Sorry, Dungeon Madam, I couldn't come up with a concept that I was really happy with. Best of luck to the applicants, best of luck with the game, and I will look forward to reading along on the forums! And, as PBP GMS deserve all the positive reinforcement we can give, thank you very much for running!
re: Mum's PWNING the undead: Scroll of spell: 150GP
Having the right spell for exactly the right moment: Priceless...
If you will pardon an interloper - I've been stalking this thread for quite some time: it's been one of my favorite reads. You are quite as cast of very well-played characters. Looks like you're winding down, now, and I just wanted to say thanks for the the great reads, and well done, GM and players both! Everyone deserves a few kudos for actually finishing an AP... And Tsin, that boon request - epic. Just epic. Sorry for intruding, and thanks!
Heisenberg get pulled over by a cop. The officer says 'Do you know you were doing fifty in a thirty-five zone?" Heisenberg replies, "Thanks, now I'm lost!"
Congratulations, Dev! Welcome to equal parts wonder, terror, exhaustion, and bliss. (I've got a three year old boy, too...the exhaustion gets better - but doesn't really go away...)
Viorr quiets as they break through the mist, taking in the utter devastation. HE begins to shake his head slowly as he picks out details. "I rode against the humans and 'forged of Cyre...I took torch and sword to this place, but... " He seems at a loss for words. "They were fitting foes, and fine allies, a'times. There was nothing in or of Cyre that deserved this" His shoulders tense a little, and his right hand drifts behind him, as if he is trying to draw some comfort touching the hilt of the double blade riding across the small of his back.
Good stuff! Please keep them coming!
Sorry to hear, GM Tal. I've actually been lurking on your thread - I've enjoyed the game so far. I'm working on a necromancer. Crunch and Fluff to follow shortly.
Before going in, Kaz will cast heightened awareness Heightened Awareness:
School divination; Level alchemist 1, bard 1, druid 1, inquisitor 1, psychic 1, ranger 1, shaman 1, sorcerer/wizard 1 CASTING Casting Time 1 standard action
EFFECT Range personal
DESCRIPTION You enter a heightened state of awareness that allows you to notice more about your surroundings and recall information effortlessly. You gain a +2 competence bonus on Perception checks and on all Knowledge checks that you are trained in. If this spell is active when you have to make an initiative check, you can instantly dismiss this spell and gain a +4 bonus on that check.
I am amused by the material component..I think I've got that one covered... So that perception would be a 32.
Still in nothing more than his own smallclothes, the big man scratches at his powerfully muscled and impressively hairy chest as he stretches. "We can't all stand around here while the ladies dress. Why don't we meet you and the mayor at his office later this morning? After we break our fast. Kazamir can hardly move most days until he's had a cup of that dark bitter tea he favors." Kazamir's head comes up, a slightly petulant, wounded look on his face, but it quickly settles into a sheepish, resigned acceptance, and he nods ruefully.
Kaz takes a step forward, bowing deeply. " Good Morning, Mayor. We are honored by the gift of your time and attention. How may we be of service?"
I wonder what THIS is all about?
In the songs-in-other-tunes genre, there is always the classic Green Acres/ Purple Haze: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGEK_uOAbEw
Kaz steps forward, his face nearly contrite, and says, in a voice much softer than his usual carrying tone, "Of course we have no wish to intrude or inconvenience you, sir. We merely need a roof over our head - you know, have us all in one place rather than wandering all over willy-nilly. And of course, we're happy to pay well above going rate. You'd be doing us quite the favor..."
Viorr waves off Jiri. "Help Taryn or Eye!", he barks, wading in to attack again.
KAzamir draws his blade and moves around the wagon, eyes studying the ghoul beside Hazel.
