Ah, I forgot wizard has to actually prep a ritual to use it with a spell slot. What does Scram know about magic anyways. ;)
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Scram says what she says but ultimately if Gunnar routs, Scram will have no choice but to follow. I get why it might be a risk, the dragon seemed very powerful...who knows what it is really doing when it 'breathes fire'.
Scram scooped up the Drider's Blade, curious of such a warped centaur's weapon. Soon Gunnar was talking of making an escape. The Thorsdottir was one thing...but leaving the Prophet behind somehow didn't seem square. If the thief was a stray cat, Invictusol was the reliable back alley milk bowl with no strings attached. "...damnit, its no good Gunz. They were tryna make it to that mirror room same as us and somethin' happened. If they got waylaid on the shadow path they're gonna come right into that spot after their delay. Or if they need our help we need to get a way to them from there..." The thief struggled against her own survival instincts, feeling the rumbling inferno threatening the old castle. Loyalty was a ball and chain, a bad investment. But betraying a crew was bad for brand name, and Scram wanted to keep the Narg Nasty 6 shiny and clean. *snapping her fingers* "I got it. What about that juju tent you pitch all the time? Pitch it right back there, then if the castle falls down it won't get through the juju. And, we can be waitin' there for em or finding a way through the floor into the shadow world to save em..."
Hmm, well shoot. No hag, no chipmunk/cheek-loot, no clerics, no castle...starting to wonder if the 'friends' we rescued were wax duplicates who are now killing everyone in Narg. Scram is going to have a hard time leaving Luthael behind...not sure how to play this. Will wait for Gunnar's in-character post I suppose.
Are we actually still physically in the castle? I thought we were in some other dimension 'inside the walls' or something.
All good, enjoying freak 75°F weather here as northern neighbors get ice blasted...but not for long.
The chattering mammal had already been living inside Scramsax' mind for the past year and half, not to mention the halfling had been a pudding of very similar consistency to that which the floor was becoming not long ago. Thus it was all rather expected. Except for the horns. That suggested a certain mammalian crossbreeding the sages had always labeled as physically impossible. The thief was perplexed, but not wholly overwhelmed. Alert enough to roll her hips back as one of the metatarsi got a lucky punch. The fit halfling gymnast was somersaulting and volleying herself around leg after leg as they crashed down around her. At times she could really get a good grip on the hairy exoskeletons and whip her body up to fantastic heights. That dance wouldn't last all night, the thief knew. She needed a way out and pronto. Some kind of barrel thing ran past and dinged her ring on the way out. That was it...Loki's Squall. A thick, heavy stratus billowed from the Barsellan as if she just took the biggest pipe toke ever taken. The acrobatic halfling vanished in an instant, perhaps becoming the trick of weather itself.
Doh, I hit the average exactly with that Sneak crit. 44 is the average of 2d4+4+10d6 on the money.
Mid-backflip in the cacophonous waves of force rippling through space, the thief had a funny feeling. No, not her nervous system liquifying from the intense entropic death spiral...something else. The chittering chipper's oozy mouth had a familiar sheen, as if belaquered on the inside with some kind of ectoplasmic goo. A goo unseen since the incident at the Ice Hyena's cave... One thing was certain, if good chips buried their nuts for the winter, this saggy faced spitter was bad to the tiny forest bone. Watching Gunnar go stiff was also not a good sign. The thief had no time to fool around, she had to find this thing's main weakness like yesterday. The cheeks were obviously heavily defended, and may include the dreaded Self-Destruct Nut as a crazy last option. The tail was a good guess, twisted rapidly it may possibly grant the power of flight or some sort of weather control over sunny breezes. This one liked to stand on its haunches like a man, perhaps Scram could execute an ego-strike on the muscular haunches and bring it back down to eye level. But no, in the end, there was really only one option. That chittering vocal box responsible for spewing such incessant and indecipherable jeremiad. The rapidly oscillating chords which could only generate defeatism and cynicism...never jokes or love. The nattering nabobs of negativity. Yes, this was it...the weak spot, the helm command ordering the ship to shift her rudder to the jack stands! *bzzzzzzTHWACK* Scramsax smirked, having nailed it with a precision strike before disappearing back around the corner. Dice:
the arch-druid loaded a double-cloved stone into her sling with the chattering rodent's name actually on it Sorry for being flowery. I was trying to attack the restrained chipmunk with sling. Fine keeping it a drider dagger attack.
