| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
”Well, you may have heard of me, if you lived on Suskillion some twenty-five odd years ago. I was the youngest person in the known history of Suskillion to receive a doctorate in theoretical physics. Those were the days, partying and studying. The sky was the limit. My star faded after a while, of course, but I kept at my studies into alternate realities. My one successful portal went badly, and I ended up with this thing,” he says, gesturing towards his crystal hand. ”I also lost my doctorate and academic reputation overnight. Turned to chems and the bottle, lost just about everything else. Figured I’d join the army and kill some bugs. Not like I had much to lose.” He’s quiet for a moment, and those watching him closely see a slightly troubled expression wash over his face before fading. He says, ”Any case, if we run into trouble I have some...talents that will suit us well. Know that I have any spontaneous explosions well under control.”
Reporting in! Character will come along sometime tomorrow.
My condolences Rando, I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything I can do to help out, let me know.
"Fire department?"
Alasayn raises his eyebrows slightly at Kaliban's reverence to the dead, but says nothing of it. He then says, "I suppose we could give them a share of the loot. They did help us out, and we are somewhat imposing onto their home, even if it is just a temporary one. In any case, trying to open the chests could be a good idea. I must warn you though, one of the chests was...ah...dangerous. I tried to destroy the lock and it caught on fire. Some sort of...curse or other devilish contraption. No need for further investigation."
Alasayn conjures up all his pride and memories of home before sending the powerful emotions to his comrades. For a moment, the rest of the party is hit with a brief wave of sensation, that of waltz-like music played on coral pipes, the taste of salt on the tongue, and an intense feeling of pride and duty.
I can run it all the way back to the Courts, but I had originally intended it to end here. Maybe we could find some new players in the time you need to get ready.
I have returned! I'm just about ready to resume posting. There's one last battle left in this quest, and then I can hand over the reins.
As Cassidy unbuttons her coat Docta G chuckles slightly and says, ”Man, I know meetin’ a star can get some feelins goin’ but...” His face takes on a mask of absolute confusion when he sees Sadducee, ”What the...” He takes a moment to adjust himself to the strange sight before following Cass and Nessie outside.
I think to flesh outa Docta G’s fighting style, it’s like pretty much else about him. He’d like to put up a front that he’s a tough, hardcore rapper, but he really doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s flamboyant, intended to make him stand out, but not incredibly effective. When he hits, it’s the coolest thing ever. When he misses though, it’s totally not his fault. In terms of lethality, he’d like you to think he’s a gangster without many moral compulsions. In reality though, he can’t even imagine himself killing someone, and would be the last person to strike the first blow.
Docta G in the hiz-ouse, what what! Looking forward to the game getting started. Like I mentioned earlier, I won't have internet access until late in the day on Wednesday, as a result of a short camping trip. That said, here's the various details you asked for. I used background skills. Docta G's fighting style, I'd say, is flamboyant but a bit amateurish. In terms of possible connections, I could see a few. Docta G, being the aspiring an ambitious rapper that he is, likely knows a fair amount of the younger characters, and would fit in well at the parties that Nephriel and the Marvins attend. I also like the idea of him having known Franklin Miller in a professional sense before he reinvented himself as Docta G. I had been thinking accountant for his previous profession, so maybe they either worked together or met each other at some accounting conference.
