Guys, my time is not nearly as much my own as it used to be. I'm going to have to withdraw before I drag us to a halt. It was awesome gaming with you all!
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Varrick keeps back from the scary dwarf but sneaks along the perimeter, shortbow in hand.
Going with the forward team but 30 feet back.
" Well, time to eradicate some swine!""
"Right, then. I'm parched, anything to drink?"
"Hells! Why are we waiting?"
Ah! BELOW 8! Gotcha.
GM Wolf: This is so awesome! Thanks for such a unique game. Love the boons! I hate to sound greedy, but does Varrick not qualify for the 8 or below one? His Str and Wis are both at 8 currently.
Do we have a "Half-plus-one" HP option? Rolling at early levels makes me nervous, heh.
Varrick should be updated with class features and such now!
"The third route is good for me, too."
Varrick stumbles in as well. His eyes dart around sussing the situation. It wasn't just him. Others had ...changed as well. "This is way better than dragon powder!"
I'm in the same boat as Gavin.
Varrick's knees buckle and his head swims and at first he thinks it's dragon powder, but he quickly remember he's out of dragon powder. So this would be ...something else. A scratchy voice both familiar and strange booms in his head. "All right, son, looks like your destiny is tied to mine. Er, hopefully not the dying part. Though I guess everything dies eventually. Anyway, I'm Charles Morris. Or I was. Tenses get complicated after karking it. Anyways. Lemme guess, you're a hedonist who wants to do something more for the world. Help people. Not just for the rewards, though they are nice indeed, but to bring joy and justice to those who lack it." Varrick, in a rare moment, is without words. "The guy before probably told you to quit drinking or whatever it is you do, but he never understood ...people like us deserve heroes, too. And people like us deserve to BE heroes, a different perspective from all the chaste, monastic squarejaws with longswords, usually from wealthy family. So, anyways, before I start ranting, you're going to continue my work. Words. Language. There's a magic to them, an art to them, and a skill to them. Master them. Bend reality with your words. Bring others your perspective. And if they're truly evil, breathe fire at them. Metaphorically. Or not, actually. Anyways, that's all the time I got to tell you everything. Good luck, Varrick! Make me proud! Oh, also, never forget to--" And suddenly, Varrick was back in the crypt, in his own body, feeling his own hangover. "What the f~*+ ..."
Gotcha. Wasn't clear how much leeway I had. Hosting trivia in a second, will get a better post later or tomorrow. Charles Morris is just the rest of the names of 2 Walter Matthau characters I took Varrick's name from, Charles Varrick and Morris Buttermaker.
I thought Charlie Morris was Varrick's tomb.
I was thinking a Fire bolt or Burning Hands sort of thing. Or maybe thematically a breath weapon?
I feel like flames for Varrick would be the equivalent of Han Solo in the first movie blowing a bluff and saying "Boring conversation anyway," and blasting the controls. A rare offensive ability for this very social character. Edit: replace the two Expert levels with 2 Bard levels or one?
So now I take a PC level? If so, going with Bard, with the Wit archetype.
"Right, right, of course. Just walk through the tombs. Totally ok with that. Not creeped out at all. Guess that's hero work, though." Varrick eventually stops talking, trailing off to an indistinguishable mutter and he walks up and down the graves and tombs. Nothing calls to him amongst the fancy, the ornate, or the scary. Eventually a very plain headstone catches his eyes. "Charlie Morris." He smiles and touches the stone.
I never picked a power, I just realised. Gonna go against type and say flames!
"I gotta say, there's no way I'm missing out on this!" I COULD be a hero ...do real good ... "What would you have me do, ma'am?"
Thanks, Cook Cook! I missed a lot hahaha
I'm lost, too. Varrick started down the dragon path and saw someone. That was Saronis? Or did I never get that far?
"Sounded like a lark. Not like I had any plans. So what are you alert for? What's the deal here?"
Trying to remember the name he says it a few times, memorizing the syllables, "Varrick, Varrick, Varrick." "Yeah, pal, Varrick. What can I call you? You need a drink?"
Under 100: drugs
And treat!
Varrick stares at the elf a bit and guffaws. "What a crock! I'm way worse sober!" He continues to chuckle as he follows his favorite bartender to the path of dragons.
