Search Posts
Oh, you're probably not in the discord huh? GM has told us that they aren't at their best right now, happens every once in a while. They always come back to us refreshed and better than ever, so I'm happy to wait for them, if it means more work of the quality that we get.
Sledge takes this time to sit in quiet contemplation. Egarthis was a fool to not see Sledge's potential to gain further sway over the flock. Too desperate to cling to his own power instead of doling out a little bit to another. He would continue to claim to be the Oracle of Razmir, and it would take more than some sensory deprivation to break his spirit. This was still far more comfortable than his nights spent in Kassen's crypt. Power brimmed around him- no within him, and he would make it work for him. They would all work for him in the end. Sledge spends his time scheming peacefully. The other devotees of Razmir would learn to love and respect him in a way that his peers in Kassen never had.
Sledge feels uncharacteristically angry at Krant. But he keeps it bottled up, and calls out to Silvo after Krant lets him go. "Brother Silvo! Over here." Raising his voice even further, he loudly proclaims, "Let it be known that Razmir forgives those who pays their penance!" His hands glow with a divine healing energy. "Is anyone else injured? Razmir works through me, and I can do this all day."
Although Sledge falters early in the morning, however comes back with a vengeance after lunch. He listens adroitly to even the most dull of Krant's services, seeming to actually be held in rapt attention. His own transcriptions go smoothly, and without a hitch; not particularly surprising for someone who used to be a wizard's apprentice. He sees no real reason to change the spells he has prepared at the moment, instead deciding to use the extra free time he gets after he finishes his cleaning to rest, and watch the others. "You missed a spot Silvo," Sledge says, pointing. "Wouldn't want to let the glory of Razmir be marred by substandard mopping now would we?" Feeling a little bad about what he just said, he grabs a mop and uses the rest of his free time helping Silvo clean. "So, how has my favorite Razmiran convert been?" he asks, making small talk.
Doing well! It's good to be back!
Looms ominously...
"Sledge," Sledge says, approaching the priests. He stays a respectful distance from them, not wanting to encroach onto their physical space.
"These words seem all too small to express the magnitude of my belief, but I will join." Sledge says. He wonders if he should fall to his knees, but decides that might be overdoing it a little bit.
"Have you no romance in your soul man? If a God tells you to jump, you don't ask it for proof of divinity, you ask it how high? Or in my case, how far?" Sledge shrugs his shoulders. "Tamran is quite a bit further from my home. I left things behind there that were important to me. People too." Sledge thinks of Damira, before putting it from his mind. "Is it my provincial heritage that bothers you friend? Rancor against Razmir himself? Or just that he didn't choose you?" Sledge takes a long drink of his water.
"Because Razmir appeared to me," Sledge says matter of factly. "When all seemed lost, he appeared to me in a flash of light, gave me my holy mission, and imbued me with magical gifts like those of the clergy. Why shouldn't I wear his symbol as I work towards greater enlightenment?" Sledge does a minor magical trick as proof.
"Indeed. What do you want?"
Sledge raises a hand, trying to emulate Holgast's descalation between his two apprentices. "It's ok Silvo. Verbal barbs have no bite to them. Let him yap. Should he escalate to violence, then we may answer him in kind."
The mask adding a level of gravitas to his words, he continues, "Would you like to escalate this sirrah? Or would you like to come to our table and discuss our problems like civilized gentle-folk. I am sure we can spare enough coin for a meal for our poor friend here."
"A nice water," Sledge rasps. His voice wasn't used to all the talking he'd been doing today. "And maybe some chicken soup if you have any."
Sledge, for his part, spends the day doing small miracles for the people. Perhaps his pièce de résistance is his seemingly limitless healing, for he could heal a minor injury with but a touch. "I am afraid I cannot do more for you," he says to a man who has taken more than 1d8+3 damage, "For although Razmir gives greatly, I cannot channel the same energies as some of his higher priests. Return to the Ranger's Lament this evening, and I will see what I can do for you." He refuses all payment, instead directing it to be donated to the Razmirans tonight at the Ranger's Lament. He was going to make a splash, and going to make it harder for the Razmirans to just disappear him. "All hail to the Living God!"
Sledge looks around incredulously. "I'm already halfway to being a Razmiran. Conniving, self-serving, and holier-than-thou. You don't have to ask me twice to go join them. Ask not what you can do for your god, but rather what your god can do for you." He pauses for a second. "Maybe that's why I'm not blessed like some of the others of my friends here with divine magics." He slaps a hand over his mouth, then mumbles through it, "But you didn't hear that from me! As far as your concerned I'm a nobody who was gifted some meager power by the grace of Razmir himself!"
