Darath's page

Zim'wa peered up at the tower as he crested the latest hill, not a difficult thing to do given the structure's extreme size. Even from here, it's easy for the Shaman to sense the gathering of spirits, drawn both by the tower itself and the multitude of individuals - troubled, powerful, both - who were gathering there.

He did not pretend to think the promises of power did not draw him as well, but the spirits too almost demanded it. Such a gathering would put the spirit world out of balance, and part of his duty was to put that to rights.

------

As mentioned, I'm hoping to go with the Grim World Shaman, but I think this will work for the LaL version as well if you don't want to allow GW's version. I'll get a profile made as soon as you OK this ;)

Ach, darn, didn't notice/know. Well, I was also looking really closely at the Grim Worlds version of the Shaman (the one with the totems), so if that's OK I'll go with that. Juuuust need to come up with a new background...

Application Start:

To whomever finds this letter:

I have departed to compete in the Tower of Light. I've no doubt for some of you, this comes as some relief - the strange woman, who seldom came out of her room, and even then draped in concealing robes has finally departed. I do not begrudge you this, for in the past I would have shared your views. Fate, however, is not a kind bedfellow.

I presume you have heard of the Well of Power. A wondrous object or location, said to give great power to those who find it, yet be ever elusive to anyone who seeks it out. Some say it grants might, others believe it imparts intelligence. Still others believe it actually is a hoard of wealth, or grants eternal youth.

It is nothing but a curse. For the past few months I have struggled against the shadows within me, fearing what might happen should I not contain them. It is not an evil power, but primal - as much the tree's shade on a hot day as the darkness that holds an enemy. But pure darkness has no place in this world, and thus I must stand tall.

I am not entirely sure why I leave to the Tower. A hope, perhaps, that someone there might know how to stop this power within. Or perhaps it is the power itself, some aspect that wishes to be known. Either way, you will have no more trouble for me... though perhaps you might see me again some day, on the magic posters.

Either way, I hope to find what I seek at the tower.

-Hel

Application End

So, yeah, going with a Channeler from Grim World. Not sure what race, if that really matters - probably Human, possibly Elf. The name might give you some idea of where I'm going with the concept in the future, by the way ;)

Heya Frogfoot, good to see you're feeling up to taking on more again :)

I think I'll take you up on the offer of this system this time, though I've not got an idea as of yet. On the other hand, I don't think it'll take me too long, things are kind of open ended after all.

Any idea how long you'll hold recruitment open for?

Well jeeze, first I find out that my RSS feed wasn't working, then this...

Seriously though, sorry to see this end, but if you're heart's not in it your heart's not in it. I know what that's like, albeit in other circumstances.

If and when you do decide to return, I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say we'd certainly like to be part of that :) And if you decide not to come back, I hope you find something at least as enjoyable to do ;)

Darath remains by the troll stockade, inspecting the one remaining troll as before, albeit from a greater distance this time. That's not to say he wasn't interested in what the others found, but his talents lay in inspecting wounds and compounds, not dirt and snow.

Sorry, been busy and haven't seen anything of particular note to add.

Darath noted Moriarti's smile during his first statement, and nodded with a smile of his own. It was diplomatic posturing and jesting, nothing more - not unless nightskulk had an entirely different stratum of political intrigue he was unaware of.

As for the leftovers... "I can think of a few experiments I'd like to run, if keeping it won't be too much of an issue. That said, most of my research is directed towards our physiology, so if it would indeed be too much hassle to keep it..." He leaves that statement unfinished. "As for the riekling, I have no use for him. Besides, I believe he's been claimed already."

Darath is not going to dignify that with a response unless someone else comments on it.

Luckily for the alchemist, he was looking one of the trolls in the face when the staff was deactivated. He noticed the sudden change of expression immediately, and recognized what it meant just in time to backstep out of range. Even so, he could do little but close his eyes as he splattered with troll spittle - thankfully not near as acidic as their blood, he noted. The smell on the other hand. Wiping spit off himself, he walked over to rejoin the group.

"Surprising absolutely nobody, trolls have poor oral hygiene. Also, could I suggest not deactivating the mind control device while someone is next to the controlled creature? Someone might get hurt." There's just enough snark in his voice that it's clear that Darath knows it likely wasn't intentional... but only just.

