Agree - we're still at the early stages of the game, so affording some time (even if it is for naught) makes sense.
Echoing the sentiments above - hope our GM is weal and up for an update down the line.
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At the chastisement of the domineering women, Wiktor grimaces and affixes a baleful stare toward Timmons. Gibbering to himself he moves back to the front of the group, preferring meaty orc shoulder to sharp tongues. As Talia unlocks the door, the pallid sorcerer shifts forward with Aggghhh, hefting his mace with a grin; "Chosen. Might. No. Veakness."
Wiktor listens intently, and looks clearly confused (and a little forlorn) when the group decide to spare the life of the Mitran. When the squire shuffles towards the rear of the group the ghoulish sorcerer scowls; "Wiktor vill speak to maggots. Vhy should this boy be spared? He is Mitran."
Wiktor sidles closer to the captive squire... The ghoulish sorcerer eyes glitter with baleful eagerness to hear what the young man says for himself, and to taste the flesh of his corpse when the end inevitably comes.
Agree - take your time and heal. We'll keep to when you feel up to it.
Wiktor too hovers at Arggghhh's beefy shoulder. The ghoulish sorcerer fidgets and twitches, before seeking an opportunity to shift ahead;
Still here folks but has continued to ramp up, likely be the weekend before I see any kind of respite. Apologies all, appreciate the collective patience.
Wiktor shadows the burly orc, hefting the heavy mace in his sinewy limbs as he seeks to smash the sphere;
Wiktor clicks his spindly frame upright with a bloody smile; "Of course Mistress. Wiktor vas just... hungry..." The ghoulish sorcerer stands, fidgeting as he awaits the outcome of Lilitu's scouting...
As Lilitu invokes the Archfiend's unholy name she becomes aware of a strange sound behind her... almost a... lapping sound akin to a feeding pup or kitten... Like some human insect Wiktor crawls close to the ground and gives a hungry lick at the sanguine pentagram. When the Tiefling turns her stern gaze toward the wretch, he pauses in the act before weakly smiling. Quailing before the devout Asmodean he reverently bows his head and scuttles backward.
Just a heads up gang - I'm slammed operationally with work at the moment. Have leave booked for Friday but time will likely be sparse before then. Please bot me as required.
Wiktor seems buoyed but also wary of the sudden attention and encouragement directed toward him. He frowns, refocussing and once again muttering the phrase of power; "Radius pruinae!"
Wiktor continues to eye the violet mold muttering to himself... With a nod to himself he ackwardly extends his arm before uttering a phrase in infernal: "Radius pruinae!"
...causing the pitiful stream of freezing air to emitting from his bony finger to douse the door...
I'm such a dips**t, just clocked that Wiktor has Ray of Frost... :S Memo to self: When playing magic using characters good idea to check the magic they are using...
Wiktor eyes the mold from a (safe) distance. "Can ve harvest it?" He shivers as the cold bites, then gestures towards the other doors; "If not ve should try other door no?"
Senses telling him nothing As the temperature drops he becomes more hopeful that this is hallway leads to perhaps a crypt... The lanky wretch smiles and twitches as he walks, muttering in his nasal voice to all and none around him; "Colder. Perhaps larder up ahead? Or tomb.."
Wiktor stands slack-jawed as he still mulls the strange connection between dogs, cats and traps. "So... No tombs?" As the others decide the best course of action, the ghoulish sorcerer sniffs the air, allowing his tongue to ficker for any noteworthy tastes;
Wiktor watches the others shift around the room, deciding on the best course of action. His balefire eyes shift towards the easterly door once again; "How ve know this trap? Maybe others are trap... Maybe this is crypt..."
If we don't have access to Detect Magic cantrip I'm happy to change one of Wiktor's out to cover this. Would make sense enough for him to have it when he was grave-robbing and corpse feasting.
Wiktor nods and grimaces at Lilitu's instruction not to eat her. "Ach... Okay. Wiktor not gnaw or chew on you." As they enter the room the wretch stares at the words, mulling their meaning. "Death? Self-diseption... Wiktor not sure what this way of killing is?" Seeing the others examine the room, he does the same...
... for scant seconds before staring, slack jawed at the easterly door. "Wiktor has found door. Nothing else. Should we open?"
Wiktor grows excited as they descend into the bowels of the mansion, grinning at Audi's musings on a wine cellar; "Or could be crypt... Larder of the dead..." He stifles a giggle, then falls in behind the wide
As the others make their introductions, Wiktor shifts and fidgets before making his own; "Wiktor. Of Gattleton. They named me Ghoul of Gattleton as Wiktor dug up bodies... then ate them." The whip thin wretch's expression shifts from gormless to a rictus grin as he recalls his crimes; "Oh the feast... the cold meat of the dead... Wiktor listens now to the maggots. They speak for Deumus; the Glutton of Graves. A Duke of Hell... He serves Father Asmodeus... It vas he who avoke Wiktor's hunger and true nature..." He shoots a nervous look towards Lilitu, hoping his reverence of Deumus meets her haughty approval before cackling to himself as his spidery fingers caress the stunted horns that rupture from the ghoul's pallid head. Wiktor then hefts his heavy mace, a misshapen lump of cold iron and falls in line; "Crush them indeed Clarissa... Ve break bones... Gnaw and chew."
Work and RL over last couple of days have emptied my tank folks. Going to get my head down and recharge, will likely be weekend before I'm up and posting again. Bot me as necessary please.
