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Rootandry Tumbleleaf, Mandragora Druid
Background:
Background: The Hag garden that birthed Rooty typically raise mandragoras for use in divination and as minions for the witches and hags of the coven. Their evil drew attention from a small band of brave travelers from the heavens. During their raid, a trumpet archon was slain; his body fell among the mandrake roots. The blood nurtured and untwisted the evil root into the rare good mandagara. Sentient at birth, Rooty fled the coven, and found himself alone in the woods. From there, his salvation and his passion has always been to nurture other plants. At 3' tall, his body is not nearly as twisted and gnarled as a normal mandragora, yet he still retains the rough bark-like skin. He typically wears long coats and a hat, doing his best to disguise his plant features. However, once someone has seen his crooked smile with sharp wooden teeth, and tendency to drool- he often has to wipe away the green sap that serves him as saliva. He wants to be refined and academic, yet his appearance closes off many potential experiences to him. He belongs to a small druidic sect whose overt goal is to return civilization back to its natural state. Primarily, their work has consisted of re-seeding abandoned villages and other formerly inhabited humaniod structures. Each member carries a pouch full of seeds and plantings that can take root in uninhabitable locals. These vines and brush and other quickly growing plants will overtake and slowly decompose all but the sturdiest of structures. Recently their work has ventured into major cities, adding bits of green in the overlooked corners. Where you see a brick building covered half in ivy, you might be seeing their work. As part of his druidic training he is sent out into the world and is not allowed to return until he's planted all of the seeds from his satchel and can return with 3 new species of plant for the garden. Stats:
Druid 1 Alignment: N Size: Small HP: 10 AC 18 (natural +2, Dex + 3, size+1, leather +2) With shield = 19. Flat footed 15, touch 13 Initiative: +3 Str 13 +1
Saves 2 / 3 /5
Attack
CMB +0 -1 +1 = 0
Equip
Gold: 68gp
Animal companion: Jr. Assassin Vine (or constrictor snake, depending on DM rule).
If selected, I'll make a character page for him.
This looks like a really interesting game. I'm working on my submission, but here's an outline with a few questions. Spoiler: I was thinking Mandragora druid (Bestiary 2, pg 185) but from an angel instead of being tied to a demon. He'd be 3' tall, and slightly more humanoid looking than his evil counterparts. A fallen angel was left bleeding near a mandrake root, and from it was birthed my character (still working on a name). My RP would be distributed like this:
Final question: this one might be a stretch. Could I have a plant animal companion? I would love a young assassin vine that rides along with me in a dirt filled satchel, and curls around my neck like a snake. Obviously it would be smaller version, and not have the entangle ability.
Were I only a bit more powerful, I might have means to make the dead talk. For now, I suppose we ought to decide what to do with the body. A proper burial, or take him back to civilization? What does the family generally do with the dead. Simondale also gives a solemn prayer to Seranrae to take the dead to the underworld.
Simondale does, indeed, cast light- aiming it on his hair, illuminating the narrow tunnel around him. He draws his sword and holds it to where he approximates the twitching bundle's head would be. Under his breath he rehearses the spell that would bring forth flame to burn the webs (and its tiny inhabitants) away.
The guard rebuffs Janos's advances. Best ye leave them there in the stockades alone. They're up for trial on the morrow if yer really interested. Them Seeker bosses will be sure to put those folk into a world of pain. I suggest youz find a place for the night before curfew sets in at sunset. He waves you on. Religion 15+: The Seeker gods are the latest of a number of attempts to communicate with otherworldly powers. Like many religions, the Seekers for the traditional pantheon- the Warrior is the father figure, the Lady is the mother, etc. The rest of the pantheon includes minor figures of mundane characteristics. However, unlike other pantheons that have clear 'good' vs 'evil' members, each of the Seeker gods have both light and dark aspects. In her light form the Lady is healing, nurturing motherhood. In her dark form she's a seductress, a manipulator, and brutal warrior goddess. Often the depictions of her show both light and dark sides together.
A quick side jaunt won't put us too much off of our path. I may have an idea for the camp. I say we send someone in that's under an invisibility potion, douse the logs with oil, release the horses and light the defenses and tents with oil. In the chaos, we make a tight bee line to the boss and take her out. And I don't mean that in a 'biblical sense.'
The swiftest among us should head back and warn Oleg that we're pressing our advantage. Then rejoin us as we scout the camp for any changes that our little friends may not have been aware of. I do not believe we have enough numbers to conjole them into surrender- I fear we have to cut our way in by surprise to even the score. The map shows a pathway toward the back? If we make a beeline for the little princess at dusk we might be able to cut off the head of the monster before the body awakes. Vote - rush with stealth.
Trapdodger stabs the head hobgoblin, opening a gash on his side of his armor. His nimble hand plucks a string of what he originally thought were beads off of the hobgoblin's belt- only to find it's leather thong threaded through dried eyeballs. The hobgoblins with crossbows advance 5' and fire for Durom and Rumal.
Wolf2 and Hobgoblin rider#5 advance to Trapspringer- attempting to spear him.
Trap:
The hobgoblin leader draws a his axes, only to have it twisted out of his hand by Geryn's attack. The battle axe falls to the ground, his hand ax swings. He swears something in goblin Linguistics/Language Goblin:
I'll eat your heart with my hands/your mother is a whore. - Any good comment in Goblin is both a statement and an insult. Wolf5 and Hobgoblin rider#3 attack Josiah, who's defending.
