Search Posts
"Fair enough. Anyway, it's right here," he says as he draws his hammer and shows it to her. "Why do ya ask?" She gives the hammer a cursory examination and nods politely. "If it is part of your name, you must be esteemed among your tribe as a mighty warrior with it. I also have a hammer." She produces the ancestral hammer of the pugwampis. "I took it from the hand of a king we felled in Kelmarane."
"They told me I could not," Nuveril answers matter-of-factly. "Where is your hammer?"
Nuveril's scowl deepens when the wizard makes reference to "undesirables" being prevented by wards from entering the scroll, but as the old man continues jabbering on with the elf, her face grows more thoughtful. "We are going to the dock?" she asks sharply, when Zeladiel mentions departing.
Nuveril glares at Zeladiel for bringing her into the discussion and clutches at the amulet under her clothing, reluctant to display it. "My ... mother was from Kelmarane," she admits to the old wizard grudgingly.
The halfling gives an unimpressed grunt. "Even the water is no good here. Why does anyone choose to live in such a place?" Rising from the shoreline, a massive copper statue of a horned giant stares menacingly out to sea as if to ward away enemies. Nuveril points. "Is that also a living statue?" The door to the main house opens and a very tall bald-headed man steps through. Wearing a simple grey robe, a black raven perches on one shoulder. Perhaps sixty, the man looks still spry and fixes you with a piercing but friendly gaze. Nuveril's gaze is no less suspicious than Khalid's, but enough of the journey from Kelmarane has been spent warning her not to offend anyone in Katapesh that she holds her tongue as she follows the others into the wizard's house.
Nuveril's astonishment can only grow with her first real glimpse of the sea. "Is that all water? Does it come from a spring, or does it rain so much here?"
Nuveril's visceral discomfort at being surrounded by so great a crowd is overshadowed by her amazement at the different kinds of "people" of which it consists. "What is that? What is that?" she hisses, over and over, to Linah and Khalid and Zeladiel, her small jutting finger fortunately not the noticeable affront in the teeming streets that it would be inside. More than the Ulfen and half-orcs and catfolk, however, the halflings draw her attention. She has no more or less fascination or disgust for the free than the slaves but peers at each face eagerly, as if expected to recognize someone -- or expecting someone to recognize her.
Nuveril recoils from the living statues, touching crooked fingers to her lips and spitting on the road. "Your people enslave the dead?" she asks, her disgust apparent in her tone. "Do you sell their flesh in the marketplace as well?"
Nuveril shrugs, too distracted by the men built of metal and stone to pay much attention. "The weapon is too large. What becomes of it is irrelevant. Are those giants in armor," she asks Zeladiel of the constructs, "or statues? Do they live?"
Before you may enter the City, I am to assess any dutiable items you are holding in your possession. Under Katapashi law, you must declare any class 1, 2 or 3 items. That is to say any poisons, drugs or slaves. Anything else is your own business. Nuveril frowns fiercely, trying to follow the watchman's strange words. As he gets to the end, she relaxes. "I have none of those things," she says dismissively. "The Lions of the Savannah do not deal in such shameful wares."
"In Pale Mountain, we knew our enemies. They attacked us and we defeated them using strength and skill. In Katapesh we will be attacked with lies and deception. Friends will be tricked into harming us. Our enemies will hide behind the weak and the innocent. They will be... like gnomes... that we cannot see." At the mention of Gnomes, Nuveril shudders with distaste, touching her lips with crooked fingers and spitting into the sand.
"Whatever it is we are doing in this place," Nuveril complains, "let us do it quickly and get out again. You were less grim entering the Pale Mountain than this place you call your home, elf."
Too proud to take interest in a prize from a foe she did not kill, Nuveril glares at the horizon until her breathing slows and her pounding heart returns to normal from the frenzy of battle.
"Kill it," Nuveril insists, dropping wearily to rest her elbows on her splayed knees, her head still ringing and body aching from the ettin's flail. "Every moment it draws breath is a chance for it to betray us."
"Coward!" Nuveril shouts furiously after the fleeing gnoll. "Cur! Come back and fight!" Robbed of her quarry, the halfling dashes toward the ettin, attempting to dodge the attack she is opening herself up to while preparing to deliver one of her own.
Nuveril strikes again against the Carrion Guard leader before taking another step around the boulder in hopes of inconveniencing the less-maneuverable hyenadon.
Growling with frustration at being unable to reach the magic-using gnoll, Nuveril takes advantage of the cover of a nearby boulder and readies to strike the first enemy that tries to get past her.
Readied attack:
Furious at being restricted, Nuveril fights the tentacle that has wrapped around her (literally) tooth and nail.
Nuveril skirts the edge of the pool to come around the other side of Khalid's westmost attacker and deliver a crushing blow with the Pugwampi King's hammer.
Nuveril follows her opponent, unleashing a series of brutal attacks all out of proportion to the threat the injured gnoll might still pose.
In its heightened state of aggression, Nuveril's body subconsciously resists much of Linah's well-intentioned healing.
Nuveril darts ahead to the nearest gnoll bowman, applying the Pugwampi King's hammer to its kneecap.
"No!" Nuveril countermands Linah's command. "Do not flee! Come and fight, gnolls! Come and die!" She clashes her shield against her hammer discordantly.