So what's the party right now? Barbarian, Scarred Witch Doctor, Oracle/Kinetecist, Sorcerer (necromancer)? Wiktor is a Cross-Blooded Sorcerer (Ghoul & Pit-Touched Bloodlines) - he's a grave robber and corpse devourer. His rations will be whomever the group put to the sword :)
Wiktor does not engage much with the ogre, but at Jassie's admission he grins producing a small box; "Wiktor's secret..." His spidery fingers open its lid to show the contents: a scrap of spoiled meat upon which several maggots can be seeing writhing. "The maggots speak to Wiktor. Since Gattleton... and first grave feast..."
Wiktor spends his coin spent thus: 20GP - Armoured Kilt
For his part Wiktor selects a mismatched series of outfits and bids the servants combine them into a odd mix; part Dilettante’s outfit, part Artisan's garb. The lanky wretch overlays the macabre ensemble with the cook's apron acquired from Branderscar. He leaves some meat spoil, the communes with the maggots which writhe about the rotten food, proclaiming them harbingers of Deumus, the Duke of Hell who is his fell patron.
@Philo: Feel for you my friend. My younger sis is battling bone marrow cancer as we speak... Sending healing thoughts and power your way.
Wiktor listens intently, trying to process all the big words and their meaning. He was a simple soul, happy with a lot that involved burying of cadavers, exhuming said cadavers and finally feeding on their corpse meat. The maggots that spoke to him had foretold of Asmodeus, the Prince of all Devils. Even Deumus bowed to him. The maggots had stressed this. Nodding to himself, the wretch drew his dagger and cut into the crown of his skull. He grimaced as the blade bit, then pulled away a chunk of hair and scalp, the rictus grin returning. He pauses, momentarily concerned as the many-voiced girl began writing that he should also write something... A fear allayed when the stout orc clumsily wiped a bleeding palm o'er its contract. Then he too signed, spidery fingers caressing the parchment as the ghoulish sorcerer made his mark in blood.
Wiktor follows suit and drops to one knee, his spindly frame folding itself in subservience, the blunt horns on his head held low; "Ashes and the dead!? Oh Wiktor vill serve Cardinal Thorne. Oh yes... he vil svear!"
Wiktor shrugs between ginger mouthfuls of fresh foodstuffs and being measured for new hosiery. "Ve faced execution... Rope, axe or pyre." The gaunt sorcerer then dons garb in a shade of mauveine; "So, anything this Arch Bishop offers is better fate. Wiktor is in his debt no matter vhat the cost."
Wiktor reluctantly surrenders his grubby apron and acquiesces to a bath. Despite the scalding waters and servants scrubbing, the grave dirt under his nails fails to be cleansed. Dressed, he casts his eye o'er the fair offered, before picking at his food with a lament; "Vhy spoil meat with the heat of the spit and spices? Cold... unspoiled... flesh tastes vunderful. Wiktor knows. The maggots too."
Wiktor flashes a rictus grin and follows the lead of Prisoner 1723 with a curtsy, spidery fingers lifting the edges of his chef's apron. "Ve vere held up. Dogs. Guards. Walls. No longer! Free now yes-yes!"
WIktor twitches and shifts excitedly; "Must be... Ve should knock yes?"
Wiktor titters and gibbers to himself; "Blackerly vill still hunt us, yesyesyes... Ve should keep moving." He pauses, looking forlornly at his concave stomach; "Wiktor hungry..."
2nd Level
+9 HP (8 rolled above +1 CON)
+1 CL
4 Adventuring Skill Points: +1 Rank in Appraise, Bluff, Intimidate & Stealth 2 Background Skill Points: +1 Rank in Lore (Deumus - Infernal Duke) & Sleight of Hand
Needing no further encouragement Wiktor also breaks into a sprint!
Wiktor too dashes forward, his scrawny legs carrying equally scrawny frame forward to freedom!
Sadly agree on that front, 6-8 weeks even in a slow game is a long time and know from own experience that RL can extend that sojourn. Think a replacement with a opening down the line to return would be best for all.
As the group get volleyed with arrows, Wiktor's jinks as much as he can, trying to make his lanky frame a target. Between breaths and steps he hisses his concerns; "If dogs come ve vill not outrun them..."
Wiktor slithers through the window, long limbs popping and flopping as he pour himself to the other side...
Wiktor gibbers and jerks as he echoes the increasingly urgent chorus to use the magic portal to escape; "YesYesYes! Use the vindow! Leave the big and fat ones!"
Wiktor hungrily eyes the potential of freedom, moving cautiously toward the lowered gate...
Wiktor cocks his head at the culinary question; "Cold meat is best. Straight from ground." He flashes a rictus grin, then nods; "Let big ogre kill Blackery. Keep guards busy vhile ve make escaping."
Wiktor is also about team get out of here. He can grab some cold cuts for the journey :)
Wiktor nods in agreement at the notion of avoiding the dogs; "Dogs run faster than Wiktor. Leave them alone vill be best yessss?"
Wiktor keeps running, lanky frame all jaundiced arms and legs. He too screeches out to the hidden archers; "Shoot big murderous Ogre! Not skinny harmless Wiktor!"
The cook's apron hanging over his gaunt frame, Wiktor grins at the petrified catering staff. "Ve must be off. Bigger fish to fry, bigger guards to die!" He brandishes his knife and gives chase...
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