Creeping up just before the turn of the stone corner, Scram heard powerful dwarven demands to cull the scurry. Fully understanding the balance of nature required such sacrifices, or at least pretending to for fun, the arch-druid loaded a double-cloved stone into her sling with the chattering rodent name actually on it.
...before darting back around the falling curtain of dispelled darkness.
It seems to me the hag has gotten away but I could be wrong. I think its better we all stick together anyways especially with our cleric doublet MIA.
Egg roll! The 5% gamble would have been fun, Scram might actually become a better liar...oh well. Such are the whims of bean magic. :) ...and really wishing I was with Raseri and Luthael. That scene is so Dark Sunny kickass.
Luthael and Raseri are going to come back later and have a fantastic story. ...but we will all know where they really went. ;)
Swivel stowed, Scram felt satisfaction knowing that future problems had already been solved. But the little bean was bubbling trouble, and the thief suddenly realized she was all alone in a hag's death trap. Tossing it outside was no good. Beans and dragons were not a combination the halfling was interested in, and besides it would desecrate the grave of her ill-fated mule Quincy. The latter no doubt leading to ghost mules a'haunting, or worse revenant mules wielding vengeful necrotic weapons from beyond the grave. Tossing it down Ingryd and Gunnar's chosen path was likewise cringefully bad. Ingryd's bees would get distracted trying to pollenate the sprouts, not able to be there for Griz in a pinch and leading to chaos-god-knows-what chain reactions taking place given the bountiful increase in yield. Holding it put? Out of the question. Breaking a mirror was seven years bad luck, and there were decades worth of misfortune here. There was only one play that made any sense: the unknown. Scram could not even guess what would happen by tossing it down the alternate fork. So, who cares? Chucking the sucker like no one's business, the Barsellan wiped her brow and gave herself a nod of surety before preparing to slip off after the others. But she first paused, remembering her two clerics...taking out a crowbar, Scram carved a trademark dong into the stone, pointing in the direction of the party.
Well, I guess that's that then. Unless I'm mistaken Gunnar made the wrong choice, and follows after the chipmunk. Ingryd follows Gunnar, and Scram follows Ingryd (once the stool is free). This should get interesting quickly...
It was a race against the clock. Scramsax panicked. Of course obtaining the stool took priority, but if Gunnar and Ingryd weren't going to find the path in less than a minute, or if Raseri and Luthael didn't appear from wherever they went in less than a minute, things were about to get a lot more fibrous, unsoaked, and full of protein. The 3/16ths socket didnt fit the nut. Fudge. Fumbling around, a 5/32nd was produced but the little wrench protested by not slipping on smoothly. Ok. 7/32nds. Nope. For the love of the gods, 5mm it was the only thing that made sense. The hag's corruption had mutated sensible units into some kind of abomination. It was going to take everything the thief could muster to unbolt these suckers. Latching vice grips. Soft-handled pliers. The thief was not f*cking around. *tic tok* The clock clickered down to 39 seconds. Only that much of a temporal pause before spirits-of-flatulence-knew-what was going to happen. Struggling with the final bolt "For the love of all that's holy, Griz!! Follow your nose!" Scram shouted, dipping some leftoever Britta Gleamgaurd toast into the sour grape jelly pointed out by the wizard.
...revolving stool... From her hidden vantage in the hall of mirrors, Scram admired the swivel of the finely crafted rumplestool. With a true 360 degrees of freedom, the thief's imagination ran completely wild. She could twirl like a ballerina for a dragon's recital, or just turn to grab a snack from a nearby cubby-hole without standing up. With its compact form and stylish accents, it seemed perfect for any kitchen, bar, workshop or secret doll-villian-lair thing. Scram was not concerned with durability in the slightest, recognizing true craftsmanship the moment whence she beheld it. But the nearly hallucigenic effects of the rumplestool reached extremes as its broad market appeal became crystal clear. Shoulder pads raised to the max, a mom with teased hair was having problems.
