Agreed. This is not Roleplay centric and you guys push hard. Stepping away from the front line, reading Tark and Treants guide to clericdom. I should've done this first and taken into account the AP. I'll post v2.0 soon.
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Yes, I'll take help. I tried to get a bit of support melee and healer=notsogreat. Will go full healer, stand by for v2.0.
Posting. Crunch finished. Please review for corrections/objections.
Caveat: I haven't played a character this level in a while. Not used to the robustness of it, so if some of it comes off as cheesy, let me know.
As another club-wielding thug takes a tumble, Mumbar takes a split second to appreciate the glistening wetness on his spearhead. Casting his eyes about for the next opponent, he hears the distinctive sound of a hammer and cock resounding, without thought he drops to the ground as he feels splash of wetness swinging him back. Hard. A second shot rings out, accompanied by another serious tug on his much repaired hide armor. This one empathetically encouraged him to drop all the way to the ground.
But I get the feeling that players aint playing. So a bit of retcon. He is feeling better... But I'll post in two hours.
Edit: Oh yeah for funzies: my HP is at -36. Guess I have a couple of extra holes in my head.
"...Cheesburgers..." Mumbar spares the barbarian a sidelong glance, "Well, not completely dead. Probably pining for the fields." He gives thought to tossing the spear and drawing his sword, but waits for his backup to respond, hopefully soon.
*Grunt* of pain from the club.
"Nethys favors me. Accept this as Nethys's judgment" Mumbar steps 5' closer and thrusts his spear(reach) at the bleeding one.
Mumbar steps forward out of the tunnel enough to thrust his spear into the lead man for four(4)lousy points.
"GRUNT!" Seeing the light break into the tunnel, Mumbar chucks the spear into the mass of men.
Mumbar pauses as the gunslinger's words wash over him. A slight shrug and he continues his stealth approach in the dark. He hopes hisshrug and steady pace communicates to the others. Although he does adjust the grip on his spear to an overhand throw. His muse gives him away with mimic'd rat-things sounding off just like the fight they just had was recorded. He hated himself, memories of his youth flood back to haunt him. Mock him in his attempts at normalcy.
Mumbar holds up his hand and shushes them. In a quiet grunting whisper, "There is a gunslinger ahead, threatening some folks and getting ready for a wave of bounty hunters in an hour. Douse the torch, hand on person ahead of you. I can see well enough until we come close enough to see by his torch. If you need to talk squeeze twice so we can stop and huddle. I am more of a rush in and attack kinda of guy. Any other preparation you folks can think of? I welcome them.
A derisive snort as he takes in the room, No way am I going near that pool or the floating thing. Prefer skinstealers and ratthings. Lead the way Noonan. As he stalks to the other tunnel leading out of here, a thought occurs to him, Were those rat things mutants? Could he get gold per head? He takes a readied action to brace his spear as he kneels to peer into the darkness and listen.
Finally emerging into the room after the others, the half-orc rolls his shoulders stretching them out. Noticing the cold, the floating crystal and pool, he grabs the rope to pull out his gear. Donning the hide armor, you don't know if it the warmth or protection that puts him a little closer at ease. Certainly, the long spear he grips brings his attention back to what Noonan says. "More rats? Another tunnel?"
A guilty look settles on his face, This is not their battle. They are not of my tribe. With this last thought, a nanosecond of disgust crosses his face. You folks are better than my natural-born tribe. He lays down his long spear and prepares to follow. Shedding as much as he can, tying it all to the bundled backpack to drag behind him. It was going to be a tight squeeze.
"Rock, paper, dagger?" Looks at the tight squeeze looks at his barrel chest, looks at his longspear, gives out a heavy sigh. "Not sure if my leading in there is our best option."
