Glad to hear. I'm busy preparing a presentation for tomorrow (ahh! an unknown crowd!!) .. so I'll be a little busy until tomorrow afternoon.
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Promising. A disguise might see one or more of them in, or perhaps one of the women could charm a soldier to take her with him to it. I have to tell the others about this. The man throws a glance at the couple and extends his hand outward, making a gesture akin to asking if he may take a seat at their table.
The keep would be no place for him to visit. Not like this, not right now. He'd have to dig up the dirt on the Father some other way. Sourat sat down and watched the towns folk come and go. Like his thoughts, they went about their lives, some leaving the gates of his mind as they weren't of use, others hanging around to do business. Yes, perhaps that was the answer. Business. But he had little to no experience with being a liar. Before his word was law and if it wasn't, he'd keep his mouth shut. "Hmrpf.." he groaned. The man got up and went to walk about town, getting an impression of the place they were trying to call doom upon. And who knows, maybe he'd stumble upon something.
Congratulations! I had to nurse a friend back to a somewhat acceptable level of sanity after he got dumped for the 5th time in a month or two by his (ex? who knows right?!) girlfriend. Fun fun x'D
I'll write up a big post later today. Had my boss watching over my shoulder all day yesterday x'D but I finished the big thing she needed, so today should be more relaxed. I hope.. ... TUN TUN TUNNNNNNNNN.
I don't know how hunting works here - if you need rights, if certain areas are off-limits, but you could always inquire about that and then go hunt up north .. where Magister Tacitus is.
It was time to get an idea of who this 'Father Donnagin' really is. Sourat uses real clothes to look like a simple traveler, touches it up with the Iron Circlet and, after making sure his face is in no way identical to his by studying himself in the mirror while adjusting his looks with the Circlet, he leaves the inn. He did have some questions for his companions, but they were all out and about or simply not to be found in their common room. Whatever, he could handle this himself. A traveler's hat, a sturdy leather jacket and reinforced pants made up his attire. Simple and plain, it should do the trick.
First things first. Where is this Father Donnagin? Sourat's best bet was the local church of Mitra. He asked the first person he came across on the street where he could find it. "Where may a humble servant of Mitra find a church of the Lightbringer so he can bend the knee and pray? And receive the blessing of the residing Father?"
The ambush feels a bit heavy-handed when we still got other options to explore. If anything goes wrong with the ambush, our mission pretty much fails .. so there's that. We could always get into contact with the dwarves using the 'omg, I think he's a dick too!' play. We lure one or more of them out with something as silly as 'person x is selling authentic dwarven beer!'. Person x is actually selling regular beer and so is outed by a dwarf when the time comes. Person y then joins the dwarves side in making accusations and hopefully ends up drinking the evening away with them, becoming acquainted with them and hopefully finding out what they're up to.
"As long as we get to be there before they come, because while I am many things, blessed with a talent for stealth is not one of them."
Contagion is lvl3 .. sorry! And don't forget, while you anti-paladins might be immune, the rest of us ain't! I'm only immune to the effects of diseases that I remove and draw upon myself.
"We should stick to the options that won't force them to close the gates and prepare for a siege straight away. In my opinion, aggressive use of poison and disease will do just that. We can turn some of the captains against one another, investigate leads on the Magister and Father and butcher some of their forces far away from the castle walls.. let's do that first, let's keep things simple."
Surely Mother is smiling down upon me! To be surrounded with such talented and beautiful women! A soft smile graced Sourat's lips as he watched one after another introduce him- or herself. Already they were burning with the desire to get wicked plans in motion. Delightful. Truly, truly delightful. "My name is Sourat and I carry with me the Many Blessings of the Dark Mother. Divine will led me into captivity. After becoming accustomed to my shackles, divine will helped me escape only to have me be shackled through faith to fate. Now, my mortal coil slithers forward with the blessing of our Father and my Mother .. and here we are, working in unison, putting in motion plans and actions that will please them greatly." Priests always have a talent for drama and Sourat is no exception to this rule. With a flourish of his hand the illusion over him washed away, revealing just how wracked his body is with illness. A terrible fever and a wicked cold caused his forehead to drip with sweat, his hands to shake and tremble and he was constantly snorting and coughing. "Perhaps I can look into Father Donnagin." Sourat chuckled,"I think he and I may have something in common."