Let’s get the joint movin’, let’s get the music flowin’, Docta G in the house to get the party goin’! Stats:
Docta G Gnome bard (flamesinger) 1 (Pathfinder Player Companion: Elemental Master's Handbook 5) CG Small humanoid (gnome) Init +4; Senses low-light vision; Perception +6 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 13, touch 13, flat-footed 11 (+2 Dex, +1 size) hp 10 (1d8+2) Fort +1, Ref +4, Will +2; +2 vs. illusions -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 20 ft. Special Attacks bardic performance 14 rounds/day (blazing blades +1d4, countersong, distraction, fascinate [DC 14]) Spell-Like Abilities (CL 1st; concentration +5) . . 1/day—dancing lights, ghost sound (DC 15), prestidigitation, speak with animals Bard (Flamesinger) Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5) . . 1st (2/day)—biting words, chord of shards[UM] (DC 15) . . 0 (at will)—flare (DC 14), ghost sound (DC 15), message, spark[APG] (DC 14) -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 8, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 14, Wis 10, Cha 18 Base Atk +0; CMB +1; CMD 10 Feats Agile Maneuvers, Extra Performance, Fire Music[UM] Traits excitable, talented Skills Acrobatics +2 (-2 to jump), Bluff +9, Diplomacy +9, Intimidate +8, Knowledge (arcana) +6, Knowledge (local) +8, Linguistics +6, Perception +6, Perform (Rap) +9, Sense Motive +4, Stealth +10; Racial Modifiers +2 Knowledge (local), +2 Perception Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Common, Draconic, Elven, Gnome, Sylvan SQ finesse weapon attack attribute, fire music, gnome magic, rules changes, student of the city -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Agile Maneuvers Use DEX instead of STR for CMB Bardic Performance (standard action, 14 rounds/day) Your performances can create magical effects. Finesse Weapon Attack Attribute The “light weapons” category has been renamed to “finesse weapons.” Characters can choose to use either their dexterity bonus or their strength bonus to hit with these weapons, no feat required. “Finesse” is also now a weapon attribute li Fire Music Gain Fire Music as bonus feat. Gain Summon Monster spells as spells known. Fire Music Replace bard spell damage with fire damage, summoned monsters gain fire attacks Gnome Magic Add 1 to the DCs of any saving throws to resist illusion spells cast. Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in dim light, distinguishing color and detail. Rules Changes By all metrics, Pathfinder is the most satisfying pen-and-paper game I’ve ever played. The class balance feels good, the math isn’t overwhelming, and the community support is outstanding. However, it suffers from one syndrome that haunts the crea Student of the City May make Knowledge (local) checks to Gather Information. Background:
Gimberdon Dingdrottle’s mid-life crisis hit him like a truck while he stood in the frozen food aisle of a 7-Eleven at 12:19 AM on a Friday. He realized that unless something changed, his boring desk job and long-distance relationship with an elf from another state would eventually cause the Bleaching to overtake him, leading to an eventual and inevitable breakdown of any emotion or creativity. And so, he put down the bag of frozen peas and mandrake roots, got into his car, and drove. He didn’t care where the road took him, just as long as it took him far, far away from the boring town in the middle of Oklahoma that he had called his home for the past fifteen years.
He drove west, not quite knowing where he was to end up. It all changed about ten hours into his drive, when he came across a van broken down on the side of the road. Being a fairly courteous citizen, he decided he should try to help the poor souls stranded a hundred miles outside of Albuquerque. Trying to fix the van was useless, the elemental that powered the combustion engine seemed to have entirely vanished and the one spare tire could barely be considered round. And so, he offered them a ride. He found out several pieces of information. First, they were going to Los Angeles. Without a better place to go, Gimberdon decided he would take them there. Second, they were a group of not just adventurers, but a group of up-and-coming rappers who called themselves OutCast. As they drove, he talked with them about his dead-end life, and they shared all their exploits. They talked about defeating a group of gremlins that had been terrorizing the outskirts of Atlanta, when Killa 500 challenged the leader to a rap battle and promptly lit the little bastard on fire with the force of his words. Yung Metronome described their fight against a drake that had attacked several small towns, how he and Richboi had unleashed a freestyle so intense it drove the beast insane. They also told him about the general goings-on in the rap scene, Snoop Dogg’s well-controlled lycanthropy and the legendary frost magic duels between Ice Cube and Vanilla Ice. It was then that Gimberdon decided he had found his way of staving off the Bleaching. He would become a rapper. Gimberdon had stepped back, and Docta G had been born. He travelled the country, learning to rap and how to become a bona fide rapper. He took gigs and adventuring opportunities where he could, and over time developed a bit of magical talent. Recently, he’s found himself in Virginia Beach, trying to learn some force magic from Pusha T. Personality and Appearance:
Docta G is cocky, loud, and confident, always ready to meet new people, find new ways to test his skills. As far as he sees it, he’s got no reason to be unsure of his abilities. He’ll be one of the best eventually. In incredibly stressful situations though, that mask of confidence cracks and Gimberdon rises to the forefront, a tired and neurotic mess of a gnome. Docta G dresses in whatever the most recent trends are in the rap scene, though with his own gnomish embellishments. Bright colors, flashy ornaments, and odd accessories are all fairly par for the course. His multicolored hair is styled into beaded dreadlocks, and a near-constant five-o-clock shadow can be seen on his face. However, he still keeps a single shabby suit from his time as a desk jockey in Oklahoma. A few notes, I'll be gone for a few days after selections are made, so I might not see them right away. I'll also be gone for the tail end of July and most of August. That said, this game seems like a great opportunity and I'd hate to miss out, so if I'm selected I hope we can work something out. Quite similar to Brother Joe Waskalis, may the Gods have mercy on what this campaign might become.
So Docta G isn’t quite done, but I wanted to share a bit of punnery I was particularly proud of. The magic adventuring rap group he met that convinced him to become and adventurer, magic user, and rapper is called OutCast.