Little too busy to make full post. Just want to say I really wish my character spoke Giant as well right now :p

"Let's not forget that this might have been an attack of opportunity, as it were. They may have stumbled across the staff in some ruin somewhere and discovered its power by accident. Or there might be a savant in their midst with great powers of enchantment; unlikely, but there have been powerful sorcerers from less likely races before." Darath was studying the trolls - from a safe distance, of course - as he spoke. He was usually more concerned with chemicals and skinwalker physiology than others, so the ability to have a close look at something that bled acid (or something acid-like) was rather novel. He was looking forward to testing the substance once things settled down, perhaps he could find a use for it besides the obvious...

Craft(Alchemy) for number of vials: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

I've had school projects winding up as well, combined with a couple of family health and home problems cropping up. Wrapping up a post at the moment though :)

You, ah, you do realize how high my Craft(alchemy) skill is, yes? Because that's at least 7 bottles even if I roll a 1. Then again that is a lot of troll so I suppose that makes sense...

If it's really just an annoyance, may I suggest everyone just drop the issue right now? No more mention of it. Thank you.

Darath, since the situation now appeared to be in full control, was spending the time waiting for the soldiers to arrive crouching next to the deceased troll, using a few knives, vials, and pouches to carefully collect a few samples, as he had planned to. nobody had seemed to have been damaged in a way that needed immediate attention, so he was happy enough to wait for someone to complain.

That didn't mean he wasn't paying attention though. "Yes, let's try to domesticate the creature that figured out a way to control trolls. That won't end horribly." The insanity of his counterparts on the Witchwolf delegation accentuated why he and the Matriarchs were worried about them being a large proponent of combat over diplomacy. They weren't the only group the Bloodmarked were concerned about, but neither were they the least of their worries.

I believe we're waiting on the guards' actions... or rather you all are waiting on the guards' actions, I've gotta wait for them, you, and the trolls again >.<

Quite the opposite - because of where I was aiming, standing, what I rolled on my miss chance, and my SWM feat, I actually hit both it AND the troll.... with splash damage, but still. You can never deal full damage on a miss, but it is a bomb after all, and it's going to go off one way or another.

The image there doesn't fully explain how missing works, you have to go through the full section and the sidebar to get the full picture. Let me know if you still don't get it and I'll try to explain in a different way.

Also, probably worth noting that splash (not direct) damage has a reflex save for half. (10+1/2 level + int, so that's...15 Ref I think?)

Finished editing, sorry.

http://www.d20pfsrd.com/gamemastering/combat#TOC-Throw-Splash-Weapon

Here's a link to the Throw Splash Weapon rules on the d20pfsrd. Worth taking a look to understand what happens on a whiff, 'cause it's not immediately obvious. Also worth noting that Precise Bomb does NOT work on misses, so while I can make all sorts of funny shaped explosions on a hit, all I can do is shift the PoO a smidge on a miss.

"Then please, do continue. I'm sure your liquefied body parts will provide for much interesting study." Though slightly sarcastic (but only slightly), Darath was interested in seeing if he could get some of the acid these trolls were secreting in a vial or two before they lost potency, maybe some tissue samples, friend and foe, as well. Blood too, assuming these things weren't literally bleeding acid...

Multitasking as he thinks, Darath is once again mixing up another bomb, this time shifting away from the prone and (hopefully) dead troll as he does so. He's about to give the one in front of him another facefull of fire when he sees one of the handlers make its way out of the fog. Also seeing the troll about to lunge forward, the alchemist changes his throw for a lob, hoping to hit the back of the troll instead, with the spin into a gout of flame towards the handler.

Attack (PBS range, into Melee, vs. Touch): 1d20 + 5 + 1 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (4) + 5 + 1 + 1 - 4 = 7
Damage: 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (4, 3) + 4 + 1 = 12

Aaaand that's most likely a wiff. Hold on...

Miss direction: 1d8 ⇒ 7

Was aiming for se corner of large troll, that result places it... one square south west, based on where I moved. SWM let's me fudge that one square in the circle, so I'm moving it to S of target, which should mean both the handler and the troll take splash damage (6 fire), but nobody on our side is in danger.

At least that one's still at arms length. Don't forget that our closer friend is probably one grapple check away from being dinner at the moment. Assuming a mouthful of fire didn't just kill the troll's appetite (or it, but I'm placing no bets on that front).

