Ok folks, I am sorry but due to life I am going to have to bow out of all games. I really am sorry.
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The hand cuts off Pinkerton's reply before it can even begin. "Certain things, between a man and a woman, should remain private my friend." The matter of fact stare and deadpan delivery leave no doubt of what The Hand believes is going on behind those rocks.
The Hand cares not for petty problems, his only worry is keeping his charges alive.
Swipe swipe goes the rag across the blade. The hand continues to state out into the desert sands.
The Hand continues to polish armor and weapon while the others go over the loot.
If you.have to leave someone out of the spells duration leave me out. Most likely to handle it OK .
16 hp
If someone explains what the rod is the hand will request to hold onto it. He is no stranger to pain and sees it as a way to help mitigate the need to heal himself. Will of course enjoy playing out that request in character.
"If none would mind, I would very much like the use of that fine tower shield." The Hand remarks as he cleans the blood off his armor and weapon.
The Hand continues to follow his training. ____________________ Second verse, same as the first. standard attack. Bodyguard. God I suck at fighting but I am an awesome bodyguard.
Sorry to see you go. Good luck with your boards and remember it could be worse, could be psychology.
Sounds good boss.
The Hand stands ready to repulse any charge, he watches the gnolls with stoic indifference. ______________________
The Hand stands ready to take any blow and weather any opponent. His task is clear, hold back the tide so that the others may strike them down with impunity, this he could understand. Shiny new scimitar at the ready and tower shield positioned to protect both he and his partner to his left, he is ready. __________________________________________________
The Hand will take up any warding position his people decide is best for him. Finally something he knows how to do and how to do well.
"I will hold back so as not to give away your positions if you wish. This scouting would require stealth and that is something I am not even remotely good at. Yell out my name though and I will ride in like the flood water." The Hand is still anxious, he has lost one member on this trip and wishes not to lose another.
All sounds good to me.
"Why do we talk while there is someone in need of our aide?" With that question the Hand kicks the Stomach into a loping gait towards the sounds of combat.
As the beasts corpse is finally unearthed from the sand the Hand begins the process of moving his friend's remains to their final resting place. Arranged around the mangled corpse he places his worldly possessions. A crossed the chest he places the sword and crossbow, resting hands to hilt and stock as best he can. Jack's buckler he uses to hold the meal he will eat in the afterlife, a meager meal to be sure as it consists of trail rations but a meal none the less, and places it on the right side so his spirit may reach to it when he has need on his journey. Too the left he places the chess board and pieces, being sure to set every piece in its place before making an opening move kings pawn to e4. "Your move my friend." He says softly to the now cold flesh that was once a smiling elf as he painstakingly covers the board with sand so the burial will not disturb the pieces later. The hand will then begin singing a prayer for Jack's speedy travel to the afterlife, not well but with resounding voice and solemnity. Afterwards, if no one stops him or provides their own prayers he will allow the professor to say any prayers he likes. "He is for all times to the sand and the dune. His flesh is done and his soul will move on its journey provisioned for its trip. I am only sorry I could not give him more."
The plan to bury him in the pit sounds perfectly reasonable.
"Out of all of you he was my only friend yes. I am sorry but I will deal with him in the way of the sand. He must be buried well." The hand sets to work burying his friend in a manner befitting a son of the desert, with dignity and care.
The Hand continues his charge, watching the lizard rush past him and become entangled with the beast. Hatred for this creature of tooth and tentacle wells up in his armored breast. With practiced ease the Hand finishes his arduous charge down the dune and attempts to plunge his blade into the beast. ___________________________________________________
sounds good to me. as long as i can play I couldn't care less how you portray my character on a map.
The hand rushes forward towards the beast, hoping it will come out after him next and spare the others Jack's fate. "حان الآن الوحش. مواجهة جبروت بلدي." Osiriani:
Come beast. Face my might. ____________
The hand rushes forward towards the beast, hoping it will come out after him next and spare the others Jack's fate. "حان الآن الوحش. مواجهة جبروت بلدي." Osiriani: Come beast. Face my might.
Willing to use roll20.
Hearing the sound of the only friend he has on this forsaken trip in trouble, the Hand spurs his camel into motion. Riding to the top of the dune, the hand dismounts and pulls his blade and shield, readying himself to save Jack from peril or avenge his life if it is too late for heroics.
Ah, but you forgot to include one umbral agent who just happens to be stuck there with them.
Stuck together, on a deserted island, forced to rely on each other for basic survival. Yep l, gonna be that way about it.
Quite honestly I would love to get to know the rest of the party. Problem is I am just here to get paid and the only character I have enough of a connection with is the one I am replacing.
Sounds good.
The Hand sits and sips at his skin of water, sweat still glistens down his face in small runs following in the tracks of their earlier brethren. With a shrug he takes the news of his new companions wrongful accusation and near execution with the quiet dignity you have come to expect form the man when he is working, a far cry from the loud boisterous giant he had been only a few days before. Something about the trackless desert, the constant need to watch for danger, and the constant heat barring down seems to have triggered a change in the man; no one can say when or where it they first noticed it. Maybe it was that glint in his eyes, or the minute that his smile seemed to move to a permanent blankness; a face now devoid of life. All anyone can say is that the man seems ready for anything that comes, and somehow that is all the comfort anyone seems to need. He breaks the silence for a few words that roll forth almost effortlessly, the practice and belief of true faith evident in every syllable. "We will find what is here... Kepri will reward our struggle." With no explanation he turns once more to his vigil, watching the far horizon for any sign of trouble.
