Utsuri 映り's page

Hey guys, really sorry to do this again, but I need to take a break from the boards. I will let you know when things settle down...I will probably be back in a few months.

I know this is especially hurtful here in this game with the small party, and doubly apologize.

I was curious what was behind the door near the rolling boulder trap, and also what was around the corner when the boulder came to rest. But fine moving on also.

"Mom?" a tongue reflecting your face on it splattered, the monk stumbling in pronunciation. For a moment it seemed the approaching banshee was an ethereal yokai, like the dual entity of Utsuri and Basho. But they could not contemplate to caress the familiar face before being blown backwards as if by some foul wind. No, it was Utsuri's feet dancing as if he was being blown by wind. Wrong again, some spiritual repulsive energy was in fact physically affecting whatever pretend corpus the monk asserted themselves as.

In short, the blade spun on its point, and beat ass out of the room.

Utsuri nodded stupidly "Oh yes. Should we bring them a gift?"

Utsuri considered the warning. Someone probably wouldn't take the time to chisel a lie into solid stone. The monk didn't doubt its veracity. Still something about the situation seemed odd...

Insight: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Insight, dis Exhausted 1: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11

Grasping for hint.

Utsuri was sad getting the massively cold-shoulder from the new elf, but shrugged it off in the end. After all, with Basho, they were never truly alone. The lump at their chest was stained a light purple by the time the monk wandered back to the group, just in time to hear Tek explaining the selective outrage the last group of grave delvers executed upon this place of rest.

Basho offered "The mountains to the west of our homeland serve as a certain spiritual origin for our beliefs. There, the monks create complex sand art out of colored sands. The entire temple toils for 12 days to create a masterpiece that can rival any human achievement..."

Utsuri eagerly followed their master's teaching, and wanting to impress revealed "And then they destroy it, right master?!" a little too eager.

"..." was the lump's silent reprieve, carrying on for an uncomfortable beat before blasting "Urusai! I was just getting to that and you interrupted. *sigh* Yes, the work built of days in toil is destroyed in an instant. Now. Where is the lesson in such behavior?"

Utsuri was harder pressed to recollect that particular detail "...because...sand flows...like time flows...and that..."

"Chigauwayo!!!" was the master's swift interjection, halting the students poor display. "It symbolizes the impermanence of life, of existence. No moment is a match for any other moment. The universe is in a state of constant creation, and constant destruction, moment to moment. This does not mean art loses its status. Moments of beauty can stand, be perceived, and with wisdom be understood."

"乾杯! Kanpai!" the monk and the strange lump on their chest toasted in unison, as they power-slammed goblet after goblet of the delicious Zakhara imported wine. It was a traditional toast, literally claiming the cup containing the hooch possessed a sudden, realized divinity...but only when emptied.

It was the kind of clever yet impenetrable logic common to their Kozakuran homeland. A land where the crafts of humankind are so finely yet so humbly made they gain sentience after 100 years. A land where dual-spirits danse macabre with the same flesh, every step an exotic and unheard-of art...long ago perfected by the inhabitants of that distant land.

Seen now in your reflection on the monk's skin, a dense silver like a mirror. Their physique conjured a much sharper, crisper image than the ordinary reflection in water, say. When the monk, when the master, when whatever was this strange pair moved however that was when it became most clear: this entity was not of this world at all. When their hands were forward, they seemed to vanish into their chest...void of the normal surface texture that would offer shadow demarcations to present a more three-dimensional image.

Utsuri was solid silver. A pair of pristine rice sandals hung at their neck, never used it seems. Their feet were tarnished like neglected guest dishware. An oddly shaped sword was sheathed at their waist, seemingly never removed from its rope-twist of a peace bond. It carried a long wood instrument of some kind, along with a few urns of machine oil.

But when close, they clearly had a woman's breast...just a single breast. This graceful lump spoke with an old man's voice, as if guiding the more youthful spirit. At times when Utsuri's vest fluttered from some sudden movement, an actual mouth could be seen barking discipline or demanding another pyramid-mole meat snack.

Such was the curious nature of this character forcing, as if the paragon of politeness, drink after drink upon poor unsuspecting Aethorduil Faelaiien.

Con: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 6

"No, allow me to help..." the kind mirror-skinned spirit offered.

Sounds good to me.

Tek, also don't forget Dodging gives advantage on dexterity saves. You could dodge then move as you continue to search, rolling twice for the trap save if you hit another.