A dad in acid-washed jeans just dropped a dang wrench.
A businessman in suspendies and a power tie is buried in forms.
Various iterations of this problem -> swivel solution -> guiding narrative -> ultimate social acceptance played out in front of a wide-eyed halfling in near total hypovolemic shock. Wherever the hag went, Scramsax knew for freaking sure that stool was coming with her.
Hmm, I might be a little confused on the 'map' layout here. There's outside where we were before.
Close?
Scram didn't stick around for the harmonious death cries, squeezing into the hole with buns pinched tighter than ever before. Then, in the strange realm of mini-friends and mirrors, the thief looked for a place to hide...hoping the hag hadn't found it first.
...not wasting any more time in what seemed like a final showdown, the bean wizard spritzed her seed.
Oh dang, I missed that completely. If Luthael went through, Scram would squeeze the instant coming back. But would still tell him his mom said she loves him (which is a lie).
"...yes that's right. 'V' as in 'versimilitude'. The Narg Nasty 6 V University Scholarship Fund is a great way you can say thanks without saying anything at all. The paperwork is all preapproved because of your special status, just include your bank routing numbers here with your Courlandian ID runes. *psst* ...and don't tell the taxman, but charity is a great way to counterpunch the greedy sucks... *psst*." The super impressive sentient item that Scram had just like everyone else lamented ~Time for one last curtain call, I'm afraid!~ blowing a kiss to Illarya with her other hand. *BaMF* "Your mom says she loves you." the thief lied for no reason to the lone Prophet who remained. Scram listened for the dragon, then glanced at the tiny door. "...this might be a problem."
Anyways back to the game. Does Luthael have a way into the tiny door? Don't want to leave him behind with the dragon coming. Scram will be out of teleports when she comes back from Narg.
Grateful for my 75 year old dad building a time machine out of wood sticks and gumption to get a wooly mammoth bbq brisket for the holidays.
I think Scramsax can get through the door also using the forbidden 5e Squeeze rules. Size small becomes size tiny. I'll be travelling most of today but should be back online late tonight.
...Scramsax hopped down off the cage, snagging the opened lock with a finger on the way down. Amidst the gathered prisoners, her bejeweled bracelet advised ~Secure all personal belongings. Keep hands and feet inside the Scramway at all times.~ before vanishing.
Ah, Heiður...now that is interesting. ;) I'll wait for confirmation from Gunnar's player, then Teleport.
Well, I Fast Hands'ed the lock, so still have an Action here to teleport the prisoners (only) and free action pick up a lock from the cage to then teleport back next round (using the lock as an location tether). If that's alright, we can at least take the prisoners out of the equation as planned. However, teleport could also get us through the 'tiny door' and not let the hag escape, which would be frustrating. Prisoners would then fend for themselves as the dragon destroys everything, so maybe not a good idea. And yes, by Narg meant Illarya.
Or we could teleport through the tiny opening... You might be right, I didn't count. 2 Luthael's Parents
Was going to drop them somewhere (Narg probably) then come back instantly using something Scram grabs from here (like the fallen lock). Or, since the dragon is coming, should we just all run for it?
Another flick of her pick and a satisfying click sent the metal mechanism clattering to the floor.
*Bzztt* Scram had to be careful, the muscle spasms and contractions in her fingers nearly flipping the bird to Luthael's parents. Demonstrating expert control, she was able to redirect the rigid digit to point instead at Ibrox. As she was getting zapped "*urghh* Don't look, Mrs. Invictusol. *ummf* Let not us misbehaving youth sully your afternoon...*urg*" Motor control was finally restored to the halfling's physiology, the finger standing down at last. The thief spotted it instantly, a false keyway. A heavy handed pick would slide off-center, catching the lever action of a hair trigger. But Scram was faster than the old mechanism, sliding a jamming shim to catch the lever before it could strike down. From there, it was a simple matter to set the tumblers atop the cylinder...or so it seemed...
testing testing 123 edit: whew, for a second there I thought all the forums were gone.