Almost as an afterthought, Nuveril crushes the foe that has the temerity to withdraw from the battlefield before turning her attention to the one that has just drawn blood once again.
Paying no heed to the blood dripping from the superficial wound on her head, Nuveril notes with satisfaction her enemies' consideration in placing themselves both within reach of her weaponry.
Letting herself fall into the familiar rhythm of battle, Nuveril runs to the nearest swordsman and applies her magic hammer to the large bone in his thigh.
"Let them come to us. They want to draw us in and surround us." "Then we let them fill the gnoll with arrows?" Nuveril asks. She hefts her hammer and shield, her knees loosely bent, ready to propel her forward when the attackers come near.
Nuveril can't but picture this Nefeshti as something similar to Almah on a grander scale, sitting in a pleasure nest in a cloud while sending out others to fight on her behalf. She grunts cynically as the Templar points out the approaching horde: convenient that just as they refuse to hand over the scroll, a group of attackers arrive and Pazhvann disavows any interference other than collecting what he desires if they should fall.... "Why are we defending the Templar?" she demands. "Those who will not fight but declare their intentions of looting the dead deserve no protection."
"Whoever used the scroll," Nuveril persists, "how do they get back? If you take it to this Air Plane, they would come out there?"
"I do not eat magic," Nuveril refuses bluntly, a touch of disgust evident in her voice and face at the conjured nutrition. "When you say the scroll has been used, you mean that someone traveled on it or through it to this Kakishon place?"
Feeling confident that whoever is waiting for them, it's no one she knows, Nuveril trails the others, keeping a bit of distance in case it is a Gnome trying to catch them all in a spell and watching warily for ambushers buried in the sand.
"A friend of anyone's?" Nuveril inquires as the rest of the party catches up to her, in a manner which indicates, whoever the figure may prove to be, she is inclined to distrust it. She offers no answering hail.
Nuveril paces the sand around the pool with a frown, working at unraveling the tracks of the oasis's recent and mostly-ill-fated visitors. "The three who were riding together have parted," she moves back to the main group to inform the others.
"Will the flesh of the worm poison the pool?" Nuveril asks Khalid and Zeladiel. "We could drag it out further onto the sand and avoid fouling the oasis. I doubt the merchant will want to camp in its shadow, but neither will he relish leading the caravan on in darkness."
The halfling tolerates Linah's fussing around her wounds. We should do a thorrrough search in case therrre arrre any clues to who these gnolls arrre. Nuveril rolls her eyes. "They are gnolls," she mutters under her breath. "Do you search your bedroll thoroughly to find out who the lice are?"
Fatigued after the battle and from the worm's poisonous bite, Nuveril crouches in the sand, her elbows resting loosely on her splayed knees as she looks around at the corpses. "Looks as if the worm did our job for us," she remarks, not without mild regret at seeing the dead gnolls which she had no hand in killing. She touches her lips with crooked fingers and spits into the sand.
"Let it sense this!" Nuveril shouts, unleashing her own attack on the worm.
I was literally in the process of updating Nuveril's profile last night when Paizo went down. Fortunately, I'd copy/pasted; her profile should be correct now. Barbarian (Superstitious) level 7
Some of the math on her profile, attack bonuses in particular, seemed to be off from what Hero Lab said they should be, and at this point, I couldn't remember if there was a reason for it that Hero Lab wasn't factoring in. I just went with what Hero Lab said for her numbers.
"No," she growls defensively. "If there are Gnomes, people who understand their treacherous magics should be there." It takes the party a moment to remember that she terms all spellcasters who use magic to deceive "Gnomes."
"You smell that?" Nuveril asks needlessly, weapons in hand, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other.
DM: She stops, frowning and sniffing the air suspiciously. Standing in her tracks, she waits until the rest of the caravan is near enough to see her clearly, then waves a hand to alert the rest of the party.
You arrre probably correct. They may be setting an ambush for us furrrther ahead. We should talk to the otherrrs, it might make sense forrr you to scout ahead. Nuveril shrugs. "Warn the others that we may have enemies lying in wait between here and the pool." She hefts her hammer and weighs her shield experimentally as Grall returns toward the caravan. Continuing on as advance scout, she pays extra attention to any dunes or hills that might serve to conceal ambushers, while also keeping an eye on the hyenadon tracks.
Answering Nuveril's question, Khalid says, "It was a warning from the remaining followers of the now dead Carrion King. They have marked Grall as a betrayer and intend to strike at him at some indeterminate time in the future." Nuveril looks unimpressed. "Nothing we did not already know. Why do they waste their magics to unnerve the gnoll?"
Nuveril smiles, not unpleased by the discovery. Spellcasters whispering from afar cannot be fought, but hyenadons a half-a-day's journey away can. "It's your whispering friends," she remarks to Grall almost cheerfully.
"There are too many of you carrying people around in your heads," Nuveril complains. "What did this voice say?"
And Nuveril's luck with the dice pick up right where they left off, I see. She rolled a 4 for hit points last level as well, on top of a 3 at 5th level. :P Hey, Dan, here, almost five years ago, you said I could take Risky Striker if I wanted to. Is that still on the table? Man, there are a lot more feats now than there were the last time I leveled her up.
|
