The drums should go to someone without AoE damage. While it boosts perform, its main feature is the ability to unleash single-target and AoE undead nukes with a fixed dmg die and DC.
The merchant's smile is mirrored by Jing, but when Shinzo announces it is to be his final visit, the smile disappears. Are they friends? No, not quite. Are they bound by a thread of fate? Surely. Lost in a sea of turmoil, Jing isn't quite sure whether this farewell is the result of auspicious events or something he is yet to fully comprehend.
"Since this is to be the last time we meet, may we offer you some tea, Shinzo? We are experienced in hosting and serving a wide variety of guests, and for once, we are offered the opportunity to serve someone we genuinely like." And like that, the smile returned to Jing's face.
I'll have to check the aonprd to see if there's anything I'd want. Feel free to suggest items to me here or on Discord.
Esinti will try to distract the usher by talking about this theatre and its history. Lore: Theatre:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (2) + 11 = 13
When the usher tries to get rid of his companions, Esinti steps up and attempts to drop a historical knowledge bomb on the usher. "Sir, if you don't mind! I've been waiting all night to find the courage to step forward to one of the theatre's own to talk about the historical significance of this place! I've got so many questions, and so many more wonderful stories, and if you could answer only a few of them, it would mean so much to me!"
Not used to talking this much, the sylph takes a moment to breathe in deeply, and just like that, words come streaming right out again.
"Surely, I'd love to ask you or one of the crew to show me the backstage area, but how rude would that be? You see, I'm thinking of writing a book about the forgotten theatres of Taldor because there's more than just Oppara and its opulence and grandeur, and mayhaps it would open up doors to bigger venues for theatre troupes like yours. I know some people, no, I know people in Oppara, you see, that accursed magnet and black hole for talent, and ..."
If the usher allows him to, Esinti won't shut up about all things theatre.
Ah! Patience pays off! Qísìk knows he is no quitter, but on the fifth day of what seemed to be a no-hunt, the hobgoblin was starting to have some doubts about whether they'd find any aurochs at all.
And now that the aurochs have presented themselves to the group, Qísìk finds himself rather impatient. Did he spend all of his patience over the last six days? Possibly, though it's more likely that it's the excitement he's feeling, the excitement resulting from the fact they finally managed to do what was becoming more and more unlikely: find these damned beasts!
"Follow my lead," the hobgoblin whispers as he eyes the aurochs with singular intent. Like a Molthuni mountain lion, the hobgoblin slinks forward. Speed is of the essence as there is not much in the way of cover once he leaves their vantage point, and for a man with a walking cane, the hobgoblin manages to be surprisingly fast!
Stealth vs 20:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (14) + 9 = 23 Acrobatics vs 18:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14 Hero Point - Acrobatics vs 18:1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
Jing responds to the cascade of shadows by tapping into the light that shines within him and his companions. As magic and the soul meet, a burst of healing light pulses from Jing. Whatever these beings are, they're not Jing, Sakura, Kamo, or Pagma!
Actions 1+2+3) AoE Heal at level 4 Heal vs basic Fort DC 26:4d8 ⇒ (8, 6, 8, 8) = 30 Everyone heals for 30. The shadows instead take damage, and the shadow attacking Jing gets hit for 38 instead (+4 bloodline, +4 dangerous sorcery) 50/71 HP, Enfeebled 1
Unaware of the magic that's impacting his actions, Ceceka's rage is redirected to Aily. And there is so much rage.
Aily! That bastardly dhampir! What does she see in that pathetic Caraid? How can she submit herself to one worthless master after another?! She ought to be punished for her choices!
Step up to Aily (10ft reach) and Strike Strike:1d20 + 25 ⇒ (13) + 25 = 38 Damage:2d8 + 10 ⇒ (6, 3) + 10 = 19 Will vs 34:1d20 + 20 ⇒ (4) + 20 = 24
Scared but convinced he is touching upon the truth, Jing continues to give voice to what stirs within his soul. "At peace. She said her goodbyes to us and moved on, finally free from the madness of this place. She left behind the beads for me, and I think she knew that they would help us find you. Yuni, I am a hundred percent sure that she's waiting for you to join her. All you need to do ... is to stop being angry, and accept the truth of it. Let there be no more fighting, but acceptance. In acceptance, you'll find peace and your sister."
