Sven, likewise, takes to the skies, currents of Positive Energy buoying him above the ground.
Once within range he chucks a big honkin' sharp log at it.
Search Posts
"Hmph. Leave it to the Bonecrushers to only do half a job and leave the rangers to clean it up." Sven just points at the lizardperson. "Hey. You. We can see you. Let's talk."
Sven unstraps the Black iron armor from his pack and tosses it to Desmond. " Welcome to the club. It's good armor, but too restrictive for how I need to fight now. Seems to sap a little of the Green's energy, and makes it hard to aim." "I want to check out all of it, but the lizardfolk lair seems a good place to start."
Sven pokes a goblin. "These guys usually use demons?"
Sven grunts. "Not very fun, is it?"
- The spell harmlessly fizzles in the air around the Bar-Lgura.
Sven grunts as the croc hits him, and draws on the power of nature to grow yet more plants to fill in the wounds in his currently plant-like body.
Then he fires off another, weaker blast at the crocodile. This one doe snot crackle with living energy, but remains a razor sharp exploding shaft of wood.
Sven pours everything he has into the next shot, taking a quick step back and aiming straight for the crocodile's heart with a Life infused shaft of ironwood.
Sven, meanwhile, tries to take down the crocodile itself.
Sven wreathes his body in glowing energy, wrapping it into a large spike of thorn-covered wood that sheathes his hand, and fires it at the hulking croc.
"Huh. True."
"If you want us to split up, then sure." Sven shrugs.
Sven leaves his proteges to help lead the militia. "I want to see the alligator riders. I miss Mr. Scaly." Sven says, wistful, before putting his scowl back on.
Sven orders his apprentices to accompany them; they can do some minor jobs around Tuskkeep to build goodwill and solve some of the smaller problems in the goblin city and its surroundings. "Have you heard any more rumblings about the tundra clans and the "Toothless" leading them?"
Sven has changed much in form, if not attitude, over the last year. While incredibly hale, and still quite fit, his bulging muscles have been replaced with a wiry, corded musculature more suited to the new fighting style he's developed; his new weaponry is nearly weightless, and requires more in the way of accuracy than strength. He folds his arms and nods at Desmond, Ven, and their new companion Moryn. "We're all better off if Pepperclamp stays in control over in Tuskkeep. He might be the most reasonable goblin that's ever lived, and we need a level head in these times."
Table I Linked Earlier:
Dwarf (1-4)
Sven falls, dimly aware of pieces of the former Advisor raining down around him. His last thought before the fall snaps his thick neck is that he's satisfied. If his life can buy the safety of those under his protection, so be it. Moments later, he is subsumed by the Green. It does not speak in words, but it doesn't need to. Sven has lived his entire life surrounded by nature and the things that live within it. He understands the cycles, and lives as in tune as he can with the natural world, his beast-man heritage perhaps making it easier for him to empathize with animals. The Green throbs, and he feels nature sing within him. It feels his time is not yet done. Champions of nature are all too rare, and if Sven is not one yet...well, he could be. And that's enough. Ultimately it is Sven who makes the choice, and the Green traces subtle paths to bring a follower of the Green Faith to Ambervale at the appointed time, with salves and druidic chants to enter a creature into the cycle once more. The Green makes him understand that the revival is not without a price: as with all things, change is necessary. It imparts a final feeling of amusement as he is thrust back into the world. Sven awakens, naked, in a cocoon of leaves and wood. He panics for a moment, reaching, and they part to let him free. Sven, never one to be modest (and having no reason to be) greets his friends even as he looks in a mirror and pats his body all over. At first he is puzzled; he doesn't look any different. But he FEELS different. The rage simmering inside of him, that he'd recently tried to suppress was simply...gone. In its place was a calm he'd never known, even before his first change. His first thought is that perhaps he's human; he'd look little different from one without his ability to change shape. But the short-lived disappointment passes as he can feel the change rippling under his skin, waiting as always. He lets it come to the fore, and he finally gets the Green's joke. There is always change indeed, as shaggy fur covers Sven's body and an elongated, thick snout pushes from his head. He bears his new fangs, sniffing the air, then throws back his head and laughs. A small price to pay for his life, if you could even call it that. The loss of his rage was almost worth being locked in a single form already, but this? Probably the best possible outcome.
Over the next year, Sven realizes more than just his beast heritage has changed. Without the simmering rage beneath, there is nothing to channel, neither for his furious growth or the herbs meant to channel it into a more focused effort on destroying his foes. But what the Green takes, it replaces. His rage is replaced by calm, and his affinity for his bestial nature is supplemented by a newfound appreciation and kinship with the flora of the world, not just the fauna. They leap to his command, forming weapons or moving at his will. And not just plants, the underlying energy of LIFE is at his beck and call, though limited in its own way. I takes time to become accustomed to his new abilities, but in the end he's happier than he ever was before.
Sven roars in pain as his skin pales from the sapping energy the Advisor has shrouded himself with, but presses on. He's the only one here who can.
"One of you, dispel that if you can!" he orders, and waits just long enough for them to do so. Then he attacks, whether they succeed or not.
Sven sizes up his opponent then charges in with a roar!
"One of you, can you get me up there?" Sven shouts to the Clerics.