So I've gotten a rough character idea down. His name is Docta G, he's a gnome undergoing a midlife crisis that has reinvented himself as a rapper. I have stats for him, and his backstory is coming along.
Thank you so much for sticking with me through all of this. Completing a play-by-post is no small feat, and I couldn't have asked for a better group to come with me on my first play-by-post experience. Though a bit hard at times, I'm proud to have been able to be your GM for these past few years. Thank you, once again.
The year is 1855, and the state of Five Branches has just been admitted into the Union, the newest star on the flag. Relations between the largely human settlers and elven natives were, initially, rocky. But due to the efforts of the Second Corps of Exploration, the future seems bright. Zaranna worked, and still works, tirelessly to create a stable partnership between the elves and the humans. Guujaw went north to the Haida for a time before returning the the Western states and territories. There was still much to learn, and he intended to learn as much as he could. John Thomas was content to settle down on the land that was promised to him. There were also those that did not finish the journey. Kuruk departed the group, returning to the Apache. Angus founded a messenger company, bringing mail across the wild expanses of the West and satisfying his wanderlust. To the south, the Mexica Federation consolidates their power. Though still understandably bitter about their large loss of territory, the hottest tempers have cooled and the defeat of the rebel forces has helped greatly. The scattered tribes of the southwest begin trading with the Union, and talks of statehood are beginning. The small Russian population of Fort Ross decide to stay behind, even with American expansion into their territory. The future, though uncertain, is bright. This long tale is over, at least for now.
The most senior elven warriors assemble in one of the large lodges. They cut a regal presence, the experience of centuries giving weight to their words. Strategies are discussed, and the assembly finally decides, with input from the party, on meeting the Mexica in a narrow pass, luring them with the shell guardian before ambushing them with the elven warriors and Russian forces. A day of hectic preparation follows, with the other clans sending bands of warriors. There are the tree-striders of the northern forest who strike from the trees with deadly war clubs. Bola-slingers come from the south, and a few of the spear-wielding sky strikers come from the distant mountains. There are even human tribespeople from the surrounding areas, eager to drive the Mexica out of their lands Before long, the assembled army is ready to meet the Mexica. Shortly before they leave, the shell guardian lumbers to the water and plunges it's hands into the waves, creating a great club out of churning seawater. The pass the group decides on, though narrow, provides ample room for warriors to wait in ready on the sides and for the few warriors who will take the Mexica head on to take positions around the guardian. Outriders are dispatched to lure the Mexica from their war camps, and after a day of tense waiting, the Mexica are sighted in the distance. They are lead by the fearsome Hand of Huitzilopochtli, a man with hands seemingly drenched in blood wielding the largest macuahuitl any of you have seen. He is accompanied by a priestess of Huitzilopochtli, her obsidian sacrificial knife ready to offer hearts to the sun. He is also followed by a great shadowy giant, which Teiuc recognizes as one of the Quinametzin, a race of giants that were once common in the lands of the Mexica. A large army is at their back, and the air is filled with war drums and battle hymns. The guardian steps forward, uproots a tree, and hurls it at the army. With that, the enemies surge forward. Just as they enter the pass, volleys of arrows fly from the hilltops and elven warriors rush out of the trees. A volley of Russian shot hits the back lines of the Mexica, decimating their reserves. The shell guardian rampages through their front lines, its giant water club leaving great pools in its bloody wake. Zaranna looses arrow after arrow, John Thomas hits like a truck with his enchanted shillelagh on the front lines, and Guujaw works his magic to wreak havoc among the enemies. The enemies, however, are mighty as well. The Hand of Huitzilopochtli rips through elves and men alike, holding their hearts aloft in an offering to his god. The priestess conjures up fell magic, necromancy, hemomancy, and ever more indescribable powers. The giant carves through the allies as well, his twin obsidian blades flashing with uncanny agility. The battle is long and hard, staining the soil of the pass red with blood. The day, however, is won by the allied forces. The Mexica are routed, and the Hand and his generals lie dead, riddled with arrows after a desperate last stand.
