William M. Johnson's page

Real shame about Naajy, I liked to have the Brit/Indian split. My thoughts on getting going are:
1) We need more people, I can't direct all my snark at poor Jon. A re-recruitment might very well be in order.
2) I think that all the PCs should be Earth-based and we should go through some sort of bonding experience to make sure that we gain momentum. Some sort of harrowing test of spirit that forces us to have characters who work together.
3) PbP games can benefit from a bit of railroading. I have seen plenty of campaigns slow down and die because people are unsure of where to go and everything gets bogged down.

I'm very much up for it! William was one of the characters that I found more fun to play.

"You have my thanks, dear sir, and I bid you a good day."

"The merchants' quarter is that way." he addresses his companions. "Let us be underway, I feel that I'm losing vital clues by not knowing the proper customs."

"So, we are in the city, we have a destination and Digger has a date. I think that we should first approach the trade quarter, get rid of some of our goods and identify the rest."
William looks around at the apparent residential quarter before approaching the nearest person who appears to be a resident. "Pardon me, would you happen to know where the merchants' shops may be?"

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24

William blushes furiously at the shameless flirting of the junoesque woman and the tiny New Yorker. Without a word, he fishes in the backpack in search of gold coins.

Ah, I didn't mention it but I'll keep the rifle in the bag of holding, the revolver concealed in some pocket (Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27) and my rapier at the side.

Ok, let's try to defrost. I lost track of this for a few days after a very busy moment.

Dressed in the plainest garb he could assemble from what was scrounged from the tower, William moves towards the opening. The giant skulls intimidate him more than he tries to show, but he has long learned not to fear the dead.
Of course, it is not a given that they will remain dead.

Here too! I'm going through a grueling hiring process so my presence is a bit spotty at the moment, but I love this campaign very much!

Sorry I disappeared for a bit. I'm going through a mentally tiring phase.

"Finally, some civilization. It looks positively medieval, but we will finally have access to some facilities."

William goes behind a tree to change his clothes into something that can look like he's part of the peasantry, or at least doesn't look stolen from a wizard in a tower.

"Off we go, then. I'd like to bypass the slums, if you don't mind, and go straight to the high town."

"We passed as agriculture inspectors, and I don't think this nation even has such a role. We should just look as if we belong." says William, straightening his stolen wizardly robes.

"Inspection, eh?"
William rummages in the bag-turned-library, looking for something on the cultures and customs of Golarion.
"I assume we'd have to come out with some kind of cover story, since they'll likely be looking for us. We could possibly pass as members of the Pathfinder Society, but they carry a token we don't possess. And Sir Walter doesn't speak any of the common languages of this world. Any suggestions? Tallak?"

William is evidently not surprised that the wolves are talking. He wipes snow from the clothes he's wearing, the rough and unfamiliar ones he salvaged from Radosek's tower.
"Strangers we are, indeed. We are not cowering prey, if that is what you wonder, nor are we looking to hunt you. We have no quarry with you, mighty wolves, unless you have it with us."

"Oh dear."
Unwilling to experience firsthand the elk's reaction to the tiger, William scrambles away from the beasts, rifle ready.
"You know, you could've just let nature run its course!"

"I'm rather sure science does an admirable job of explaining in the Old World, but you're more than welcome to heal yourself with mysticism next time you get shot! Or gored!" William addresses the man, standing far away from the elk and close by the rifle.

"Ah. Such a creature would be hard-pressed to live on Earth, the added weight would crush its legs. Is magic going to be the explanation for everything here? Mister Singh, I'll say in advance that antler wounds are exceedingly unpleasant to treat!"

William blushes as Sylgja kisses him, for once at a loss for words. "I, uh, it was just my duty, I mean, the oath, and, and everything..."

As they finally manage to set up camp in warmer weather, the doctor takes the opportunity to grab some of the books from the enchanted sack they took from the Tower. He delves deep into Radosek's tomes of lore, trying to make sense of this strange world.

"We don't precisely have a plan for when we get to Whitethrone, do we?" he asks, without raising his eyes from the pages. "We should find someone who knows magic, identify what we have. Probably convert some of the things we appropriated from the tower into utilities. But beyond that, do we have any lead I forgot about these matters of witches?"