With so many enemies out there, Sourat can't help but wonder why they all seemed to be trying so hard to make more of them. He gave not a damn for all this drama and proceeded with checking in. The promise of being able to take off his backpack and sink into a tub filled with hot water is music to his ears. No dramaqueen would take that promise away from him today.
I honestly haven't thought Sourat's progression through yet, but the general idea is for him to be a beefy caster so metamagic feats and +2 to save feats are prime targets. We seem to have a juicy overload of divine power in our group ^^~
Only after I started DMing PF did I find out how many subtle differences there are between PF and 3.5 D&D. Like, if you got any cover at all, you don't need to roll a concentration check in PF. Say there's a troll, the human fighter is up against him and a smaller caster is behind the fighter, the caster doesn't need to roll a damned thing. The book is filled with such tiny things that can change the game quite drstically under certain circumstances. .. and I won't be picking up any crafting feats or skills. I might at some point dabble in constructing undead, but that's about it.
Okay, let's nail this then. -Sourat is a friend of the family of Lady Rose. He's a little love-struck, that's why volunteered to escort her, but is currently quite ill. He'll keep to himself when he has to, which is perfect because any valid excuse not to be amongst people is a blessing right now.
Love is a sickness.
If only whistling was a socially accepted form of flattery. Sourat's eyes came to live when the elvish woman presented herself and a thin smile formed around his lips. He was in fact amused at his own sorry state, that such a common woman would invoke these emotions and desires within him. Dark Mother, you must be laughing at me right now, seeing what a fool I am. When and if Lady Rose accepts the invitation, he will follow.
Love-struck acquaintance who insisted on escorting her during her travels in the hope to get one step closer to being inside her pants. .. because one should always stick close to the truth when lying .. ?
The clang of plate on leather and chain followed Lady Rose and in lumbered a tall lean figure with pleasantly sharp features. One could peel a potato with the razor sharp lines of his nose and jaw. Above those lines, piercing grey eyes sit under a dark ridge of auburn. The man's hair was a mess. Uneven locks indicated that whoever had done his hair the last couple of months, he or she didn't deserve to be called a barber. And how it sticked to his face! The sweat-soaked hair made it seem as if the man had just run a marathon. His forehead glistened. Repeatedly he snorted, in an attempt to clear his stuffed nose. If it weren't for these signs of affliction and poverty, one could call him handsome. Right now, he needed a woman's touch to dig up his good looks from under a thick layer of grime. Practical leather boots, fit for one who travels a lot, then click-clacked on the floor as he followed the Lady Rose to the bar. Over his armor he wore a dark red robe, open at the front, trimmed with thread of gold. A puzzling iron disc hung around his neck. On it is displayed a stylized pregnant woman, whose lower body was being consumed by sword-sized teeth. Quickly, realizing that it perhaps wasn't wise to keep it on display, he put it away under his clothes. He peered about feverishly while Lady Rose attempted to gather some information at the bar.
.. what's wrong with an infection or two, Mysty? Taste of my disease! ..
The scales were perfectly in balance when Sourat considered the deal. What was his life worth after it had been declared null and void? No one but him and Asmodeus seemed to value it. While he'd be tied to this God by signing the document, others would also be tied to him. The barren wasteland that he is right now needed some initial re-investment to get it back to an acceptable state and once there, well, he could always find new investors if necessary. Drifting in this sea of thoughts he took the dagger, drew blood and used it to sign his name on the document. Sourat Vi'Sapor
The tall and lean figure that was now kneeling sported short unkept auburn hair, the result of a prison barber that did not care for Sourat's long locks. It was starting to point in all directions by now. Under a dark ridge two cold grey eyes pierced forward. The sweat that glistened on his forehead seemed to cast a sickly haze over those eyes. Excessive flabs of skin indicated that the man once had weighed way more than he did now, but the hardships of prison and disease had taken its toll. If it weren't for the pallor of his skin and the myriad signs of illness and affliction, you could go as far to call him handsome. Right now though, he is a dead man walking.