Calxakti returns Adols's stunned look with a wild stare, somehow locking eyes with the man despite his blindness. Compared to the others, especially Adol, Calxakti is quite out of place. He is a small, withered old man, his bony frame held up by a long, gnarled walking stick. His eyes are blind and cloudy, and his worn, threadbare clothes hand loosely around him. Indeed, it would not be difficult to mistake him for an old vagrant if not for the strange presence he exudes. "I am, as he says, Calxakti, the Sightless Prophet. I am afraid we are not the Twin Prophets as my young companion says. There are many truths that have failed since the death of Aroden. I do not remember if they were to meet again." He is quiet for a moment, as if thinking about what he just said before pointing a knobby finger at Ulliaza and saying with increasing intensity, "You speak of a dragon? Do the Scales of Xotek rise from the Ashes of Yil? Or was it Yokolash the Thousand-Winged escaping his labyrinth? Do you know how it was foretold, young lady?" Before he seems to reach a fever pitch he suddenly exhales sharply and says, "Whatever the case, it seems we have a...shared interest. Six shall meet, upon the ruins of Anguar-Strun, and the reckoning dark will find itself wanting."
Calxakti continues along, paying the undead guards little heed beyond briefly stopping to ponder them. He heads into the town and says to Adol, ”Come on, haven’t got all day to find out what’s going on.” Upon seeing the four others in the town square he says to Adol, ”They might be what is going on.” With that, he calls out to them, ”Are you the ones that brought the ruin and undead to this town? The Queens of the Corpse Legion of Xothar shall ravage the land, and none shall survive but the Children of Zond.”
Calxakti laughs heartily, a rich baritone that seems remarkably unsuited to the small man it comes from, ”Young man, you are the second person I have talked to since I came through the Realm of Shadow from Arcadia to mistake me for a vagrant. The innkeeper in Absalom was entirely less kind about it. Though I find your generosity worthy of the coming of Umbi the Giver, I am not the promised King of Beggars. Rather, I believe I am here on matters of an entirely greater sort. Matters I believe we share.” He is quiet for a moment, lost in thought before saying, ”I am well aware that I am blind. Just as the mind is not the only way of knowing, so too are the eyes not the only way of seeing.”
Calxakti ponders the request for a moment before he gets up and hobbles down the stairs. As his worshipphers convene he says, "You all remember Adelvard, the man who came from across the Great Blue, which the Thrice-Riven wings of Ulban were to sunder? I believe he, or some of his companions, are in mortal danger. I must answer their prayer. You all, who persist even in the end of what was to be, can persist without my guidance. I trust you will take care of the temple. Azulman the Damned did not sunder it upon the zenith of Mur, and I am sure it will stand longer." With that, he ascended the stairs once more and entered his small room. He lifts his staff and feels magic warp around him and the sinking feeling that marks the shift into the Plane of Shadow. Shadow Arcadia never failed to astound him. The inverted ziggurats, flagellant couatls, and most importantly, the shadowy longships of the pain-raiders of Dark Valenhall that plied the coasts of southern Arcadia. Convincing the bare-skulled and sinister captain to take him to Shadow Absalom with a tirade of prophecies and the promise of forbidden lore, Calxakti was off. After arriving in that dark metropolis and shifting from there to the material counterpart of Absalom, he still had the journey to Taldor ahead of him. He decided he would rest for a night, make his way to the worshipper in the morning.
Calxakti woke, though it would be wrong to pass off the endlessly restless nights full of tossing, turning, and uncountable nightmares as true sleep. He stood up from the woven mat he slept on and dressed himself in the worn and threadbare robes he had worn every day since Aroden's death. A more sane individual might wonder how his clothes managed to hang on for that long, but Calxakti is far from sane. He stepped out onto the wide platform at the head of the step pyramid at the center of his crumbling temple complex. Further down the ceremonial thoroughfare he saw several ritual braziers burning, likely lit by the dozen or so worshippers that inhabited the complex. He was not sure what the day would hold. Perhaps it would hold nothing. Or perhaps, as a long-dead prophecy suggested, the gibbous moons of Ullunballun would rise above Munga and the gods would cavort. Calxakti was content to simply sit at the top of the long staircase and watch the sun rise and his faithful go about their days. "Prophet...aid us...come...Taldor" This was different. It was not one of the many voices that ranted the broken prophecies and mad whims toward him. No, it was one of his faithful, one of the new followers across the great ocean.
The fort commander is quiet for a moment before he says, "Yes, we would join you in this battle. We cannot promise much, but we will help. I have heard of this elf you seek. She lives about a day north."
Just got myself the PDF and it’s pretty interesting. Whole lot to work with there, giving me a lot more ideas for characters.
Given that Guujaw hasn't said anything, I'll take it as an agreement. I don't have a tremendous amount of time today but I'll have something up tomorrow beginning the conclusion.
The drow huffs, "My manager is not my..." He pauses before his shoulder slump and he sighs, "She's my aunt." He shakes his head before saying, "Reccomendations for visitors are not my job."