Jingling the coins, he tosses the pouch to Nari, followed by a tentative handover of potions, in plain vials, which confuse him. The book, he shakes loosely to see if anything falls out; then slowly mouthing the words on the cover, he turns the book upside down to see if that makes any more sense, he grunts in disgust. Offers it to WeepNot or Nari. Seeing Noonan occupied with pushing, no, now pulling out a loose rock, he steps ahead and sets spear point forward. His head on a swivel front to rear, piercing the darkness. A mined out tunnel full of monsters and you worried about one loose rock? Where he stands, his torch lit casted shadow flickering against the wall no longer moves with the flame as if the wall is stained by the lack of light.
Puzzled over the lack of skin seams, he was sure there would be at least one skin stealer. Throwing it away in disgust and burst of sparks highlighting the deceased ratling briefly, he follows Noonan to the Halfling. Noonan points to the wall and says something but he has eyes only for the "dead" Halfling. He prods the body with his spear, pinning it before searching for a seam and possible useful items but mostly to prove a theory of everything down here is a skinstealer...
"Not sure where you are from. I am not that hungry yet. These were feasting on the body further ahead. Not likely anymore. Any of the Ratlings skinstealers? Is that possible?" Mumbar takes a look for a seam on the body of one. Then resume his engarde position in case of opposition, trusting that no skinstealers are behind him yet.
Then he shifts the ratthing and falchion away as the gourd-wearing human jumps in to impale himself along with the rat. "Tend to Nari. I'll lookout for more." He shakes off the speared rat thing and steps back into the alcove of E24, facing the darkened tunnel.
Executing a close to body upthrust, as the beast runs vertically up his leg, Dmg: "Just like shaving, only removing a parasite."
"There be mons... Moving so fast, Mumbars spear is too long to engage so close. He lets one of the beasts impale itself with a little help before dropping the shish-ka-rat and spear before drawing his falchion for close quarter work.
*Grunt* Funny. The squat half-orc tone and body language gives lie to that statement. Peering into the darkness, he sees darker shadows indicating doors on the left. "Map would've been nice" A shrug. Mumbar has been doing without for so long he spares no time for regrets. He slides forward into the darkness, to F23, pauses. The humans carry a torch. Nie impossible to stealth but he'll try anyway to avoid catching an arrow in the throat. He quick peeks into the room once then again more thoroughly if he sees nothing to alert him. He'll not bother to enter unless the others find something interesting. Time is a wasting.
If seeing nothing, he'll quickly cross over to F25. Eyes facing the darkness, crouched down spear forward. He knows the others have crossbows.
Mumbar awakes from his daydreaming. "Excuse my distraction. Lost in thought. These skinwalkers or mutants are a recent development. Lets see what the miners found with their most recent digging." He squats down to examine the gritty floor, seeking some clue into traffic flow. "I find it odd. The shieldmarshal had packed the room with bounty hunters, brazen scions and the desperate destitute. Yet, the only ones I've seen were a handful collecting some few coin at marshal's HQ."
"Bad mojo to be skinned alive. I agree with Nari. Don't know if these skinwalkers can reuse the discards. Rather not take that chance. Also, confirms my belief that no miner is left alive despite appearances otherwise. A small retch of catches in Mumbar's throat; at about the same time, a cloying flowery scent and a shower of rose petals starts to follow him. He peels a fallen petal off of him, snorting in disgust. An overheard soft growl of "No, it couldn't be Old Spice or Downwind Tannery. It always comes up girly."
"Hmmm. Lets divvy this stuff up. I need one potion now but the rest we'll likely use soon enough." Mumbar puts actions to words with a thumb flick on the stopper and a quick chug. Grimacing, he reaches back and feels the skin puckering close. "I hate that, hate it even more if it didn't work."
Mumbar takes the lead, moving with his spear at guard position.
Mumbar is also carrying a lit torch, which for some unknown reason is burning red compared to Noonan's normal flame. "This is where we first encountered problems... That scorched mark and what is left of personal effects was the bloodsucking bugs infested miner corpse... Over here in this room, was the skinstealer wearing the miner's flesh..." Holding the torch aloft for a greater range, he listens into the background. "Skinstealers had first blood, the shieldmarshal responded with bulk numbers. Good or bad, everyone has made a first impression. Now begins the skirmishing between predators. Do you feel alive?" Adjusting his one-handed grip on the spear, he takes the lead.
