Trigger Loaded's page

Tornell looks out at the spirits of the townsfolk, deep in contemplation.

Though he looks deep in thought, he doesn't head out into town, content to simply stare out at them, mumbling a few prayers for their safe passage to the hereafter.

Hate to be the spoilsport, but that tale is an urban legend, Haladir.

Did Pepsi really own the sixth largest navy?

The deal was proposed, but Pepsi didn't agree to it. And, as well, with the listed ships, it wouldn't have even been in the top 30 navies of the world. The Soviet Union did build several freight ships for Pepsi as payment, though.

Thod raises an eyebrow, intrigued in seeing Raven standing up to Krojun.

The homunculus - sitting on top of Thod's helmet...

*Swat*

I wasn't expecting her to talk, but no reaction to being shaken around? I was hoping that was unusual enough to at least elicit a confused glare.

"Dwarf, your name is Thod? Allow me to mend some of your wounds. Your challenges are not yet complete."

"Uhh... That's a weird way of putting it, but if you're here to heal me up, then go ahead. My buddy Sevenspawn there I think is still trying to catch his breath from where the tentacle gave him a squeeze."

Thod steps back and lets Raven Six do whatever weird Raven Six-ey thing it is that Raven Six does.

Spiderbeard, just a reminder that Thod has Uncanny Dodge and the improved version, and so cannot get sneak attacked. Reading your rolls, I take it that Thod would only take 14 damage? Minus damage reduction, for 12 damage.

"YOU BUG-EYED F#(@ERS AGAIN!? GOOD, I WAS GETTING BORED. TIME TO SQUASH SOME INSECTS!"

Thod readies his halberd, and spins it a bit, clearing some space before going on the offensive.

Enter a rage, using Guarded Stance, and I'll attack the assassin between Donnell and me. However, I suspect we won't get flanking, as I'm guessing these guys are high-level rogues or similar, and also have Uncanny dodge. Add +2 to my attack if that's not the case.

Rage, Power attack.
Attack 1: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (20) + 14 = 34 Damage 1: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (6) + 16 = 22

Rage: 24/25 (Remaining)
Guarded Stance: 5 rounds remaining
AC: 21

"How much you wanna bet that thing's gonna animate and try to print out our obituaries on our own hides with our blood as ink?"

"A bunch of skeletons around a statue. Yeah, this isn't concerning or suspicious at all."

Okay, tallying up all 'da buffs.

False Life: 18 temporary HP for 8 hours.
Protection from Energy: Absorb 96 points of energy damage for 80 minutes. (Fire and Acid)
Heroism: +2 to Attacks, saves, skill checks
Resist Energy: Resist 20 on energy type for 80 minutes. Will not stack with Protection from Energy (Protection gets burned through first)
Bull's Strength: +4 Strength for 8 minutes.
Channel Vigour: All sorts of stuff, but only for 8 rounds.
Freedom of Movement: Again, all sorts of stuff, but the important part is:

All combat maneuver checks made to grapple the target automatically fail. The subject automatically succeeds on any combat maneuver checks and Escape Artist checks made to escape a grapple or a pin.

Leastwise, this is assuming Raven Six's Caster Level of 8. Though if Donnell is higher, that'll mostly bump up durations.

Sorry for the delay, but want to be sure. Can all these extracts be made twice between Donnell and Raven? If not, and Sevenspawn does come with me, I'll let him have the single ones, as Thod is more confident of his ability to fight out. I will note, that Thod will NOT take Freedom of Movement. That's more of failsafe for others.

Seeing Cinderspawn on the horizon, Thod continues chugging potion after beer after potion after beer.

When the great beast erupts out of the earth, Thod takes one last drink, throws caution to the wind, assisted by the rather large intake of alcohol, and begins running towards the beast, dagger in hand.

"ALRIGHT YOU BIG FLAMING WORM-THING! LET'S DO THIS! COME ON, @$$H0LE, EAT ME! I KNOW YOU WANNA!"

And, if it wasn't already obvious, Thod enters a rage. He will willingly fail any grapple check, and indeed aim to literally jump into the worm's gullet.