Darath is surprised to see that the trolls were not completely mindless, but instead had been guided here by some other creatures. He slowed to a stop for a moment to consider that new bit of information, as well as to let the others move in front of him. He worked best at a tactical arm's length, after all.

Still, the perplexities of the handlers did distract him a bit too much, though thankfully the troll's roar as it attacked Kenna and Saipres snapped Darath out of it. His attention was not drawn to that one, however, but the one next to it, who's mouth threatened to close upon the poor guard... and also made a very tempting target.

Darath begins mixing things into a vial, moving forward as he does so. A bit of this, a bit of that, a drop of my blood to enact my will, a shake to start the reaction, and... the alchemist thumbs the stopper on before flicking the vial troll-ward.

Attack (PBS range, into Melee, vs. Touch): 1d20 + 5 + 1 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (16) + 5 + 1 + 1 - 4 = 19
Damage (Direct): 2d6 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (4, 4) + 4 + 1 = 13

I'm gonna guess a 19 is enough to hit Touch AC on a large creature no matter the bonuses, assuming that's the case...

The small vial flies true, sailing just over the guardman's head and contacting the left edge of the troll's mouth. That last jolt is enough to kick the reaction Darath had started into full effect, and the troll suddenly finds itself with a mouthful of not flesh, but fire, as the ingredients within the now-shattered vial combine violently with each other.

This isn't a simple radial explosion, however. The guardman, despite being very close to the blast, feels little more than a bit of heat as the main force of the explosion somehow appears to bend around him. The other troll, on contrast, is hit by a 10-foot gout of flame; not as powerful as the main explosion, but certainly enough to singe some skin.

Base 3x3 radius centered on troll 2's southwest square.
Precise bomb to exclude the Guard's square from the splash damage, Splash Weapon Mastery to include the NW square of troll 3 in splash damage (6).
All damage is fire-based.

I AM ALIVE!!!

...Still not totally well, but feeling way better at least :D If it says anything, I'm actually looking forward to (hopefully) being able to go to classes tomorrow.

Gonna be busy for a while in a few minutes, but I have every intention of getting a post up as soon as I can. Don't move on without me please :)

Still under the weather, not firing on all cylinders. Feel free to move for me, keep in mind I have precise bomb and a few other things, and that the bombs deal fire damage.

Came down with something this morning, just throwing initiative for now, sorry.

Init: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 2 = 16

Darath glances backwards towards the tent as Saipres verbally assaults the guard, noting that both combatants and another Coldborn were exiting. Well, that was fast... It was hard to tell from the distance at first, but as they drew closer he saw that the coldborn seemed a bit more winded than the other. It appeared that the Witchwolf had won.

He has little time to ponder that however, as a scream emerges from the distance. For a moment, Darath stands still... but only until the guards are out of earshot. "I believe they just invalidated their last statement," he states calmly before starting to jog after them, clinking slightly as he went.

I never got around to calculating exactly how much I'm carrying in terms of weight, but I'm almost certainly over the movement penalty range. Just in case you're taking that into account for anything.

Capping the third of his extracts with a stopper, Darath stores it and the others before grabbing a last mouthful of food and rising to follow the rat-kin outside. Darath, for the moment, has no reason to doubt the Nightsulk nor anything more to add. Once they had a better idea of the situation... then would come the strategy.

Racial bonuses are an exception to that rule, actually. All Racial bonuses stack with each other.

Meanwhile, I'm just gonna stand in the back of the fight and throw explosives everywhere. Yey bombs!

I'm treating my stated bat-ears as having the +4 Perception shapechange option from the Bloodmarked list active. I also am assuming it's not nighttime, though I get an extra +2 if it is.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 7 + 4 = 13

Knowledge(Nature): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26

Trolls? Well, that doesn't sound good. Darath assumed the wererat had heard something or seen some sign from an ally, but he himself couldn't manage to hear anything over the now-ongoing conversation and the general din of the preparations for the fight... which now seemed to be very poorly timed indeed. He wished he had been paying attention earlier so he could tell which direction they were presumably coming from, but that was beyond his control now.

Still, he had no reason to doubt the Nightskulk was telling the truth. The arrival of so many skinwalkers was just begging to attract some attention, and if there was any single group that would know what was going on, it would be the rats.

