Look at the profile of this character as an example. She is complete except for her equipment.
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Interest Check -- Pathfinder CORE Campaign --Series of Classic Module Conversions (U1-U3, A1-A4, ??)
I'm still checking in from time to time to see if the game is moving forward.
Interest Check -- Pathfinder CORE Campaign --Series of Classic Module Conversions (U1-U3, A1-A4, ??)
Still here!
Interest Check -- Pathfinder CORE Campaign --Series of Classic Module Conversions (U1-U3, A1-A4, ??)
Morgan is dialed back to level one. She has everything except her equipment.
Interest Check -- Pathfinder CORE Campaign --Series of Classic Module Conversions (U1-U3, A1-A4, ??)
Hey! Can I bring this lady back into your game recruitment? She'll need to be dialed back to level one, but the warrioress of the D&D Basic Box Set desires to go a-hunting again!
Morgan closes to 30' and looses an arrow at the nearest minotaur.
Morgan sits up gingerly, and takes a slow deep breath. She nods at Crom's comment. Too close. Nothing like having you guts shredded by a giant cat."
Morgan swoons as the cat's claws tear through an artery. She drops to the ground and begins to bleed out.
Morgan snarls with pain, and slashes at one of the panthers.
"Arrows will work just fine on the panthers. Stay clear of their claws as best you can. I'm going to join Crom, and try to flank them." Morgan moves to a flank the panther being attacked by Crom.
"Horst, me, you and Crom will form a front rank. Mit'l, Oz, and Lorcan will form up behind us. We hack at the zombies as they come at us. The others will use spells or spears to wear them down as we fight. Sound like a plan?" Morgan suggests.
Morgan slashes at the zombie beside her.
Seeing herself surrounded, Morgan tries to dive between the advancing zombies and out of the circle surrounding her.
Crom's crit probably has us all slipping and sliding on a slimy, fetid pool of zombie guts. Well rolled, sir!
As the zombies shuffle forward, Morgan moves quickly to her right, striking at the one on the leading edge of the group.
Morgan draws her bastard sword and steps down off the platform. She patiently waits for the shambling zombies to move closer.
Morgan draws back her bow and looses an arrow.
"Chew on that, ya nasty, scuttling sack o' silk!"
"Keep shooting. I'm going to help Crom!" Morgan says to Horster, as she drops her bow, and draws her bastard sword. She moves forward, slashing with the magical blade at the orc in the front rank.
"Is this real? Did we get teleported into an arena?"
Morgan nocks an arrow, and fires if one of the orcs moves to throw a javelin at them.
"At this point, everything's a guess. May as well see where it goes," Morgan says nodding toward the first arch. "At least, if we take the same arch each time, we won't have to try and remember which one we went through."
With a sigh of resignation, Morgan follows Lorcan through the arch.
Morgan takes a few moments to carefully examine the floor before each arch, looking for signs of recent passage.
"We should get ourselves patched-up, Crom, or we will be joining Kelgan in the Boneyard," Morgan says, her voice tinged with sadness. She clears her throat and addresses the group. "Can anyone work that wand?"
As the elevator comes to a stop, Morgan lowers her shield. Her hand clenches white on the hilt of her sword. She is covered in bloody gashes and drenched in wine. She shakes visibly; either from the wine burning her wounds, or from sheer rage is unclear. You backstabbin' pointy-eared, mushroom-lickin'...
Morgan snarls as fragments of shattering class cut her skin. "Bloody Beasts of the Abyss. I am going to gut them!"
Morgan barely manages to knock a second barrage of camping equipment aside with her buckler. "Drag her under the disk," she shouts, nodding toward the elf. " These sons'a doxies are gonna end up killin' her!"
Morgan unshoulders her bedroll and tosses it to the elf. "Wrap this around yourself. Some cover is better than nothing!" She then holds her buckler over her head, ready to deflect anything else that might fall.
"These little bastards are gonna feel a lot of pain for this!"