"Yes. A good idea I'd like to enact right now. Still, I could not rest knowing something wicked lies within, waiting to prey on additional innocents. Well, working class folk anyway. If skinstealers were a bit more selective, I'd provide a list of names... Uh, He he he, gallows humor, forget I said that." Scratching at his bandages covering his back, Mumbar verifies all his goods he packed along with a simple touch. He lights one torch, holding up high. "Everyone ready?"
Mumbar would love to get healed up but lacks the GP and no one likely to front the healing to a fringe citizen of the city.
"Yes. Not exactly a color and unlikely to be accidently spoken." Mumbar hands out two torches to each person. "We'll retrace my steps where we encountered first encountered the skinstealer or what we thought was the last surviving dwarven miner. There were a couple of dried up husks of miners, one them infested with flesh-eating bugs. That's what the torches are for, and of course, for you humans to see by." Mumbar's shudder is visible, more-so when it is accompanied by dust motes flitting about his desert robe like flies. A grimace escapes him and the dust motes settle to the bedrock floor.
Mumbar also takes a survey of the room.
Mumbar will accompany Noonan to the market, to guide the human who was not familiar with this city and purchase a eight torches (two/person). All the while talking about bug burning, it was a little creepy. He proceeds back to the original recruiting room used to brief the volunteers. Mumbar assumes the others follow.
Pulling out a small pouch and drawing out 5 gp of coins, Reward for the skinstealer we brought in. Looking at the near naked human, he pours out about 10gp more, Think of this as an advance, retainer whatever... Just coverup. Want to get out of here and hunting. Torches we'll need too. For light and bugs. I hate bugs."
"Yes. Hunting is good. I know where the prey is."
"Huh? Masters?" Holding his hands up, "Not I. We are recruiting before the draft. We want to use our own discretion on where and how we hunt. We are recruiting here because this is the only place I could be sure no skinwalkers infiltrated. I am avoiding joining the other most assuredly compromised teams and you are working off your jailterm." Mumbar starts mumbling about possible locations of prisoner possessions.
"There are always monsters. The ones currently being hunted are some mutant skincrawlers that killed a bunch of dwarven miners. They attack, slip inside somehow and replace them completely." This last said with a bit of wide-eyed emphasis. Closing his eyes as a shudder ripples through his body. "One of dem wore the skin of my partner, couldn't tell any different until he started to claw out my liver." He shows you his still-bandaged back, now blood-soaked and overdue to be changed. "Field Marshal authorized the hunt, bribing volunteers with reward per head. Only a matter of time before he starts forcibly drafting from undesirables. This is where he'd start, figured I'd give you a head start to join with us."
Walking around the tunnels, Mumbar follows the directions to the holding cells. His nose confirms he is on the right path. "I'll make a note to management to wash down the cells more than once a century." Noticing the lack of guards, he keeps an eye out for likely places to post the keys, stuffed in a drawer or under a cloak and if he is really lucky a prisoner manifest. Not spending too much time looking for keys, he confidently walks through the hall of holding cells, nose twitching from the stench until a random memory of a night in the red-light district. A most un-orc male-like flowery feminine eau de perfume wafts from Mumbar, enough to overpower the stink of sweat, urine and vomit. A slightly embarrassed half-orc peeks into the holding cells, ignoring those still sleeping off yesterday's proclivities. He comes across a weepy mostly naked human male and a elf(half-elf? He cannot tell) female snuggled against him. With a surreptitious scan for eavesdroppers, "Two for one. Wake up. You are under my charge now. Do I need to get the guards and manacles or will you behave?"
Leaving behind the artwork still uncompleted scrawling, Mumbar leads the way to the holding cells. "Not sure about the pickings but perhaps we can escort a few out sooner rather than later. Provided they volunteer for mutant duty. It seems to be the designated pet project to dispose of malcontents. If true, I've got another conspiracy to prove." This last said in a stage whisper and much waggling of the eyebrows.