Sven silently upgrades the threat in his mind and starts snapping orders. "By my authority as a veteran Ranger I'm taking command of this situation!" he bellows. "You, you, and you! Figure out between you something to do about that poison! Make a wall and seal off the area, whatever you can do!"
"While one of you does that, someone cast Protection from Evil on me, or Magic Circle if you have it! Chaos too!"
"Maya...!" he hesitates for a moment. "Fighting retreat! Fire arrows at that...thing as you move back down the hall. Stay close to Mithakillis and make sure nobody hurts him!" For his part, Sven downs a vial of herbal tonic he mixed earlier; an infusion of truffles and wolfsbane which helps bring out his lycanthropic heritage. Bristly fur covers his body, and he becomes even more bestial than his usual transformations, though he stays small and retains his sanity.
Sven moves in and quickly grabs the advisor, moving him out of harm's way. "Maya! Move to safety and keep and eye on this one while you do!" he says, shoving the advisor towards her.
Sven snorts. "Clever? It's stupid. As soon as it's detected, the fact that you're so blatantly circumventing the questioning is guilt in itself. People without something filthy to hide don't resort to extreme measures like that."
"Something's definitely wrong. It's easy to tell when someone's Dominated. Whenever he answers a question it looks like he throws off the spell for just a moment, then succumbs to it again."
"There's something off about him. Keep asking questions."
Sven stands there intimidatingly and occasionally sniffs to see if he can smell fear or deceit.
"You mean that literally? If you're right, it's something to look into. There are tests." Sven shakes his head and sighs. "You keep screaming about revenge. What kind of wrong was done to you? I believe that much, nobody has an outburst like this for no reason."
"You doing okay? He didn't hurt you, right?" Sven asks before going down to meet the prisoner. ---- "How did you think this was going to go? You've got some decent gear, but there are several people in the Watch that could have stopped you, even if you hadn't made such a big scene moving through town before."
Sven lashes out with fury, not holding his punches on the slipper foe. "If he dies, we can speak with his corpse."
Sven flanks with Desmond, studies his prey, and throws out a testing attack.
'Huh. looks like we were wrong. Come with us, whoever it is may still double back for you. We can protect you if you're nearby." he tells Mithakilis, and dashes off toward the sound of the explosion.
"Someone might be trying to kill you. We came to make sure you were all right." Sven immediately casts Detect Poison on the food.
"Taking bets on whether this guy can impersonate other people? it's probably the chef, if it's anyone n that line up."
"Any non-strangers?"
"We almost didn't. Damn uppity tree hugging..." Sven says, trailing off into incoherent grumbling. ----------------- "Once I've got his scent there's no way he'll be getting away this time." Sven pauses. "Unless he teleports again. Or uses that spell I learned that gets rid of your scent. But other than that, no way!"
Sven snorts again. "Pfft. So much for that great Elven high magic."
"I think we should put out a public statement in Aldwall that we are seeking information on the cults. Whoever killed this Norgorberite may have more information and be willing to cooperate." Sven snorts. Being part boar, he's pretty good at that. "If you want to get stabbed in the night, go for it. But leave me out of that plan." Sven does take a good look (and sniff) around the shrine, however.
Sven hesitates, but grunts in assent. "Just try not to get hurt. Amra would never let me hear the end of it if one of you got killed under my watch."
Sven takes the monster parts to a mage he knows in Ambervale. He's still not entirely sure how a creature made of shadow leaves a corpse, but it somehow sits there, weightless in his hands as he looks at it. "Can you turn these into a cloak, or a cape?" he asks, handing over the Winter Wolf pelt and demon corpse. "The wolf pelt should be large enough on its own. I want the head clasped around the chest, like this." he says, and wraps it around himself a bit. "Then maybe line it with the shadow? I've always wanted a good reversible cape for sneaking around in. Some of the best hunters have them for different terrains, but I bet nobody has one like this." Hopefully she agrees, and tells him how long it will take.
Sven takes the job request to track down the priest of Norgorber.
Sven nods his head. "Good. I'll see about taking some odd jobs until then. There's always stuff that needs doing."
"Are there any in your camp that might be able to get me in contact with those allies of the tundra goblins without me having to fight my way through them? Maybe they could be made to see reason. There's nothing good that can come from breaking the alliance with us."
Sven thinks for a minute, and shakes his head. "No, I think she's still there. The first we encountered of abnormal goblin behavior was near the tundra. We tried to investigate but were chased off by a giant worm that radiated heat. They might be using the dangerous creatures in the area to scare off invaders."
"You have any idea where she might be found? Even a general area is enough for me to start tracking her supporters' movements. Maybe I can talk to her, see what her goals are."
"Does she see the future or something? Or is she simply a goblin genius or tactician?"
Sven shrugs. "Do what you like. I don't mind the company."
Will: Gotcha, captain. Do you want us to stay longer or have another job for us? "Stay with me for a while. We're going to do some investigating."
"Good work." Sven grunts, feeling slightly guilty. He'd completely forgotten about his apprentices. "Don't worry about the goblins not trusting you at first. They don't trust most people under the best circumstances."
"So the tower's racist? Great." Sven grumbles, brushing himself off and glaring at the cuts and scrapes on his hands.
...Sven spends his turn getting up from prone and walking up stairs.
|