of the 4th Ward, Envoy of Cheliax, and Bishop of the 3rd Circle of the church of Asmodeus, J.L.V.D.C. At your acquaintance. he nods a small bit, struggling with his shackles.
Garson! A fine wine of Keltish vintage! Monsanto rolls over, gaining consciousness (he's a sound sleeper). He realizes his mobility has been greatly diminished.
THIS IS NO WAY TO TREAT A DIPLOMATIC PRISONER. I DEMAND TO SEE THE GOALER NOW! He roars.
Verbal blows with his friend and companion calm the rotund priest. Ah my jezebel, if you spun your sword as well as you spun your lies, we'd have been away from the guards before reinforcements caught up with us. Luckily, "they who has no sin shall get the first stone" teaches our patron. If all hold that rule true, none here have anything to fear from each other! chortles Monsanto, clutching his belly. He makes a gesture similar to a point with a wavering thumb in the direction of his bodyguard.
Does anyone recall how many levels deep we are? I was rather indisposed when they hauled us in here. Perhaps some of you more accustomed to manual indulgences could attempt to burrow to the surface? he looks hopefully at the nearby set of claws.
You STUPID tart! If you had listened to me, and kept out of it, I would have handled the boy and we'd be walking out of here. When they let me out, I'm going to send you back to Hell wearing nothing but a brazier and a skirt made of meat. Monsanto's pudgy face rages through the bars of his cell, spittle flying from his mouth. The overly plump cheeks hang a little more shallowly than they did during his freedom. His fine diplomat's robes definitely hang more loosely, and are filthy from being drug through the filth of the jail.
Monsanto returns to the stone bench and buries his head in prayer. Muttering and sputtering, the prayer is parsed by audible curses and insults.
If it's not too late, I'd like to throw my hat into the ring.
And of course, my internet destroyed my profile when I went to save it. I knew I should have copied it elsewhere! Details will be refilled tomorrow, if I'm selected.
The gist of the background:
Monsanto is a diplomat from Cheliax and cleric of Asmodeus. He was sent to Absalom to call in a contract on a young lord. The lord attacked him, and was slain by Monsanto in self defense. So Monsanto was not in violation of the law; yet he was sentenced to a prison term on trumped up charges. His faith in the law and Asmodeus gives him patience that a legal escape will be forthcoming.
