Vigan has Levitate, could move everyone down one at a time if the rope doesn't work. Or, if there is no penalty to using the power multiple times I guess just that.
DM, I might try out my levitation mutation here. But I was wondering, is there any way to estimate how many I could capture with the effect of 13 (+1)? I know thats a certain amount of kg by the rulebook, just wondering if my character would be able to gauge how many of the creatures I could pick up. Thanks.
Her capillaries bloated from moisture and nutrients, the vines slowly entangled the huntress' bow...notching an arrow as she put some cover between herself and the noises.
If I can uproot and move to get cover between us, I will. Then Remaining Unseen.
The berries squeaked their high pitch that morphed into a vocal timbre ~I'll take the last, let me be awake to feel the sun's return.~ Stowing her pack and weapons near a patch of earth she began to sink roots into.
The nightshade plant was rather shocked at the de-evolution of the snakes. She had heard rumors of mutation negation before, but never really believed it. If the Brotherhood wielded such power, it certainly inspired new fears for the future...and new fears of her compatriots.
The bundle of vines was used to such violence out here in the wasteland, it was kill or be killed. Still, Domino winced and growled in a low hum with each snapping crack of the whip. ~"Easy, boy..."~ the berries spoke, stroking the beast's neck reassuringly. ~"It might be better to not get involved."~ she offered to the others.
Hehe, yeah I guess I just meant I don't have much occasion to use the plural form of 'roof' in a sentence. Just caught my attention for whatever silly reason. :)
The vines shrugged. No, she wasn't new to the outside at all. But yeah, the Hoops had slipped her mind. Of course by 'mind' that meant the complex neural net that substituted for the localized organ in humanoids.
"Did the Hoops take anything from you? They just beat you up and left?"
The berries made that weird squeaky sound until the timbre of the vibrations matched a human voice "~Where is home?~". She did not immediately recognize the bird-man's tribe, but might be persuaded to use her levitation powers for the right price...
Suddenly a longbow seemed to fall down and crush the plant, at the same time a rusty barbed arrow rose from behind. An undulating brush of leaves raised and steadied the weapon, and it was then you realized the stems and branches that constituted the vegetation were actually drawing a shot.
*thwip*
Attack:1d20 ⇒ 2Of course, roll low on attacks and high on skills. I'm doing great job.
The arrow sailed past the strange device and was quickly out of sight. Apparently plants were not expert marksmen, just as you suspected.
Vigan let her roots sink into the soil, the hot wind catching her dry leaves...her senses reached outwards like fresh existential shoots. The startling sound was likely a lure for a concealed group of raiders...
Detect Ambush/Trap:1d20 ⇒ 11
...although she couldn't prove it, and said nothing.
@DM hey I meant to ask, how would you like checks like this organized? I figured it was a clear fail with the super high roll, but going forward do you want the calculated DC posted along with it?
Vigan was busy feeding Domino just before morning, being very careful the stagon didn't try to nibble her deadly black berries. With Dawn, the plant felt the ultraviolet energy being absorbed by every chlorophyll in her body...warming up her xylem tubes to superior flexibility.
By the time the others had reached that stable on the wall, Vigan was already mounted up and ready for the wastes. A dry, warm wind whistled the bowstring on her back...chirping like a hawk.
It looked like someone tossed a bunch of yard clippings on a 6 legged horse.
Vigan didn't like the idea of staying in the city another night, but wasn't showing it outwardly. Even if she had...she was a plant after all and fairly hard to read.
But no, she chose to remain with the group out of practicality. If she was correct they were about to stir up the hornets nest...south rim raiders at the very least. The deadly nightshade would certainly be there to pocket the pieces...
At the talk of powers she mentioned, in that strange approximation of human vocals "Well, some psychic essence of my roots extends deep into the collective consciousness of this region...I can draw forth form the minds of others from more than 10 kilometers. I have some manipulative control over matter as well...able to lift and lower nearly anything to and from great heights. But most of all, I'm a scout." shrugging her vines and taking another drag.