And as he says it, another truth hits him. "And in doing so, you'll also grant true peace to your sister. Together, you can move on. Shizuru and Tsukiyo will take care of you, I promise."
Ceceka snarls when the ghoul unleashes his bad mood on them. Couldn't he have at least bothered with being a decent host? The 'meal' on display feels like a carefully crafted warning. "We are Blood Lords because we rarely miss a step and, unlike many of our foes, have yet to lose our heads or our lives. Each of us has a unique set of talents and skills, and when bundled, it makes for a killer combination. Perhaps our Lord feels you might need that in the days to come, but it is not for me to guess nor interpret his will."
Jing feels a sense of wonder when Sakura brings them the flowers. Even here, in the lair of the beast, life manages to resist and defy Kugaptee. "We should see if we can plant some of them in my moon garden, and bring Yeri back to Willowshore, see to it that she finds peace."
Jing is stunned and it takes him a second before he returns the hug and mutters a motherly now now into Sakura's ear. He gives Sakura the time she needs to let the emotion run its course. In this hellscape realm, the group has found a safe haven in one another.
And when they do move on, it becomes crystal clear that the comfort they find in one another is something that offends the very nature of this wicked realm. Jing can't help but feel that Yeri's proximity to the group is what caused this violent transformation, and he knows, he simply knows when she shreds her vessel of morality and mortality, that they could have never prevented this. They only got to choose when and where.
"Stay with me! Tsukiyo's love for Shizuru will protect us!" He slams his staff into the ground and calls upon the virtue of the heavens to envelop and protect them. A pale white light forms a circle around the group.
Then, Jing's glowing jade eyes stare at Yuri, daring her to feast on them.
Actions 1+2) cast Wall of Virtue (10ft radius circle version) - https://2e.aonprd.com/Spells.aspx?ID=1127 | Action 3) Intimidate Yuri Intimidation vs Will DC ??:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24
Jing offers Sakura a soft smile. The grotesque nightmares had gotten to him on the first day of Willowshore's collective nightmare, but now it seems they have finally managed to get to Sakura too. Like her, Jing too struggled with the implications of being scared. The fear, after all, gives power to that which is feared. Unlike Sakura, Jing has had plenty of time to ponder it and has since come to terms with it. "Fear indicates meaning and the realization of it. Focus not on the negative emotion, but on what it points at. The things that matter, the people who are threatened by its existence. That is what gives me the strength to stand up against it, again and again."
Jing channels his inner light to counteract whatever burning anger animates the four living dead. He taps into the river that flows through him and knows that if he could only cast the undead into that river, they'd find their way to the afterlife, into Pharasma's arms. Kugaptee has much to answer for.
Actions 1+2+3) cast Heal (using my one daily free max level harm/heal) to hurt the four undead. Heal to Harm Undead vs Basic Fort DC 22:3d8 + 3 ⇒ (1, 5, 5) + 3 = 14
Jing shares Sakura's discomfort and he's happy she explained the issue to the cat calmly and clearly. "Sakura is right, Yami. It is as the adage goes, just because you can doesn't mean you should. I must admit, it's hard to not get angry over this, but you're a creature of the spirit world, where things are different, and morality adheres to different colors. What is black and white in ours, might not be in yours and so we must find ones that work for both of us."
He sighs and understands that this is most likely but the first in a series of 'misunderstandings'. If the people of Willowshore are to live in harmony with the spirit world, Jing must show patience and a willingness to build bridges. "I'm sorry I got angry at you. Let's fix this, Yami?"
Karti coughs up a mouthful of nasty phlegm and deposits it in a dark corner. He then gets out a small comb and, with a splash of moisturizing beard oil, starts fixing the mess that is his golden beard. "I won't lie, I seriously underestimated the dangers of that place. With what little time the crystals gave us to explore it, I reckon they hit a bad spot and had to abandon the level. Knowing the cost of making those crystals, there must be something extraordinary at the end of that mine to make going into it worth the cost and trouble."