"He is challenging you to a game of sredna. The rules are simple, but only one of you can play. One who can handle some pain and is strong."

Thod already starts shucking off weapons and starting to walk towards Krojun.

"Another bit of diplomacy involving a contest? This is becoming a habit. Like my grandpa said: 'Thod, if there was a thick head contest, you'd win everytime.' I think he was saying I was dumb, but I did try to start a hard head game, where you hit rocks thrown at you with your head. I think I won. Or maybe I was still working on the contest. I just remember being in bed with a headache for a day or two, and then my mom told me to never play it again."

"So what's the rules. No weapons, and no armour, I assume?" Thod says as he removes utility belts, packs, stopping on occasion for a drink from a flask.

"Well, that was a nice workout. Broke up the mundanity of this trip. Feel like we should take a wyvern head as a trophy. Anybody know anything about trophy taking? One time I tried taking the head of some cave beast as a trophy. Started to rot and smell really bad. My dad made me toss it out. Though that might have had to do with keeping it in my sister's room. She didn't like that..."

"Anyways, forward and onward?

"I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE!!"

"AND WE DIDN'T. GONNA CRY ABOUT IT!?"

Knowledge (Religion): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27

"PHANTOM. CAN'T HIT IT WHEN IT MOVES. DOES THINGS BASED ON EMOTION. Geez, how is Artyom able to say so much in so little time?"

Tornell moves up behind Ridill

"הגן עליו מפני הרע"
Tornell casts Protection from Evil on Ridill. In short, +2 AC (Deflection) and Saves (Resistance) vs. Evil attacks, immune to attempts to dominate, control, or posess, and evil creatures can't touch you.

Save: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (19) + 1 = 20

Are you kidding me!? The fat tub of lard makes his save!?

Apparently, Sarenrae is looking over her grouchy paunchy charge, as Tornell is somehow able to duck and cover, rolling out of the way of the worst of the blast.

He gets to his feet, rubbing his back. "Oooowww, think I pulled something..." though he then looks at the devastation it has wrought on the rest of his group.

"Ooooh... Uhh... How the hell did I avoid that?"

"Gather 'round, everyone, time for ol, Tornell to fix this, like I always do.... Gather 'round.... I SAID GATHER AROUND!"

Tornell will Channel Energy to heal the group.

Channel Energy: 2d6 ⇒ (1, 3) = 4

Tornell looks at his holy symbol, wiping it on his robes as if disappointed.

Channel Energy: 2d6 ⇒ (4, 4) = 8

"There we go."

Everyone heals 12 Hit Points

"We remembered the lock the door to the house before we left, right?"

"Yeah, you may be down here, but now people think Blackjack is around. Raven really wanted to dress up. Uhh, hope that's okay. Talk of continuing the legacy or stuff like that."

Thod moves to help Vencarlo down, offering him a drink, and perhaps some jerky and dried fruits, to help him recover from his captivity.

"Any idea where this Neo guy is?"

"Oooh, good point. Yep, the Queen is less awful, so away we go."

Tornell gives Artyom an askew glance as he moves up to offer some rations. Sure, part of him considered feeding the thing, but the jerk tried to eat the party.

And then Artyom's generousity paid off with potions. Tornell grunts, sighs, and shakes his head. Stupid mage out-doing him at being generous and accommodating.

-----

Tornell stays silent, but tries to cut a respectful yet official appearance, letting others do the talking for now. Too many people shouting over each other easily spoils any attempt at diplomacy.

If this fiend was hoping for a look of betrayal, she would be disappointed, for Thod's look is that of confusion, unable to follow much of what she's saying. And Thod's look of confusion is not a rare resource.

"You caught who...? Who told some guy...? Something...? Traitor...?"

"You have to die now. The game is over. I just wanted to see the look on your face."

"Ahh, now THAT I understand! GO TO HELL, FURFACE!"

5-foot step, enter rage, full round power attack.
Attack 1: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (17) + 14 = 31 Damage 1: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (7) + 16 = 23
Attack 2: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25 Damage 2: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (10) + 16 = 26

Rage Remaining: 17/25
Spiderbeard, I take it she has damage reduction. Is it only absorbing a bit of my blows, or is she clearly not taking a lot of damage? (To metagame, is her DR something like 5, or 10+) Or, better yet, is a magical Halberd able to pierce her DR?