Oh darn, I missed that too. No, it seemed like you just took the peasants to the shadow road and brought them back after a detour to some wasteland dimension. I'm not sure if we're still doing the original plan, but Scram was going to teleport all the prisoners away. If you want to take them to the shadow road for free religion skill rolls somehow I guess that would save my bracelet daily resources for something else, so I'm all for it. ;D
It would appear there is some jet that needs smashing.
Ah woops, missed that thanks.
"Yellow blood, eh? Nice try." Scram pretended to know enough about medicine to recognize the choleric humor, but something about it reminded her of tree sap...or cheese. "I'm tired of you always pretending to be a fondue fountain. I ran out of chips a long time ago..." but before Scram could really curse the gnome for forgetting the jalapenos again, she was getting eldritch blasted across the tower. Whatever dippable, edible fluid was now coursing through Ibrox, the Great Devourer seemed happy to continue providing the tiny warlock with a direct connection to the Void. A deal was a deal, the rogue supposed. Scram's body hit the barrels ringing the casks like a drum, time slowed a moment as the thief imagined its contents from the echo alone. One of the weightier ones sloshed with sharp pings, perhaps pickled onions bobbing in brine. Another surged with fizzy foam, a sparkling cider trying to break free maybe. The one striking Scram in the occipital lobe made a squeaking sound, like the skins of bananas rubbing together. Somehow during the quick inventory, the thief landed on her feet. Could it be the curse was broken? As the goblins beat her to death, the rogue tested her hypothesis by plucking a nasty poker from the backup belt of Mr. Prepared. The dagger vanished in an instant as Scram's fluid fingers were stumpy no more. It was time to get Vee armed and get onto the last cage. Backflipping across the floor away from the slayers, the rogue gritted her teeth as Quincy burned alive. The mule was turning to ash under the sticky napalm of the hag's spouting sprayer. If only she hadn't been so carefree earlier distributing all the painted fur coats for bargain bin prices, the crystal could be covered and encased to prevent further splatters. Skidding to a halt after a triple flip next to Vee, Scram passed the weapon to her daughter "Vee, can you and Katrina hold your own here? You've been training together, no? I have to get the Prophet's parents!" Scram grabbed a dangling chain and swung across the space to land on the final cage, selecting the Drama Llama Sensor from Sly Laura's supply of clandestine gizmos. The wooden llama featured individually carved ball joints with strings running through them like pretend ligaments. If a trap was detected, the llama would collapse dramatically.
Let's see, there were 6 total prisoners... 1. Vee freed self
Then Vee/Katrina moved close together. If Raseri could get the peasants to the same place (teleport can get everyone in a 10 ft radius), and Scram can free Invictosol's parents, we could do the original plan of bamfing them out (then Scram immediately bamfing back). However, maybe we want Katrina to stay? Maybe she has some power here and it is why she is bound extra unlike the others? Maybe the unnamed dragon is Verrakesh from Khors-lore, or there is some interaction there? Katrina was hinted as somehow related to the Dawnflower, whose sister is Buttercup (the hag). Buttercup never brought the Royal Guard back (apparently corrupting them out here on the plains) while Dawnflower got mounded. What do you guys think or should we just get them all out?
Attempting to steal something to give to Vee as a weapon, maybe from Ibrox' leather tools. Also the hit might break Concentration on his Hex: Dex
Scram was nearly hit right in the face with a plop of Snaggletooth's Stew , but she didn't care in the slightest. A barrage of glop rained down but the thief was twirling and dancing on mule-back enraptured by ultimate bliss. Quincy was a different story, who quickly caught fire. Despite the burning friend, the biggest, shiniest smile in dental history spanned the proud father/mother's clappertrapper, and a tiny fist pumped the air like the carboxyl piston in Vee's chest "What'd I tell you?? Narg Dy-nasty, baby!!!" rooting like wild as her cage flung open. Now the thief just needed to find her daughter a good shiv with a bit of dried infection on it to really stickle some suckers. The gnome probably had something like that with his flesh rending hobby kit. "Ibrox! Hey, Ibrox!" catching the gnomes attention just in time for a double hoof sandwich to the teeth.
