Maxymiuk
2007-06-25, 01:17 AM
Since it's been a few months since we had this type of thread, I figured it's about time for a new one.
The following come from one of the campaigns I currently run. Sorry if some of those are a tad long - this particular group (including me) likes setting up their jokes over the course of a conversation, and just giving you the punchline out of context would be missing the point.
Caedmon Thaal: Ranger extraordinaire, reformed mass murderer, and party leader because no one else wanted to be. One of the two original players still left with the campaign.
Sonja: His wolf animal companion.
Kelsrod Dutherin: Rogue/Ranger/Barbarian multiclass, the most level-headed member of the party, and possessed of a tendency to speak in blocks of text. Also, the second original player still in the campaign.
Crowid Beestinger: Halfling Sorcerer, party face, and dragon bait. Original player, no longer with the group.
Midnight: His raven familiar.
Morgan Seafood: Failed cook, absent-minded wizard, hailed as group's Arcane Google. Original player no longer with the party.
Lizard: His familiar.
Kumbrin Deepdelve: Dwarf Battle Sorcerer, dragon lover, elf hater, and every half-elf druid's worst fear - a racist with a big axe.
Naila: Kumbrin's player's replacement character after Kumbrin went off the deep end. Half-elven female druid, half-wild, and, as it turned out, completely crazy. No longer with the party due to player drama.
Dargor: One of the several interchangeable barbarians the group has suffered through (long story short: flaky players who always insisted on playing barbarians for some reason). Best known for two critical fumbles in a row during a fight. No longer with the party.
Trok'kael: A half-elf ranger/rogue/bloodhound with a pseudodragon cohort. Snarky, overconfident, and given to an occasional bout of stupidity. Joined the group during a prison break.
Sa'aragra: Trok's pseudodragon cohort and sister - or at least he thinks of her as such. Looks after him out of pity more than anything else.
Savath: A wizard with an agricultural bent. Currently collecting funds for founding an arcane plantation. He was introduced to the party through the unfortunate means of an earthquake, and a Caedmon in a rather fragile mental state.
Zacred: A ranger/scout with a horse companion and a very high opinion of his woodsy skills. Missed the fact that at this point most of the party is made up of rangers.
Maxymiuk: Ok, any questions, concerns, comments, cow mutilations to get out of the way before we start?
Caedmon Thaal: ((So let me get this straight . . .))
Caedmon Thaal: ((I'm both a future Paladin and a Magnificent Bastard?))
Caedmon Thaal: ((There must be a prestige class for that . . .))
Saldzar: In fact I would be willing to bet a not insignificant part of my hoard that when you first set off into the woods, you were looking forward to pillaging whatever treasure the goblins may have.
Crowid Beestinger: (( Ahhh...the control not to say anything about his hoard and how tiny it is...do you think he carves all that wood to compensate? ))
Narrator: Suddenly a black shape descends upon Crowid... it's Midnight, half-frozen and bloody furious. The bird practically claws its way into the halfling's cloak where it can find a bit of warmth.
** Crowid Beestinger screams at first, then notices what it is that's attacking him and starts swearing rather pictoriously. "Stay put!" he wiggles on his seat, afraid Jr will panic. "Stand still or I will give you no food!" **
Midnight: Some master you are! Out in the cold the whole bloody night and not even an "Are you alright Midnight? Do you need anything?" But no, the good master had to go and get sloshed!
** Kumbrin Deepdelve examines the wound for anything serious, like possible infection and bleeding **
Kumbrin Deepdelve: examine wound: Heal [1d20+0] -> [1,0] = (1)
Kumbrin Deepdelve: "Hah, yer fine, barely a fleshwound!"
Caedmon Thaal: Long story. I'll tell you later -- AFTER I heal Sonja1
Narrator: ((Little did he know, Sonja2 would be meeting them a few miles down the road))
Narrator: Kelsrod feels something tugging slightly at his sleeve.
** Kelsrod Duthertin looks around, then down. **
Narrator: It's the girl. She looks up at you with big eyes.
Girl: Mister. Did'ja kill lots'f dwaggons?
** Kelsrod Duthertin blinks and smiles down at the girl in confusion. "Kill...What?? No, sweetheart, I don't kill dwa--er, dragons. I've only ever met one and I made friends with him." Okay, so that's stretching the word friend a wee bit... **
Girl: M'mum always tole me d'adventurers kill dwaggons. An' deemons. An' things.
