There's been rare occasions where I've had to do this, and I am reluctant to do so, but it is a period of self-reflection. I am deciding to remove myself from a few of the games I'm in, so I can be more attentive to the ones I run. After the last school semester had me bogged down and beaten, I've been having a hard time coming back into it. This is not a reflection of the game or the other players, just me having to go through and decide which ones I can keep and which ones I have to let go of.
I appreciate you having me along for the ride and wish you all good gaming going forward.
Rumal gasps loudly, with a sharp intake of breath, as he'd forgotten he was holding in when nothing happened to the waters in the pool. "Awride then, whus ness? Are we all done here? Did we save uh day like grade heroes?"
Rumal flinches when he realizes he got Elaina in the blast from his mixture. Sheepishly, he moves back closer to Enna, and fires at the monster attacking Elaina, in apology.
Move, to SW of Enna
Standard, fire loaded cross bow at Northmost monster 1d20 + 4 - 4 ⇒ (13) + 4 - 4 = 13 (melee penalty added). Damage? 1d6 ⇒ 5
As three of those creatures appear up on top of the balcony, Rumal is startled by the suddeness of it. He grabs a vial in panic and hurls one of his concotions at the group of them, not thinking about Elaina.
Standard, throw explosive bomb at the Westmost monster, ranged touch 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15.
On a hit, it does 2d6 + 3 ⇒ (1, 5) + 3 = 9 fire damage and the thing catches fire (as per alchemist fire rules).
The other two and Elaina take 5 fire damage (DC 14 Ref for 1/2)
I apologize for my continued minimal presence, but the S**t storm of school work has been insane and I'm just working to keep up. Classes end soon, so please bear with me, and I will have the whole summer for posting.
Rumal moves into the room, and into the western corner. From there he tries to get a food shot off at the thing, even though everyone's jumping around at it. He spent too much of his short attention span on finding a good spot to shoot from, he almost lost his target altogether.
Move, SE, S, SW
Shoot at it (guessing with flying it is niether in melee nor has cover) 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Phooey
Rumal scowls at the creature, his bolts a tough decision with it being so close to the others in the front. Then there's the flying one giving orders, which he decides would make for a little better target, and maybe stop it from making more enemies.
5' step into Elaina's emptied space
Standard, Crossbow the demon 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19, damage 1d6 ⇒ 4
Move, Reload crossbow.
Rumal only raises an eyebrow, "Demon, hunh?" He shrugs, not knowing what difference it makes for what his actions are. So he draws and loads his crossbow, and keeps in mind the brew he carries that seems to keep blows from hitting him.
Things may be going fairly slow for me until the end of the semester, I bit off more than expected, so please bear with me. Sunday at work is currently the only solid free time I've been able to find to post. I should have a post up today.
Rumal watches the back and forth, the long-winded praises and concerns bandied about each other's qualities and purpose, adding once he gets a chance. "I don' thing we should mess wif it. Mebbe I haf some flaskses here I could gather the stuff in. Then you guys can worry boud carryin er stroyin it." With that, Rumal starts shuffling and digging through all his various ingredients and vials that he uses for his concoctions.
If I use my alchemist's kit for vials to gather the stuff, how many could I fill? Also, since I would be using them from my materials for extracts/bombs, do you want me to just reduce my daily bomb limit by how many vials I fill?
Rumal scrunches his nose in disgust, "This ane nuthin dringable, thas fer certain. Ah heard tha it'll turn ya into a downrigh monster, and not the way too mush whiskey does to some folk. I mean like tha three-limbed goblin thing what threw up on us. I say leave it alone, you don wan none of it." He wipes his hands off on his brewer's apron, as if he is dirty for just discussing the liquid.
Rumal just nods, one eyebrow lifted as Togog goes on about all the things his grandad can do. Despite everyone having a decent chunk of sleep, the gnome appears to already be drunk again... or still drunk, it's tough to tell. As they discover the liquid-filled basin, Rumal's interest is piqued, "Lemme see. Ahve godda nose fer these things." He eyes the liquid, takes a whiff, and generally gives it an inspection with the well-trained eye of a master of liquids (albeit primarily alcoholic in nature).
Despite his instant sleep, Rumal just as quickly snorts and comes out of it when roused. He rubs his eyes, takes a swig, and looks just as... well whatever he was before he went to sleep. Maybe cognizant or aware isn't the right word. Present, he's just as present.