Kazamir watches Vala's confessions and Hazels responses with an attempt as his usual impassiveness, but in the face of such raw hurt, his own sadness is evident. He steps up beside both women, laying a hand on the near shoulders of both. "Dear, dear Vala....if you knew all the murders I have committed in my mind and heart over the years, you would know that there is no need to ask me for forgiveness for what you wanted to do to some thing that richly deserves its punishment. Look to your deeds for comfort. We are alive. Vrood is dead, and I trust the Lady of Graves to deal out his reward. You want to punish him more? I doubt that all of his schemes are unraveled. Let us end his works, salt the earth of his hopes and plans." "Take Hazel's words to heart. She is a wise woman. Don't bear this alone. Just as the Way tried to meddle in our dreams - and were thwarted when we spoke with each other in trust - don't let the rage and loss isolate you. Your comrades, your friends are here." Kaz seems to run out of words, and just squeezes both of the ladies' shoulder before releasing them and stepping back. "Also, if you are going to hit Hazel, let me step back. She can take a hit a lot better than I can..." he says, his wry half-smile reappearing for a second.
[spoiler=Somewhere]
"Ah. A drawing." It turns to the one that it might have known, to whom it had been...talking?...for the last million moonrises or so, and sees that same curiosity. Ah. It turns to look out at the River, the City, towards, probably, the Lady...and a hint to regret floats across its being. "Ah, well. Not yet." And ancient silver fades to eternal black. ***
Zed looms over them, hand resting on their shoulders. "Peace, you have returned to the land of the living. The battle was won." Kazamir's awakening is far more peaceful than he had imagined such a thing would be - more so, even, than returning from stone after the basilisk. His nostrils flare as he draws a deep, deep breath, and his eyes open slowly. A broad, relaxed smile creases his face, more natural than any his friends can ever recall, and his hand finds Zed's on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "I knew it would be," he says softly, his look at the Dhampir showing pride and congratulations, and not a little satisfaction...a glance clearly saying I chose wisely. Kazamir sits up and turns to Hazel, opening his mouth, but the memories of the silver river are already like a year-old dream, and he can merely shake is head ruefully. He sits quietly for a moment, sharing a look and a grateful smile with Vala, getting his bearings, before asking, "Is there any coffee?"
"Unplanned Breather" may now be my new euphemism for high-level character death...
The last clinging fingers of the giant undead hand were twitching, hard to shake off of his shoulder, and the weight of the thing toppled Kazamir backward away from the spot where Vrood had vanished. As Vrood began hissing his vitriol at them, as the spell began to gather, Kazamir's eyes went wide, his connection to the aether not tingling in warning as it sometimes did, but burning with a cold fire that danced along the inside of his skull. The annoyed fumblings with the dead weight of the Crawling Hand became desperate thrashings, and he finally threw it off and gained his feet to hear Vrood bellow ...and see the wave-front of Death that spread out from him. He was driven to his knees, nearly blind, and his outstretched hand landed on Zed's calf. Excited to a higher state by the raw psychic energy rushing around them, Kazamir's senses were overwhelmed by Zeds, seeing the black tendrils as they vicioulsy burrowed into the inquisitor...and Seeing, with the clarity of the Third Eye, how that conflict must end. But he also realized that Zed could see, too - he could see through Vrood's shroud of invisibility. The Dhampir's great warclub had ended so many threats against them, against Ustalav, against humanity...it was needed to end one more. We stand a better chance with Zed hunting the bas#$%d than with whatever I can muster... With a massive effort of will, Kazamir lurched forward on his knees, falling, arms wide-spread in front of Zed (hoping that the dreaded club does not find him in Zed's frantic poundings,). Ever since dear, departed, ever-present Professor Lorrimor had sent him off to Jalmeray, he had been cautioned that the opened Psychic mind was a two-way street, that there would always be forces, sinister and otherwise, that would seek to invade his mind. Now he opened those gates, threw them wide in invitation, drawing inward with all the power he could muster... As Zed began to collapse to his knees, the black tendrils - vivid and nauseating purples and green to Kaz's overcharged senses - twisted from the Dhampir, slithered like hungry serpents, converging on the investigator's Third Eye and burrowing through his brain into his soul. Kaz's eyes bulged obscenely in agony as he thrashed on the floor, but he flopped on his back enough to meet Zed's for the briefest moment. The faintest whisper of the fussy investigator's voice flitted across Zed's mind - You work is not finished, Zed... - and then Kazamir was still, the bulging eyes empty as the windows of the ruined tower in which he lay.
All my guys get that too right? Nope, we actually stole their extra attacks, so they get slowed. I'm almost sure that's how it works....
"Allies of Rakhis, bearing his mark, and enemies of his enemies. My allies will stand away from the door so you may hear and smell the truth of my words." Kazamir tucks his cane into the back of his belt and steps toward the door, standing away from his friends and holding his empty hands wide.