** Kelsrod Duthertin chuckles and squats down to the girl's level, though his eyes keep flicking away from her to continue keeping watch. "Well, I'm sorta new to the whole adventurer bit. So far that bear thing is the only thing I've killed that wasn't for food or hide, and it was sorta already dead." He scratches his head. "I don't really understand that part," he confides. **
** Girl pouts. "So's ye not an' real adventurer?" **
** Kelsrod Duthertin moves his head from side to side noncommittally. "Well, I'd be inclined to call some of what we've been doing lately quite an adventure, myself. But...I suppose in the sense of the ones they tell stories about, I fall a little short of the mark." He pauses, reflecting. "I don't know if I really want to be that sort of an adventurer. Tends to lead to something of a short and difficult life. I'd like to see a bit of the world, try to leave it a better place than I found it, then find a quiet patch of forest with plenty of game trails and settle down." **
** Girl blinks. **
Girl: So's how many dwaggons y'gonna kill?
** Kelsrod Duthertin considers for a moment, then smiles at her and reaches out to tap his finger lightly on her nose. "As many of 'em as need it, I suppose." **
Girl: *she thinks about it, then nods* That's alright then.
Caedmon Thaal: (( see, this is why I only have 10 charisma, LOL ))
Narrator: ((And yet you lead them... by bloody-mindedness, if not force of personality))
Caedmon Thaal: (( The irony has not escaped me. ))
Narrator: Caedmon suddenly becomes aware of just how much Sonja is communicating with body language alone - knowledge that was beyond his reach so far, as much as he may know about animals.
Caedmon Thaal: Whoa.
Caedmon Thaal: Sonja?
Kumbrin Deepdelve: ((don't tell me the wolf has the hots for him. please. It's best left unsaid.))
Sonja: You ask something?
Caedmon Thaal: Whoa. Yeah, I need to ask who attacked you yesterday. Was it other wolves?
Sonja: Yesterday?
Caedmon Thaal: Yes. Um... during your trip down here
Caedmon Thaal: You were attacked?
Sonja: What is, "yesterday"?
Caedmon Thaal: The day before today.
Sonja: What is "today"?
** Caedmon Thaal sighs **
Caedmon Thaal: It's not important now -- we may not have much time. Please. Did other wolves attack you?
** Sonja is puzzled and at the same time somewhat apprehensive. She is somehow failing the Pack Leader, yet she doesn't understand how. **
Kumbrin Deepdelve: ((ooh, ooh, use sun and moon references!))
** Caedmon Thaal recalls the KISS principle -- keep it simple, stupid. **
Caedmon Thaal: Are there other wolves in these woods?
Kumbrin Deepdelve: ((what's a wolf?))
Sonja: *now she recollects* Pack chase One That Is Of Another Pack, yes.
Caedmon Thaal: What is scent of Another Pack?
Sonja: *her hackles rise* Wrong scent. Wrong... bad manners. Pack did not give call to warn One That Is of Another Pack away. They attacked with no sound. It breaks custom.
** Caedmon Thaal realizes that Another Pack refers to themselves -- he makes a mental note to teach Sonja the concept of pronouns sometime **
Caedmon Thaal: Pack With Bad Manners, where come from?
Sonja: *she bares her teeth in what apparently passes for laughter among wolves* Pack Leader can speak properly now, which is only proper. But Pack Leader must work on not sounding stupid, lest his authority is challenged.
** Caedmon Thaal rolls his eyes **
Caedmon Thaal: Pack Leader is different. Pack Leader speaks different to Others of Another Pack. But answer: Where Pack With Bad Manners come from?
Sonja: *remains unconvinced* It is proper for Pack Leader to know how to behave. But Pack Leader lacks fur and fangs. He was not brought up as wolf. That is alright. First Mate can teach him. *pause* The Wrong Pack run there. *she indicates north*
** Caedmon Thaal opens his mouth to ask about the phrase "First Mate," then decides very much against it **
Caedmon Thaal: Would you recognize the Wrong Pack's scent again?
Sonja: It is easy. Can Pack Leader not feel the scent on the wind? It smells of prey that is too dead to eat.
Caedmon Thaal: Pack Leader feels the scent, but First Mate must watch for them. First Mate has excellent nose, yes?
Sonja: Pack Leader flatters his Mate as is proper. He will make a good wolf yet. Yes, I know what scent to look for now.
** Caedmon Thaal looks around to ensure that Kelsrod, Morgan, Crowid, Kumbrin, Cadmus and their assorted zoo are ready to go. **
Narrator: ((The assorted zoo chooses this exact moment to start acting like real animals and begins a battle royale))
Narrator: As our wizard speaks the last of the spell's words, the candles he has lit at various stages of the summoning flare upwards once, then go out.
