"Would you be able to make us a map? Marking the locations of where members of your band frequently stay, their numbers, and any special equipment? Cooperation may lower your death sentence down to community service."
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With impressively low recidivism!
They are bandits. All we need is rope and a tree. Then we have a cool rope swing!
Shemeska smiles at the bandits. "Guys! Look. Listen. You should probably give us details. Lots of details. Because if we have to ask a bajillion questions, we're going to get frustrated. We don't want getting information to be like pulling teeth... Because if you make Guthruc or Iorskan mad, they might start pulling teeth!"
Shemeska heals Iorskan. "You missed it -- we won! Of course, you'd be dead if we lost, so I guess that was redundant." Inside the cabin, the wizard is happy to assist in the interrogation. "Tell you what, bandits! I would not want to be in your shoes. Not at all! No sir-ee-bob. Why? Because... Well, do you see my angry green friend over there? The big guy? He wants to eat you. I'm not joking. He is a psychotic man-eater, and he wants you to not cooperate so he has a reason. But you know what? I bet you know exactly what we want to know. How about we keep you off the menu?"
I am a big fan of consolidating enemy initiative. It greatly improves flow. Small text boxes on our enemies, even just a single letter, really helps. Otherwise, I have to jump back and forth from the map to the description and try to figure out everything.
Shemeska fires another ray of frost at the Blue Rider. vs touch AC
"Huzzah! Send them into the cold terror that awaits us all beyond the veil!" Shemeska points a finger at the Red Horse and shouts, "Pew! Pew!" A ray of frost shoots from his finger and streaks toward the beast. vs touch AC
"Once more, with feeling!" He fires another ray at the Red Horse. vs touch AC
"Well... if you think that would help, Guthruc, then I applaud your enthusiasm and can-do spirit!" Shemeska nods in approval at the well-laid trap. "Hopefully this will cause one of them to be taken out of the fight, and will enrage them enough to make them charge inside. We can wait inside for them." Shemeska will seek out the barrel of oil and prepare several pints. He will politely request Oleg and Svetlana to participate in the fun by taking position on a rooftop of their choice, along with some flint/steel and a torch. "Our opening volley can be spells, flame, and arrows -- followed by the lethal enthusiasm of our gold and green friends!"
I believe a crit against a songbird would result in chunky salsa. Not worth the trouble, really, other than the noise it would make. THPLICK
"I agree with Awn. We can find out where they are based by asking a captive, and it will split their forces." Shemeska looks over the fort. "The only thing I can think of is to use the wagon and the bench tables to block them into the fort after they enter."
"We can have our strong friends hit them close and hard, and we can have everyone else on rooftops to pepper them. Oleg, do you happen to have any pints of oil?"
Shemeska happily accepts a bowl. "Stew! I love stew! Stew is one of the building blocks of a happy life." The wizard sits down on a log near Oleg and eagerly dips his bread into the broth. He eats hungrily, talking around bites. "Bandits? We were told they are bad men. Very bad men. Just awful. The worst. We were told we should try our very best to murder them. You know, Oleg, I'm still getting a feel for the members of this group, but from what I've seen so far, I don't think we will have any problems with murder. Or justice, if you want to call it that." He takes another bite. "Ohhh, this is really good. I'm going to need another bowl when I finish this."
Shemeska raises a hand in greeting. "Thank you, Oleg! Thank you for your lovely greeting, and please do not be overly concerned with our friend Guthruc. He is an orc, after all. It is in his nature. His people threaten to snap people in half as easily as others say 'good morning." He shakes Oleg's hand and leans in to half-whisper. "The trick is, you must respond likewise with an equal amount of aggressiveness. If you show fear, you will lose their respect, and if you escalate, they will take it as an invitation to violence." He releases his grip. "Now, if you don't mind, Master Oleg, we would love some food. Do you have any pastries?"
Perhaps we should call him Mr. Thinky, given his vast wisdom.