"Yeah, we were pretty sure numb nuts upstairs was deliberately leading us into a trap. But hell, nothing else in this city has been able to take us down yet. Crime lords, dark priests, insane gang leaders. And we had to find you, so acceptable risk."

Thod doesn't directly communicate with sign language, though he does try to cover for the rest of the group. He walks up, eagerly handing over some of his rations. And some ale. "Sure look like you need a drink more than I do."

Nothing to add for now. Honestly rather confused as to the layout, but thankfully it's easy to assume Thod is similarly confused. I'll follow the group's lead, and open any doors/walk down any halls they'd like me to.

"Hmm. Braiding your beard in your sleep, perhaps. With pink ribbons."

"Aren't you supposed to be all cold and smart and aloof? It feels like you're trying to pretend to have a personality by repeating what other people do."

Thod looks at the bedroom, somewhat confused.
"Well, secluded spot, at least."
Does the bed look clean? Recently used? Or is it unmade with sheets strewn around it?

"Constructs? Isn't that another word for golems and what-not?"

"Anyways, I agree this stinks worse than an orc's armpit, but as you say, gotta get Vencarlo and that guy with the really weird name. I'm feeling great, and I'm ready for whatever some dumb dungeon has in store for us. Donnell, you should lead and keep your eyes open for anything that even hints at a trap. I'm right behind you."

"Oh, we're going down there to get them, don't worry about that. Didn't assault a crime boss and his goons trying to find somebody just to walk away because it's a little underground now. Just... You put them in this dungeon that you tell us is dangerous, can't tell us what traps or dangers are down there, and yet you're 'sure' they're safe. Somehow. Whatever. We'll fetch 'em for you. Well, us."

"In all seriousness, though, we do thank you for your hospitality. The bath was quite nice, and especially thank you for that ring. I'm sure we will put it to good use."

Seeing the relaxed attitude has been spoiled, Thod also begins to dry and redress himself.

"Alright, crew. Ready for a bit of spelunking?"

"A bath sounds like a great idea, actually! (Is a bath a good idea?) I think we can spare the time, Sevenspawn, for such a good host. And hey, cheese and wine!"

"What th... How many times have I told you I'm not your damn mule, you little naked weirdo!"
Thod swats R6-a off his head, only holding back slightly to avoid any causing serious harm.

*Looks left*
*Looks right*

POLITICAL OPINION!

"Huh? What? Me?"

Thod is clearly thrown off by Raven's beckoning. And wasn't expecting to have to say much of anything. Still, he plays his part.

"Oh, uh, Greetings. I am Thjodrorir Six-Picks, and these are my companions Donnell, Sevenspawn, and Raven Six. We are... Uhh... The Korvosian... Street Sweepers. We wish audience with the, uh, current... acting... boss?... of House Arkona. To discuss... important stuff. Because people as knowledgeable and respectable as House Arkona I am sure have heard of our tireless efforts to keep this city clean. Defeating a lot of... bad guys, and our tireless efforts to cure the plague that so recently ravaged the city. And now we believe that House Arkona can be good, er, valuable help, in our continuing efforts."

Tornell momentarily feels dumb, realizing the crow was talking to him and his allies, and not the children. It was asking them to die, not the children to accept death.

"Oh, crawl back to whatever maggot-ridden pit spawned you! And tell the...."
Then Tornell remembers there are children nearby.
"... Vile fiend who speaks through you that Sarenrae... uhh... Ahh, forget it. Just go away."

Maneuver around to flank with Malvo, and swing my morningstar.
Attack: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 + 2 = 24 Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
Crit!: 1d20 + 2 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 + 2 = 22 Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

"Lock up ol' Pilts, here. Got a place we can hold him for now? We'll figure out what to do with 'em tomorrow."

Thod enjoys the festivities more than usual tonight, possibly because it feels a bit more informal than previous celebrations. He tries to downplay his own achievements, though even with the appearance of Blackjack, many refer to Thod smashing through Pilt's goons, and Thod's ego is buoyed by the compliments.