Am I mistaken in remembering that we set up a house rule to restore all our HP with a rest? Otherwise I'll roll some more Heal checks for the next days.

William lets out a high-pitched yelp as the overgrown cat swipes at his arm, slightly relaxing when no blood is drawn. "Hallucinogens, Mister Singh, or some magical equivalent. Let's agree not to touch any foreign substance from hereafter, yes? Jolly good. Now, Madam Sylgja, Mister Finngarth, I would be ever so grateful for a spot to rest. It's been a rather intense day and I believe we are all knackered."

"Full marks for you, Mister Brautigan, and your taxonomically-minded teacher. Moss, however, is in the Plant kingdom. Although the behaviours of this parasite is rather fungine in nature, the color indicates chlorophyll, which is absent from fungi. I suppose it could be a lichen, but I'd need a microscope to confirm it."

Heal: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (1) + 12 = 13
Heal: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (2) + 12 = 14

Distracted by his own exposition, William singes his hand with the fire before getting to scrape the moss.

Wow, those rolls. If I can retry I'll take 10 to succeed.

"Yes!" cheers William, rushing in the cavern with his lamp lit, and gathering whatever combustibles are around to build a larger fire. "The man first, then the tiger- and if they wake up, keep them pinned! We didn't walk through the worlds to let a plant defeat us!"

Hidden behind the mouth of the cave, William motions Sylgja to do her thing.

"Oh, young Mister, you have a role of the utmost importance: you will be the one to fast-talk, distract and discombobulate our moss-addled companion, giving us the chance to slip effectively into position. This is because of the fact that you have what they call "people skills", and that I have bled enough for today. Plan clear? Alright, let's head off."

Is everybody OK with Plan Distract Naajy And Cast A Sleep Spell On Him And His Tiger And If It Does Not Work Hit Him In The Head Until He Falls Unconscious?

William checks Finngarth's general state of health, his pupils and his pulse. "Not only a hallucinogenic compound, but something making you what, share a soul? This place just keeps on baffling. Anyway, my plan is that either I or Mister Brautigan lure Mister Singh out of the cave with an excuse, then Madam Sylgja, if you could, uh, work your magic again, we could set to work. Shouldn't it come to pass, we knock him out. Mister Finngarth, you may be the most suited to handling the large cat that is our companion's pet, if you feel in the condition to scuffle."

"I think that's it, he should be clean."
The doctor fishes a small flag of ammonium carbonate, also known as smelling salts, from his bag and holds it under Finngarth's nose. "Mister Finngarth? You are safe, your wife is here. Do you remember what happened?"

William grabs a burning piece of wood and moves it cautiously towards the mold, trying to burn it off.
"I reiterate my request to hold this man down. Madam, if this goes wrong I'd appreciate another one of those sleeping charms."

William reaches for flint, steel, kindling and a flask of lamp oil from his camping supplies to assist Walter. "She said there is fire in her cabin, but I think we have no time to get back there before he wakes. In case he gets up, try to pin his arms to the ground. <Skald> You too, Tallak, try to pin this man to the ground. Does anyone have a torch, so we can localize the heat treatment?"

Survival (aid another): 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

Taking 10 with either passes.

"It appears to be a, uhm, reverse thermophile? Cryophile should be appropriate, if such a thing exists. The sun is harming it, but slowly. Madam Sylgja, do you know some, well, weird as may be, some fire magic? Otherwise we could try to scrape the moss from his body, if we keep him pinned to the ground."

"Very well, then. Sir Walter, Tallak, can you carry Finngarth outside and see how we can help him?"

"One target at a time." he whispers to the others. "If we free this giant from the hallucinogen, he can help us knock some sense into Singh."

William points his rapier towards Naajy. "I think I have an idea. This substance seems to have a psychotropic effect, and it convinced Mister Singh here that it was helpful. We should see if the sun will disable it as it would in our world. Mind stepping outside and prove our working theory, dear chap?"

"Knock him out! He's too strong to overpower, aim to disable! Sylgja, anything you can do!" screams the doctor, aiming for a blow to the temple of the large man.

If possible, I'll maneuver into flanking position with Walter for a +2.
Rapier, NL: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (19) + 2 - 4 = 17
Critical bonk confirm: 1d20 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (9) + 2 - 4 = 7
Nonlethal damage: 1d6 ⇒ 1
Critical damage: 1d6 ⇒ 6

Numbing sensations, a likely feeling of omnipotence, parasitical tendencies on animals rather than its own kind-
Horror dawns on William as he connects the dots, hoping it's not too late.