Narrator: In the darkness, something stirs...
Narrator: And then...
Lizard: Are you bloody out of your mind?!
** Morgan Seafood breathe heavly exhaling a mist for every breath **
Morgan Seafood: "What??"
** Morgan Seafood blinks and looks up **
Lizard: Winter? WINTER?! You summon me into the middle of winter? Have you gone senile from all that magic in your head? Or were you born that way?
Kelsrod Duthertin: ((Born Senile...hmm. Band name?))
Caedmon Thaal: (( Born Senile's new album, "Quest of the Zookeepers," released next Tuesday by Sony records. ))
Morgan Seafood: "We wee well...."
** Morgan Seafood struggles with lighting one of the candles **
Lizard: What? Speak up! Damn you ARE simple, aren't you. A bloody apprentice too, I bet. I demand WARMTH!
Caedmon Thaal: Well, ye all know him, or at least know of him! He's Cadmus, the Baron's . . . (quietly) what are ye again, Cadmus? The head of the Guard? (loudly) Ye know Cadmus! We are fellows of Cadmus, and we seek an audience with Garthis, your headman!
Man: What fer?
Caedmon Thaal: (quietly) See, this is why I usually have Crowid do the talking.
Narrator: Inside is almost a copy of what you've seen in the Teldson homestead - the same basic layout, with the huge stove dominating the center of the building, every room built around it. A young, but serious-looking girl with a huge knife hanging from her belt shows you to the kitchen.
** Caedmon Thaal flinches a bit at the cognitive dissonance -- young girl, huge knife. "Does your father know you wear that thing?" **
Girl: 'e made it fer me.
Caedmon Thaal: Ah . . .
Caedmon Thaal: well, then . . .
Girl: 'e says it's fer when a raider tries t' rape me, so's I can cut 'is goolies off.
Caedmon Thaal: Ah. And how old are you?
Girl: 'll be six come summer.
Kumbrin: "Lad, leave tha girl to her knife, or it will be YOUR goolies she'll cut, we got business!"
Caedmon Thaal: I think she'd have an easier time reaching yours, dwarf, but you're right -- business it is.
Lizard: And while we're at it, you may feed ME as well, old fool. Or do you think I can sustain on air alone?
Morgan Seafood: "you just better be happy with me keeping you warm or ill put you outside in the snow."
Morgan Seafood: "But with that said im obligated to feed you I guess, What do you like and ill be sure not to get you it"
Lizard: A mouse or two would be nice. And some beetles. Oh, oops. That's right. You won't find any of those. Cause you went and summoned me IN THE MIDDLE OF FRIGGIN' WINTER
** Caedmon Thaal keeps an eye out for signs of other animals in the victinity -- what kind, how dangerous, whether they show signs of being actually ALIVE, etc. **
Caedmon Thaal: Survival if necessary: [1d20+6] => [1,6] = (7)
Caedmon Thaal: (( *thud* ))
** Caedmon Thaal trips and falls over an outstretched tree root **
** Caedmon Thaal wonders if this is a certain subspecies of horse, perhaps some other kind of mount altogether. Knowledge: Nature [1d20+6] => [1,6] = (7) **
Caedmon Thaal: (( *thud* ))
Caedmon Thaal: Your guest rides a bald eagle?
Verelun: But all in due time. For now... tea, anyone?
Kumbrin: "Never offer a dwarf tea..."
Verelun: Afraid I'd slip some herbs into it while I'm not looking, master dwarf?
Kumbrin: "Nay, We just dun drink tea."
** Caedmon Thaal sips the tea **
Caedmon Thaal: I must tell you, dwarf, that this particular pointy-eared half-breed brews an excellent, and perfectly safe, cup of tea.
Kumbrin: "How'dye know it's safe?"
Caedmon Thaal: Well, obviously, you've seen me drink it, and it's had no . . .
** Caedmon Thaal's eyes widen **
** Caedmon Thaal gasps and clutches at his throat **
Kumbrin: "TREASON!"
** Caedmon Thaal convulses in his seat **
** Caedmon Thaal stops convulsing, looks at Kumbrin and laughs heartily **
Kumbrin: "I have. I served under Lord Feergan, overlord and commander of the fortress town of Ironcliff, We were among the frontier, the first line of defense!"
Kumbrin: "And I cleaved through more elves then I could be bothered ta count. I used ta string up their deformed ears and carry them around as trophies, and my entire chest was covered!"