-----

Sometime during, or perhaps after, the festivities, Thod will go to Sevenspawn, bringing a drink to offer to the priest.

"Hey, Sevenspawn. Uhh... I hope there isn't going to be any bad blood between us after the whole thing with Laori. I get you're a man of strong beliefs, which can be handy. Sometimes, though, you gotta know when a battle is worth fighting. You're not a Paladin who has to look all shiny and pure, after all. It's like my uncle said: 'Thod, you're as dumb as a mule and twice as ugly. Stick to the mines...' Wait, no, what did he say? I mean, he said that, and a lot of other things, which is probably why my family doesn't talk to him anymore..."

"Well, anyways, I'm sorry for making you angry. I can understand if you don't like me anymore, but I hope we can at least still stand side-by-side... Or you stand behind me, I'm cool with that, sort of my job... Either way, we still have a city that needs us, and I'm already in this far, so I'm willing to see it through to the bitter end. And I hope I can count on you as much as I have these past few weeks."

"Oh, who cares? Screamie's an adult, and crazy skull-humper's also an adult... I think, can never tell with elves... Point is, we aren't Salvator's parents. If he wants to talk to her, he's allowed to. I don't even like him, and we got the info we need out of him. As long as she doesn't rip his skin off and dance in his guts, I don't care... You don't intend to do that, right?"

"Blackjack, shouldn't you be dramatically whipping your cape and leaping out of here with a witty phrase or something? Doesn't seem like you to hang around after the big performance." *Wink, wink, knowing nod.*

What does 'hair of the dog' mean? I'm sorry that it's going over my head.

"Hair of the dog" means having some alcohol the morning after heavy drinking. The idea is getting drunk during a hangover is a way to get rid of the hangover, or at least blot it out with more beer.

Tornell is very interested in the talk of the 'skeleton monster' though further inquiries prove frustrating with the confusion. And what information he does get reveals that it was likely Thoot they are referring to. Frustration then mixes with a dawning sense of dread and sorrow.

So... This isn't some mistake. Everybody died. All in one night. So quickly they aren't even aware they died. And nobody saw anything happen. Everyone is dead, and they need to accept it so they can move on... Sarenrae help me, I was trained on how to help the living cope with the deceased, not help the deceased cope with themselves! And why was I spared? And why in a tomb? This still makes no sense!

Tornell gulps down his fear and sorrow, and looks for a lost soul somewhat more isolated than the others. Giving a rough polish of his holy symbol, he tries to recall a sermon he heard once about acceptance of mortality.

"Greetings, friend!" He greets a soul warmly. "I apologize, but do you have time to listen to the holy words of Sarenrae? I, uh... Need to practice my sermon."

Tornell will attempt to get one soul to accept his death in a roundabout way, practicing a 'sermon' on accepting death, slowly shifting the topic from the recently deceased to the person he's talking to.

Artyom:

"You're right, Alara. I do write in my spells to my book. However, this book is not an ordinary spellbook. It represents a pact that I have forged. For all my life, I wanted to be a crusader knight. To defend Lastwall from all evil and to further Society. However, I was never gifted enough physically. Then I came across this spellbook in my sister's bookstore. When I picked it up, I felt... something. A connection to some... Patron. A Patron of Mercy. It offered me the power to protect everyone. It could help teach me magic. However, it would come at some form of price. After weighing my options, I agreed. I don't know who or what my Patron is. But I consider it a worthy sacrifice. So, every once in a while, my Patron will add a spell to my book from its sphere of influence."

"Right. I got, like, three-quarters of that. You got suckered into thinking only big burly guys in heavy armour are the only people capable of being protectors, and would do anything to be among them. Then you made a deal with a book or something. I don't know. Whatever. As long as your patron doesn't tell you to steal stuff or murder people, I'm not too concerned. Got more pressing business right now."

"I must speak in utmost plainness - who are you, and where are you from? What do you last remember?"

"Brother Tornell Alderwyn. Servant of Sarenrae. Born in Roslar's Coffer, living in Lastwall. Was enjoying food and drink at a festival."