I'll wait a little bit longer to see if Guujaw has any opinions and gather my thoughts together before I start the conclusion.
Arcos steps out of his cover and shoots lightning at the figure the group is attacking.
Ha, now I'm imagining a Vesk restaurant as a Brazilian steakhouse on space-steroids.
I like the idea that Steven O'Neal had of Vesk and Shirren food being incredibly spicy. I think that Vesk cuisine in particular would be mostly comprised of large slabs of barely cooked, heavily spiced meats. Given the teeth on them, I don't see much of a presence for vegetables in their cuisine. Shirren food would likely consist of flavor combinations that would make most other races shudder. Milk and orange juice for an afternoon drink, that sort of thing. The shirren wouldn't care, it'd be the exhilaration of making it they'd like. Lashunta food would probably have very delicate and complex flavors, intricately designed to be as delicious and elegant as possible. Subtlety and refinement would be prized, for the Lashunta's sophisticated palates can detect incredibly fine flavors. I think Skittermanders would eat pretty much whatever they could get their grubby, furry, little hands on, but I think that they'd have an especially sweet tooth, perhaps a deep love for sweet, carbonated drinks.
Though I likely can't do as good of a job as Lion Cleric, here's some answers to questions you've asked in the first post. Sargava:
Sargava is a land filled with chaos and uncertainty. While the elites may firmly resist Chelish rule, the common people have been plagued by poverty and starvation. They have suffered more under the yoke of the rogue barons than they ever did under the flag of Cheliax. Alixus would appeal to the common man, showing them the error of their ancestors ways and bringing them back to the glories of Chelish rule. Rahadoum:
Rahadoum would represent Alixus' greatest challenge. Their values are inimical to all of those that Alixus holds dear, their hatred of Cheliax only eclipsed by their hatred of religion. However, the religious dissidents within Rahadoum would likely be willing to support Chelish rule for any rights to worship. Moreover, the deserts encroaching on Rahadoum are feared by some to be the anger of the gods. Alixus would try to accentuate those fears, to bring the faithless back into the fold of Asmodeus. Diobel:
Many in Diobel resent Absalom to the east and Escadar to the north. The other cities look down on them as a provincial village, nothing more than a stop on the way to greater places. Alixus would accentuate those feelings of resentment, to set them against Absalom and drive their allegiances closer to Cheliax. Isger:
Isger is still loyal to Cheliax, but their loyalty could be closer. Increasing the authority of Lady Kaltessa Iyis could be greatly useful for that. As one of Mammon's closest mortal servants, her interests align closely with those of the church of Asmodeus. Further, the sympathies to the church are furthered by the monasteries established in the wake of the Goblinblood wars, which fed, clothed, and sheltered many of the displaced children. Those connections can be strengthened, and the rivalry with Andoran can be more strongly accentuated. Nidal/Nisroch: While the church of Amodeus will be largely unable to displace the power of the Church of Chains, Nidal's loyalty to Cheliax remains strong. They know that our great nation's strength far eclipses their own, and that projection of power must be accentuated. They must stay afraid of our power, and they will.
Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it! I've been rather busy with family and festivities but I should have some time to get a post up tomorrow.
Zaranna arranges their lodgings and the party is shown to where they’ll be staying, a large rounded hole with a bark roof above it, the woven bark vambraced with several small logs.
Uarach nods his head towards the door and says, ”Ceredal seems to have made himself at home, though lest Larantor himself wishes to show up I’ll err on the side of caution when dealing with the gods.”
In talking to the giants, the party finds out that the giants are willing to part ways with a fair amount of supplies for free.
Amideo turns his horse around and says, "We are freeing these captives, as all with noble intentions should. What we think we are doing is the right thing, and I invite you to show the error of our ways."
The party's room is an interesting sight. A low stone table is flanked by three chairs upon entering the room through an open doorway. Three beds lie at the far end of the room. The lack of sufficient beds and chairs is more than made up for by the sheer size of them. Kuruk and Angus could easily sit beside each other on one of the chairs, perhaps even fitting Zaranna if they squeezed. The beds are similarly large, able to easily accommodate two people with plenty of space.
Long-Knowing smiles and says, ”You give knowledge past our original agreement. Well, we shall make it fair.” Using the end of his greatclub he adds to Angus’ rough map, drawing a rough approximation of the southwestern coast. He then draws a line through the Mojave. He says, ”If you follow this trail, it shall take you through the depths of the desert past a few springs. It will be difficult but it will take you through the worst of it.”
Hey all, I'll be camping without much, if any signal. Please bot me if I'm playing in a game, or if I'm GMing, just sit tight for a few days until I'm back.
|