"Well, hey there, pal! You been here long? Just arriving myself, along with the talented and lovely Maqan ..." he leaves her last name to her to reveal.
Varrick has been uncharacteristically gobsmacked. Any question?? His neuroses and doubts and fears and longings all seemed to stopgap or bottleneck. "How can I help the world?" He stammers and blushes and REALLY wants whiskey.
"Tough but fair."
"Just the tip! C'mon, you never heard of reverse-manipulation?"
"What if I just touched it a little bit?"
"Anyone else really want to touch it now?"
That sounds great. And I've always figured there's some sort of weed available.
Hmmmmmm ...
Awesome, thanks, boss!
Varrick stumbles into the conversation, already a little tipsy. "Oh, hey, I didn't miss you! This sounds like an interesting time, can't pass it up!"
Gah, sorry folks. My work week went a little nuts so I've been a bit of a ghost. On it now, ready to update everything. And for my routine I'm going to try not to just copy and paste Hunter S. Thompson's famous schedule. if you haven't seen this madness:
3:00 p.m. rise
3:05 Chivas Regal with the morning papers, Dunhills 3:45 cocaine 3:50 another glass of Chivas, Dunhill 4:05 first cup of coffee, Dunhill 4:15 cocaine 4:16 orange juice, Dunhill 4:30 cocaine 4:54 cocaine 5:05 cocaine 5:11 coffee, Dunhills 5:30 more ice in the Chivas 5:45 cocaine, etc., etc. 6:00 grass to take the edge off the day 7:05 Woody Creek Tavern for lunch-Heineken, two margaritas, coleslaw, a taco salad, a double order of fried onion rings, carrot cake, ice cream, a bean fritter, Dunhills, another Heineken, cocaine, and for the ride home, a snow cone (a glass of shredded ice over which is poured three or four jiggers of Chivas) 9:00 starts snorting cocaine seriously 10:00 drops acid 11:00 Chartreuse, cocaine, grass 11:30 cocaine, etc, etc. 12:00 midnight, Hunter S. Thompson is ready to write 12:05-6:00 a.m. Chartreuse, cocaine, grass, Chivas, coffee, Heineken, clove cigarettes, grapefruit, Dunhills, orange juice, gin, continuous pornographic movies. 6:00 the hot tub-champagne, Dove Bars, fettuccine Alfredo 8:00 Halcyon 8:20 sleep Edit: It's just too perfect. Can we say a Golarion version of this?
I love it! Varrick Buttermaker = Charlie Varrick and Morris Buttermaker, two roles of the great Walther Matthau! I am daily reminded not everyone loves him in every way.
"That's a real nice necklace, but Cook-Cook's got as much place here as any of us, including you. Imagine a world where whatever amazing thing you just did isn't really all that interesting in the long run. Have a drink and relax, pal. Enjoy that normal folk life."
Is "Varrick Buttermaker" too obvious or too obscure as to his visual inspiration?
"There once was an elven adventurer
How we doing hit points? And what about feats? Varrick is almost done.
Varrick will start off in Expert, hoping to one day make him a Wit Bard. Loyal friend who gets you in trouble, that he can do! High Charisma, low Wisdom and Strength? Kinda saw him as above average intelligence, but he'll be fine for skills anyway.
Varrick Buttermaker woke up in his customary way: coughing and cursing in various tongues when Taldan just wasn't profane enough. His mouth felt dry as the Numerian wastes, and almost as toxic. He reached out instinctively for his mug, and tried to down whatever he'd left last night. Turned out to he some mix of whiskey and tobacco and ash. He'd put his smoke out in his drink again, a fond prank of Last Night's Varrick. Morning Varrick was less fond. He almost made it to his slop pail before vomiting, which, all things considered, was progress. After some quick washing, his now-empty stomach had strong desires for grease and payback. Varrick gets dressed and slicks his thick black hair back. Some would say his face had "character." That's usually a euphemism for "yikes." Still, he attempted a lopsided smile. Who ever heard of a poet who wasn't an ugly drunk, anyway? To the Dragon he heads out, thinking of a rhyme for "puke." He barrels into the Drunk Dragon. "Maqan! It's been hours! And are those your lovely mother's potatoes I smell a-lingering in the air?" |