Hey all - sorry I went missing. I also got kicked off, and did not know how to get back on until a friend told me this evening. Will try to read up on the 40 missed posts before I go to bed tonight.
May all your rolls be better in this new year.By the gods, I hope so! Thus the reason I play casters - so far fewer rolls to screw up.
I liked the resealable sister parts, made for a whole different kind of inappropriate capitalism.
Hey all - posting here just in case. Trying to decide whether I have time for a pbp campaign. Had a great time playing with Tilnar in multiple games a long time ago. I have not played 1ed in almost a year - although with 5GM stars, I played enough that I can probably remember. (Yeh, I actually have 5 stars, Paizo does not appear to know how to check the box to have the 5th star show up on my avatar). If I play, it will probably be something simple. I have had a lot of fun playing oracles in recent times, so that is an option. Will have to see what else people are considering.
I too am quite disappointed that there is no PFS on Saturday evening. I am GMing 8 sessions, and Saturday afternoon (completely sold out), and Saturday evening (only SFS) are my only free slots. Looks like I will save 10-12 dollars and find a pick up PFS game somewhere. I have played SFS once with a pre-gen, and while I could do it again it was not that much fun, especially not knowing the rules and abilities, makes the game less interesting for me, and personally, I think that it would be quite annoying for other players at the table if I was continuously asking questions about the pre-gen.
Ooh, Ooh, Admin changes. Can you change Kithian and Vidar into goblins in heat? That is what they act like most of the time.
You and Kithian are pretty mellow. I GMed for a pair of Ulfens at a Con about a month ago who had Craft(orphan) as their day job.
DMDM would never send boulders after characters. <-- WARNING, DO NOT READ IF YOU LOVE PONIES --> FYI - it is a bit of a read, but worth it
Retcon: - hope this works better Drathi calls out:
She will use Suggestion as referenced in the prior post, with DC16. I hope that this suggestion is more acceptable.
Dinetta watches with interest as the carvers fashion the bone into the likeness of what she supposes this jawbone is supposed to look like. She does not know what the true bone is supposed to be, but the end result is a good likeness. She is suddenly shocked out of watching the carvers and examining their end result by Astrianna's inquiry.
She pauses for a moment before continuing:
She then looks over at Seagan, who is now stretching and talking to his dragon familiar.
She pauses again:
She looks back to Astri:
Sense Motive DC24: Bluff: Although she is good at concealing her emotions, it is clear that the idea of joining the crew intrigues the short librarian. And also that she has a few more talents than just being a librarian.
Dinetta listens to the half-elf and frowns:
She looks about the library.
She wipes her hands on the apron she is wearing and then looks to Astrianna.
Dinetta narrows her eyes, suspicious of the openness of these, adventurers? In Port Shaw everyone should be viewed with suspicion. Ever since being waylaid by the captain who attempted to feed her and her former companions to a bizarre alien, she has been less than trustful of all. However, she knows of Milliauka, and is concerned about what the Blood Moon might bring. Looking up at Astrianna:
More importantly, why are you interested? Why track down me, a librarian when you could simply find the shaman?
Here is Talgar the arcanist I submitted earlier. Might tweak him some, but will use the background. Might switch feats/exploits, but that is about it. Need to level him up if we are level 2.Oooh, a healer and an arcane caster. I like it! I like to think of him as a blast, with a bandaid.
It has been a blast, especially when the bad guys missed their saving throws against my fireballs. I will never forget Bofus and Tirion sneaking into the main dragonspawn camp, stealing the plans, and then lighting the wyrmlord's tent on fire. And, Thordak hanging from a rope and trying to knock down the bridge while being attacked by a dragon was pretty fun as well.
Dinetta looks at the strange items.
Perception:
Wis: Fortunately the goblins lack of (wis/int/civility/sanity) is not yet wearing off on the ratkin.
Narissth also examines the door, ignoring the insane goblin next to him smashing his head against the unweilding stone. Perception:
Dinetta groans:
With that, she reaches into her pouch and pulls out a small flask of pink flecked liquid. Without a pause, she tosses the flask into the closest swarm of rats where it bursts into an inferno which quickly lights a number of the rats aflame. Move: Draw Alchemist Fire
Reflex: With great ease, Dinetta does what appears to be a leap to the side, perhaps she learned this avoiding thrown books in the library, and avoids the rocks and urchins at the bottom. Looking up, she calls.
Narissth is about to warn the goblin of the rather overly aggressive nature of the tree, but decides that the goblin will not listen and that learning from his own mistake is probably the best option. Nonetheless, the ratfolk winces inwardly expecting the goblin, and his goblin-parts to be in different places before long.
Fort:
Gives a whole new meaning to the eating crow.
Actually, they have Kzrira doing the talking. This is sort of like hiring an ex-NFL player with several concussions to do your taxes, or hiring a blind person as your driver.