Ceceka growls and gives in to his anger. This whole charade is ridiculous and the damned living doll is wasting everyone's time. Not only that, but the sandwich was disappointing as well!
Action 1) Rage (or - draw weapon?) | Actions 2+3) Power Attack PA Strike:1d20 + 23 ⇒ (19) + 23 = 42 Damage:4d8 + 10 ⇒ (8, 7, 1, 4) + 10 = 30 Deadly:1d8 ⇒ 4 14 temp hp, -1 AC, +2 to damage *if* rage went off. If not, subtract 2 from the damage above
The second floor. From what I understand, we'll need to hit the safety room first for supplies (air crystals?), but we're obviously missing enough details of what the situation is like down there so we'll have to play it by ear once the elevator reaches its destination.
Karti visibly relaxes when it becomes apparent that the mine does not pose any immediate danger to the group. Walking around these ancient halls, their walls the result of centuries of Dwarven diligence fills him with pride and joy. "I'm sure ye wouldn't understand, but this here, this mine, it fills me with a sense of happiness that's hard to quantify. Like the first warmth of summer, it nourishes my soul."
Bly'gha eyes the rather insipid-looking figure in the mirror and shakes his head. This won't do, this won't do at all. The drab Geb garb conveys nothing, let alone convey who Bly'gha has become, and part of him wants to burn the robes to a crisp right here, right now. There is, however, someone who can help him with his problem. Someone who he knows he need only ask for help. But it is the asking that's the hardest part.
Scarred and mutilated, Bly'gha's tormented skin has helped him become somewhat immune to the eyes and judgment of those who look upon him, but it's the parts about him that he gets to choose that now make him feel weak. His clothes, the accessories, his choice of boots. Going downstairs to ask Lora makes him feel vulnerable. Hadi purrs and Bly'gha recognizes it for what it is: laughter. The phantom knows him better than it ought to, but it being a twisted projection of his own ego but in cat form, Bly'gha has only himself to blame for the cat's demeanor. "Fine. I'll go and ask. When I return home and meet mother, who no doubt wants to hear how her son played a crucial part in Geb acquiring pyronite, I need to look presentable. Not only that, I need to look like the man I am today. Not of Geb, but from Geb nonetheless."
He eyes himself in the mirror one more time and then sighs. Involuntarily he shakes his head at the sight and then makes the long trek down the creaky stairs. There he finds Lora speaking with Dunsmith and so he waits until what seems to be a moment between the two, is over.
And as soon as it's over, Bly'gha claims the seat next to her. "I need your help." The words fall out of his mouth before he can conjure a rational approach, and an enormous weight falls off his shoulders. "You see, the problem with magic is that it speaks to the imagination. I, however, do not. With me returning home, albeit briefly and only to see mother dearest, I wish for me to look like me. I mean, what I mean, is that right now, I don't feel like I look like me. I look like the man who came here but not like the man who is about to leave."
He takes a moment to sort out his thoughts and to get a grip on his emotions. Like wild stallions, the two are racing through his head. "Now you, Lora, you know how to make someone be able to converse with the imagination of those who gaze upon them. That is, forgive my verbosity, me saying you know how to dress to impress. And I need some of that. I'm going back home, to Geb, and Mother dearest might present me to the lifeless and powerful of Geb society. I want them to see me."
And so it hit him. A realization so genuine that to utter it would be to destroy it. A vision of Lora's arm entwined with his, their hands sending warmth into the other, standing in front of the worst Geb has to offer. Their vibrancy would be unlike anything the Gebites know and cherish, and it would spell out exactly who and what Bly'gha has become. No, the thought and truth of it alone will see him through what's to come. He need not subject Lora to the horrors and depravities of home.
A sly smile finds its way to the previously confused and pained face of the wizard. "But, me saying all this out loud while sitting next to you has already brought me so many answers. Now, will you please help me find some suitable clothes for my journey back home, dear?"