Narrator: ((Ok, I think Kumbrin just officially advanced from "bloodthirsty" to "creepy" o_O))
Caedmon Thaal: Alright, everyone, but do exactly as Verelun and I tell you -- this may be a critical encounter.
Verelun: ((Because little do they know, that the Pegasus has laser beams for eyes... mwahahahaha))
Verelun: ((Ooops? Was that out loud?))
Caedmon Thaal: (( Oooh, does it also have shark robots? ))
Kumbrin: ((aye, Kumbrin DOES have a soul... He's just really misunderstood. Under his hard, elf hating mercenary exteriour... There's a special child inside to be discovered!))
Kumbrin: ((I'm SERIOUS!))
** Caedmon Thaal stops just shy of her, and is confused -- what, exactly, is the proper human-Pegasus ettiquite? **
Caedmon Thaal: Hello.
Kumbrin: ((and the pegasus rears and kicks Caedmon right in the face.))
Kumbrin: ((ok, so now we have a ranger in a love affair with a recently widowed horse. the plot thickens.... ^^))
Narrator: ((Ye lords. Why does every game I run touch upon animal pornography sooner or later?))
Caedmon Thaal: (( wasn't MY idea . . . ))
Maxymiuk: Heh, Crusader made a new character. I think I intimidated him a bit too much, actually.
Chichiri: LOL
Chichiri: You certainly read him the riot act, and thank gods because the char was getting on my nerves
Maxymiuk: It's a female, half-elf, druid of Ehlonna.
Grunn (enter): 18:45
Maxymiuk: I predict that if she and Kumbrin ever meet, there's going to be some kind of an explosion.
Chichiri: LOL!!!
Chichiri: Are you serious?
Maxymiuk: Unfortunately, I am.
Chichiri: I hope he's not making some kind of point -- or if he was, I hope he lets it go at char creation
Maxymiuk: Well, I did bring that up with him, but apparently he knows what he's doing.
Grunn: ummm, guys, as embarassing as this may be, it's me, Kumbrin. ^^
Caedmon: My friends, I apologize . . . I acted without thought. This will accomplish little, and it is certainly not what Verelun would have wanted.
Caedmon: You said he was making like hell for your Baron's stronghold? I will have to hope that he finds his justice there.
Caedmon: If not, he had better hope that we never meet again -- for I will deliver it upon him myself.
Caedmon: But not now.
Caedmon: Then he'll be alone once more. With any luck, he'll find the justice he deserves sooner or later. Knowing his personality, probably sooner.
Caedmon: And if not, well, as I said . . . no, there'll be no more thinking about that. Come, for Brokenbracken.
Caedmon: ..and I doubly apologize to YOU, Kelsrod, for being willing to strand you in the wilderness like that. Please forgive me.
Narrator: ((Just a few thees and thous, and we'll make Caedmon into a decent Shaekespearian character))
Narrator: ((Ok, time to get this game rolling again. Werewolves attack))
Caedmon: (( O.o ))
Narrator: ((Well, not realy, but take that as a hint.))
** Naila seems surprised. **
Naila: "you know of him? Verelun is eldest."
Caedmon: Yes, well . . . I'm deeply sorry to have to tell you this, but Verelun is dead. He was murdered this morning.
Narrator: ((And that's why Caedmon isn't a diplomat))
** Naila looks down at her horse. "He likes your horses. He wishes mating, he will follow." **
Cadmus: ...
** Dargor raises an eye brow. **
Caedmon: . . . . . fair enough.
Kelsrod: ((...Uh, you know, I hadn't really paid attention to this before, but...do any of you people ride mares?))
Narrator: ((I did though, and no, they don't. Nalia's horse has unusual tastes))
Caedmon: (( . . . . . . ))
Narrator: ((And I'm getting this Spellsinger vibe right now, so no one friggin' DARE bring up virgins))
Narrator: ((She doesn't like bathing and rides a gay horse. Hmm... not much of a resume))
Naila: ((one of you must ride a mare... cmon, riding stallions isn't easy))
Caedmon: (( My girlfriend has had no complaints . . . ))
Narrator: ((And you know, I'd fast forward, but since those two are busy developing a romantic subplot here...))
Narrator: ((In the middle of trying to outrun a blizzard, no less... :P))
Maxymiuk: I have plans.
Maxymiuk: Mwaha
Naila: for dramatic deaths? ^^
Maxymiuk: Like yours?
Maxymiuk: Oops...