Returning back to the town, he is glad to be there. Once he discovers when the rest of them plan to meet and return to the depths, he agrees to meet them there, regardless of whether they invited him or tried to convince him not to go. That settled he makes his way to the Hagfish. It's been a while since he got totally drunk, like a couple hours at least, and he's off to regain his senses with some hair of the dog.
Rumal looks around groggy-eyed, "Ahm nodda fan of this plase too." He takes a swig from one of his flasks as he sits on one of the steps and leans his elbows on the one above it. "Ah don blame tha human fer not wan... SNNNNZZZ." He passes out mid speech, snoring and drooling beginning almost simultaneously.
Once Nover gets the thing grounded and easier to hit, Rumal bemoans wasting his time loading his crossbow for nothing. He instead puts it away, and moves to try and find a spot where he can hit the thing.
Move, put away crossbow
move, closer and draw morningstar
Doubt I can get to it. I imagine it's pinned in the square above Nover? (Moved adjacent in a grapple, and pinned does not make it prone)
With Togog on one side of the piller, and Elaina on the other?
"Don jus stan there, Missy, do sumpin," Rumal manages, as he makes his way past the paralyzed Enna. He gets up into the space between Togog and Elaina, and fires. Then he realizes he didn't reload the thing, and sets about doing that instead.
Rumal winces at the sound, but still offers an appraisal of the performance, "Well, thas a horrific singing voice, but nuthin compared to my grade an Wilomena. Tha' woman could wake tha dead with her caterwaul." Regardless, he takes shaky aim with his now-loaded crossbow and lets fly. With an accentuating hiccup just as he lets loose, the bolt skips off the door frame, yet ends up still winging the creature.
Edit, forgot to take my turn
Load crossbow
Attack flying head 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24, confirm 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
damage 1d6 ⇒ 2
Rumal just follows along. He likes the bunch, they are entertaining if nothing else. That human, though, she says things like the random mumblings of a passed out drunk. No sense to them, but she's an oddity. He almost wants to see what she would be like drunk. Well, heck, he likes to see what everyone is like drunk. Nonetheless, he follows them to wherever they are headed now, with only the occasional hiccup or burp reminding the others he's still there.
Rumal shakes his head, hoping to clear up any confusion, "No, a ward is sumpin to prtec *hic* protegd an area. Maybe she means a ward agins Charsdexxer." He stops, thinks for a moment, then scrunches his face, asking the woman, "So, who's Charsdexxer?"
Seeing the stairs, he grimaces, "We goin down nose? Sometimes they can hurt when *hic* when you *hic* whenu take too may at once. If you know what I mean?" He overemphasizes a poorly attempted wink, at Enna, being the closest to him.
Rumal just looks back and forth between the two sides of the discussion, eyebrows lifted too high, in an attempt to keep eyes wdie enough to take it all in. "I haf evvythin I need. Nod sure iffit helps you all or nuthin. I'm as fresh as a newborn daisy, an jus as eager to eat." Despite the nonsensical choice of phrasing, it seems he is willing to continue if they so chose.
Rumal wanders over to each hole as Enna repeatedly drops globs of acid into them. A few times, he teeters precariously on the edge, only to somehow regain his tentative balance and stagger away. "Whos is Grandad fellow? I no no about ressin down here. Loogs a little creepy. Though, we could prolly stack up dose hole covers *hic* overa doors if we haffa."
Sorry, I know I've been fairly quiet lately. Rumal's still new to the party, and not exactly the 'Take the bull by the horns' kind of guy. He's more of a 'You dare me to go slap that bull on the a$$?' kind of guy.
Rumal just stares at the human, mouth agape, "Wha kina stories you readin? Tha's just crazy talk.", he makes his way down the stairs into the room, but despite his bluster he avoids and eyes the boarded holes warily. He too commences to poking the dead deformed thing, with the tip of his loaded crossbow. "Eww, it looks all gobliny. Thas worse en bein from nuther menshun."
Reflex 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (8) + 5 = 13. Sorry, for my delay.
Rumal turns and covers himself with his cloak as the retching starts, having a fair amount of experience around projectile vomiters, as a heavy drinker. "Now thas jus gross, man! Control yur dring!" Looking to the others, he realizes things may be dour, "Oh, is he botherin you?". he asks, while grabbing and loading his crossbow.
Rumal looks quizzically at the dwarf's exclamations of someone's calls, "Whud are you toggin boud, ane nobody callin fer Grandad. Souns to me like a few bad hangovers and summun trine get up offa floor." Nonetheless he follows their lead, as so far they have been pretty entertaining.