You see a cleanly-shaven man with shoulder-length black hair. His eyes are a deep blue, with small flecks of silver near the iris. His skin is fair and pale, indicating northern ancestry. He has small freckles on his nose, high cheek bones, and a strong jaw. He wears traveling clothes and carries an easy smile. He inhales deeply through his nose as he walks down the road. "Ah! You smell that? That is fine country air! The mingled smell of mountain snow, green grass, wildflowers -- Why, it almost makes you forget the horrible fate awaiting all of us in the cold dark of oblivion." He bends down to pick a flower head as they walk and tucks it in his breast pocket. "Have any of you been to this trading post? I hope he carries pastries. I love pastries!" He smiles and pats the small dragon on the shoulder... or flank, or whatever is in reach. "Cheer up, little golden one. I am sure Oleg will have something for you to eat."
I'm interested to see how folks roleplay their low Wisdom.... "Guys, we could totally make tons of money from home, just selling makeup and skincare products to our friends and family!"
No one with a positive Wisdom modifier, and 4/6 characters are chaotic? Should be fun.
Aw yiss. Dot.
Here is the submission for Tanner Nielsen. Shemeska, budding necromancer and enthusiastic worshipper of Charon. Is your character rad? On a scale of 1 to 10, he is a jumping-the-Grand-Canyon-on-a-lasercycle-from-Tron-while-ninjas-riding-dino saurs-are-in-hot-pursuit. Are you currently in a campaign? Several. You could say this is a hobby of mine. Have you played in a campaign? About a dozen from start to finish. I began with the Planescape boxed set in 1996 and I have never looked back. Have you GMed a campaign on Paizo? One through PbP, and a few IRL. === "Next!" The guardsman waved the peddler to move on and nodded to the young man next in line. Inspection duty at the gates of Restov was dull work. Nothing worth smuggling was going to be hidden in a haystack in the middle of the day, but orders were orders, and he had to face the ire of delayed farmers and merchants all day. The next traveler was a young human male -- dark hair, pale skin, traveling clothes, backpack. "Name, origin, and business in Restov." He said for the hundredth time that day. "Shemeska of Isarn in Galt, my good man! I'm here to answer the call of your barons to tame the wilderness of the Stolen Lands!" The young man had a bright smile on his face. The guard narrowed his eyes. Few were that cheery in Brevoy. He looked him over. "Any contraband? Drugs? Untaxed alcohol? Poi--" He stopped for a moment. Around the young man's neck was a holy symbol. A small thing made of iron, but one he did not recognize. "What faith is that?" The young man went from smiling to beaming. "Let me ask you a question, my friend. Have you noticed life is cruel and insensible?" "What? Well, I guess someti--" "That's because life is unfair!" The young man began motioning with his hands. "When you die, you may get a temporary reward, but eventually everything will be consumed by the darkness. You will be tortured forever -- whether you were good or not. Personally, I find the lack of responsibility really liberating!" The guardsman leaned back slightly. "What, uh... what god is that?" "Why, Charon, of course! Is your life repetitive? Meaningless? Depressing? I know mine is! Your awful life is due to a curse, not bad decisions on your part. Charon! The god who hates you. Let him into your heart. Blame him for everything." Oh, no. One of those people. The guardsman motioned forward. "You can go. Just don't cause any--" "No matter how bad your life is, it gets worse! Stay alive as long as you can." The young man continued, oblivious to the guardsman's discomfort. "Nothing you do will make Charon angry. Charon was angry already! So why not convert to Charon, the god who hates you unconditionally. Charon! An insane god for an unjust world." "Why... why are you smiling?" "Because I have heard the truth, dear friend! Our torment is promised in the Book of Dismay. It was written by Charon with the blood of his enemies on the skins of his friends. What can we do to avoid eternal suffering? Nothing. Charon sees everything we do and think. Maybe that's why he's so angry. Accepting that we will all writhe in perpetual agony at the bottom of a dark hole makes you appreciate life. Life! I love life." "The, uh... the sign-up for the Stolen Lands is in the town square." The guardsman motioned forward again. "Thanks! I will head there right now." Shemeska of Isarn waved goodbye to the guard and walked confidently down the street.