Whereas Sakura projects force outwards, Jing projects protecting force inwards. He magically catches a strand of moonlight and weaves it into a protective layer between Sakura and the toad. He then hisses at it, hoping it might give the creature reason to pause.
Actions 1+2) cast Forbidding Ward on Sakura (vs the toad)(+1 AC & saves) | Action 3) intimidate said toad (no intimidating glare, so a -4 on the check? Not applied, so treat the DC as being 4 higher!) Intimidate vs Will DC??:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
An empty house greets Jing-De and welcomes him with silence. After all that has happened, Jing finds the silence to be soothing. Quietly he shuffles about his modest abode and collects a couple of healing draughts and other items that might come in handy in what's to come. The urge to leave is strong, but Jing feels the need to sit down and order his thoughts and feelings. Surely he can take a minute to do so?
After carefully stowing away the draughts into his leather sling bag, Jing opens the sliding door to his garden and takes in the sight of the majestic moon tree. It's decorated with floral garlands and paper fulus left behind by those who lost loved ones and came here to talk with Jing. About loss, about life, about everything and nothing.
This mighty tree, whose roots run deep, embraces the tokens and keeps the memory of those who have left firmly rooted in Willowshore. Jing touches it and utters a soft prayer, asking the Gods to shower Willowshore with mercy and compassion. After a moment of contemplation, he gets back on his feet and collects the last but perhaps most important item from his home: a crescent slash of hammered silver, his holy symbol of Tsukiyo.
Now
Jing does as Zheng Peng asks, but somewhere along the way to the spare set of keys he can't help but wonder - is this really Zheng Peng? He glances over his shoulder at the captain of the guard and then blushes. How would he feel if he were in need, and they hesitated because of unfounded fears and worries? No, this is how evil spirits truly kill a community. Jing won't play their game.
He returns with the keys and tries every key on the lock until he finds the one that fits. "What will you do now?", Jing asks when the door croaks and the path to freedom presents itself to the guards.
Bleach silently mouths the words 'a pointy hat'. Were mistakes made? Possibly.
Deception (untrained) to impersonate, hat of disguise):1d20 + 10 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 10 + 4 = 21 Hero Point Deception (untrained), hat of disguise):1d20 + 10 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 10 + 4 = 26
The wizard 'undoes' the pointy hat suggestion, but when the nerves kick in at the sight of the shieldmarshals overseeing the ticket checks, Bleach starts to panic. He stammers when asked to show his ticket and it isn't until he realizes that yes, indeed, he ought to be wearing a bright pointy hat and he makes it so through magic - for his ticket originally belonged to a mage - that the crew let him through.
While the others discuss the finer details of how Loveless is about to blow up Alkenstar, Bleach calls Hadi to him and gets the cat to help him with writing a (short) letter to his mother dearest. Hadi sports opposable thumbs, and while that's something most books on familiars warn you about, in that you shouldn't do it for reasons that need no explaining, there are moments when it pays off.
"Mind giving this to Priestess Ghan'ivach? Or to at least ensure it reaches the Cathedral of Epiphenomena in Mechitar once you get back to Geb?"
Letter:
Dear Ghan'ivach, High Priestess of the Pallid Princess, Mother Dearest
It's been a while since I last wrote you, mother. Had you a pulse, being reminded of my goodbye letter to you might send your blood pressure through the roof. Alas. The truth, however, is that I am now at peace with my past. The distance between us and the events that have transpired since have placed a lot of intricate details of our relationship in context.
I know now that you wanted only the best for me, a 'best' that only those who unlive and breathe in Geb can comprehend and understand. Know that I have found the best version of myself here and that perhaps one day I will come home to visit. No, I am still firmly opposed to the idea of embracing undeath, and yes, the implications of that decision are clear.
Still, my skill at wizardry has reached levels I could have never dreamed of. I can safely say that few, if any, of my former Ebon Mausoleum peers can match me now in an arcane contest or duel. I have found drive and purpose, and this will help me to get even better than I am right now. This, I know, will please you. And even after all that has happened, I do wish that my existence and the things I do, give cause for your still heart to draw what blood flows through your veins to it and for the briefest of moments, fill you with motherly warmth.