Crunch:
Ride check for wolf attack If greater than 10:
Dire wolf 1 runs around Trap (ignoring him and incurring an attack of opportunity) and dives at the dwarf Duram.
Wolf 4 runs for Brand, also incurring an AoO from Josiah.
Durom's shots fail to find their mark. Asliath arms herself and turns to the battle. Brand's wolf target comes to him; he strikes a telling blow that leaves the wolf injured and angry.
Brand:
You should have a mount; how else would you have gotten here? Sir Janos advances and defends the women, only to see Alessa charge past on her mount. Sir Janos:
I'm not sure if you mean to hold your attack until an enemy comes near, or total defense. I'm assuming hold- take a swing at Wolf 4 Ruma's next bomb splattered his targets.
Josiah slams his morningstar into the hobgoblin riders arm, weakening his hold on his shield. It's enough to throw him enough for Alessa's charge to strike true- her lance is driven through his chest. He slumps off the back of the wolf, unconscious and bleeding.
Simondale engineers a moment aside with Rash You think our business is done, that you can just beg forgiveness and walk away from an agent of the Dawnflower unscathed!?" he starts out stern faced, but by the end he's nearly chuckling aloud. I apologize, friend, for the heavy tactics. I saw you moved by our initial overtures, but the vagrants you were tussled up with needed a bit more elbow grease to convince. The goddess would never waste a life that could be redeemed. You made a wise choice, and we'll see to it that you keep on the light's path. Simondale also offers to pray over his recent redemption, and offer him the favor of the Redeemer. To companions: I'd prefer not to kill if we don't have to, but I don't think we can trust these ruffians to take up arms against their former bunkmates.
Let me see the wanted posters. Simondale says to his companions, inspired. Did it say that the bounty required the WHOLE body, or could we get buy with just chopping off the head? It would save us a whole lot of time and grief, not to mention the smell and having to carry these lugs. I mean, we'd save a fortune on feeding them. Dead men drink no ales.
Sir Stulk, your fate is now in your own hands. What you choose to do over these next few days will surely determine your fate. Should you renounce your deeds and endeavor to set forth a right thinking and goodly acting life, we may yet find a way to ensure your redemption. First, we shall need an accurate report of where this Stag Lord holds his court, what his defenses are, and how strong his force is. You help us, we'll help you. I promise you that if you aid us, I will fight the others to keep you from the fate of your fellows on the gallows. Simondale says loudly enough for the others to hear.
A harmless prank used to haze new acolytes. It may scare them, but it will not harm them. We were told to remove our boots while blindfolded and stood above a pit of burning coals. At the high priest's command we were to jump down onto burning coals. The coals, of course, were not warm. The prank was meant to heighten our fear and to test our loyalty.
Aside from the villains, Simondale suggests a little interrogation technique popular at the monastery. First, we blindfold them, lead them around so they're lost, and have them balance on a wooden beam a few inches off the floor of the barn. Around their neck we fasten a noose, hung above them. They believe they face execution, however, there is not enough tension to actually hurt them.
Kindly remove your weapons, and kick them away. Simondale orders the brigands. Aside, to his fellows We must first secure them- irons or chains if we have them, rope if that's all we can muster. Then we should seperate them and see what information they can give us about their boss and his holdings. After that, the gallows if they're uncooperative, or turn them over. Simondale says the last sentence loud enough to ensure he's overheard.
Simondale stands with his feet firmly planted and shield raise. His free arm is outstretched directed at the nearest foe; his fingers form the holy fire horns of Sarenrae.
fire horns:
A direct ripoff of Om from Terry Pratchett's novel "Small Gods." Oh and of course 'sign of the devil' or 'rock horns'- forefinger and pinky finger raised, other fingers closed. In a firm and commanding voice he says Come at me and face the faith of the face of Sarenrae. He then begins chanting a prayer of redemption by combat, as if he were about to unleash a spell of holy power.
Perhaps we can devise an even more clever trap. I seem to recall a childhood tale of a bandit who preyed upon the wicked by robbing their caravans and giving the profits to the needy. He and his men would fell a log across the wooded path, blocking the road. They had dug several shallow trenches on either side of the ambush, and covered them with branches and other scenery. From their, they would leap out surrounding the unsuspecting caravan from above AND behind. We could do something similar. Asmodeus's beard, we could even rig a pot of boiling oil to pour upon them! Simondale seems lost in childhood tales of glory and the craft of war...
And our good Sir Keiran has adourned us with such accolades that we can only fail to live up to them. Would that we could touch his honeyed tongue to the wine of the Riverlands- we'd never want for sweetness. Let me be clear in that the Goddess wields the power; I am merely the vessel. Redemption or destruction is a choice for the wicked." Simondale smiles as he gives his jibe.
Riding in the sun does much to lighten Simondale's otherwise contemplative demeanor. He throws in his gloved hand to help where he can and appreciates every opportunity he has to take over cooking duties for the party. He is not an overly skilled chef, but makes a decent local fare with an approximation of most of the dishes he's encountered. From time to time he adds in a distinctively Chelish flair to the food. As the journey winds on he even manages to engage in a few practice bouts with the warriors. His whirling scimitar looks spectacular in the sun, although his skill is no where near competing with the others.
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