"You might," Sledge says slowly, "You certainly might." Sledge takes off his mask, and places it gently face-up on the table. "While their magics are genuine, I have never heard of a god since Aroden making a city their home. How old is Razmir, where did he come from? If he's a god, why does he need such heavy tithes from his followers, a powerful enough mage could make their own money, a god should be beyond that. Perhaps there is a... miscommunication between him and his clergy. Call me a reform Razmirist if you want, but I'm for a kinder, gentler Razmir." Licking his lips, Sledge continues, "And I'm going to find where that flaw lies."
Sledge milled along behind the others, taking some time to see the sights of a big city. He was kind of a country bumpkin he knew, and normally he'd never allow himself to look like he hadn't already seen everything under the sun, but he rationalized it away by thinking, it's what my character would do.
"A good day's wage well spent! Alas, I had no access to a metal mask, and so whittled this one myself to better fit in when Razmir-Ah, but I should not take more of your valuable time, oh wise herald of The Living God! Those" Sledge wracks his brain to think what Garen might say in this situation, "in greater need of your miracles should receive them before I tell more of my tale. In fact the Living God has blessed me with some small power of my own; I could help-but I get ahead of myself."
"This evening!" he shouts, as the priest walks away. === As he retreats into the crowd, he will try subtly to point out the half-elf to Charles. They could investigate them further.
Sledge gladly fishes a gold piece out of his pocket and enthusiastically hands it to the priest, joining loudly in the chant of "All hail the Living God!"
He approaches the front of the crowd, seemingly eager to witness the miracles of Razmir up close and personal. As he moves, he makes some attempt to draw the attention of the head priest, but does not talk to him, and maintains a respectful posture.
Happy either way! Simple or long and elaborate, I'll be here to listen to what you say :)
Sledge would accompany Garen, but he decides to stick outside to listen to the sermon instead of following into the blacksmith. Unless someone objects dramatically, he decides to continue to wear his wooden mask around.
"It''s not that impressive," Sledge says, lying through his teeth.
Sledge nods, and takes on a determined pose. "Alright. Let's do this. Adventure and good comrades. I never thought that I would-" he cuts himself off, "Never thought that I would get them so early in my life," he finishes lamely.
"Yes, but Median was our blacksmith. I don't know how to do metal. I'll see what I can do to get it upgraded." Sledge ponders his situation for a minute, tapping his mask. "In terms of how did I get recruited, I'll claim the same thing I did at the guard station; Razmir appeared to me in a vision and then I got mystical powers. That happens sometimes, right?" he asks of Silvo.
"If anyone asks us, what are we in town to do?"
I wouldn't mind doing a debrief, and coming up with some plans/backstory about why we're here/working together to fool the average Razmiran
"It is true!" Sledge adopts a pose of chagrin, although it is difficult for him. "It is a long tale, but if you insist, I will tell you an abridged version!" He begins to recount a fabricated tale. "You see, I have never been to this great city before. But after Razmir granted upon me a vision in my time of greatest need, I have known I must make my way to this holy place, and surround myself with other... enlightened individuals! Although I have yet to be formally recognized by the ranks of the church, I am sure they will accept me with open arms. After all," he continues with a dramatic flourish, grabbing the quill out of the private's hand. "After Razmir appeared to me, I gained the power of miracles!" He holds out his hand, with the quill in it, and after a few mystic words, as well as presenting Razmir's holy symbol the quill that he took from the private begins to glow with a soft light. "Of course, that is just one of the abilities the Living God has blessed me with," Sledge says coyly. "If you have any injured, I could demonstrate that with a minor miracle. But you see, the ironworks in my little part of the world are not particularly advanced, and metal is scarce so in his infinite wisdom and beneficence, the Living God instructed me to make one of wood, until I could obtain the right materials!"
Sledge really commits to the bit. Even the people who know him might be fooled for a second. Hopefully he can maintain this façade in front of the real priests, but this was a good litmus test to see if his disguise would fool the average citizenry of Tamran.