Until we meet again.
May the blood of the living taste sweet now and forever,
Your son
Bly'gha
ps - I know that my continued access to Urgathoa's closet is thanks to you. That what binds us remains.
Sure, Karti is an experienced undead hunter, but an interaction with the undead like this one made for an altogether new experience that left the dwarf rattled. The undisciplined and naive side of him felt nothing but pity for the undead soldiers yet he knew that the point where one should feel pity was passed long ago. They deserve absolution now, not pity.
"Imagine that their souls are like roots, and because of their purpose in life, that soul has dug in deep into this world. Now comes the trauma caused by their manner of death, which makes everything endlessly more complicated. Right now, their trauma has pushed away their identities and warped their last purpose in life. To know who they are grants us the ability to speak to their soul, to the real them, before the tragedy, before the immeasurable trauma." Karti hopes that explains it a bit. Most matters undead, like all things religion, can be a bit vague, but given enough experience, anyone can taste the truth in his statement. Even if the truth needs a bit more salt. Or, a better explanation.
"They deserve to be welcomed by the gods and it is for us to both create the bridge to the divine and push their souls over it."
Does the appearance or location of the door give us an impression of what might be behind it? If we do try it, we need to be prepared to either appease these dwarves once more ... or fight them.
Karti steps back and lets Ungor go at it. The big man's imposing strength should take care of the stone, and free their companion. But, just in case he fails to do so, Karti readies his mutagen and an enlarge person extract.
I imagine with Torvi and Ungor at 'the door', there isn't much room for Karti.
Fort vs 25:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (5) + 14 = 19 Fort vs 25:1d20 + 14 ⇒ (20) + 14 = 34 Regular fail and a crit success. That's 33 damage for Ceceka.
The warrior staggers under the assault but remains standing - for now. How dare these plants attack him, and how dare they make him suffer so?! "I'll find your master and bury her skull at the bottom of a ghoul latrine!"
Rage, Power Attack Strike:1d20 + 18 ⇒ (8) + 18 = 26 Damage:3d8 + 9 ⇒ (4, 2, 8) + 9 = 23 AC 24, 10 temp hp, +2 to damage, 82/115 with 10 temp hp
The wizard's cheeks turn a crimson red when he overhears their conversation. For a moment there, he was ready to interject and bring Lora up to speed that no, a zombie bite won't turn you, but that there are deadlier versions out there that could do it. Hadi chuckles at his master's discomfort, purring a deep happy sound.
But perhaps Lora ought to know there are such zombies out there. Who knows, maybe this Gebite necromancer brought along a sample of it to unleash on the city once its vital infrastructure has collapsed. Surely that won't happen. Right? The voices in his head do not answer the question.
"There's such a thing as zombie rot, Lora, but it tends to generate zombie hordes that will break free from its master's control rather sooner than later, so even the vilest of necromancers try to contain it, if not eradicate it."
Ceceka lets Aily do the talking. Instead, he inspects the woman's wares. Frog eyes marinaded in oil and garlic are a perfect late afternoon bite, and they go especially well with imported Andoran white ale. Ah, the very thought of it makes him hungry. And a hungry Ceceka is a grumpy Ceceka.
"Talk, and we might buy your frogs' eyes as a bonus."
Ceceka barks a mean-spirited laugh when the first of the spawn goes down, but he starts losing it when Caraid blasts another into Pharasma's arms with a ray of light. Cackling with glee, Ceceka continues the carnage.
Something or someone filled him with a particular hatred for all things vampiric. These spawns had it coming.
"Good," Ceceka grumbles when Aily (finally) manages to open the door to the manor. His worn leather gloves groan as he grips his weapon, knowing that the current quiet inside the manor is but a lie. They'll find violence within. They always do.
"We might want to create light. Keep the shadows at bay."
It feels too ridiculous to say out loud, but Karti considers the idea of leaving the suit of armor behind. For now, he chews on his namesake Karti root, hoping its bitter taste will somehow grant him clarity.