.. the Whore Queens of Hell and their Erinyes subjects wouldn't take kindly to being called succubi ;D
The answer to the question seemed simple enough. Ally with the enemy of your enemy or make yet another enemy? Friends and allies were two things that Sourat did not possess and if this man had the power to see him escape from the salt mines, would he survive turning him into an enemy? Oh, the fire of choice, it burned. Already he felt his choice being made for him as a searing heat crept on him. He threw himself into that fire, falling onto his knees, and sweat dripped onto the floor as a sickening couch bellowed out of him. A hand was raised and like that, he pledged his allegiance.
Ha, a good thing you got a priest of gluttony and debauchery with you, eh? *chuckles* .. a negative energy channel followed by an application of death knell ..
Sourat is too tired to pay much attention to his surroundings. Delirious dreaming stole any and all rest he regained while resting and the trek to the inn further ravaged his wracked body. Purple spots formed a ring around cold dots of grey that peered into the room. The pale canvas of his face was covered with sweat and the prospect of being able to kick off his rags, dive into a warm bath and have soft hands roaming his body put a boyish smile on his face. Like that, he went forth and underwent the blessing of this master. Once done, Sourat returned in a simple enough outfit that would suit an official out and about on duty. Sturdy leather boots complimented an outfit of a brown leather vest and pants and a red robe, open at the front, trimmed around the sleeves and bottom with gold thread. An intriguing metal disc, portraying a fat-bellied woman staring down at sharp teeth consuming her lower body, hangs around his neck on a leather thong. Sourat's eyebrows are still slick with sweat. Perhaps it is the scorching hot bath that is to blame. In silence he finds himself a seat, wanting all of this to be over already so he can close his eyes and find oblivion.
Thats why you channel negative energy when the moment comes *laughs*
Campaign specific. I got one language left. Maybe ill leave it open :)
Durp, I had been wanting to ask this before, but it completely evaded me until now. I have some bonus languages thanks to my int modifier, but other than common, celestial and infernal, what languages are there (that matter/would make sense to have)?
A delirous trek slowly brings Sourat closer to his destination. At night he tumbles and turns restlessly in his sleep, soaking up the pale moonlight as dark claws rip into his mind, turning his fragile state of mind upside down. No longer is the hunger for innocence dominating his ladder of desire, but a burning necessity to see the Mitrans drowning in an ocean of their own blood. There, he'll dive in and swim amongst the fallen, then, he'll close his eyes and have his Dark Mother embrace him.
I'm sure we'll hit it off in no time x'D
I roleplay Sourat's 'low' constitution of 10 by explaining it through his Goddess' 'blessing': disease and illness. Let it be clear that I/Sourat won't try to spread this to other players .. *laughs* and it might die down a little as we progress. Dark blessings always have a cost ;)
She didn't understand. It had nothing to do with power. With establishing dominance. Sensation in all forms, that's what it was about. Through the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, one could find himself as he truly is. Like an artist he would push the beauty of those he feasted on to a higher level, if only if they would let him. And so a cold smile formed on his pursed lips, eyes growing dull after the initial exchange. Already his forehead was covered in sweat as a virulent fever gnawed on his constitution. "My body is wracked with disease. All of my earthly possessions have been taken away from me. I live in a world that has rejected me. If you're telling me that I should not even dare dream of a mouthful of sweetness, a succulent promise of hope, now that's something worth dying for."
"I haven't feasted in a long time. Forgive me, but I had too many opportunities to think of new and innovative flavors, but you hadn't made it to the list. Yet. ", he says with a menacing grin. In fact, he was only toying with her. She lacked the succulent innocence that he so savored. The other girl tho .. oh, she was a halfling. Too sinewy by far. Plus, having to wake up a recently escaped man with a disturbing appetite in the middle of the night .. poor thing.
Mother?! No, after a closer inspection, Sourat concluded that she surely was not mother. He blinked away the sleep as a fit of coughs struck him. An ever stuffed nose meant that he made all manner of disgusting sounds. Slowly he got up and warily eyed the woman, wondering who she represented. Even in his sickness-induced delusional state of mind he couldn't help but wonder. But one thing he did not doubt. Whoever got him out, did not want him dead. And that meant he had at least one potential ally out there. Welcome news indeed. With a hoarse voice he answered her. "Fine. I will do just that." It was only after he gave her a dismissive answer that he felt a certain hunger growing inside. He had not seen such a fine woman in quite some time .. inadvertently, he licked his lips in a sickening manner as he snorted to temporarily clear his nose. |