Yeh, but sometimes being immune to fear is a bad thing.
Ailetha, who does sense a tie to these horrid creatures and knows that her true mother was a hag, simply crosses her arms and waits for the hags to respond to Karlan's request.
Tirion walks into the room and looks at the dead dragons.
Oathday 11 - night Tkaara takes deep breath, smelling only wood and the faint smell of earth and . . . and what smells slightly like decaying flesh. This last smell causes her to awake slightly more. Decaying flesh . . . flesh . . . where there is flesh, there is . . . blood. Mmmmm . . . blood. She reaches up to see what is before her. It is dark. Pitch black. Yet . . . yet, she can see something. Red . . . is it red she can see. Red . . . the color of blood. She tries to reach up again and finds a roof above her, but inches above her. She tries to grasp the roof, but it . . . it is covered in some fabric. Grabbing the fabric, she rips it and finds wood behind. Then she begins to scratch at the wood. She knows that this will simply break and destroy her manicured nails but . . . but instead, she can feel the wood rip and scratch. She continues to rip and suddenly wonders why she has not run out of air. Then, she realizes that she is not breathing. Confused, but slowly understanding, she renews her clawing until she feels dirt begin to fall on her. Grabbing the hole she has made, she begins to rip at the wood. She is sure that her hands should be ripped and bleeding, but does not feel any pain or sense any blood. After what seems like an eternity, she finally rips a hold large enough to get out of. And, above the wood is dirt, and more dirt. She senses that the dirt is rather soft, as though it is recently used to fill a hold. She pulls, wiggles and digs her way through the dirt until she reaches a solid level of earth. Pounding the cold solid, she feels it crack, and then shoves her head through the icy ground and into the dark night air above. As soon as her head gets out of the earth, she smells smoke, wood smoke. Once more, her mind suddenly turns to her hunger. She has not felt hunger like this in months, months that she has not eaten more than a few bites. Yet, now she is ravenous, and where there is smoke, usually there is food. Pulling herself fully out of the ground, she looks around and sees a building in the distance with smoke rising from its chimney. Not knowing where the town is, but feeling the hunger within her grow, she moves toward the house. Looking in the window, she sees an elderly man and his wife, farmers from the look. Tkaara suddenly feels her stomach growl again and a deep hungry desire begins to overtake her. She is about to break throught the door, when a brief glimmer of though breaks through her hunger. Grabbing a rock, she looks around. Seeing a small shed, she opens the door and sees several rakes and shovels. She throws the rock into the shed, causing the tools to crash down in a great clatter. A few moments later, the farmer, having heard the noise, appears out of the home pulling the second sleeve of his jacket on, while carrying a club in his other hand. As he checks, Tkaara, like a ghost, jumps him from behind. The farmer gives a sudden gasp and shout of surprise, but a moment later, feels his life drain from him. Not knowing what comes over her, Tkaara rips his throat with her nails (claws?), and begins to engorge herself on the sweet warm food. So enraptured by the glorious taste of the life-giving nourishment, Tkaara does not sense the old wife behind her until she hears a soft grunt. Ducking her head, she just avoids the old woman swinging a wood axe. Tkaara turns faster than she ever recalls moving and leaps at the woman. It is over in not more than a second and the woman is a pasty white, her life drained in the blink of an eye. Nearly an hour later, coated in a combination of blood and dirt, Tkaara, her clothing ripped an torn and far from decent in even the most debased of societies, looks around. No longer controlled by the overwhelming hunger, she sees the lights from the town, and in the distance past the town the fort, shining brightly. Realizing that she is standing on the edge of the cemetery, and that the old man and woman must have been the caretakers of the cemetery, Tkaara leaps over the cemetery fence and begins to run toward the town, partially hunched and an almost animalistic manner. Tkaara gets to the town quickly. Now being after the middle of then night, she makes her way silently toward where she recalls the inn being. Finding the inn, the door is locked. So, she makes her way around to the back where she locates the second floor window of the room joining her and the Doctor's rooms. Climbing up with great care, she gets up to the window, amazed that her emaciated arms and muscles feel no exhaustion or pain despite the exertion. Not knowing what the rest of the party intends for the night, she wipes her finger in some of the partially dried blood on the remains of the rags she is wearing and writes:
Sensing that she will need to sleep, much as she has done for the past months during the day, Tkaara moves from shadow to shadow until she arrives at the business of the coffin maker. After listening for guards, she smashes the lock and makes her way into the shop. Spotting a finished coffin, she picks it up, amazed that she can carry it, and not tired doing so, she leaves the business and makes her way back out of town. Recalling a cave she spotted just outside of town when the group was tracking and slaying the guard patrol a week earlier, she lugs the coffin into the cave, before returning back to the town. Sensing that it is but two or three hours before sunup, and that her new resting place is a good hour from the town, she once more returns to the inn to see if she can make contact with the Doctor or any of the other members of the party before she must leave.
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