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Hmm. I find it a little unfortunate that you describe "think," "feel", and "seem" constructions as "unacceptable." Semantically, they are very different than the blame assigning. There is a difference between "I feel badly because of X" and "X is bad and blameworthy." I don't stress this difference to escalate conflict, but to clear any confusion you may have had about my previous post. :-) I also wish you well.
Still burned by the magic of the Spider God's Bride, Yeth-Kolsot finds no balm in Tairin's disdain. He had warned them of danger several times, and she doesn't like the manner of his warning? Bah! Each time danger threatened he had expend his magic to help them. Yet, they had also saved him from a dungeon in which he would have died. His pride and his pain balanced against his life. The scales were even. He gives the imperious noblewoman a precise bow. "If my presence offends, I see no reason to stay. I have no desire to wake up with one of your guard's steel in my stomach. You restored me freedom. I turned my magic one a Spider of Lamu and the Spider God's terrible bride. I care not for whatever lies you tell the Bey. That does not concern me. I will not stay in this city and care nothing for its ruler." His blind eyes scythe over the noblewoman and he turns and leaves her. The sorcerer strides out with affronted dignity. He pauses briefly to collect his things and gather water from the well. But he does not linger. The blind Lamurian is gone before the turning of the hourglass.
I'm a bit frustrated. This could be merely frustration with still not being better. (I hate not feeling well and it sucks to feel poorly for so long.) At the moment, I feel like I'm getting it coming and going in and out of game. I chose to play a sorcerer because I was encouraged that it would not be a character that would step on other characters toes. (Specifically, Tairin worried that my sacred prostitute idea would be too close to her noble leader woman.) I know sorcerers have a bad rap in game in this world, and I didn't mind that because as long as it is all in game it doesn't matter. I was ready to play a despised character that had a rich inner life that the other players and the GM could see. I hoped that this contribution would be valued and perhaps the characters would grow on each other over time. However, it seems that this kind of dark horse characterization is not what this group enjoys. Fair enough. No hard feelings. Between being sick these past few weeks and being shot down both in and out of character whenever I post doesn't spark the motivation. It's been all of a game day and Yeth-Kolsot is supposed to beloved in a world where sorcery is associated with demons (honestly for good reason in his case)? That sort of bonding just doesn't feel organic to me. I had hopes for after the battle, since between scholarship and poisons I thought there would be potential to work with Paten and Tairin, but now I'm just too discouraged by the pressure in and out of game. I don't think Yeth-Kolsot can give the GM and Tairin what they want. I think Yeth-Kolsot will take this as an opportunity to get out of dodge and travel further away from Lamu.
Yeth-Kolsot happily works through organizing the remaining alchemical items as he thumbs the recovered signet ring. "These will be useful. Fire and flash. Death in a bottle."
After he finishes the alchemical items, he goes back upstairs to the library that had so entranced him before. He searches it top to bottom paying special attention books and items that might detail new spells.
Yeth-Kolsot nods at Tairin's words. He is mostly interested in recovering what secrets of sorcery and alchemy remain. He begins to Detect Magic, calling on the Black Wind to give him knowledge of the hidden world.
This sickness is kicking my ass all over the place. I'm sorry that it has been slowing me down this past week and change. The worst part of a virus is that there is no easy fix.
Yeth-Kolsot throws a second pot at the wall behind the terrible spider and engulfs it in flame.
No doubt. It wasn't a critique. I couldn't even muster the energy for one at the moment if I had to. :-)
Because of the twenty foot cloud that the powder creates. If you are close enough to whip it (within 15 ft) you are close enough to get burned (20 ft.)
With Tairin between him and the divine scion, there is no space to use pyroclastic powders. He hisses in frustration.
Yeth-Kolsot throws a small urn at the ceiling close enough that the cloud of flame engulfs the spider but not Bjoern.
In terrible pain, Yeth-Kolsot moves out of the divine scion's line of sight.
Struck by the horror's magic and in intense pain, Yeth-Kolsot begins to cough uncontrollably.
By some dark blessing, the sorcerer is unaffected by the poison and smoke and continues his deadly song "አጥንት በመብረቅ". He throws more salt into the air, empowering his deadly magic.
Yeth-Kolsot moves towards the sound of Bjoern's voice in a shuffling dance. As he moves, he sings and casts salt. "አጥንት በመብረቅ"
His magic seeks to wrest control over its chitin.
I'm also up for a hiatus over the holidays.
"She would birth an abomination," the sorcerer hisses.
Since Yeth-Kolsot has already woven a protective illusion, he is waiting for the big nasty whatever to jump out while giving the dancing girl a dirty look.
No less than he deserved.
Yeth-Kolsot sings softly to himself, "ምስል ማሳያ"
"A net or a web? This bodes ill." Yeth-Kolsot hates the spider god and his followers.
Perhaps half a minute after the party enters the room, Yeth-Kolsot wanders in. He notices that Tairin is looking at a summoning circle and offers some advice as his blind eyes take in the room around him.
Yeth-Kolsot stands and stares at the many tomes. It is only in the silence of his allies absence that spurs him to follow them.
Yeth Kolsot is drawn to the books. He plans to follow them downstairs but cannot resist a quick looks at the library.
Yeth focuses his thoughts and tries to (poorly) discern the unseen forces working on the door.
Happy Birthday! I just want the record to show that I could have played a healer. :-p All joking aside, Yeth also has the Heal skill. I haven't been offering since I don't know how your guy's characters would like a sorcerer touching them, but it is another source of HP. Are you guys interested?