"Like the spirit of the Warden of Harrowstone," Kaz mutters, almost to himself.
Take 10 and 20 are great ways to keep a game moving, and not be paralyzed over trivial tasks. I have not had a chance to see Assurance in action in a alive game, but my initial reaction is that it is too costly to require a feat to do something that was openly available and to do it worse and for only one skill. I'd strongly recommend bringing back take 10 and take 20 in some form.
THere is a feat for that: from the APG, Expanded Arcana
Prerequisites: Caster level 1st, see Special. Benefit: Add one spell from your class's spell list to your list of spells known. This is in addition to the number of spells normally gained at each new level in your class. You may instead add two spells from your class's spell list to your list of spells known, but both of these spells must be at least one level lower than the highest level spell you can cast in that class. Once made, these choices cannot be changed. Special: You can only take this feat if you possess levels in a class whose spellcasting relies on a limited list of spells known, such as the bard, oracle, and sorcerer. You can gain Expanded Arcana multiple times.
"Get out of the city they said...see the trees, they said..."
If it is a design intent (as the blogs seem to indicate) is to carry on in the Golarion through which we've been adventuring for the last decade, and to actually tie the rules more closely to the setting (I believe James Jacobs talks about this a bit in his "ask anything' thread), then the switch from gp to sp seems jarring and unnecessary.
Mirroring Constantin, Kaz sends a nearby rock hurtling at the tree.
Ivori, Alwyn, Tirok: So, here I am, sneaking in to a Hellknight fortress, about to beat Hellknights about the face and head, probably get a price on my head, for a bunch of people I just met - in fact, some I have not EVEN met yet - who may or may not be helpful long-term.... Do Hellknight REALLY annoy me this much? Y'know...I think they do. This is for that business in Korvosa, ya self-righteous, infernal b@$^@#*ds!
Lawdrak helps where he can, the workings of such a construction beyond him, but every dawn and dusk, he and Sharpmaw take a long walk, patrolling the edge of the settlement, looking for threats, or signs that they are being observed. As they are finishing work on the second night, a cloud passes over the young druid's face. "This island is surrounded by shipwrecks. Seems its a very dangerous place to sail. Is it...bad? risky? that we're trying to draw a ship here? I mean...I want to leave the island, of course, but..."Hey, come here in your ship to where we crashed our ship..." He trails off uncomfortably, not knowing if he is being silly, or upsetting his fellow castaways. I should have said that BEFORE we did all the work... he silently regrets.
Kazamir regards his friends over the rim of the flask, and brings it to his lips... But before he drinks, he smiles a little sheepishly. "I think, perhaps, I should sit down." Which he does. He downs the wolfsbane.
Kazamir calmly sets the flask down on the end-table flanking his plush, wing-backed chair, crosses his leg, foot bouncing leisurely a moment as he regards the staff and guests bustling about in preparation to abandon the lodge. His breath suddenly flares out of his nostrils in a sharp hiss, and his eyes widen slightly. Unconsciously, his hand lays itself over his stomach, even as he sits up a little straighter. Kaz's breath seems to falter a bit, and he takes a hard, painful swallow. He looks around at his friends, quirking an eyebrow and giving a tight-lipped, unconvincing smile, all the while worming the fingers of his left hand into the cuff of his right sleeve, feeling his pulse. His eyebrows raise in a alarm... But in a half a minute or so, his breath, bearing, and smile all relax. With a contented sigh, he removes his fingers from his cuff and cups the ends of the chair's arms, leaning back and beaming at his friends. He is pale, and has a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but appears to be not TOO worse for wear. "Thank you, all. I think that's the worst of it. I hope..."
"If you all will excuse me, please." He rises rather stiffly and, leaning on is cane a litle more than normal, walks with as much grace as he can muster down the hall . He pauses to mutter to Vermundr on the way out. "If you would be so good...If you hear a loud thump from the garderobe, make sure I'm still alive, please."
(Start about :30 in...)
Kaz quickly reads the documents, then, wordlessly, hands them to his companions, starting with Hazel. He exchanges a knowing look with Constantin, then commandeers one of the office's chairs, leaning back into it, legs outstretched, arms crossed, head bowed, and brow deeply furrowed, trying to put together Estovian's information and the bizarre trail Vrood had left across the Immortal Principality.