*checks map* Oh! I totally misunderstood this room. How far towards the east has Tek advanced at this point?

Utsuri mumbled a suggestion of rolling one of his heavy ceramic flasks of oil down the hall, in the hopes of revealing further pressure plates.

Not that interested in the substance, the monk wisely elected not to play with the strange blade. They were ready in case 4000 mutated scarab beetles started to pour from the low opening...

Dodge as Tek approaches.

large blade covered in some strange, green fluid

Utsuri, betting on black, crept closer to the recently revealed edge...attempting to gauge its utility.

Is the blade melee-weapon shaped? Does it seem possible to remove it, or the substance coating it?

Utsuri was about to mentally note the fact about the red squares, but at the last second was distracted by a powerful memory of muskmelon slices. That refreshing tenderness, so sweet and so often forgotten. Melon. It was a good food, after all.

"Chyoishinai-ze!!!" the cold Wind spirit in the Blade's chest reprimanded. There were pupil's whose mind wandered, then there was Utsuri.

With whipcrack reflexes the monk fell backwards into a defensive, hyper-stable stance.

Dodge

Probably doesn't matter but I forgot I had prof in Athletics, so +2 on my rolls hitting DC 10.

Athletics: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3
Athletics, Help adv: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

As Utsuri's face turns a bright purple, the breast with a mouth on their chest screams "Arrrrrrrgggg" uselessly. "Yappari, is this really a door or some kind of trick...ah! Lubrication?" busting out the oils from the collapsed mechanisms of the apex level.

Sorry guys lost my momentum with Utsuri a bit, going to try to writeup something substantial later today after work.

Utsuri had been silent, trying to make sense of what happened. Finally, they concluded "The mole rats combined Myev and Silas into this singular, new entity..." regarding Aethorduil curiously and poking him in the face bones and stomach.

The monk stumbled into the fray, attempting the forbidden quivering palm technique in an effort to destroy the threat instantly...

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (7) + 5 = 12
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
MA: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Flurry: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

...slapping the bald mole flesh with a loud *flop*.

The lump on its chest admonished the attempt "Not even close...you're not ready."

Yep, excited about sub-class shenanigans and we are so close. Also, having shedded a few games, hoping to get back to longer RP writeups for my character here (which I still like a lot).

I would also be down for recruiting 1 or 2 more (in addition to Helaman), but I don't want to slow everything down with that.

Hmm, well I've not looked at the Goodman Games version but I recall the original module was sort of intentionally open after a certain point, leading to a lot of work on the DMs part to fill in the blanks.

So, are we moving forward with Eldritch Knight, Phantom Rogue, Genie Warlock, and Kensei monk?

I have to say I do wish there was more going on in the rooms, but I get it...thats whats in the module. I'm committed, after all I haven't even had the chance to Kensei yet.

"Oh, let me open the door for you, Myev-chan." jostling the ancient knob like never before.

Taking Dodge action, then opening.

DM, just curious are we using milestone XP or are you tracking it? Wondering how close to sub-class.

If you take a pile of gold coins and turn it into an amazing work of art, its worth more than the gold coins themselves. Just saying. ;P

Utsuri was sad about not being able to fit in with the Cynidiceans, but understood the mortal lust for and protection of material wealth. As they hunkered down for a spell, the monk imagined returning to the warrior women above (masked as they were) and being embraced as a sister.

HD: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

The monk snapped their fingers, another great idea summoned forth from the depths of stupidity "Hey yeah, we can melt it down and all get shiny masks, just like the real guys! Then we can all wear them and feel so included. I've always wanted to be a Real Guy. Now we can."

Basho grumbled. Of course the old pervert was highly interested in the idea of a decorated, asymmetrical golden brassiere vaguely resembling a face that would house the wind's mouth, but ancient teachings cut through eventually "Serenity comes only when you trade expectations for acceptance. Do not wait for others to accept you before you have accepted yourself."

That is one vote for, one vote against, making matching Cynidicean-style masks out of the loot for the whole party.

Utsuri knelt at the cleric's side, pumping some volume of spiritual energy with glowing hands...a hidden wellspring surging within the strange creature.

Heal Silas: 2d4 ⇒ (3, 1) = 4

I'll have to dig the thread to see if I've used my aasimar heal today...I have not been tracking it well enough.

edit: Ok, it was right after the snake fight when Utsuri threw the pot (RL October). Was that today, have we long rested since then?