"Your hearts have something lodged inside them. Something that’s brought you here, but kept you from doing so in the orthodoxiumous fashion."

Curiously, Tornell pulls the collar of his robe and scale mail out to look down for any obvious wound over his heart.

Summary: Everybody's dead, Dave.

This does not strike Tornell particularly harshly. Partially due to having been gone from town for over a decade, and thus having little to tie him there. But also for experiencing, to him, much the same thing already when he first fled the town after the orcs razed it. In a way, he's a bit numb to the pain.

He opens his mouth to say something, but seeing several of his party members clearly not taking the news well, he wisely decides to shut his mouth. Now is not the time for pithy comments.

He, however, does look over to Artyom collapsing to his knees. Despite his general annoyance at the overly prepared and stuffy mage, he feels the need to provide comfort. He walks over, putting a hand on the shoulder without ricky.

"This is something clearly bigger than all of us. Something I doubt any of us could have stopped. Mourn, but don't blame yourself. We still have no idea what went on, so I doubt reading another book would have stopped it."

"And that being said, I agree with Malvo. I don't feel like trying to convince people they're dead without first learning how this happened. A whole town died in a night, and a whole tomb complex ends up teleporting to the Boneyard, with us still alive in coffins."

"I, uh... Let's take some time to mourn. Clearly this news has hit us hard. But perhaps in town, we can learn what went on. Either figure out if there has been a mistake, or learn who did this so we can make it better somehow."

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It might have something to do with what you just said."
"What do you mean?"
Didn't that sound... off to you?"
"What do you mean?"
"That didn't sound... mature to you?"
"I'm not following."
"You know, I can't tell if you're being serious or not."
"Hmm..."

"Sheesh. Your familiar feeds on corpses and is somehow more socially aware than you."

The walls of this room are carved with strange sigils in broad circles. The center of the room contains a stone pillar with a large wedge of crystal atop it; the pillar and the floor around it are covered with more of the strange glyphs. Curled up next to the pillar is the husk of a small blue humanoid. The only door in this room leads out to the north.

"Well, this screams trap. Then again, so has the rest of this hole. Probably don't touch that center gem, sounds prudent. No doorway out of here, so let's move on. Nothing in the room looks worth messing with."

"I swear I need to just tie her up at this rate or something.”"

Alara's ears perk up and she grins.

"Be careful what you say around an elf, my boy. Calistria, you know, makes 'em hear things you didn't mean sometimes."

As the conversation continues, Tornell simply stares at the group, one of his eyebrows raising past what seems to be physically possible by human muscular limits, even accounting for his somewhat loose-fitting flesh.

"I could learn some sort of spell to help restrict her or I could cast my grease spell to try and immobilize her."

Tornell affixes his gaze on Artyom, trying to figure out if the young mage is making a weird joke, is so socially unaware he had no idea of the context of the conversation, or is in on this degeneracy.

"Are you able to use a shield, Tornell?"

Tornell's shock at the preceding conversation meant that despite looking right at Artyom, he did not acknowledge the question at first, until the rest of his brain catches up with him.

"Huh? Wha? Shield? What are you... Oh. Oh! Right! Shield! Eeeh, yeah, guess I can use it if the rest of you don't want it. Bit of a pain to use, though. Need one hand free for casting spells. How big is it?"

Seriously, Spiderbeard. How big is the shield? MW Steel Shield? Is it a small shield or large shield?

"AND NOW I GOT AN INSANE GIBBERING GNOME HERE! IS THE ART OF CONVERSATION AND DECORUM COMPLETELY DEAD!?"

Maintain full power attack attack action, and using the haste attack from Sevenspawn's Blessings
Attack 1: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (5) + 12 = 17 Damage 1: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (8) + 16 = 24
Haste Atk: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27 Haste Dmg: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (5) + 16 = 21
Attack 2: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (4) + 7 = 11 Damage 2: 1d10 + 16 ⇒ (9) + 16 = 25
Rage remaining:19/21

"OH, MORE GOONS! GREAT! ALL I WANTED WAS A NICE PLEASANT CONVERSATION AND DISCOURSE, AND INSTEAD I'M GETTING YOU BUNCH OF MORONS!"