Rumal looks like he's about to pass out, as one eyelid fights to close, while the other remains open. When the human woman speaks of her intended direction, he opens both eyes wide, and nods his head goofily, "Souns lige a plan."
He doesn't follow directly, not after the attitude she got with him, but he does stick his tongue out or thumb his nose at her every once in a while after she turns to eyeball him.
Rumal seems confused by her statements, and follows her around as she looks the room over, asking her about it. All the while having a look around for himself, unsure of what it is he's looking for. "If ye don' follow summun, whud happens if der hold, hey whassat? If dere holdin da door fer ya? Or waddabou bindnesseses? Howl they get folk iffn nowun can follow another in? I mean, the door was lef, is that sumthin? The door was lef open... I thing."
"Sober? Pzzssh." he expresses with way more slobber than necessary, "I wurg bess when Ah've had a few drings You don' even wanna see the *Burp* the stade Ah'm in withoud a dring. Ah'm still full o' spung and vigor. Less do dis."
Rumal screws up his face, "Wha? I thod I interduced maself. My nam *hic*, my name is *hic* is Rumal. An' Ah'm nod follinin, anyone. I seened da door open an' decided to loogsee. So, where we headin?" he rubs his hands together, having put his morningstar away. Licking his lips, he graps one of the many flasks, and takes a swig from it.
Rumal just nods half-lidded, and clearly only half listening. He smiles when she says drunk, but looks like he doesn't get that he was called one. "Naw, s'okay. You don haf worry bout me. I'm sure can hannel meself." He draws a dirty old morningstar, waving it around sloppily, "Demo *hic* dmeoni *hic* denomic excursion soun's inneressing. Ah'm a brewer misself, make summa nuh stronnest dring youf effer tase."
He squints his eyes, trying to bring the group into focus, "Hey, yer summa them thas fought tha gobilns, right? I'm been meanin ta tryn help yous out. Issa goo' thin' I foun' you. Washoo fiden down here?" He wanders over to the dead things, and deeper into the room.
As the group recovers and gains their bearings after the fight, a sound, or noise rather, makes its way up through the cavern. At first it sounds like maybe a garbled goblin chant of some sort, but before long it can be recognized as singing.... in the loosest sense of the word.
"As I wen' home on Moonday nigh' as *HIC* drung as drung could be
I saw a *burp* I saw a horse ousi'e the door where my ol' horse should be
Well, I called, hehe, me wife and I said to her: Will you kine'y tell to me
Who owns that horse ousi'e the door where my ol' horse should be?"
The sound grows louder, and nearer, but not any more coherent,
"Ah, you're drung, you're drung you silly ol' fool, *HIC* still you can nod see
Tha's a lovely sow tha' me mother sen' to me
Well, it's *HIC* man *HIC* many *HIC* many a day I've travelled a hun'red miles or more
But a saddle on a sow sure I never saw before. Hehe, a saddle?"
The cacophony continues up the hallway, most likely alerting everything in a five mile radius of the thing's presence.
"And as I wen' home on Toilday nigh' as drung as drung could be Huzzah!
I saw a coat behin' the door where *Buurp* where my ol' coat should be
Well, I called me wife and I said to her"
As the source passes the statue, it comes into view. It is a wildly flame-haired gnome, dressed in an leather apron festooned with vials and bottle clinking periodically against one another. He looks up the hallway and notices the group, just as he's about to lean against and relieve himself on the aforementioned statue "Oh, hullo? Whad're you doin' here?"
He forgets what he was doing and walks closer, "I was wannerin' by and saw a door open. *hic* Or wait, maybe I saw sumun leave, I think. No matter. I desided to have a loogsee. An' here you all are. So, wha's yur nameses, nasem, na'MES? I'm Rumal"
Rumal waves as the two leave the Rusty Dragon with the others, "Thas okay. All be ry here if yer efer loogin fer a del... *hic* delish.. *hic* tasy befrish." he just manages to slur out with half-lidded eyes, before belching loudly and passing out head first onto the bar.
Rumal is generally just looking to enjoy life. He loves his trade, and even more, loves the product; almost more than he should. He is best summarized as a fully-functioning alcoholic. He doesn't see his extracts as magical as much as they are different recipes of his that he enjoys for the added little perks they have due to the ingredients.
Even his bombs are just some of his more volatile beverages, that he happens to throw when in a fight because he knows they are prone to combustion.
Despite his good cheer, he is not immune to the gravity of most situations, and understands the time for seriousness (not that he drinks less because of it).