"Fire," he says, hands already quick at work, trying to finish another healing extract before the action started. "You have to burn them to do lasting damage and kill. Acid should work too. I have plenty of both myself, if we work together we should be able to make short work of any that we meet. Be ready to make a torch just in case." He pauses for a moment and looks up at the others. "I'm assuming I'm not going to have to fight off an approaching force by myself again, am I?"

Cheers Kenna, thanks for the info.

"Darath. No formal title." The alchemist replies, the stress implying some... informal titles he had earned himself during his work. He could think of a few counterpoints to Harshuk's statement, but chose to not get into that thicket. Getting into a philosophical debate with a man much more energetic then himself was not on Darath's preferred list of activities.

Thankfully, he's interrupted by a rather cryptic comment from the Nightskulk across from him, a man the alchemist hadn't really noticed until now. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of distrust - Bloodmarked politics could get messy at times, but they were downright friendly compared to some of the stories about the Nightskulk.

Thankfully, Saipres chose that moment to interject, giving Darath a moment to compose himself. This was supposed to be a cooperative venture, after all. What he heard next made his eyes narrow for a completely different reason, however. Darath might keep himself divorced from politics for the most part, but he still knew doublespeak when he heard it. Between everything the man had said, it was obvious that the Nightskulk was expecting something dangerous... and soon, if his constantly darted eyes meant anything.

Darath spoke with a calm he no longer quite felt, pulling another primed vial out of its pouch as he did so, "You do realize you're speaking to a Bloodmarked, yes? Blood spilling tends to be a bit of a pastime for most of us... Certainly keeps me in work, anyway. I suppose a little extra precaution won't hurt though, if you're so concerned."

Anyone with a bit of alchemical knowledge, or really sharp eyes, might notice that the second potion isn't being made with the same ingredients as the first. As it happened, he wasn't making this one to restore, but to protect... and once finished, he kept it within a split-second's reach.

Shield extract created, 2/4 slots used. Indefinitely long ready action to consume should the party get crashed directly.

Darath absent-mindedly waves the bowl away as it comes around to him, having little interest in the actual outcome, at least as far as who the winner was at any rate. As for the battle itself... well, hopefully he'd get a chance to collect some samples as he worked...

He had just finished his extract when he was pulled out of his thoughts by Saipres' words. "Darath," he responds, meeting the paw with a human hand, "And trust me, I've... spilled my fair share of blood as well." There were other verbs he could have used that would have been more accurate, but they would lead to a discussion the length of which he didn't feel like having right now.

Thankfully, Harshuk chose that moment to arrive, the Coldborn's heavy footsteps and louder voice causing Darath's bat-ears to twitch slightly. He slides himself and his things over as well, giving the bear-man enough room to squeeze in. Darath can't help but raise an eyebrow at the two full plates the much larger skinwalker sets down, in stark contrast with his own much more moderately filled single plate. It takes all kinds, I suppose, he thinks to himself as he waits patiently for a hopefully forthcoming introduction.

Darath raised an annoyed eyebrow as the Fanglord next to him began to talk with his mouth full. He had just taken a bite himself, but was courteous enough to wait until he had swallowed before answering.

"I've not had the pleasure, no." He spoke calmly, glancing between the Coldborn and the Witchwolf. "Nor a Wtichwolf, for that matter. I did treat one of my kin who had the bright idea to challenge a Coldborn that was passing through though. Very educational, learned a lot from that one. I think he regained the use of his hands within a week... no, week and a half."

After a few moments, he pulls out a vial partially filled with a dark red liquid that looks suspiciously like blood from a pouch, mixing in various powders and other liquids between bites. "Just in case this goes very poorly," is all he says to anyone who asks him what it is.

He's making a healing extract just in case someone gets seriously injured. Go nuts.

Drawing a blank I'm afraid, someone else can feel free to pull me into something.

Just a random point of trivia (since it's now kinda relevant): The rod with two snakes in a double-helix pattern commonly seen as a symbol of medicine in the US was actually the staff of Hermes, and is thus related to commerce and the like, not medicine. The correct staff, the Rod of Asclepius, has only a single snake coiled along its length; the titular god is associated with healing and medicine, as you might expect.

The more you know...

Moriarti isn't the only one watching things with a critical eye. Darath isn't watching the crowds however, but his tent, which was in the process of being erected by a few Lowbloods he had recruited. He might be an adviser on this trip, but he was also probably one of the best medics currently at the plateau, and certainly the best Bloodmarked one. He'd bet half his blood stores that there'd be at least one injury to treat before the day was out, let alone by the time they finished.