** Maxymiuk has said nothing. **
Baron Morderey: ((The PC Shield will only earn you guys that much slack))
Baron Morderey: ((Just so you know...))
Caedmon: ((PC shield?))
Baron Morderey: ((PC Shield - PC special ability. Negates consequences of doing dumb sh** on account of you being the PC))
Brother Kerias: Er... yes. A thin, maddened, hunger-driven beast can indeed do terrible things to assuade that need. And in the midst of a fight, who's to say a snow-blinded man couldn't make an honest mistake like that?
Caedmon: There was no snow in the air that day.
Narrator: ((Snow blindness is brought on by reflected sunglare btw))
Caedmon: ...and it was cloudy.
** Dargor draws his sword and runs toward Kerias and holds the sword up hailing it down at Kerias. **
Dargor: (( Attack roll: [1d20+4+3] -> [1,4,3] = (8) ))
Dargor: (( T_T ))
Narrator: ((Miss!))
Dargor: (( a..one..))
Narrator: ((Oh, that's right, it's a fumble, isn't it?))
Narrator: ((Hmm... how evil do I want to get?))
Kelsrod: ((Or maybe I did. No, armor spikes can be used as an off-hand attack.))
Narrator: ((So... you body slam him with them?))
Narrator: ((What is this, a mosh pit?))
** Dargor jumps in rage his eyes widen as he lets a cry and holding his sword up and swings it down fiercly attemping to seperate kerias shoulder away from his body. attack roll [1d20+7] -> [20,7] = (27) and Damage [2d6+7] -> [4,1,7] = (12) **
Dargor: (( O.O ))
Dargor: (( :D ))
Narrator: ((And Dargor... you forgot your sword is stuck))
Dargor: (( T_T ))
Narrator: ((So make a Strength check if you want to free it. DC is 6))
Dargor: (( I forgot. [1d20+3] -> [1,3] = (4) I was damn excited.. ))
Dargor: (( This is clearly.. crap.. )
Narrator: Dargor pops a disk.
Naila: ((why do we have this guy with us again? ^^ ))
Narrator: ((Comic relief?))
Dargor: (( T_T to keep the floor busy? ))
Caedmon: ((because he's damned good against ceilings!!))
Dargor: (( I'll go hide alone in the corner. ))
Naila: ((wait, wait, he actually botched that roll, he rolled a 1. I demand more humiliating disaster for Dargor! :p))
Caedmon: ((Dude. His ass is being kicked by the FLOOR. I think that's enough for one guy . . . ))
Trok'kael: " Why am I here? "
Trok'kael: " I've been down here for two weeks, one of the guards decided to start insulting me, and I think he got offended by my replies... "
Trok'kael: " O' course, the whole attempted escape didn't help my case... "
Trok'kael: " Would have made it too, if I hadn't fallen off the wall "
** Kelsrod tries to figure out where in an underground castle would be a wall suitable for falling off. **
Kelsrod: "Your sister sounds somewhat dangerous."
Trok'kael: " She can be "
** Kelsrod grins at the far wall of his cell. "Is she pretty?" ***
** Kelsrod adds almost immediately, "No offense meant. For some reason I've just always wanted to ask someone that." **
Narrator: ((Ok Kels, what did you miss?))
Kelsrod: ((Comp bombed on me while the pans were rattling. Cook had just gone wide-eyed.))
Kelsrod: ((I tried to get it to come back from the lock, which is why I only just now got back in.))
Narrator: ((Long story short, the castle nearly fell apart, the dungeon floor caved in, a dragon came through, grabbed Kumbrin, and disappeared down the hole))
Kelsrod: ((The HELL?))
** Caedmon spots Kelsrod and another man at the bottom of the hole, a strange man **
** Caedmon jumps off of Trok's back as soon as it's safe, runs up to Savath and GRABS him by the shoulders. **
Caedmon: Are you going to turn into a giant animal on us!?!?
Savath: No, what?
Caedmon: Do you have a tiny dragon for a sister!?!?
Savath: umm.. no?
Caedmon: Are you capable of walking on verical or near-vertical surfaces at will!?!?
** Savath looks around fairly worried. "No? What are you talking about? **
Caedmon: . . . so what you're telling me is, you're a completely and perfectly normal human being??
Savath: I think so.
** Caedmon releases Savath and emits a profound sigh of relief. **
Caedmon: Just checking.
Trok'kael: " The dragon probably knows the way out, lets follow it "
** Trok'kael looks for tracks... which souldnt be hard. **
Caedmon: Follow the dragon?