Another thing. As a Barbarian, I cannot be flanked or caught flat-footed, due to uncanny dodge. I can still be feinted. Do I still take the full 16 damage, or is that sneak attack reduced?

"So, uh, just going straight to the smashing? I was expecting a bit more banter and asking where Salvator was..." Thod converses somewhat nonchalantly as the group is barraged by thugs. He swings out at the goons, still keeping his cool. Perhaps not even taking things seriously.

Full round attacks, Power attacking.
Attack 1: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20 Damage 1: 1d10 + 13 ⇒ (10) + 13 = 23
Attack 2: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20 Damage 2: 1d10 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21

"Also curious as to what Blood Pig was supposed to be. I'll ask somebody afterwards."

Thod rolls his eyes as Raven/Blackjack dashes away with a laugh.

"Get used to her being weird in one way, and she finds a new way to be weird..."

=====

Thod takes the lead, standing in front as the toughs approaches. He holds his halberd at the ready, and gives a good old fashioned dwarven stare.

Intimidate: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12

This fails completely when he trips and stumbles forward, fumbling his halberd and nearly losing his grip on it. A comical routine proceeds as Thod fights to keep his footing and his hands on his weapon, causing the javelins in his back holster to slip out and roll away, forcing Thod to chase after those as well.

"You got that right," Tornell says, agreeing with Malvo.

Donnell raises a finger and inhales to speak after Raven Six's statement, but splutters to a halt when Thod chimes in: "Wha - what?! *huhaha* Y - you were told to avoid fights? *hihihi* You?!"

Stuffing a tiny fist in his mouth, Donnell leans against a wall and wheezes with silent laughter.

Thod raises an eyebrow in confusion.

"Uhh, yeah? I was told to avoid fights all the time. Stop fighting with my sisters, stop fighting with the foreman... It's why I was sent out here, I'd run off and fight instead of holding the line when I was a guardsman."

Thod continues to look at Donnell, uncomprehending why that was funny.

"Either way, I'm with Donnell, let's just go around 'em and not put rocks in their food."

"Correction. They try and kill people in the old dock. You can hide in some little hole and hope nobody finds you, or you can stand behind me. Where do you think is safer? That is, unless they start shooting arrows, or fireballs, or... uh... Yeah, maybe we should help him hide while we search around."

I just assumed he was hung the f$@! over.

Well, you're not wrong.

No problem on my end. I think I got a similar type of thing with Artyom.

I like how the two are already rubbing each other the wrong way. We'll have to see how it'll develop.

From downstairs, Raven hears Thod yell up at the two.

"STILL DON'T KNOW WHY YOU CALL HIM THAT!"

Artyom only glances at the priest before pulling out a journal and an ink pen. "In a situation like this, it helps to know the strengths of everyone."

"Oh, good grief, he brought a ledger with him."

"Also, Sir Priest, on the carving that looks like you, there's a symbol of Sarenrae on the shield."

"Don't call me sir! Do I look like a knight to you?" Tornell slaps his prodigious gut to accent his point.

"By the by, do any of you remember what happened to us? Anything that could explain how we got into this? The last memory I have is attending the Festival with my sister."

”Festival? Yeah, we went to a festival, and drank our drink, and laughed, and sang... and then I woke up here.”

"That.. sounds about right. I'd assume we all drank a bit too much, except little knight there was on duty last I saw. Unless I got drunk and passed out before lunch... (Which I admit isn't outside the realm of possibility)... that means we weren't all sloshed before being brought here."

"Well, anyway, we ain't getting out any faster sitting around here talking and taking notes. I'm all for... uhh... What was your name again, little knight? Either way, good idea. Get in position. Might as well die in an organized fashion."

Tornell moves to the supplies and picks through them, picking up the hooded lantern, and several flasks of oil. "Guess I'll be the lightbearer. Kind of my job description." He also picks up the pewter mug. "Oooh, this could be useful."

"Anyways, anything else? Let's get going, I gotta hit a latrine."

Tornell groans and rolls over. Or, attempts to, before being stopped by hard stone.

"Ugh, another hangover morning." Tornell grunts, feeling cold and stiff. "Passed out in a stone bed... Wait, stone bed? What is this, Roslar's new drunk tank?"