The tent is large enough that it would be noticeable among everything else nearby, but not outrageous, and marked on the roof with whatever symbol would be appropriate - red cross or otherwise. Inside, once everything is moved in, the space will be split roughly in half: half for patients, the other for his lab equipment (or at least, what he brought with him anyway).

Darath peers up and ahead, his seat on the wagon giving him a good view of the Plateau despite the Matrons' carriage being in the way. After a fortnight or so of travel, it was good to see their destination at last, especially after having had to wait just out of sight for two days while the rest of the representatives filtered in. "Now to see if we can convince the others of our plan..." he muttered to himself.

Beside him, the driver of the wagon gave no sign of having heard his words. And to be honest, Darath didn't care. The man was a Lowblood, the worker caste, notable only because he was the currently-favored servant of Gheyna. The woman driving the carriage was no different, sans being Elanor's servant instead. They were here only to serve the Matrons' physical needs and... desires... while the Matrons and Darath discussed the details of their proposal and the arguments and counter-arguments they would need.

As for Alfstanna, it turned out he had to do little to reach his goals there, as she had similar designs in mind. Between that and the fact the Matrons obviously valued his opinion... well, that put him in a very interesting position indeed. He usually kept himself divorced from the Bloodmarked politics (probably part of the reason he was here in the first place, he guessed) but it was impossible to ignore the pull he would have once the moot was over and they returned home. If nothing else, it would probably be a good idea to plan some protections, just in case...

But that was for later. Right now, he just had to worry about getting through the ceremony. Unfortunately, he'd have to pay attention for this one - not only did he have to keep up appearances, but also get faces and names. Given that he usually spent such times thinking up new experiments, it was going to be a bit irritating.

So, something occurred to me last night as I realized we were about to start, and it's probably best to get it out of the way now. Bloodmarked culture being what it is, there's a decent shot that if the situation permits, Darath will make a pass at either or both of the female characters in the group. Obviously you'd be free to respond to that as you wish, but if either of you would rather it not come up at all now would be the time to tell me. I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable.

More immediately... Frogfoot, do you have anything more for us, or are we good to post? It just seems a little too open ended at the moment is all, and I don't want to step on your toes by coming up with something out of the blue.

I just sent Frogfoot a PM. Hopefully we'll have some sort of word sooner rather than later.

I'm kinda hoping everyone just went on holiday break and didn't think to say anything... getting kinda worried :/

Merry Christmas all :D

Darath remained where he was, doing little more than giving a nod and wave in response when the matriarchs do. Then, he was left with his thoughts... and his experiment, for which he turned the burners back up as he processed what had just happened. Whether they had truly come to the same conclusion before asking him or not made little difference, it was clear it was the solution they had decided to pursue.

For now though, he had three things to do. The first was to finish his experiment, of course. The second, to start preparing for the journey; he could make a few guesses before the promised details arrived. The third was to start coming up with ideas for the journey... including how best to get himself and Alfstanna into the same bed again.

Darath listened quietly as the council began to explain what was going on. His only muttered comment was directed towards Alfstanna's mention of his combat experienced, "Only because our soldiers can't seem to keep my damn tent safe for some reason." Her actions, on the other hand, caused a raised eyebrow. That definitely warranted some later thought...

Once they had finished, he remained silent for a few more moments as he carefuly added a few drops of the substance to the mix that needed it. He began voicing his thoughts as he put the beaker back down. "War is the... obvious solution. Keep them out by force and all that. The humans, however, are both populous and resourceful. As a whole, the clans are almost certainly their match... but I don't see all of us putting aside our differences for as long as such an effort would take. Not to mention the toll it would take on the lands and the population... It would work if it comes to that, but it's a poor first choice."

Darath shifts away from Alfstanna - somewhat regretfully - and begins pacing as he flips though ideas in his mind. "A purely diplomatic approach makes us appear weak, that or they end up splitting us up and then we're in an even worse position. Assassination mission... no, unlike the undead, removing the one in charge will only piss them off or, at best, just delay them for a few years. Too prone to failure as well..."