Trok'kael: " I doubt it lives down here "
Caedmon: Okay, my objections to that plan of action are as follows, and this is in no particular order.
Caedmon: One.
Caedmon: IT'S A F***ING DRAGON!!!!
Narrator: When last we left off our protagonists, they have just escaped from the Baron's dungeon by means of a sudden dragon.
Narrator: ((Weasels count as loot now?))
Trok'kael: (( apparently ))
Trok'kael: (( Or Caedmon likes bondage ))
Caedmon: ((If this were CoC, Caedmon would have failed like 4 or 5 sanity checks in a row, and would currently be beating you all to death with a steel dildo.))
Narrator: ((I'd have cast aspersions on his sanity for having one in the first place))
Naila: ((what? every guy needs a steel dildo...))
Narrator: ((Right. What was I thinking? I'm going to go out and buy one right now))
Caedmon: ((oh, it was Morgan's . . . ))
Caedmon: ((he didn't tell, I didn't ask.))
Savath: ((he had one?))
Narrator: ((No, but he had this huge, limp lizard))
Narrator: ((Rule #2))
Narrator: ((Trok, tell him about rule #2))
Trok'kael: (( Never forget rule 1 ))
Narrator: ((*ert* Wrong!))
Narrator: ((Rule #2: When the GM errs in your favor, don't argue!))
Trok'kael: (( When the DM rules in your favour, dont tell him ))
Savath: If my horses are still there they have trail rations with them ((I think, I took them off my sheet when I "lost" them))
Kelsrod: ((If Naila's horse is still there, stay away from it, it might try to sodomize you.))
Caedmon: ((If Naila's horse is still there, then I'd say the food problem is solved . . .))
Narrator: Floor one. More barracks, empty hallways, big collapsed pile of rocks.
** Caedmon descends to floor 2 **
** Savath follows behind, keeping his crossbow tucked closely **
Narrator: Floor 2. Servan't quarters, dead bodies, deep crack running through the length of the level.
** Kelsrod sighs. **
** Caedmon considers briefly the possibility that their gear is in the serveants' quarters, then rejects it and decends to level 3. **
Narrator: Floor 3. Guestrooms, large a chasm running through the middle of the castle, a man who sees you, screams "Elves!" and runs off.
Savath: Well that's not very nice.
Caedmon: As it happens, we're not hostile, and we want to help if we can. But we can't, and we sure as hell WON'T, if you're trying to kill us!
Voice: Oh, helpful, are ye? Damned neighboorly o' ye! Jes' came around an' decided t' play th' Good Mairan, have ye?
Caedmon: Friend, we can discuss atruistic ethics, or we can throw you a rope. Not both. What's your pleasure?
Voice: I don' need yer stinkin' rope!
Kelsrod: ((Well, all right, Rambo.))
Kelsrod: ((For the record, I think "I was having breakfast when the ground split beneath me" would be a great first line for a novel.))
Caedmon: (loudly) Tis Caedmon Thaal, Cadmus. We escaped from your dungeon when . . . when THIS happened, and found another way to the surface. We've returned for our gear, and to see if anyone survived.
Narrator: There is a long silence.
Cadmus: Damn it, yer supposed t' be dead! Th' entire dungeon collapsed!
Cadmus: Is that yer ghost or somethin'?
Caedmon: Would a ghost worry about behing shot full of arrows?
Cadmus: How in th' hells am I supposed t' know? Never been one 'fore!
Caedmon: All right, the rope's secure. Now, if you'd be so good as to send over one of your men with our gear . . .
Cadmus: Hah. An' then have ye kill him an' cut the rope?
Caedmon: Why would I do that?
Cadmus: Why wouldn' ye?
Caedmon: Why WOULD I?
Cadmus: Because ye asked fer yer gear first off?
** Caedmon rolls his eyes at Sa'ara. "Oh, stop being a bloody plot device." **
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* I will if you stop acting like some hero.
** Caedmon stops in his tracks and looks at Sa'ara thoughtfully. **
Caedmon: I do have a bit of a hero complex, don't I?
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* You mean you've just noticed?
Caedmon: Hmm.
Caedmon: Perhaps I should switch directions.
Caedmon: Perhaps I should try to be an evil bastard
Caedmon: Of course, then I'd end up a reluctant in-spite-of-myself hero.
Trok'kael: " As long as I get to do the talking Caedmon. "
** Trok'kael smiles. **
** Caedmon looks at Trok. **
Caedmon: Only if I can strangle your sister.