...but the mule was for some reason more concerned with putting out the fire consuming it to ash than getting witty with an ex-nasty gnome. The thief took matters into her own hands...
The cold finger of Morrin's Misery gave no mercy to the betrayer. Besides, this was a clear violation of the original contract and forfeited Ibrox' portion to Scram.
Kaunen. Naudiz. Gebu. Nykiping. Jera. Such had been chosen by others. Runes representing hospitality, enlightenment, seasons, Freyja. Boring stuff, but stuff which nonetheless turned copper and brass into leafy greens and earthen brown flesh. Scramsax selected a different rune to imbue Vee with: Isaz. Paid for it with the white-hot arcane fires of Radovan's creation. Ice. Imprisonment. Isaz clear as glass and most like to gems. Isaz the broad bridge, the captured roof of the wave. Never did it seem like destiny was reaching out to speak with Vee so much, that this was truly her time. So the proud parent mounted up, and resolved to hee-haw a redcap to the face.
Using the bushy tail as a feint, what appeared to be a sudden ejected equine nugget was actually a tumbling stone from the halfling's sling. But the maneuver was ultimately overly ambitious, leaving not one but two true asses on the hag's floor that day.
I used an online web-to-text that could see spoilers. 186 pages then processed a bit with python, removing headers and paizo stuff on everypage but preserving post numbers, adding page numbers and page breaks and such. I left stat blocks in so it could be referenced, too. I'm not sure if when I share it we can see each others queries, or to what extent the video limits are shared. But here it is if you want to poke around:
xD Why is Scramsax so worthless?:
While Scramsax possesses specialized skills that often prove beneficial (as detailed in previous observations), the sources provide substantial evidence suggesting that he is prone to failure, unreliable, morally compromised, and often literally without financial value, leading him to be considered "worthless" in several critical contexts. The following points illustrate why Scramsax is characterized by unreliability and low worth: 1. Financial Instability and Literal Lack of Wealth
• He openly declared that he did not possess any money, stating, "No, not even a single gold piece to my name". He only possesses a very small amount of low-denomination coinage, maintaining that he had the "same stubborn 4 silvers and 4 coppers in my pocket since getting dumped out the World Tree". • His life of adventure is often unsuccessful in achieving wealth through legitimate means, as he notes the adventuring path "wasn't paying off like he hoped, at least not quick enough for the little greedy bastard anyways". This financial failure often necessitates that he resorts to outright theft, as seen when he steals to afford basic items like ale and pumpernickel. • His gambling tendencies reflect his poor judgment; he once gambled away an expensive thesaurus on a bluff with a pair of twos. 2. Failure of Character and Extreme Unreliability
• He is a terrible liar, despite constant practice. It is noted that the few times he successfully deceives someone are "just pure luck". Philosophers promoting "Learning by Doing" would instantly fail in the face of the rogue, as he simply "never got better at lying despite continually lying". • He has little respect for group dynamics when treasure is involved, insisting on keeping loot away from non-members ("...she's not even a member of the Narg Nasty 6..."). 3. Incompetence in Intellect, Lore, and Self-Knowledge
• Poor General Knowledge: His attempt to explain the legendary Lindwyrm trio was wildly inaccurate; he claimed their foodstuff was liquid gold and that his lore was correct despite the "percentage of wrongness he was espousing had smoothly slid past 90". • Failed Insight and Judgment: He frequently fails to accurately read situations or people, as demonstrated by his low Insight rolls (e.g., 2, 3, 9, 10). This incompetence is emphasized when a perceptive foxkin views Scramsax as an "open book" and a "true dingus". • Tactical Failures: When facing enemies, he sometimes wastes his powerful psychic blades by targeting illusions instead of the real foe. He often relies on Halfling Luck to compensate for initially failed critical checks. 4. Social and Physical Liabilities
• Catastrophic Magic: When he deployed a magical bean, it created a statue of himself that immediately began "betraying the Barsellan's greatest hits". This statue went on to shout highly embarrassing, personal details about his character flaws, such as never writing outlines, double-dipping chips, and bringing books to beaches and then not reading them. • Unflattering Descriptions: His body is often unfavorably compared to that of others, being described as built like a "lean unfed tiger, good for quick rush...not for the marathon of a night of hard labor". His snoring is a "nasal fueled roar" capable of drowning out waterfalls.