The bundle of deadly nightshade vines shrugged non-commitantly at the turtle's offer, but ultimately followed while lighting a fresh cigarette with a box of matches. It was rather unsettling how quickly the poisonous vines moved...its roots nearly twice as long as a normal human's legs.
At Allen's request it rubbed two smooth black berries together until a high pitched note started to sing forth, the sound then approximating speech ~~We'll see...depends how long this 'Justinian's nose is. What kind of problems this restoration business is going to cause me back on the range.~~ pulling a drag from the smoke somehow.
Vigan watched the cart somehow roll up the stairs with minor irritation, each wheel slamming on the step rustling her leaves like an early autumn ::Why are you making that racket?:: she mentally cast at Tintoretto.
At first it seemed a humble potato plant had waltzed into Ascension Hall, but no...the smell of almonds quickly gave it away: this was deadly nightshade. Sauntering in like the place was hers, Vigan actually paused a step at the sight of the turtle. That one was the source of the mental ping earlier, the plant was certain...it had the gift.
Not wanting to reveal her own mental talents just yet, she chose a different tact for Mr. Lobster. Brining a leaf up next to her smooth berry she rubbed ever so gently, but with just the right pressure to make a noisy *squeeeak* like a squeegee on glass. The pitch raised and lowered until almost taking on the qualities of a humanoid voice "eeeeHello. I saw your post. Please tell me you're not going back to the western ranges..." the expressionless purple flowers sighing, already knowing the answer.
A dagger in one of her many vines absent-mindedly clipping off a few dead leaves.
Just a quick note on posting habit, weekday nights I'm a bit crunched but will always post something. Weekends I have much more time and enjoy really getting into creative writing...as long as the muse is present.
Well, even though its a tad meta, feeling sort of awkward by myself so will bite at the group job if that's alright.
Reading through the bits ::Hmm, Restorationists active again...? How far are they encroaching in the Outer Wards this time? Better find out what raiding groups they'll scare off into my territory now...:: she resolved, mounting up on her stagon Domino and heading for Aspiration Hall.
The vines of the belladonna slithered greedily under the heft of the envelope, more than one of Vigan's shiny black berries ripening instantly in satisfaction. Her business concluded, she tossed the cigarette butt in a half empty glass of fertilizer...which caught on fire due to the high concentration of ammonium nitrate.
Two weeks was fair, she supposed. The plant calculated this payment would put her at about 28 domars, more than enough pocket change to keep Domino (her trusty stagon) fed and watered while ranging the wastes. She might actually be able to save a portion and start building a defensible place of her own out there...of course that was just a dream. Vigan had been part of too many raids and other jobs of questionable morality to ever be left alone. If she was being honest with herself, roving was her only destiny...for it was the only way to stay alive.
::Two weeks then, Parsie. You're a fair employer...wish I had found you sooner.:: her purple flowers nodding 'yes'. But her instincts told her Parsie was just like all the others...ready to betray her at the drop of a pin.
As she stood her roots held her up nearly touching the ceiling, they were nearly twice the size of normal roots...her silhouette resembled a woman with very long legs. In places the vines gripped a few pieces of studded leather armor, and she carried a compound hunting bow slung around the mass of her brambles.
Outside, she adjusted the saddle straps on Domino and mounted up...making thier way to the market for a few supplies. Along the way, she glanced inside the envelope...
Each skill must have 1 point and no skill can have more than 8 points initially.
Helps to read the instructions, derp.
I think I'll also forgo all human traits and just rely on my bonus tool manipulation from Vine stock and telepathy. This gives an extra physical mutation, as I understand.
1d100 ⇒ 60 Nocturnal (D)
Hmm, that's kind of cool actually but I can't have more than 1 physical defect, and already have Double Pain, right?
1d100 ⇒ 89 Vocal Imitation
DM, I'd like to begin play with a mount if possible. What would be the cost for a horse?