At Duristan's words, Kaz's head snaps up, eyes narrowed. "How far?" he asks tersely. He is eager to help...but I cannot help but recall the Harrower's warning of betrayal... Kaz does his best to bury his sudden, rather unfounded suspicion, below the threshold of the lordling's perception.
They've all got 70's cop-show 'staches....
Kazamir, when he entered and met the denizens of the tower, was tersely polite, but has been rather tight-lipped throughout the proceedings. . He spares Duristan and Hazel one brief glance each - perhaps holding just the slightest arched eyebrow of amusement - before returning his attention to Ivanja. His companions may well wonder...is Kaz staring? Sense motive DC 9:
Despite his rather awkward attempt to hide the fact, Kaz seems utterly out of his depth around this rather overtly sensual woman. **** Constntin:
*sigh*. I had hoped that we might be wrong. But even if he was merely coerced to some end, the fact that he has fled would indicate its severity. **** He jumps almost as much as does Hazel, and his eyes narrow when Ivanja addresses...someone. He darts a questioning glance to Constantin. Did YOU 'hear' anything? He offers no reaction to the announcement of impeding betrayal. At their hostess's questions, he begins to reply...and must pause to clear his rather dry throat before saying: "Vrood is a threat that must be eliminated. For one of his ilk, I hesitate to say 'killed' - as that may not be an end to his mischief. Indeed, it might be one of his goals. No, he will be dealt with to such an extent as he no longer comprises a threat. Though I would be lying if I did not acknowledge a desire to repay his past injuries was not also a factor." "Estovian? Though I have suspicions, I do not know enough to judge his role in this business fully - though I do not claim to speak for all of us."
"Since we darkened your doors?," Kazamir asks, striding confidently - and uninvited - into the Warden's office, cane thumping solidaly with every step. He is drawn up, ramrod straight, with his best stern, non-nonsense face. He nods to Vala, then continues. "No." he says, simply, heavily. The pause after he says it stops just short of being long enough to invite a reply. "Not since we darkened your doors, Warden. Since your strange party of visitors a couple of weeks ago. The one that included an imp or humunculous? The one that asked that its horses not be unsaddled? That stayed a mere few hours? The one that, despite knowing our investigations and our rather pointed inquiries, you rather neglected to mention. " He pauses, gazing intently at the Warden with an interrogator's eye, gauging the reaction, before moving on. "Pack our things? The ones that saved the lives of your guests after your staff turned a horror loose upon them? How would that sit with them? What questions might they ask? What would they say when they returned to their homes and their affluent society circles? No, Warden, let us not act rashly. Surely Mistress Cross is not the first guest to arrive in your office in anger? Besides which, you knowthat which we oppose. You know their stated goal. How, pray tell, will hindering us help your business if the Tyrant is loose upon the Immortal Principality once again?
"Now, shall we discuss those aforementioned brief guests, and see how they may have sown the seeds of your more recent misfortunes?"
It wasn't my FAULT! And his head had those particle-beam holes in it when I found him!
I have yet to run Starfinder yet, but I'm toying with a 'price of admission', as it were - like one of the roleplaying requirements for 3.5/PF prestige classes: Each solarians has had close, intimate encounter with the raw forces of the Universe. Maybe a bombardment of Solar radiation that miraculaously did not leave them a cancer-riddled husk; maybe spending time wracked by the gravity oh-so-near the event horizon of a supermassive black hole, maybe accelerated by some gravitational phenomenon past all sense of time-dilation. In any case, some event has opened the channels in the solarian's brain to the stars. I can even imagine people exposing themselves to such phenomena in an effort to become solarians - and failing.
My old-man eyes are loving the new font size!
Ptew!
The Kasatha, if I recall, were native to a desert/ wasteland kind of place before most of them packed up and flew off to the Pact Worlds. A Kasatha might have a ritualistic way of cleaning or maintaining her gear. Maybe look at the Fremen in Herbert's Dune books for similar inspirations.