"Perhaps it ain't noteworthy, but it might be telling that the owner of these items isn't wearing them. Perhaps they aren't roaming these halls in their former mortal shell. Perhaps they are long gone."
I'm fine with either taking or leaving the items behind. Sadly, Karti doesn't have space for the armor in his bag of holding.
Karti lets go of an incredulous gasp when the veritable treasure trove presents itself to them. "Wow ..."
The quality of the armor, and the fact it still looks just as new, blows his mind. Just how much did his people leave behind in this accursed place? Their souls, aye, but by the looks of it, also the material means to keep any attacker at bay.
"We ought to be careful with these objects. If we take them outside, and anyone finds out about them, it will be clear to all that Pyrsa has been breached."
"Magnificently cantankerous, indeed. Something tells me that our encounter with it didn't teach the dragon a single thing, even though it ought to have. Heh, shame."
Aicard then indulges himself in the new entertainment bestowed upon their realm. He quickly comes to realize that this new phenomenon can be used to create a portal of sorts to Absalom or, how terribly dreadful - no, don't even think it, don't go there! - to Egorian, home. How happy would Father be to see Aicard now? A decorated member of the Divine Dare, a known rabble-rouser, and a little less known entertainer of the masses? As he thinks of Egorian and his subconscious starts opening the dusty old rooms containing the memories of that hellish place, the entertainment starts taking a dark turn. Hapless simulacra in chains and cages appear, and the crowd takes great delight in the cruel punishments inflicted upon the imprisoned. Knowing that he's responsible for it, Aicard quickly thinks it away.
Oh, Father, see what the memory of you, of home, does to me? Heh, wouldn't he be thrilled when he hears about all the fiends Aicard has smashed back to hell, and even better, into nothingness? "I don't know if I ever shared this with any of you before, but this is the first time in a long, long time I am considering going back home. Not permanently of course! But, eh, to see my father. Visit the old stomping grounds. Take a leak against the Midnight Temple. Coincidentally, they're all to be found and done in the very same place, so the itinerary will be blessedly short."
The bad joke aside, there is a lot of anger and resentment reverberating through Aicard's words. Speaking about his father visually bothers Aicard. Not one to mince words, Aicard is now juggling every syllable. Deftly, he changes the topic. "And eh, I'm sorry you had to see that. Trust me when I say Egorian has much, much worse entertainment on offer," he says with a wink. The bad entertainment, of course, is him.
The Coins! Aicard can't help but scowl at the aptly-named neighborhood. Not for the fact that the Coins is a hotbed for shady dealings and unbridled greed, but because the name reminds him of the fact his coin purse might very well be an empty purse if he doesn't find a gig soon. If Aicard wasn't such a morally sound individual, the district's desire for gold and profit might have just taken root in his soul as he walked through the busy streets to a destination he both knows and doesn't know.
The Gods know he has the talent and ability to make a coin. If only he wasn't even more talented at spending them. At least I look like a man who knows how to spend gold. Fabulous from hoof to horn, I'm the one mothers warn their daughters about.
It's when he goes around the final bend toward his destination that Aicard is greeted by a sight that he can hardly believe! Targrish! Clover in Spring! Vashta! By the Nine Hells, what otherworldly siren's song has lured the lot of them to this derelict building? Hoofbeats sing a song of genuine excitement as the tiefling darts forward to greet his old friends.
"Ha!", Aicard exclaims as he attempts to embrace everyone at once. "Was it you, Targrish, who sent me that beautiful harrow card? If you wanted to meet up, you could've just, you know, shoot me a sending spell of sorts!" But when everyone shows the card they were 'gifted', Aicard sobers up and his exuberance quickly vanishes. The tiefling's face, kissed by crimson lips and shaped with an abyssal chisel, hasn't aged much since the last time they saw him. He raises an oversized hand to his chin as a pair of blood-red eyes inspect the Three-Moves-Ahead. "Gods, this is too heavy. I think I need a drink first."