In the end he wants to experience new places, cultures, and peoples... and learn what they use to get drunk, and make an even better version of it. He would like to someday be world-renowned as the proprietor of the best alehouse ever, but he still has a lot of recipes to learn.
Rumal
Male gnome alchemist 2 (Pathfinder RPG Advanced Player's Guide 26)
NG Small humanoid (gnome)
Init +2; Senses low-light vision; Perception +6
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 13, flat-footed 14 (+3 armor, +2 Dex, +1 size)
hp 15 (2d8+2)
Fort +4 (+2 trait bonus vs poison or drugs (+4 to avoid effects of alcohol)), Ref +5, Will +0; +2 bonus vs. poison, +2 Trait bonus vs. mind-affecting effects for 1 hour after drinking alcohol
Defensive Abilities defensive training; Resist fortified drinker, poison resistance
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Offense
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Speed 20 ft.
Melee dagger +3 (1d3+1/19-20) or
. . morningstar +3 (1d6+1)
Ranged bomb +5 (2d6+3 Fire) or
. . light crossbow +4 (1d6/19-20)
Special Attacks bomb 8/day (1d6+3 fire, DC 14), hatred
Spell-Like Abilities (CL 2nd; concentration +3)
. . 1/day—dancing lights, flare (DC 11), prestidigitation, produce flame Alchemist Extracts Prepared (CL 2nd; concentration +5)
. . 1st—cure light wounds, polypurpose panacea[UM], recharge innate magic[ARG]
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Statistics
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Str 12, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 12
Base Atk +1; CMB +1; CMD 13
Feats Brew Potion, Extra Bombs[APG], Throw Anything
Traits fortified drinker, iron liver
Skills Acrobatics +2 (-2 to jump), Appraise +8, Craft (alchemy) +8 (+10 to create alchemical items), Disable Device +7, Knowledge (arcana) +7, Perception +6, Profession (brewer) +7, Sleight of Hand +6, Spellcraft +7, Use Magic Device +6; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception, +2 Profession (brewer)
Languages Common, Dwarven, Elven, Gnome, Goblin, Sylvan
SQ alchemy (alchemy crafting +2), discovery (explosive bomb), mutagen (+4/-2, +2 natural armor, 20 minutes), poison use
Other Gear mwk studded leather, crossbow bolts (15), crossbow bolts (5), dagger, light crossbow, morningstar, absinthe (per glass), alchemy crafting kit, bedroll, belt pouch, gnome trail rations (8), hip flask, hip flask, hip flask, hip flask, ink, black, inkpen, masterwork backpack, obsession log, pulque (per cup), rumboozle (per cup), scroll case, thieves' tools, waterskin, whiskey (per cup), wrist sheath, spring loaded, wrist sheath, spring loaded, 3 gp, 5 sp
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Special Abilities
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Alchemy +2 (Su) +2 to Craft (Alchemy) to create alchemical items, can Id potions by touch.
Bomb 1d6+3 (8/day, DC 14) (Su) Thrown Splash Weapon deals 1d6+3 fire damage.
Defensive Training +4 Gain a dodge bonus to AC vs monsters of the Giant subtype.
Explosive Bomb (Su) The alchemist’s bombs now have a splash radius of 10 feet rather than 5 feet. Creatures that take a direct hit from an explosive bomb catch fire, taking 1d6 points of fire damage each round until the fire is extinguished. Extinguishing the flames i
Fortified Drinker +2 save vs. mind-affecting for 1 hr after drinking alchohol.
Hatred +1 Gain a bonus to attack vs goblinoid/reptilian humanoids.
Iron Liver +2 to Fort saves vs. poison and drugs, or +4 vs. alcohol.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.
Mutagen (DC 14) (Su) Mutagen adds +4 to a physical & -2 to a mental attribute, and +2 nat. armor for 20 minutes.
Poison Resistance +2 (Ex) +2 to save vs. Poison.
Poison Use You do not risk poisoning yourself accidentally while poisoning a weapon.
Throw Anything Proficient with improvised ranged weapons. +1 to hit with thrown splash weapons.
Fluff:
Rumal is a cheerful fellow, almost always with a smile on his face. Whether it is from being drunk or a general happiness is not quite obvious. He has bright red hair and bright yellow, almost golden eyes. He wears a simple shirt and trousers, and a stained apron over top of them. The pockets of his apron, typically used for carrying tools of a trade, are all stuffed with different flasks of different alcohol. He has a constant air of alcohol around him, and it is unclear whether it comes from his work, or he himself. It's often thought the latter, since as soon as he speaks the slurring speaks volumes.