Mumbar waits, leaning against the carved rock wall, which sprouts a variety of designs based on the flickering torchlight. He does not appear to be aware of the expressive art upon he rests.
The silver dust devil catches Mumbar's attention, concentrating briefly to dismiss it but only summons a rolling white fog engulfing it as the it continues to dance within. "Huh, Its not me. Fog is mine. Go away." Squinting and clenching an empty fist the fog is squashed into dusty stone floor, leaving behind a metallic tang to the air. He turns to Nari, reassessing the human. "Please tell me this is yours. I thought I was the only one with this problem."
"Nari, What do ...." Stopping midstream, he turns to face Nari. Talking methodically, "Sorry, forgot about deafness. This skinstealer, likely more of them. You up for a repeat? We need backup, and I know how to get it AND make sure they aren't skinstealer infiltrated." Waiting for some civil servant to pass by, a nearby lamp gives off the scent of sandalwood "Excuse me good sir/madam. Could you direct me to the holding cells? I am to pick up someone due to be released today." He holds up the pass.
"Skinstealer..." Mumbar says the word as if tasting it, savoring every syllable. Abruptly, he swoops up the salvaged items over his shoulder, gently nudges Nari to the door as he leads the way. Fingering the hallpass in his grip, he pauses at the first hallway intersection outside the morgue. A quiet shudder ripples from head to ground, possibly a cold chill or more likely an unconscious release of dread.
Still examining Not-Vance, Mumbar holds up the hall chit. "Sent here for your expertise. Name is Mumbar, my partner is Nari. Every hear of a clawed cultist wearing a full body suit? He left his handiwork several times as we tracked him in town." Mumbar concentrates for a moment to make sure his skin tone is orcish green then sheds his robe and armor, pointing to his as-yet-unscabbed back. "He wanted to try mine for size but Nari stopped him in time. Any insight you have would be appreciated by us as well as the shield marshal."
Stumped. Mumbar does not know what to make of this. With a lifted eyebrow towards Nari, his silent entreaty for You have any clue?. Turning away, he surveys the morgue for animated bodies, sees only the morgue elf in motion and humming. Humming. A simple shrug, he coughs loud enough to announce his presence, trying to be as diplomatic as he can, because any person working daily among the dead is obviously a formidable person. "Good sir, have you ever encountered a body wearing the skin of another?" [I]Tiny purple spiders drop out of the sleeve of nearest slabbed body, only to disappear before touching the floor. Startling Mumbar briefly before he concentrates to stop the effect. A stage whisper to Nari, "We'll need to go back. Preferably with backup. I don't trust the returned bounty hunters. Any one of them could be just like this."
"Harumph. Leading the jury-rigged stretcher to a slab, Mumbar can't help but get the heebie-jeebies. "Every one of you bodies stay dead." Still, he needed answers and at least here there wouldn't be interference. His head on a pivot every 20 seconds undead check, yep still dead or so, he unties the canvas-covered body from the tent pole and spear. "Mine. Thanks Nari." Then he continues his frugal habit or perhaps being helpful and unwraps the body from the canvas. undead check, yep still dead Rolls that up too, places alongside spear. "Nari, help me figure out how this beast got inside Vance." undead check, yep still dead Motioning him to rotate the body, stripping it of incidentals in the process but trying to find the seam/hole/whatever. "I want to see what this is when not wearing a skin. You got a knife, we need to cut off the clothes."undead check, yep still dead He ignores the half-elf, unless physically stopped.
Looking at the measly 5 gp in his possession, "As promised." Clearly Mumbar wants to say more, yet he turns a deadly colm gaze with a very neutral tone towards the dwarven secretary, "Do you have someone on your staff, who knows more about mutants? I have a few questions regarding this one. It is why I brought the whole body not just the head." A horrifying thought wraps its tentacled claws into his brain. He turns to Nari, "All these other hunters just came from the same place as him. Watch them." He shifts his bulk so as not to expose his bloody back anymore then he has to while he waits for an answer.
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