He's looking at his supply of herbs - specifically some of the more dangerous ones - when the solution comes to him. He spins to look back at Alfstanna, choosing to speak towards her since she was the most likely to understand his analogy. "Belladonna is a dangerous herb, taken straight or in high enough concentration, it can harm or even kill. But, used in small quantities, it can cause very beneficial effects - it's part of several mixtures I use as potion bases. That is... kind of what we need to do. Let them in, but do it in a very controlled manner. Be friendly - trade and all that - but make it very clear that we have no qualms about punishing them if they step outside the boundaries we set."

"How we do that... that would require a lot more thought. But that would be my suggestion as a goal."

Darath, for his credit, showed no indication of attraction. That's not to say he he didn't realize what they were doing - cold blooded he most certainly was not - but one did not rise to the top of Bloodmarked society as a male without being able to separate business from pleasure. And this, no matter how the council was acting, was certainly business. So he waited, dampening his natural urges, waiting for the trio to get to the point.

And then Gheyna lit the fuse.

For several seconds, Darath continue to do nothing but look at the elder councilwoman, as if daring her to amend when she said. Then he steadily reached out his hand towards the line of burners, and turned down the heat on each. If the trio didn't take that hint, he was seriously going to question their ability to lead.

Darath takes a moment to steady himself before replying, "Yes... unless you consider self-regenerating tissue unimportant?" his eyes scanned over the matriarchs as he spoke, though he lingered on Alfstanna. Though much of the Vale might not know it yet, she was probably the most dangerous woman on the council now... though paradoxically, the fact that he knew that made her the least dangerous to himself.

He continued once they had had a chance to digest that statement, but before they could respond. "From your lovely appearances and your... presence... in my lab, I take it you have need of me for something other than my medical skills. I can talk and monitor these at the same time, though you'll excuse me when I have to take notes." It was clearly a statement, not a question. Unless they ignited a proverbial bomb with what they needed, he had no intention of aborting this experiment, even for the matriarchs. This was not uncommon, he was well known for being difficult to shift from a task in progress, particularly when it would be inconvenient for him.

That's my reading of it as well. You also get access to a different set of picks for your 'secondary' bonus, again in place of the standard ones.

"I'm the busy one, at the moment." Darath's lips barely moved as he muttered his reply. He made no other conscious movement - had someone been watching from a distance, the only hint they would have gotten that he had received the message would be the twitch of his bat-ears as his body instinctively tried to locate the source of Nyx's voice. Otherwise, he continued on as if nothing had happened.

He bent down to observe one of his mixtures a bit more closely (he believed it would be reacting soon) and continued his reply. "As much as I would love to treat whatever wound or bellyache they've given themselves, I'm not really in a position to leave right now. I have several potions on the burner at the moment. Aborting the experiment would be expensive, and leaving them on could be... catastrophic." Neither outcome was strictly true. None of the potions had been particularly expensive to make, but they had taken a lot of time. He wasn't about to lose a week of preparation for something another medic in the Vale could take care of. Likewise, none of the mixtures he was creating should react that violently... but then, he hadn't been looking for a weapon when he discovered his infamous explosives either.

"If they must see me, they will have to wait... An hour, give or take. Otherwise... oh, that's interesting..." The reaction Darath was expecting started just then, and he trailed off as he studied it.

Easy there Riddler, let's not go crazy just yet...

Second on the 'L', if you're taking a vote :p

Also, a general comment: there are auto-generated RSS feeds for both the discussion and gameplay threads (and recruitment, but that's kinda pointless now). If you have an RSS manager, or feel like getting one, it could help with the F5'ing.

If you're using chrome(ium), I suggest Slick RSS. Sits right next to the address bar, customizeable 'check' timer, and it displays a notice when there's a new entry.

EDIT: ...on the downside, it also means I get disappointed after I post when the notification comes up telling me about... my own post. Darn Pavlovian responses...

Aye, this is a great way to introduce everyone. Though I must admit, I'm getting antsy for my turn...

Oh, I almost forgot, I finished adding my equipment to my sheet.... let's just say I'm a walking medbay and alchemy supply shop and leave it at that.

Well, one note: all the alchemical things I purchased should be DC20 or lower, so by my previous statement (I can craft them all even when taking 10) I slashed them all to 1/3 base price (aka the crafting material cost), indicating they're all self-made. Same with the potions, though to 1/2 cost instead.

I've still got an exam tomorrow and Friday, but you should be fine to start me off whenever you're ready, Frogfoot.