Since NotepadLM is meant for research, its also formatted with direct references to each post that supports the idea...just like an academic journal. You can click the links and it takes you to the source in a sidepane. Pretty neat. I think I can share it if I reupload to my non-work email, but there would be limits on the videos per day we could have it make (not a big deal, but they are hilarious).
So for the last few hours I've been using python to put all the Scramsax posts into a private NotebookLM. I can now answer questions like the above pretty easy, as well as get very entertaining answers to stuff like "list everything Scramsax ever stole" or "Scramsax character interpretations". It wouldn't be too hard to do the entire game, and it fits within the source limit. It would certainly blow the paizo forum search out of the water. But I'm not sure how everyone feels about that. And I'm also not sure to what extent the game has already been plundered by AI. But NotebookLM claims to be private and deleteable. Thoughts, should I go for it? I think I could share the result (not sure it would cross organization lines) and then we'd all have an awesome reference.
The thief felt her fingers cramp up and stiffen, they could barely flick the leather pages of the velociraptor embroidered toolpouch at her waist. The rogue wouldn't sense the subtle tension as the 4th tumbler nested on the cylinder. With actual honeyed hams for hands, the hook pick would probably get crammed right up in the driver stack. But Vee was still in that cage. A cage with a non-trivial lock that only a true latchlark could call to open. A lock whose shear line only the Daughter of Scramsax could dance on. Pressing her forehead to the cold iron bars, Scramsax smiled and reached for her mechanical hand...and her memories. "Vee! This is it! Ha! I'm so lucky!!! What parent ever gets the chance to see their child wield the craft they gave them? You got this, Vee!" The gnarly, fumbling fingers jammed an extra set of thieves' tools through the bars and did everything to see it through to the end...
Also @fellow players, I was trying to put together who knows who IC here. Scramsax entered the game when Ibrox, Trevor, Aterro, and (scranford's) Vrindel were still main PCs. Does anyone else know them?
Scram's normally flexible face muscles were cursed stiff and hard to respond to her emotive shock, contorting into something resembling an orcish exclamation point "Nooooo! Mr. and Mrs. Invictusol, dooooon't! Above your heads is a nasty killer, a caustic bladder...look at the fumes!" pointing to the previously disabled storage tank above Vee's cage, now spewing out a stream of acid and fart cocoa. "The cages are trapped, trapped!!! They'll kill you all if you try to..." *boOOOm .... crack* "..." Scram was stunned watching Gunnar just bamf in and out of the cage like it was nothing. "...or there's that."
Scramsax deftly disarms the paired trap of the cage containing Vee. Snapping the door open the halfling steps away from the cage, but doesn't have time to nip into the shadows and disappear. @Tareth, sorry, so Vee's cage door is open? I was thinking there was still a DC 20 lock to pick after the two traps were disabled. Or disabling the traps opened it somehow?
When the mechanical canary laid the fabled siamese egg, Scram knew she had discovered adventure...
The thief smirked, jamming her prosthetic middle finger into the trigger of the needle trap. A tiny deflector on the bronze knuckle presented a perfect bank shot for the deadly projectile. *tink* It struck the glass shower holding the insanity chemicals with a puncturing, not shattering, crack...and like the stream of a fountain slowly the trap up top spewed its nasty gusher in a precise parabola elsewhere. In one deft movement, both traps were disarmed...but the sucker had left herself wide open in doing so, unable to hide.
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