Morgan motions for the elf-girl to step onto the elevator, then follows after her.
Morgan opens her waterskin and pours some water into the statue's mouth. "Taste this, ya bugger," she growls in frustration.
Depending on internet availability, I may not be able to post over the weekend of the 4th. If I go radio silent from Friday to Sunday, that it why. Just a heads-up!
"Let's start easy. Let's just see if it likes the 'taste' of elf, first." "Come on, missy, put your hand in its mouth," Morgan says to the elf-woman.
"If the statue judges by taste, and it is located in a place built by elves, wouldn't that mean it prefers the 'taste' of elves in order to work? I can't imagine that they would drag humans or dwarves some other race around with them as a key to this thing. I say, put her hand in its mouth and see what happens," Morgan says, pointing at the elf-woman.
"If you want to be treated poorly, that can be arranged," Morgan replies acidly. "I'm treating you as an unknown. You're here under unusual circumstances, and the less you tell us, the less reason we have to trust you. If you're expecting better manners, you best make with the happy, helpful attitude towards the folks who are trying to get out of here alive." When she mentions the thieves: "So, do you know them? Are they friends of yours?"
Morgan rifles through the lab, looking for any bottles or vials that appear to be potions or elixirs . If she finds anything, she puts it in her pouch. She then returns to the bedroom via the portal. "We're gettin' nowhere fast," she says irritably. She turns to the elf-girl. "Listen here, little miss pointy-ears. You were the one who told us we needed to use the hat to go in there, and once we got in there, it was a dead end. Do you know the way out of here, or not? I've no interest in killing you, if that's what your worried about, but I don't plan on letting you stick a knife in my ribs, either, if you're just one of this fella's agents pretending to be a damsel in distress. So, if you don't want me to keep pointing this sword at you, you better start being a little more forthcoming, got it?"
Morgan come through the portal just as Crom addresses the elf. She takes a moment to look around the room.
"We'll just see about that, Missy," she says to the elf with a skeptical tone.
"A good idea, we've got two of ours on the other side, so she won't be able to run off and warn anyone," Morgan says, using her sword as a pointer to indicate to the elf that she should approach the lever.
Morgan moves towards the girl, standing close enough that she could connect with her sword if it came to a fight, but not so close as to invade her personal space. "You still haven't answered my question. What are you doing down here? Were you kidnapped? If so, why haven't you tried to escape before this, especially if you know about this magic hat and lever?" She watches the woman suspiciously.
"Don't worry, boys, I'll handle this," Morgan says, drawing her sword and approaching the woman. "So....what's a pretty little thing like you doing down here, sleeping in a fancy bed in the middle of a temple full of crazy, spell-addled elves?"
Morgan stands watch, bow at the ready, while the others search the room. Her eyes continually wander to each place searched, in anticipation of some golden trinket being uncovered.
"One of the gems we found, maybe? Or a potion?" Morgan offers.
"These moaning statues could be the guardians. They could breathe fire on us, for all we know if we touch even a single coin. I almost wish there was some huge beast down here sleeping on the gold. At least that way we'd know the treasure was ours once we killed the thing," Morgan grumbles, tightening the tension on her bowstring just a bit, and scanning the area for trouble.
Morgan jumps on as well. "Let's go, then."
"Can this thing hold all of us?" Morgan asks, dubious.
"I'd be wary o' of something that can speak that has neither a mouth nor brains," Morgan says with a tinge of concern in her voice.
"Those coffins...." Morgan says, shaking her head. "They seem like a no-win situation. I have a nasty feeling that leaving whatever's in there will allow it to grow stronger. Unfortunately, that means letting 'em out...which, I'm guessin', means we'd have to kill 'em before they killed us. Gotta love those options." She rolls her eyes to emphasize her final comment.
"Go ahead and stuff your pockets," Morgan says to Horster with a smile. "I'll keep an eye out for those pesky thieves, in case they plan on stopping back while all of our noses are in the dirt. Once you've got what you want, we can switch places."
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