Would a samurai be ok? I'd 're-flavor' the character to be an educated Andoran warrior, possibly with foreign roots, and ditch the mount by picking one of the available archetypes. Effectively, the character will play as a fighter with fewer feats, but more skills and some nifty order abilities. Characters, both real and fictional, such as T.E. Lawrence, the writer Cervantes (Don Quixote), but also Picard and Zatoichi, serve as inspiration.
I imagine him to be an artistic soul, and I'll definitely pick up artistry literature (poetry) as a skill.
Ceceka is foolish enough to go toe to toe with the giant and commits to the slugging match. As the giant lights up his world with pain so vibrant that it makes Ceceka sees colors, the warrior returns the favor by aiming at the giant's upper thigh with a vicious strike.
Action 1) Rage | Actions 2+3) Power Attack] Power Attack:1d20 + 17 ⇒ (17) + 17 = 34 Damage:3d10 + 6 ⇒ (2, 10, 4) + 6 = 22 Bleed Damage:3d6 ⇒ (2, 2, 4) = 8 Recovery Check vs DC 15 (?):1d20 ⇒ 1 Ceceka gains 9 temp hp, -1 AC, and +2 damage. The bleed eats away 8, leaving him at 53/101 with 1 temp hp
Unlike Lora, Bleach is not perturbed by the smell whatsoever. Are different life experiences to blame for Lora's extreme discomfort? Possibly. "Odd. I've never interacted with live cattle before, whether they be animals or humanoids. These live ones smell infinitely better. Trust me when I say it gets worse once the guts come out and the embalming fluids are applied, Lora ..."
The wizard's face radiates annoyance when Tombend 'introduces' them. Cold eyes burn underneath the strip of black galena paint and slowly shift from Tombend to the large statue. His fingers are clasped together and hidden underneath the long sleeves of his Gebite robe, and they fiddle about as he taps into his inner artsy self.
"The design showcases exquisite metallurgical skill. The jellyfish, however, has been contorted into something it is not. Does it aspire to stand out amongst its kind? If so, why? Jellyfish are harmful to touch, and as far as I know, are without thought and reason. They just are. In Geb, we twist and contort that without life into a more useful form, and in this, the artist ... succeeded. The lifeless metal and glass radiate life, even though it is without, and it manages to capture both your eyes and thoughts."
I'm sorry to hear that and while the loss of the game does suck, I really want nothing more than for you to find your way back to happiness. Thank you for the game, and hopefully one day, we'll meet again on these forums!
Kardas stares at the man with wild eyes as his heart continues to pump hot raging fire through his veins. It's only when the urban nature of their surroundings gets to him that Kardas realizes they're not in Phlan anymore, and no longer engaged in mortal combat with a foe that gave true meaning to the word 'danger'. "I see ..."
Once the dust settled, Kardas finds his thoughts drifting to and fro. This city is stranger yet than Phlan, and reminds him every second of how far away he is from home. It is victory, after all, that can open up a window of opportunity to take a step back and reflect. On days past, the friends and comrades lost, who you've become through what you've done. Wait, didn't Dynaheir travel to this place? Where an endless sea kisses the coast from the west? I wonder how she's doing, and that thick-skulled guardian of hers ...
His thoughts then travel back home when his body can not. How would his Raumviran brethren back in Rashemen respond if they knew Kardas had spent so much time protecting an arcane child of Thay? Fighting side by side with someone using Red Wizard magics to smite their foes? They'd probably laugh and change the topic. How long would it take for them to remind him of his inability to ride a horse? Perhaps a whole minute? Ha!
Kardas can't help but miss the frozen cucumbers that are his brethren, and their thick skulls filled with sour yogurt. One day he'll return. Perhaps even on horseback.
Caught off-guard by the state of the town and its attitude towards the living, Ceceka makes it a habit to keep his mouth shut (a pre-acquired habit, really) and keep his head down. Still, Ceceka is a well-traveled man and he knows how to act and react when the locals start to bark and bite. "Sorry. Sometimes brains don't brain good."