Yeth-Kolsot listens to what is said, and doesn't interject much. From his limited experience, they neither trust nor liked sorcerers. For all their talk of gratitude, they hadn't expressed a pinch of it. The consensus it seems is to search the manse for the danger that sensed the previous night. It would not do to speak too much and turn favor from this plan. He cannot care less about the archer's sister, but as a former slave himself he knows how hateful slavery is.
I fear that if I started speaking of rivers of blood, the reaction would be far different. "I do not think it wise to leave until we have secured the rest of this ill-fated house."
Their bondsman speaks with wisdom. The sorcerer is more interested in the witch.
"A paralytic poison. Clever. Either they meant to take hostages or make the deaths be more painful and fearful." Yeth-Kolsot crouches near the dead assassin before hiss and jerking his hand back from the spider's mark. "The very fangs of Yot-Kammoth. Your patron has angered powerful people." He stashes the dagger, hoping to be able to reverse-engineer the poison later. When Daniya speaks, the sorcerer remains still and quiet. The woman is foul and unclean. Her lips drip with lies, but which lies? For what purpose? That the voices had not revealed.
"I also council waiting."
Yeth-Kolsot picks up the fallen dagger and sniffs it. "Poison." He considers how this poison could be made, what its effects are, and how it could be counteracted. His right hand hovers over the spider tattoo. "More spiders . . ."
The dervish slows his dance and stills his song. He is uncomfortable because his magic is mostly spent, and the end of life is both disturbs and fascinates him. The archer yet lives and he wants nothing to do with the girl they protect. She will be a mother to abominations.
Yeth-Kolsot sings up witch fire: "የጥርስ እሳትን" The purple black flames swirl around the dancing mystic before unerringly lashing out at the assassin.
Yeth-Kolsot moves towards the stairs.
The sorcerer moves forward as his song finishes. The red threads turned to bats rush out and engulf the fleeing man.
"The bats thirst for blood. Do not get too close"
Yeth-Kolsot begins his quavering song as he unravels a small red piece of fabric. Each string turns into a wisp of smoke that solidifies into the form of a bat.
Yeth Kolsot follows cautiously along; his intuition screaming.
Yeth-Kolsot inclines his head graciously in recognition of Patenmheb's. "If no questions are asked, then my tongue shall be stilled. Be circumspect with your questions, and I shall do the same by not answering questions unasked. Respect is a marvel, but it does not spring from barked threats nor eager swords."
The sorcerer has little ability to distinguish dream from reality. Whether his blind eyes are closed or whether they are open, the world whispers its secrets on the wind. His hands reach for the blinding and fire powders he had placed next to him in case the witch had struck. He glances her way as he follows Patenmheb's footsteps.
Of course, your mileage may vary. I think all of this is interesting spice for the story. Especially, since it is a good showcase for how I'm trying to present Yeth-Kolsot's psyche and its response to stimuli. How Tairin internalizes this is entirely up to her.
Yeth-Kolsot's face cracks into a fool's grin, and he gives her something of a bow. "Of course, gracious lady, I have all due gratitude to you, the physician, and the northern man. This gratitude is why I warned of the fell spider before you freed me and will not end there. Yet when steel threatens me, I will not be daunted. Speak not, I pray you of ill-manners when your servant's blade is naked and his hot words still ring in my ear." The sorcerer seems no more cowed by the noblewoman's cold ire than he was by her servant's hot threats. Perceptive as she is, Tairin notices several things. First, there is an undercurrent that he may consider her talk of obligation to be rude. Which is why the sorcerer forebears mentioning that it was mostly by his arts that the spider did not eat her northern friend. This is tinged with wry amusement because it was her other servant and not Samir whose arrows hurt the beast. Second, and perhaps more interesting, is that each time that Yeth-Kolsot speaks his manner and speech patterns shift. When speaking to her, his diction is that of a man of learning of Lamu. When asked arcane questions, he responds as a mad savant. When threatened, his voice is that of an angry sorcerer. It could be that he is rather mutable in character, that he contains multitudes, or that he is fragmented into many pieces like a shattered amphora. Whatever the truth, the sorcerer's madness -- if he is mad -- and cunning seem to be related to how he is approached.
Fair, but Tairin should also consider that this is a pretty mild response in response to someone pulling a sword on him. Indeed, he hasn't cast a spell or said he would harm Samir.
Yeth-Kolsot cocks his head curiously at Samir. A stillness begins to grow. The stillness of a predator blinking and taking notice of some small, furry morsel. The stillness right before the crack and plunge into an icy lake. The stillness before a tempest. "A mad dog? Mad, I maybe. I have peered into the abyss between the stars. I have beheld the god that slumbers beneath the sands. Though it claimed my eyes, still the world reveals itself to me. Oracles I bear that slip through the cracks in the world. If madness you fear, do not ask mad questions. Do not take council with sorcerers or dwell in their houses. But, I am no dog, dog. You yap at the darkness and imagine yourself tall. Beneath your anger there is fear. Its stench almost overpowers the witch's mark." The sorcerer pauses and considers the man's sword. At the edge of hearing, there is a low hiss of wind. Is there a voice on that wind? Surely, not. But, if there is what does it sing? "I am the Yeth-Kolsot, Vessel of the Black Wind. Perhaps in my weakened state, your sword could dash me to pieces. But if you break the vessel, what it contains would spill out. You would be lost in the Black Wind, yapping dog. You would be blown out. Best not to beckon to the gods. Best not to ask of dreams and oracles if you fear their answers."
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