I didn't list one because he only takes off his armor to sleep and is quite nude at that point. Character reasons.
The hand will use his once a day ignore fatigue from one source to ignore the heatstroke each day. Still takes the non-lethal, Also he never takes off his armor so add in the minus 4 each time I should have more damage.
The Hand continues to move forward with his camel, not once complaining about the heat. His stoicism only matched by his will to move on.
If Ardeshir doesn't show back up I will take the scimitar. Other than that the Hand does not worry about the trivialities.
You missed some puns there Sasbrek. Could have said this adventure requires a steady hand. This must be a delicate process if it requires a steady hand. Hey why don't we clone him, then we could be surgeons with steady hands. Hey, we are playing pathfinder not baseball. Please feel free to get any more out. :)
Well I figure I have been protecting Halib's boy through the whole of the combat, might as well explain the exp I just soaked up. Well didn't soak up so much as share in as we are not using exp, but anyway. Dramatic entry is dramatic.
I look forward to our many philosophical differences and the conversations they shall spawn.
The Hand bursts forth from one of the side doors, shield forth and blade firmly in hand. He carries a small boy on his back, the child seems to be scared out of his wits and is gripping the Hand's armor so tightly that his whole arm has gone white from the strain. Fresh blood drips from his blade and has splattered to form a dark red river a crossed the blackened landscape of his shield and armor. "HALIB, HALIB! نحن تعرضوا للخيانة." The Large man wheels about interposing his shield between himself and the rest of the party, it is obvious by the way he holds it that he is leaving many vulnerable openings for attack just so he can protect his young charge. A look of anger and disgust plays a crossed his face. Translation: We have been betrayed.
Going to be lurking about keeping tabs on this campaign so don't mind me. Want to see how everything turns out and be ready to drop in if one of you drops out. Normally I wouldn't comment on something I am technically no longer a part of but had to pipe up on this. Reach trip 18-20 crit range and it is a twohander, fauchard is one of the few times when spending a feat on exotic weapon is actually decent so... just my two cents. Good luck with medschool and good luck to everyone else in making your characters shine.
Be my guest and use the Hand as an NPC if you need one that you can kill off to prove the severity of the situation, I dont't think I will ever get use out of him in another game.
The Hand chuffs out a bout of laughter that rattles the table as his leg shakes and his hand pounds down upon the table in a loud Klopf Klopf Klopf. "Oh but what a rare treat, I have apparently made the friendship of one so stunning a beauty without having once spoken to her. My charm must be improving, though I do not know how." The smile on his face is genuine, eyes shine with an inner happiness any who would know him would remark on the rarity of such joviality from the normally over serious man. His eyes follow the slope of Unafe's neckline, drawn down to the necklace that rests on her chest. A mountain of man contained in slag black armor explodes to his feet, shoulders heaving back so as not to invade another's space. The Hand barks out, almost beaming with pride as if pride could outshine the sun. He gestures to the elf who has been his feasting companion and future business partner. "This is The Jack of All Trades, learned man of scholarly pursuits and well versed in linguistics. He is my good friend and traveling partner, a man without equal and above all reproach." The Hands arms return to his side and he bows slightly. "I, my dear, have the honor to be called The Steady Hand of Totra. Late of the Ruby Prince Khemet III's Risen Guard. I have the distinction of being a well trained wall for your enemies to break their blades upon. The what you will eat is up to you,but if it was up to me you would be having..." The hand stoops over the table and picks up a large plate with some kind of grilled bird splayed open and filled with rice. ...yes you would be having Hamam Ma'Shi, a delicacy. And for your odd pet there..." Again the hand fishes through the dishes and comes up with a plate on which rests a heavily salted and garliced mass of uncooked duck. "...I believe this will do nicely."
Good luck to everyone.
The Hand places his bowl down for a second. "Well then know this, most adventurers are dumb. They do not prepare for the dessert, they do not accept that they know nothing and must prepare for anything. None know what is out there. None know the nature of the treasures that is out there, just waiting to be found. Most think they are strong enough to face any guardians. Ahh, but it is not guardians that you have to worry about. No no my friends, it is the traps and the desert itself. The heat and thirst you will suffer while searching for ruins, and the pitfalls left to catch the unwary. You think guardians would still protect after all this time. Sure, some gnolls may have taken up residence in a complex, or some restless dead may walk their halls still, but it is the traps that will still function long after most creatures have walked away or starved. A block of stone never gets tired of waiting to crush the first person to walk in a room. The pit never becomes sated on the bodies of those who fall to their doom. A bladed may still cut through or an arrow may still pierce if the mechanism is still functioning. And so you bring a man like the Jack of All Trades here, a man who knows these things." He nods as if that is the end of that. As he peers around expectantly, his eyes catch sight of a few bowls of Um Ali and he prepares to pass them around the table.
"You know nothing it seems my new friend, and it seems you need to both learn what you do not know and understand what you do. This is fortuitous that you meet us here on this, the most holy of festivals. Fatta is good food, it is chorcorus; bread; meat; and rice all with garlic vinegar poured over the bowl. Very tasty indeed, and only for occasions of celebration. Come, sit, eat with us as we feast to another year of survival." The Osirian gestures to a seat and hands over a bowl, thanking the kind old man who is humbling himself to service.
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