"Hallucinogen!" he screams, drawing the rapier and going for an impossibly clumsy pommel strike against Finngarth. "Knock them out!"

Rapier, nonlethal: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (1) - 2 = -1

Knowledge(nature) don't fail me now: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (15) + 11 = 26

William's knowledge of botanics is rather extensive, although mostly focused on poisonous and/or medicinal plants. As for this one...

As the large man attacks, he tries to catch his attention. "Sir! Sir, it's all right! You are safe, your wife is here with us! Please release our companion!"

A magic symbiote? Never thought I'd hear similar words.

Whatever exhaustion took Finngarth, there were two men far stronger than William in the room to carry him back if needed, and it didn't seem like the large guy was in any danger. William instead kept examining the mold as it reproduces preternaturally fast.

While it's on me, can I try some checks to learn something more about it? Knowledge(nature), maybe, or Heal?

The silver nitrate should have given him nausea, at least. I guess that symbiont actually is useful?

"Well, if this thing actually is useful, perhaps he got lost and took shelter here?"
William passes one finger over the bizarre mold, willing to try out its effects by himself before they wake up the giant human.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17

Waiting for Naajy's roll, but I'm not setting a high bar here.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14 Ouch. I guess Naajy is believable.

Though naturally skeptic, William has acquired some tendency to trust Naajy in matters mystic. He tries to appraise the man's condition.
"It would appear benign, but I'd study its effects on you beforehand, since you went ahead and exposed yourself to it. Would you allow me to poison you to check your claim?"

Heal: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (12) + 12 = 24

"I've never seen anything like this. But if it's moss, or mold, sunlight should sterilize it, at least in part. Ultraviolet light is lethal for lesser lifeforms."

"Could it be some sort of infection?" wonders aloud William, moving to the bed of the man. "I'm not sure what diseases are carried by moss trolls, but maybe there is a remedy."

The doctor starts checking on the conditions of the man.
Heal: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (3) + 11 = 14

William stands with the revolver at the ready and the alchemist's fire in the other hand, nodding at Walter and Tallak.

William snorts at the mention of flower-like women. "You should have met my mother and sisters, Mister Singh. Dire straits and necessity can make even women into tough men."

William cocks the rifle, checking that the ammunition is correctly placed in the clip. "We have that substance from the tower, the alchemical concoction." He rummages through his pockets and the bottomless bag until he grabs the three vials of alchemist's fire. "Am I correct in understanding that these trolls are wounded by steel like we are, but must be finished off through fire?"

By Retraining, it will take 20 days. That, of course, serves to shame RL me for not learning the language of the country I'm working in after 10 months.

William is surprised that he forgot to introduce himself. What is this place doing to my manners? Even in the war, I used to be more polite!

"Let's go find this troll, then, before we rest. The way I recall, we already butted toes with one, just after arriving in this realm. But I'll stay in the rear lines, I've bled enough for one day."

She just has to be another trap. I'm not falling for it this time.

"And, pardon my rudeness, but who were you expecting?"

"Then let's."

Running a hand through his hair, William approaches the cabin and raps on the door.

"Bet you a dollar there's a cannibal in there." groans William. "But that looks like the safest place to rest, doesn't it?"

"I'd suggest tactically retreating at full speed, chaps. Impressive as those shovels are, we're not properly equipped for hunting fowl." notes William, keeping an eye out for the murderous birds.

Still in bad shape after Radosek's spell onslaught, William braces the rifle and fires at the closest swarm, hoping that the noise and the smell of gunpowder will scare the birds: the bullet itself, being made for larger game, passes through the swarm without drawing blood.

Attack: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7
Damage: 1d10 ⇒ 7

We do have alchemist's fire, but we didn't properly inventariate and split the loot.

"Mister Singh, you handled the ones in the tower, any ideas? I'll look ahead."

Using skills learned in another world and another war, William hides beneath the foliage.

I'm going to scout ahead, step by step, going no further than 100' ahead of the group.

Stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16
Perception: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (17) + 11 = 28

I believe that the lack of protests means we are quite OK with the cutscene towards Whitethrone.