As consciousness slowly seeps into Tornell's brain, his previous assumption of hangovers (Of which Tornell has plenty of experience.) is called into qestion. The largest issue being the lack of headache and nausea that usually greets him in the morning. Confused, he shifts around, feeling his small stone cell.

"What the... What the hell's going on here?"

"לְהַאִיר"

Tornell channels a small bit of divine power to summon some light. It's use is somewhat reduced by his prodigious gut blocking his view.

"Yep, not hung over. Would take me three tries to cast that if I was."

Now hearing muffled yells and shouts, Tornell presses his palms against the top of his cubicle, and his feet against the back, and begins pushing.

Strength check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

"OW! My back!"

Tornell settles for pounding the lid with his fists.

"OPEN UP! Your residing medic is an incomeptent idiot if he thought I was dead!"

@Brother Tornell: Okay. So, battlefield control and debuffs, then?

More a request to diversify, since we'll have several party members throwing buffs around. We'll have to make sure our buffs stack, whatever we throw out.

Certainly focus on the more powerful and arcane-only buff spells. (*Coughcough*haste*cough*) Or not, it's your character, go with what works. And I suspect the first few levels will have us figuring out how to fine tune our roles anyways.

Thod continues to gripe, ignoring Endrin

"That's not a name! That's a bunch of letters and numbers mashed together, like you're sorting... Whiskey kegs, or mine shafts. She needs a real name. How about... Raven Jr.?"

"Next opportunity I get, I'm going to a dollmaker and buying Raven Jr. some clothes. She's just creepy without them."

"Though I'm pretty sure she'll be creepy with them. Chip off the ol' block, that one."

Jokril looks at the geckos, and the elaborate harnesses.

"Yeeeaaahhh.... I think I'll just jump down the pit. You guys can ride these things and try to control them. Though, actually..."

Jokril walks up to some of the stabled(?) geckos, placing his hands on his jaw as if adjusting it. He then starts making an assortment of odd clicks, chirps, and other odd vocalizations.

Using my Feral Speech hex to communicate with Amphibians.

*Ehh-Uhhh. Ehh-Uhh. Ikikikikik?*

Does your dislike of conventions apply even if you were able to go as just another attendee, and not 'on the clock' as a representative of Paizo? Not just GenCon or PaizoCon, but conventions in general?

Thod props up his halberd, taking a breather once the priestess drops.

"Bah, hard one to hit. Don't think I even scratched her. Thanks for..."

And then everything goes to hell.

"THE PALLID PRINCESS WILL SEE YOU FESTER!

"Ah, hell. THE PUTRID PINHEAD WILL SEE MY BOOT IN YOUR ASS! I'VE HORKED UP MORE DISGUSTING THINGS THAN YOU AFTER A DAY IN THE MINES!"

Five foot step and full round to swing. Donnell, are you armed? If so, I get a flanking bonus. I won't add it for now, though.

Attack 1: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22 Damage 1: 1d10 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21
Attack 2: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19 Damage 2: 1d10 + 13 ⇒ (1) + 13 = 14

"YOU WILL ROT BEFORE ME!"

"PUT SOME PANTS ON, WOMAN!"

Anyways, second verse, more of the first. Full-round attack. 5-ft step left to be directly north of Andaisin. Can't move it right now, though. If somebody can move my token for me, that would be greatly appreciated.

Attack 1: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (11) + 11 = 22 Damage 1: 1d10 + 13 ⇒ (8) + 13 = 21
Attack 2: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10 Damage 2: 1d10 + 13 ⇒ (2) + 13 = 15

To provide a bit of metagamey advice, one thing to keep in mind is that if a bluff check fails, that doesn't mean they instantly know we're humans (and elves) literally wearing drow skins and infiltrating their society. That just means they know we're not being completely honest. And given Drow society, that's probably the baseline any sort of social interaction. So they may guess we're bluffing, but they won't know specifically what. Probably just hiding that we were more at fault in the surface than we're letting on, or we have some other agenda (But not what that agenda is) and so on. So don't be too worried about failing bluff checks.