The monk rapidly closed forward, striking the shadow with bare feet...

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Martial Arts: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4

Utsuri gritted their teeth, enraged at the dark yokai. "..m-Master...wake up, its nobiagari!"

Basho yawned, then startled as this reality returned to them "Living shadow!? Do not gaze directly upon them or they will grow larger..."

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Martial Arts: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

The monk struggled to make any meaningful hit on the amorphous physiology.

Counting party members as difficult terrain, it appears I can still get into melee with number 1.

"Huh?" the monk suddenly spotted something in the bones, rushing over for a closer look. Sure enough, a little chicken wishbone was lying there in the mix. "Sakotsu-dana...which direction will it break?" offering Tek to pull one end while they yank upon the other.

Wishbone snap, left/right: 1d2 ⇒ 1 =left

"...oh, guess fate is with you." the monk humbly admitted, somewhat dejected, before striding through the western door.

Look at the bones!

"Oh, this was a popular place." the monk deadpans innocently.

"Souka. A taste of freedom after who knows how long..." balancing one on the top of his head while juggling the other 3. Basho was mysteriously silent recently, the old-spirit apparently taking a nap on the monk's chest and unable to guide their star pupil...

So, is this a heatless flame or Real Infinite Fire (TM)? Asking for a friend.

Utsuri rushed to the magic jar's side, as if it were a child in peril "Oh, you poor thing...how long have you been chained up down here?" awkwardly waiting for an answer that never came. Struck by some new inspiration, the tsukumogami motioned to Tek "Cobblepot-sama, can you file the bolts down and free these captives? Please..."

Tapping their chin gazing over the sarcophagus "Hmm, more treasure right Silas?" helping get the crowbar unpacked.

Like a startled kitten, Utsuri (who was on all fours for some reason) leapt into the room.

If we have full actions, Utsuri will take the Dodge action then enter the room via golden door.

Utsuri looked at Myev, and Myev looked at Utsuri "A golden door?" they both said in unison. "Jinx." the monk swiftly interjected, pinching the half-orc in the shoulder.

Utsuri stared into one of the strange color-changing gemstones, amazed at its properties. It was a purple color in torch-light, but a deep aqua blue when touched with their own internal light. Still, the blade-spirit had no need of material wealth, quickly passing it on before glancing around the corner...

Taking a peek around north-east corner, not opening door to east. Positioned on map.

Utsuri tumbled up to the rats to give them a quick punt...

Jumping Double Front Kick: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

...soon realizing there were many more than they could handle. With lightning focus, Utsuri began to predict the movements exploiting their connection to a distant spiritual heaven. Each step and whisker sniff was forseen by the mystic, just a moment before.

Kick rat in face then last ki point for Patient Defense for Dodge as bonus.

Utsuri found the rustling mound-noise distasteful, and slipped behind a corner to shield themself from the sound.

Stealth: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

Maybe Silas? Its dope loot for sure, but I want the katana Utsuri came to life from to be his weapon, when/if we get to 3rd. At the moment they do not even have proficiency.

Having avoided 10,000 gallons of acid to the face and the next undead uprising, Utsuri handed off the relic to someone who would use it.

Not interested in the sword for my character.

"...I could be mistaken but I believe its a magical sword." the sword mentioned casually. Utsuri wondered of the light glowing from within, suspecting it had something to do with Lathandar.

*tug tug*

"*eeeeh* Its stuck or something...he's really got a hold of it, I'd say! And wouldn't you?" the monk chuckled awkwardly while planting their nasty, ritually unpurified feet soles onto the coffin for support and yanking it as if there were truly no tomorrow.

Athletics: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13

Despite being healed and conscious, the monk spent an extra moment with their face on the cool floor. At the talk of grave-robbing, they perked up "Ah, buried with their most trusted gear, isn't it?" The spirit was wondering if any of the swords and jewelry of the dead had gained sentience like they had.

Hours to conscious: 1d4 ⇒ 4

Utsuri's chest pulsed rapidly, like a hummingbird in flight. Who knows what the mysterious dual-entity dreamt in recovery...

Death Save: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
Martial Arts: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (9) + 5 = 14
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Flurry: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
Dmg: 1d4 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6

The monk used the momentum of the falling ape to tumble into the second, feinting high before pummeling low twice with supernatural speed.