Use 'Streetwise' to roll Society instead of Diplomacy to gather information. Since we're undercover and trying to gather info, I figured 'it might apply'. If you rule that doesn't work/apply here, ignore the roll. Society vs DC 22:1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23
The dwarf observes the runes from a distance and comes to a speculative conclusion. "Purely conjecture, but the runes might need some time to recharge. Eh, now might be the time to cross."
Wand of CLW clickie on Atash:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 Wand is now at 49/50 charges
Doh. Of course. That made too much sense for my fried brain, haha.
The dwarf grumbles as he realizes he made a mistake. Whatever mechanism there is to disable the trap, it has to be on the other side. The side where a Pyrsan soldier would be waiting. "The mechanism must be on the other side, which eh, makes the logistics of getting there without triggering the runes complicated. I'd appreciate any input. "
When Eva chastises Kosowana, Bleach can't help but feel bad for the man. The fool clearly had good intentions at heart. Sadly, Kosowana's intentions were the only good thing about his plan to stop the pyronite from falling into the wrong hands. Would Bleach have made a desperate play as well? Maybe. I'd probably have run, were I all by myself. There's no shame in admitting defeat when you've already lost.
"Manacle," Bleach suggests to Lora. While not a perfect rhyme, it will do when some leeway is given to the pronunciation.
Kardas falls in behind and scans for any direct threats. His eyes were never blessed when it came to spotting things far down the horizon, and after plenty of adventuring, it's now safe to say his eyes aren't blessed at finding hidden things around and right in front of him.
The sight of Earhart does rattle the man. The slumped figure and its frozen expression of horror and agony is a harsh reminder that victory as a concept is sweeter than the actual thing when sacrifices have been made. "Take solace, councilor, for we're about to right this wrong. May you and all the others get to see its soul arrive, be torn to shreds, and then cursed to eternal condemnation."
The words might not warm up Earhart's heart with hope, but they manage to keep the swordmage's spirits up.
Kardas took his time to memorize the same spells he memorizes every day. The Raumviran spent considerable time cleaning his blade, repairing his armor, and making sure every potion and scroll is where it ought to be. Unlike Ishta, however, he doesn't feel like they're up against the odds. Righteous fury rarely feels that way.
"If it could destroy us that easily, it already would have. Even now it is hiding, cowering behind others. It knows defeat is a possibility and that we aren't like it, that we will face it no matter what, no matter where. It is equal parts evil and pathetic, and with Auryl as my witness, as She feasts on my anger and, in return, gives me clarity of mind, I will undo this cruel mockery of power and rid Phlan of its evil."
Wary as ever, Kardas growls when Azarra gives them the low-down. "The bastard might notice the usage of powerful magics, so we ought to be careful with how we approach. Or, if we do just barge in, we should weave powerful enchantments beforehand, because we might not be able to do so after we dive in."
"Come, let me guide you to the tower," Karti says to Torvi as he reaches out for the blinded dwarf's shoulders.
Torvi can't move, so Karti will take a 5ft step towards the door(s) as Torvi should be able to take at least that this turn. 5ft step, drink CLW extract, guide Torvi next turn if she lets me - didn't move the token(s) CLW:1d8 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 44/55 HP, AC 24
The warrior's left eye twitches as he weighs the idea of sharing a room. Back home, a comfortable bed awaits him and just him. "I'd rather return to the manor. Don't worry, I know the way."
Perhaps Ceceka should be worried about traveling back home late at night. There are plenty of threats and dangers haunting the streets of Graydirge once the daylight disappears, but the idea of getting into a scrap makes him feel alive. "I'll stop by a smith. Got to get that armor refitted."
Go figure, multiclass alchemists don't get any formula as they level up, but we did find Lyzerius' formula book earlier on and Bleach claimed it.
Quote:
Inside the desk drawer is Lyzerius’s formula book containing the following number of alchemical crafting formulas: 10 1st-level, six 2nd-level, and four 3rd-level.
You can determine the exact formulas yourself to complement whatever the party may already have in their own formula books, keeping in mind that Lyzerius prefers bombs that deal fire damage.