** Caedmon sighs. "Damn our polythestic society anyway. Ah well." **
Narrator: As you step through the door, you behold a dimly lit interior that... however, comparative archtecture becomes the least of your concerns when a dark shape detaces itself from the wall and points a sword at Caedmon's chest. "Ye have five words to explain yerself adequately, else ye die," a harsh female voice demands.
Trok'kael: (( we came to pray ))
Trok'kael: (( then we get 1 more word ))
Savath: ((Please?))
Warden Ceria: Arrogant and pious, all rolled into one. I'd say a typical Flame... but then, a typical Flame would've been ravin' at th' mouth now, about heathen gods an' women who don' know their proper place.
Warden Ceria: So I'll write ye off as a typical male then.
Caedmon: ((how old is Ceria? is she at all attractive?))
Trok'kael: (( Tip: Hitting on the female warden pointing a sword at you is a *bad* idea. ))
Caedmon: ((Bad ideas are Caedmon's watchword.))
Caedmon: ((I was going to try some flattery, dammit, and wouldn't want to have to lie))
Caedmon: ((besides, Caedmon's the type to be all mysterious and alluring until he finally sweeps her off her feet and kisses her))
Warden Ceria: ((At which point she puts a dagger in your kidney))
** Savath looks to the "sky" and gives a "not bad" expresion **
** Caedmon pauses, asking himself whether he really wants to say what he's about to say, and decides he does. **
Trok'kael: (( Would you join me for a meal tonight? ))
Narrator: ((You're not as old as you look))
Warden Ceria: *scornfully* Who do ye think ye are anyway? Ye think ye can jes' come into town an' proclaim "I'm here t' solve all yer problems" from th' rooftops? An' maybe even expect people t' say "Oh, alright"? Like some damned hero from a fairly tale?
** Caedmon sulks as they proceed to the town hall, his hero complex sadly unfulfilled **
Narrator: ((And here is a good place to break for tonight))
Trok'kael: (( damn... ! ))
Narrator: ((Oh, ok, go ahead and tease Caedomn for a bit))
Narrator: ((I'll give you 10 minutes))
Trok'kael: So, did I detect you falling in love before she told you to bugger off?
Caedmon: You most certainly did not.
Trok'kael: " Ahh, but you blushed "
Savath: What did you say to her?
Caedmon: I blushed because I thought I'd insulted her.
Savath: You insulted her? You can't be left alone for 5 minutes!
Trok'kael: " Hah, you don't blush when you insult someone, you blush when your embarrased "
** Savath crack a smile **
** Caedmon glares witheringly at Savath **
Trok'kael: " I'll bring this up some other time Caedmon, you haven't had the last of my taunting. "
** Trok'kael grins **
** Caedmon stops in his snow-covered tracks **
Caedmon: No . . . we came because I remembered a convenient stopping point, convenient both for our journey and my own spiritual health.
Trok'kael: And for love.
** Trok'kael grins again **
Trok'kael: Onwards ! To the grayish Mayor.
** Caedmon glares at Trok. **
Caedmon: Aye. And if your sister should choose to bite your chin off en route, I'll not weep bitterly.
Narrator: Session 19 ends... with love.
Caedmon: And no, I wasn't purposefully flirting with Ceria -- as will likely be explained next session, I'm still kinda pining for someone else.
Maxymiuk: Caedmon, you didn't need to tell us that.
Maxymiuk: Now needling you just won't feel the same.
Caedmon: We're passing through, on our way to White Tower Wood.
Narrator: ((We're off to see the Tower... the wonderful White Tower Wood...))
Narrator: ((There's Dorocaedmon, and Totosonja. The Scarevath, Kelion, and Tin'trok))
Savath: ((Why do I have to be the Scarevath?))
Narrator: Savath eventually makes his way back from the temple.
Caedmon: (as Savath enters) Really, that many? I myself have only torn the hearts out of eighteen men with my bare hands.
Caedmon: Wizards all. Can't stand the buggers.
Caedmon: Oh, hello, Savath.
Maxymiuk: So a quick breakdown: not much happened.
Maxymiuk: Expanded breakdown: Savath had a conversation with Ceria about life in general and Ehlonna in specific.
Maxymiuk: Trok and Caedmon shared their life stories.
Maxymiuk: And the group (theoretically) has a new member that has a thing for his horse.
Kelsrod: Again???
Kelsrod: What is it with this group and horses?
Maxymiuk: What is with this group and animals, you mean?