A light wind rustled the triangular leaves of Vigan, a healthy looking subvariant of Atropa belladonna AKA deadly nightshade. It was smoking a cigarette somehow (in some sort of obscure cannibalism) despite not having a mouth or lungs, a tiny dark green stem holding the burning ember deftly aloft. A few purple flowers yawned open and closed, while little black berries rotated around as if in perception of its surroundings. Holding the plant upright was the biggest pair of roots you've ever seen, almost as thick and solid as a tree's.
She hated the city. So many minds with their incessant, droning chitter chatter...not to mention there was probably more than one lawman after her. Vigan was anxious to get back out to the wilds surrounding Ascension. The plant had to wait though, she wouldn't leave without her pay...not after the mess of that last job.
A big pumpkin rolled over a little too close, and its stalk moved to the side to reveal a disgusting little mutant duckbill on top. It quacked "Hey there shishter, offer you a glassh of fertilizher??" spitting pumpkin juice all over.
::Get. The. Hell. Away. From. Me. You stupid squash:: came Vigan's powerful mental response. The duckbilled pumpkin for his part knew there were many more grains in the garden and rolled away with a shrug of its tendrils.
mishima here, I might change crunch a bit depending on how sleight of hand works out, but here is my primalist (pathfinder's name for wild mage) illusionist:
Background:
As the rough quartz sand grains bit into his bloodied sandals, Vigan's gaze never left the tembo's. With a gait counter to its clockwise steps, circling each other, he could not help but think back at what placed him in this situation at this particular moment...
It wasn't so long ago he was sucking marrow from the bones that clanked into the shadows on the streets of Urik. Homeless and abandoned, without a gang he was nothing...less than a slave. It was perhaps that reason the Templars did not notice him sitting there in the trash as they beat down a Veiled Alliance operative...
"This one's just about spent. Leave it to me boys." the others left the Templar alone, but somehow Vigan watched on wide-eyed and unnoticed. "...I got a deal for ya. Listen good 'cause I ain't repeating myself. I been hunting you scum for years now...8 years of my life on you worms and I never learned any 'o that magicks. Now you're gonna teach me something or I'm gonna brain ya in the slowest way I can..." the Templar pulled out a long glass hook, holding it close to the mage's nostril.
Pleading for his life the mage tried to explain it didn't work that way, that the Templar would never be able to learn something, even something minor in an instant. As the torture started, he tried anyways. He held out a small carved stone disk, explaining the pattern of shadows was a cipher holding a formula. He even cast the spell, right there in front of the Templar, causing a symbol written in blue-hot script brighter than lightning to etch itself upon the Templar's braxat hide bracer.
The Templar tried to duplicate the mage's motions but obviously failed. Perhaps it was just a sick joke the Templar liked to play on operatives before he killed them. The Templar flung the strange disk against the wall, shattering it, before hoisting the mages body over his shoulder and walking back into the sunlight.
Vigan spent hours reassembling the disk, and the screams of torture perfectly recorded the scene in his memory as he would replay it over and over again. It was in this way he learned his first spell, how to make an arcane mark for a sick price. Being nothing, the ability to alter the world so deeply with his actions was exciting in a twisted way.
More secrets would come, controlled trials of modifications to the disks, the subtle changes to the shadow could bring forth new effects. He quickly knew enough tricks to get himself off the streets. But this latest trick, he knew he had to retreat into the desert, lest he be discovered.
It was hard at first, much harder than the others. It had taken 5 days of pacing on the rough quartz grains, but finally there the tembo was before him. His illusion of a tembo. Satisfied, Vigan closed his eyes and the tembo vanished.
Crunch:
NE human wizard (primalist) illusionist
10.17.16.19.13.12
spells:
known:
0th: all but enchant/necro
1st: (7) illusion of calm, silent image, color spray, magic aura, auditory hallucination, feather fall, endure elements
Blinding Ray - ranged touch blind or dazzled, 7/day
spell fluff note:
3 inch square soapstone carving, when light is shone from one side the shadow's spell out the cipher for spells
going to refluff spells to look like thrown daggers or vials
wild talent:
Judge - Sense Motive +2
Inventory I still need to finish.
edit: His main motivation is to locate and join the Urik Veiled Alliance.
