"Let's do this."
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I'm down to go with Aurical and Arrows. Being the closest in alignment to a hellknight after all.
"I have no need to carry around a small armory worth of polearms with me, and I find my existing armor to still be satisfactory. Take what you need, I will use my share later." Targis will volunteer to take 2 watches if needed. Strong coffee helps. Other stimulants more so. Still, he makes sure to get some rest. Sleep is a soldier's friend.
Targis moves forward, creating a second line, and takes a stab at the sorcerer.
"Keep it down back there. Orcs can be hard to put down, but you can at least die with honor, not throwing petty insults."
Oh boy! Level 4! This level I get... [checks notes] a feat and a power attack increase! I should figure out what I want at 4th... GM, the rules as written allow for a character to uptrain their feats as they level up. IE, a feat obtained at 4th level could be trained to a different feat at 5th level that has a requirement of BaB 5. What do you say to me not taking a feat at 4th, since the feat I truly want, stunning irruption requires BaB 5 instead of spending time and money to uptrain something later? No is ok, but I'll just take weapon focus in that case which feels kind of sad.
Wordlessly, Targis draws a glaive looted from an enemy cultist, dropping his halberd as he does so. It pains him to treat his weapon like that, but survival comes first. The unfamiliar balance causes the weapon to roll slightly in his grip, but the military training he did so long ago comes back to him all in a rush. He knows how to handle a pole arm.
I think I've proved that X3 is plenty...
Targis's mind:
"Just a soldier ma'am. I taught my ward some basic maths, but that was a long time ago, and I'm sure he's had better tutors than me." "Arrius, we will hold this line together!" Targis readies an action to hit anyone who comes within whacking range who's a baddy.
"You know," Targis says matter of factly, "Diseased blades aren't all that useful in the heat of battle like this. They take time to infect your target, and by that point they may have already killed you. It would seem, that truncation is superior to transmission." Feeling like he hasn't properly gotten his point across, or that the nuances may be lost on the remaining onlookers, he adds "Idiot."
"I will hold the line as best I can! Form a second row behind me with reach weapons. Those who have a ranged attack bring down that caster
Targis moves up and takes a swing at the standing Schir.
As a swift action, he points at the minotaur. "You're next."
Also, back to back crits! Super lucky on my end! Hope it doesn't run out...
"You've done well Arrius. Now let me take your place so that you might heal up." Targis charges, drawing his halberd, and firing off a mighty overhead chop.
Edge alignment? Perfect. Berserker drugs? Operating at peak capacity. Bisection? Imminent.
I am very sorry to hear that Shadow Dragon! Would dictation software be useful at all? If it would be, I could point you towards some decent free stuff, or even some of the paid stuff I use.
"Methinks we might be somewhat out of our comfort zone." Targis mutters to himself as he tries to squeeze through the wall. "Pit traps, hook handed horrors, and jumping barbarians. Whatever happened to two heavily armored individuals trying to kill each other like civilized folk?"
"And I might need you to give me a pull. Reciprocity is the spice of life I suppose." Targis drinks his mutagen and gives Arrius a good shove when the paladin is good and ready to get through the wall.
"Good strategy, small flaw." Targis gestures to his platemail. "I've got some training in climbing with it, and I could get up a dangled rope, but freeclimbing is right out. Don't trust those vines with my bulk."
My understanding is we have not rested, and we were going to the time sensitive thing first.
"I have more of my berserker's draught brewed, although I have already drunk two today. In my prime I only once handled more than 3, and I am no longer as young as I once was." He glances over at Arrius. "How are you, holy warrior? Can you handle more slings and arrows of misfortune? Or do your divine ministrations need rest?" There is only a very slight hint of mocking there; Targis has no pools, no 1/day powers, no anything other than his HP and his mutagens. Still, he respects the martial proficiency of Arrius.
"If the casters are running on empty we should rest here. I could keep going, but I prefer to work with well rested soldiers, not half-useless liabilities that I need to protect." He softens slightly. "I understand that learning to control magical arts can take a lot out of person. It's to be expected that you don't have as much time to practice with weaponry or marching in armor. And I am not as young as I used to be, my muscles are aching."
Me am fighter. Me am fight much good. Have mutagen and HP, so fighter happy. ... I second Arrius's motion of making it the caster's problem to decide.
Targis shakes his hand, but that's all he can offer to this situation, considering he has no relevant knowledges. "How are you holding up Arrius? You might want to consider some heavier armor not unlike myself."
Targis takes a swing and a miss at the gargoyle. He's been pleased with the resilience of his armor, but it always could be better. As his mind wanders even slightly, his edge alignment gets all messed up, and he slaps the gargoyle harmlessly with the flat of the blade.