"Thank you Silvo," Sledge says, "I'll do my best to not get caught up in all the excitement and forget myself." === "Oh s+#&," Sledge mutters quietly to himself as he realizes that he has just volunteered himself to do a great deal of talking in their coming endeavor. He steps forward to greet the private, trying to adopt an imperious air. "Private Glendower was it? These pirates need a jail cell. We have evidence to log against them as well, that indicates they are Molthuni privateers. Do you think you can handle that, or should we wait for you to fetch a superior officer?"
Sledge keeps his faux-Razmiran mask on as they enter the city. He helps Garen drag the pirates to their new home with the local militia.
"I guess my Razmiran impression isn't all that convincing," Sledge says dejectedly.
Sledge, hopped up on adrenaline, will go over to the other boat to check out what they might have below decks, and to smash some heads in with his flail while his buffs still run!
Standing on the stairs Sledge casts colors spray defensively, and empowers it with his arcane pool, blasting yellow, blue, and green with a scintillating blast of seizure inducing colors.
Make a DC 15 will save or suffer the ill effects of COLOR SPRAY! "Ruffians! Curs! Razmir's wrath falls upon you now! Prostrate yourself before his might!"
"Beware, doomed sailors! Tremble and rejoice, now that you are confronted with a servant of the Living God!" He draws his flail, and prepares for combat.
"Your bolts cannot strike me! Razmir does not will it! Gaze upon his humblest of servants and despair!" Sledge continues his tirade.
Sledge will walk over to the captain, passing through Roger's square as he does so "Barkskin please," he requests of the captain quietly before continuing his tirade, ineffective as it might be at this range.
Sledge, watching the bolts go whizzing by him feels a surge of exhilaration. He opens his arms wide, and bellows into the night, "What base treachery is this, what vile blaggards lay squirming apishly upon the river tonight? Woe unto them, woe unto those who dare attack Razmir's most devoted, most faithful! Observe the splendiferous majesty of Razmir's might!" Sledge gestures at his glowing shirt as he continues to pontificate.
Sledge decides to keep the mask on. Perhaps it would help. Or it might make things worse. Only one way to find out. Then he casts shield on himself, and light on his shirt. Then he asks the captain, "What would be the most debilitating crewmember for them to lose? If I hit one of them with a spell, could we outrun them?"
"A dangerous tail you say? And tusks. Perhaps it was a chimera or something of that ilk." Sledge ponders for an extra second. "Or perhaps a mutant catoblepas with flight capabilities." During the last day of the trip, Sledge finishes the varnish on his mask. He puts it on, satisfied with the work that he had done, marking the completion of his masterwork, 50gp high quality mask. "How do I look?" he asks the general boat.
"Last time we stopped to help strangers, some of you nearly drowned. Yell loudly if you need me." Sledge responds, opting to stay on the ship with the captain.
"It is... a recent development." Sledge admits. "I don't believe that Holgast is aware." Sledge smiles grimly. "I hope to be able to use it as 'proof' that I have been blessed by Razmir." Dusting off his shoulder he continues to speak to the wizard, "You're welcome to look at the equations I've written for it in my book, and I'll even provide the cipher to decode them, but I make no guarantee about replicability." He sighs heavily. "Perhaps this is why I have yet to achieve magic of the second circle. Something about my magical signature allows for unique effects like this, and yet I cannot master even a simple spell like see invisibility!" At this he stops. "Wait a second. Charles, Hideous Laughter is a second tier spell for a wizard, isn't it? But I can cast that even though I can't use blur. Any thoughts on the matter?"
"Ugh. 5 more minutes," Sledge says as Silvo magically siphons the blood back into his body. Then he looks around. "Oh. Oh." He cracks his fingers and then winces at the result. "Haven't been downed that badly since that skeleton shot me right after Asar. He eyes Garen, then looks at himself.
"Ow." Sledge mutters to himself. He desperately wished that he had learned Truestrike. Next time he was in town he'd have to pick it up. Stepping forward, he tries to grab onto the scrag, so that he might haul it onto the land.
Not his best work.
Sledge enjoys sleeping. Sleep is good. Nice songs for resting better are nice too. What a restful night.
Sledge merely grunts his name, "Sledge," to the newcomer as he continues to work. Trying to get the mask to be smooth was bothering him quite a bit. Perhaps if he was paying more attention he would have noticed that this lady gnome appears to be a druid of some sort. It was only once he was actually on watch that he realized that there was actually someone new on board. "Charles, did we pick up a gnome today?" he will ask his fellow watchman.
Sledge continues to obsessively toil over his latest project, giving little regard to his current surroundings and situation.
|