Rumal is originally from the Brastlewark region, and had grown up in a large gnomish community. His family are all brewers, and as part of his growing education he attended formal training on brewing. In Brastlewark this included incorporating the magical processes involved, but it wasn't a focus for him as much as the ale-crafting methods. Sadly, with so many gnomes in such a large community, there wasn't much opportunity for him to create wares that stood out from the rest. As such, he decided to strike out for the larger human cities in hopes of bringing something unique or at least not widely available to the people of the region. He made it as far as Magnimar, and along the way connected with as many of the other races he could in perfecting the different brewing processes.
He had made it to the big city, and had a mild success, but soon realized that he enjoyed the trip much more than the time spent on his actual goal. He spent much more time in the city familiarizing himself with the special brews of the other more popular establishments, enjoying the research much more than the business side of the whole operation. When word came to him of a couple local places not far from Magnimar, with distinct food and drink, he had to investigate. He arrived in Sandpoint just in time to catch the tail end of Swallotail festival and some craziness with the local goblins. Since then he's been just enjoying drinks at the Hagfish, and food at the Rusty Dragon. There's been some folk dealing with the local problems, he figures it might be good fun to see if he might tag along.
The profile has been through a few recruitments/early dead games, so I'm not sure quite how it's built or which background is in it. When I have more time later I will need to update it to your requirements.
I had kind of hoped, by writing myself out of the story, that it would be a clean cut from the story. I did not want to fall prey to an unwarranted death, or to become a hapless NPC. It appears to have happened nonetheless.
I would appreciate it if Rumal does not appear further in the story, as I intend to use this character when he makes it into the right game. If he periodically arises as an NPC in this story, this becomes the point of reference for the character, instead of a creation controlled by me and me alone.
In fact it was the deciding what my charcater did regardless of whether he would have or not that caused me to declare the game was not for me. I hoped by withdrawing that he would no longer be under the GM's control.
If there are rails, I normally don't have much problem with it, even most of the AP's do it most of the time. The key is in making my characters want to go the direction the rails are headed, which the AP's do well enough more often than not.
As a DM, I have used rails as well. Sometimes I will even move the destination into whichever direction the PC's decided to go, so they feel like it was their decision yet they still arrive where I wanted them. The issue in this particular instance, however, is that we rode for hours, ran, and rode for more hours to the point of exhaustion without a word in edgewise as to why or where we were running or whether we were willing to do so in the first place. I find it hard to justify pushing oneself and one's mount so hard, without knowing why.
I also have a concern with the fact that on more than one occasion I have specifically asked the GM a question, but was never answered. The only time I think I was answered was about taking 10 on the rope, and that was after he made 3 other posts. After what feels like being mostly ignored, it would be nice if it at least feels like my character has a motivation to accompany Bruhma on his quest, and not feel like we get to be his entourage.
During the long ride, Rumal realized he didn't even know why he was pushing his mule so hard. He decided he was tired, and would turn north instead. Since they were racing so far ahead of him, he was certain it wouldn't be a problem. Besides, they all seem to be intent on whatever it was they were trying to accomplish, so no one would miss the lone gnome.
I'm really not sure if I'll be able to continue this game. I'm really having a hard time justifying it in character. So, I'm just going to wander Rumal off out of the way.
From Rumal's perspective, why would he drive his mule (not horse, so not able to keep up) then run full pace, before driving it further through the night? This to help a stranger alongside a bunch of other strangers, to escape someone that is slaughtering an inn full of people and possibly a garrison of Solamnics, with no real explanation up to this point beyond do as I say. Rumal hasn't even taken any actions for or against anyone, because all we've done is run from someone too powerful our first fight, then get told to go to the garrison where we are assumed as guilty by our cleric of Paladine praying over the bodies.
Maybe there was a hook in there, but I just haven't seen the worm on it yet. I am also getting a lot of DMPC vibe from Bruhma, and I'm concerned.
Rumal nods at the request, but he realizes he could really use a drink. He licks his lips, eyes the area briefly, before pulling out his hip flask and taking a heavy swig.
Rumal nods, and moves with the others toward the stables, as best he can keep up at least. He doesn't have a horse, or the money for one. He does have a nice sturdy mule, with a back built for hauling kegs. One thing does strike him as odd, "Why are we goin to Xa sroth? I thaw we was headin fer Kennermore?"