Placeholder for Tanner Nielsen. Shemeska
This is Tanner. Finished the new character. If anyone feels so inclined, please let me know if you see any mistakes.
Your judgment is wise and fair, O Great and Powerful GM. I will take Coherent Rage instead.
Here is the submission for Tanner Nielsen. Shemeska
Crime: Kidnapping "So it was Harrigan." Shemeska walks over and sits cross-legged in front of the human woman. He takes a dagger from his belt, using it as a pointer to emphasize his words. "That was sloppy, little assassin. Which I suppose is just the cherry on top, compared to being captured by mission ancillaries and interrogated by your targets." He taps the flat of his blade on her cheek. "Sloppy. Sloppy. Sloppy.... What shall we do with you now, little assassin? Your only currency is sharing how you found us, but my dagger here will get that for us for free. Won't we, little dagger?" He traces the point up and down the woman's cheek. His voice is a high-pitched sing-song, as a parent would to a young child. "The little dagger will be used on the little assassin, until all of her secrets are shared. Then what? Will we kill her, little dagger? Will we keep her as a puppet in a cage? Will we do horrible, lurid things to her body and spirit? We will slice off little pieces and make her eat them?" He laughs a deep, belly laugh and smiles, his eyes wide with anticipation. "There are so many possibilities, little dagger! Perhaps we can have more than one? Yes.... perhaps we can have all of them. Perhaps we should start with the slicing. Yes, little dagger. Yes." He leans in closely, staring into her eyes, and whispers. "Tell me how you found us, little assassin. Or I will make you eat your own ear." Shemeska comes from a house of minor nobility - filled with honorable generals and governors, talented musicians and painters, and pious clerics and saints. But he's never met any of them. Shemeska was born of a dalliance between a daughter of the family and a merchant prince visiting from a distant land to broker a trade agreement. The merchant seduced the young woman, and nine months later it was discovered that he was not what he seemed. Shemeska was born with green skin, coal black hair, orange eyes, blue tongue, and great tusks protruding from his lower jaw. He was a tiefling, and the house patriarchs may have been willing to accept a bastard from a third daughter as kin and a trusted retainer, but this was an assault on their national faith. The pregnancy was hushed, the mother was whisked to a nunnery, and Shemeska was taken to a remote village on the frontier. Unwilling to kill an infant, scarred by the devils though he was, the family placed Shemeska with a local widow looking for a boy to help her on her farm. She gave him his name, and swore to never reveal his true heritage. Shemeska grew strong and hale, working the land and helping the woman tend to her stocks. She was the only mother he knew, and they grew to love each other. But the lad knew no love or friendship from the other villagers. They scorned him, shaming him for his physical appearance. Over the years the criticism grew, until several villagers accused the old woman of witchcraft, and of conceiving the young tiefling herself. In a fervor of righteous piety, she was dragged before a court and summarily found guilty of congress with Asmodeus. She was burned at the stake by a mob in the village square, while Shemeska watched from the nearby forest. He was too quick for them to catch, but not too quick to save her from their wrath. His anger and rage boiled over, and that night he crept into the home of the village mayor and strangled him in his sleep. He made the old man stare him in the eyes as he died, to see his rage and to know the depths of his hatred. Next was the sheriff, whose fat wife joined him when his gurgling woke her. Last was the priest of Mitra, who stood silent and did not lift a finger to stop the mob - his thin, old neck snapped like a reed before he could fall asleep forever. He fled, eventually making his way to the capital and falling into the criminal underworld. His prodigious strength, stealth, and ruthlessness earned him a reputation as an interrogator. For the right price, he would abduct a target, and find out anything the employer might wish to know. But like most criminals, he was eventually caught. Former criminal associates testified against him, and he was sentenced to die in Brandescar prison for his crimes.
Here is Tanner Nielsen's character thus far. Crunch is finished. If those with greater experience feel that I could be better optimized, please feel free to chime in. I will complete the physical description and background tomorrow. |