The blank, awed expression flows off of the investigator's face like milk from a glass. He blinks a couple of times, and his friends can almost see him putting all of the pieces together. With a quick nod of thanks to VermundR, Kaz turns and bolts after Hazel. Grimacing in distaste, he raps at the Desnan's head with his cane.
But in his effort not to injure Hazel, he mistimes his swing.
Kazamir does not even meet the eyes of his friends as they try to stop him, weaving his head back and forth to look past them as though trying to view a hanging through a crowd. Even VermundR's grasp evokes nothing more than a sharp twisitng of his arm, trying to break the northerner's grip.
Gratuitous Movie Quote:
"I'm not saying I'd like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely." Kaz follows along quietly, frequently staring up into the dark canopy. His relative discomfort at his distinctly-non-urban surroundings is evident...
So I did a readthrough of the game since the Trial started. Holy @#$% is this a good freakin' game. Just general applause to the players and GM. Kudos, all.
Kazamir retrieves the letter and its grisly package, folding the letter neatly and tucking both into his jacket pocket. He straightens fully, the only crack in his stone-face a slight whitening of his nostrils. "We should, of course, return to Lepistadt at once. We will not know if he abducted, killed, or merely maimed Mistress Lorrimor until we do." Kaz'z voice is flat, but cold enough to make an efreeti shiver. "I have always been puzzled by a tactic like this. An enemy lashes out to demonstrate that he can harm one that his pursuers hold dear, to prove that he can strike at any time, hoping to dissuade them from their course." He is looking at no-one in particular as he talks, a faint puzzled expression now crossing his plain face. "Who in our position would stop at anything to eliminate someone that has demonstrated that they are such a threat? Does he know that he has practically demanded we neutralize any threat that he can bring?" His voice now carries an inflection of slightly interested, academic curiosity. It is belied by his right hand, clenched so hard in white-knuckled fist at the small of his back that it shakes, and a drop of blood slithers out from where his nails have been driven into flesh. "Herr Caromac, do you have the letter of introduction and the work orders ready? I do not know if I speak for my companions, but I for one am struck by a powerful urge to depart, no disrespect to your hospitality. Bla...Addam, I am sorry we must part under such circumstances. Take care of your father well."
Kaz hits the rain-slicked deck and rolls franticly away from the trampling, pointed legs of the constructed fiend. Getting to his feet, he looks wildly around. Vermunder, Bland, and Zed had engaged the abomination. Vrood has sealed himself away...then his eyes fell on the machine. The investigator fell away into his intense concentration once more, seeking any meaning he could piece together from the construction...looking for where he could do the most damage.
Well,that lightning rod has definitely got to go, he thought. Calling his speftral hand to him, he imbued it with arcane force, and sent it hurtling at the base of the metal rod, where it attched to the machinery.
Kazamir recognizes the futility of trying to escape the thing's claw. Drawing on every scrap of discipline and training the mystics of Jalmeray instilled in him, he shunts the searing pain away in a corner of his mind and turns his gaze on abomination. Time burns away, the din of strife and storm receding, and he takes in the rippling pattern of chitin on the thing's chest...and the gaps in it. Almost of its own volition, his right hand brings the cane back and, when the gyrations of the embattled creature bring him forward, the cane whistles out in the most powerful arc the investigator can possibly generate..
"Relax, Eye...at least a couple of us speak Goblin," Viorr mutters to the warforged as he steps a little further into the room. He holds his blade in one hand and spreads his arms wide, as non-threateningly as possible. Goblin:
"LEt's agree to not try to kill each other just yet, and we'll tell you all about how we know Shekan, yes?"
"I think..." Valex begins, hesitatntly, eyes closed and brow furrowed in concentration, "...I think that the Order knew about these. I'm chasing a memory - a fragment of a rotten tomb, a decaying page with a picture of these globes, haphazardly placed in a large vaulted chamber. A broken translation 'For the future, for study, for use'..." He shakes his head in frustration. "I don't remember anything more, d@#$%it, but I am inclined to agree with you, Lilith. It seems likely my brethren thought that whatever is in the spheres is contained by evil, but not, perhaps, evil itself? Either way, I think they bear investigation. Feldus is right, one way or another, they cannot fall into the Way's hands." Having said his piece, Valex steps closer to one of the spheres, casting Detect magic and concentrating, seeing if he can glean any other hint than what was already discovered.
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