Targis retaliates with a heavy blow of his own.
"I think not having a brain has finally caught up with him." Targis remarks. "Better late than never. I'd almost feel bad about killing such a pathetic creature now. Almost."
I would like Arrius to make all attack rolls against me from now on. Ideally in all the games I'm in :)
Targis grunts as the gargoyle takes a large chunk out of him. It feels strange to lose so much blood, and then to have it come rushing back with some healing magic. He once again swings at the gargoyle.
"I know the feeling. I also drink some "juices" that make me stupider as well. Gives me a splitting headache."
"I think I knocked some of it's grey matter loose. It's rattling around up there."
Planting his feet firmly upon the ground, Targis swings once more at the gargoyle in front of him.
Unfortunately his foot turns on some rubble, and his blow swings wide!
Targis readies his halberd to meet the flying creature as it comes down. "Huddle up! Don't spread out too much or it will pick us off one by one! Make sure everyone has a polearm user near them! We're going to take these flying f%+@s down!" He stands in front of Sahala. As it stood she probably looked like the easiest target for a gargoyle to prey upon. Targis of course, knew better, but still wanted to capitalize on his foe's folly.
I prefer the reach! I'm specc'd into using polearms with my shield, in fact I took special care to find a non-reach polearm in the halberd to use my feats properly, but if reach is needed, I'd like a glaive :)
"Could we fight it? Is it still here? Anything that requires a cannon sounds like it would be outside of our ability to combat."
"That is a great unkindness Arrius. The Kellid I learned how to make my berserker's brew from had a saying 'The only thing scarier than a young barbarian is an old barbarian.' Age on a warrior is a sign of experiance." Sigrat says this with a slight mocking tone, but it's meant in good jest. He feels closest to Arrius, despite their differences in outlook and upbringing, they have more similarities than the rest of the group.
"Something smells of sulpher. Or cannons."
I will take 1 of the glaives as a backup weapon.
Targis groans. "No more stimulants for me, thank you. I'll brew up another dose of my own special blend, but I must limit myself to no more than 3 in a day. They take a toll on my aging bones."
"Shall we camp here for the evening, or continue onward? I for one could continue, but more importantly how close to empty are the casters running?"
"For the love of your holy Iomedae, stop that infern-celestial noise! A paladin of Shelyn you are not. If that's what the celestial hosts in heaven sound like, then I'd rather my soul be ripped to shreds by the daemons!" Targis clutches at his skull. The reverberations of Arrius's performance seem to have kickstarted his comedown. But he is a soldier, and used to trekking through pain. He continues to help as best he can.
"I always used to say a good soldier carried a trowel," Targis laments. "Perhaps we could bastardize one of those glaives as a substitute. It hurts me to use a weapon like that, but..." Targis goes inside to fetch a glaive, and starts digging. "Let me know if Yartuk gives you any of that ham. I'm starving, and my head is about to be killing me."
Targis, still feeling amped up, and having finished cleaning his weaponry will start exploring room 2, followed by 8 if he finds no evidence of digging.
Completely lost by the conversation of other worlds, and complicated moral judgement, Targis sits down to nurse what was inevitably going to be like 10 hangovers all at once when his mutagen wears off. But since he still seems to have more than 20 minutes of drug-fueled energy left to him, he gets back up again. Looking around the mansion, he decides to make use of one of his skills from a past life, profession butler to try and figure out where the best hiding spots for valuables would be in this house.
"Goodbye miscreant," Targis says as he moves up to end the priest. "May you find solace in whatever afterlife you end up in. Though judging by your actions in life, I find that highly unlikely."
Surprisingly graceful for such a large man, the pinned priest allows Targis to demonstrate his implicit understanding of anatomy by delivering a devastating blow.
"It is simpler to pretend to be frozen when one has a visor," Targis thinks to the succubus humbly, "I'm sure that if you could have seen my face you wouldn't have been fooled." "I would stab him, but there are quite a few people in the way, and a paladin blocking my way forward." Targis moves forward, stepping not particularly gingerly on dismembered cultist. Since the one near Arrius is near death, power attack off.
"Path is cleared for you Sapphire." Even in his mutagenically addled state, he remains a tactician.
Ah, see I assumed it referred to how both myself and the cultists were hostile towards her. Shows what I know!
"Your offer of aid is appreciated, but unneeded. I will break free on my own merit, or die by it. If this is my end, I will take your kind words into the next life." Targis still doesn't quite trust the demoness, but wouldn't consider himself a co-belligerent anymore. He is courteous as well, but uninterested in being beholden to a demon.
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