Simon: this horse isnt gay, yet
Kelsrod: Or an eagle.
Maxymiuk: I still remember Caedmon molesting me about the gender of his wolf for undisclosed reasons.
Simon: He was lonely.
Maxymiuk: Last night the ultimate goal of the campaign slid into focus for me
Maxymiuk: It involves some of my usual moral tangles. And strong possibility of death.
Maxymiuk: And since it looks like you're the only character that's going to stay constant through all this.
Maxymiuk: The plot is going to be, by and large, centered on you.
Maxymiuk: So if everyone dies, you're to blame.
** Caedmon cries **
Caedmon: Have a backup plan in case I disappear mid-plot ;-)
Maxymiuk: Well, if that happens, everyone is screwed.
Maxymiuk: That's what you get for being a hero.
** Keeper Destian props himself up. "Ehlonna's Chosen is known, above all, for utmost respect for life in all its forms. He may not take a life needlessly, nor see a life needlessly extinguished if it is within his power to prevent so." **
** Caedmon nods. **
Trok'kael: (( Caedmon: "I used to be a mass murderer" ))
Kelsrod: ((Perhaps Kelsrod should get drunk. It would be an interesting and new experience for him.))
Zacred: "So how did you end up in this band of Caedmon's?"
Kelsrod: "I was going the same direction they were. Or decided I was. Met on the road...been traveling a week or so. Two weeks? Can't remember. Out to seek my fortune." He waves an arm and nearly knocks over his mug. "M'teacher was getting hitched, y'see. Wife wasn't comfortable around me, me being human. They were going to move closer to the enclave. I coulda stayed at the old place but decided to see the world. Well, I've been sheein' it. Seeing. Seen villagers starvin' coz of goblins starvin'. Seen a dragon wind up leadin' goblins. Seen a bear that was already dead almost kill me. Seen a dungeon, and more dragons. Still haven't seen a desert or a Dwarven city. Gotta work on that. Save th'world first though." He takes a mighty pull from his mug.
Narrator: At this moment - perhaps conveniently so - Caedmon appears in the entrance.
** Kelsrod raises his mug in a toast and almost sloshes its contents out. "Here he is now! Hail, Caedmon, the human lodeshtone!" **
Caedmon: (softly) Found a friend of ours outside.
Zacred: "Umm... An invisible one?"
Savath: **quietly** The small dragon that the half elf belongs to
** Zacred whispers "You mean that belongs to the half-elf?" **
Savath: **quietly** No.
Caedmon: (softly) Since Trok isn't with you, can we assume he's in trouble again?
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* What do you think?
** Caedmon sighs. "Tell me what happened, then." **
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* He decided to pick a fight, what else? While wearing that elven stuff you lot found in the caverns.
Caedmon: . . . . . .
Caedmon: okay, let's just settle this right now . . .
Caedmon: why, WHY in the name of all the gods did you decide to adopt such an IDIOT?
Trok'kael: I have told you truthfully. We came here to resupply.
Trok'kael: We were then asked to solve this... siege, peacefully.
Marshal Terone: By whom?
Trok'kael: Various people, townsfolk.
Trok'kael: Well, not directly, but we try to do good.
Trok'kael: We asked what the situation was about.
Marshal Terone: ((Ok, that's such a bad lie that I HAVE to ask for a bluff check))
The following come from one of the campaigns I currently run. Sorry if some of those are a tad long - this particular group (including me) likes setting up their jokes over the course of a conversation, and just giving you the punchline out of context would be missing the point.
Caedmon Thaal: Ranger extraordinaire, reformed mass murderer, and party leader because no one else wanted to be. One of the two original players still left with the campaign.
Sonja: His wolf animal companion.
Kelsrod Dutherin: Rogue/Ranger/Barbarian multiclass, the most level-headed member of the party, and possessed of a tendency to speak in blocks of text. Also, the second original player still in the campaign.
Crowid Beestinger: Halfling Sorcerer, party face, and dragon bait. Original player, no longer with the group.
Midnight: His raven familiar.
Morgan Seafood: Failed cook, absent-minded wizard, hailed as group's Arcane Google. Original player no longer with the party.
Lizard: His familiar.
Kumbrin Deepdelve: Dwarf Battle Sorcerer, dragon lover, elf hater, and every half-elf druid's worst fear - a racist with a big axe.
Naila: Kumbrin's player's replacement character after Kumbrin went off the deep end. Half-elven female druid, half-wild, and, as it turned out, completely crazy. No longer with the party due to player drama.
Dargor: One of the several interchangeable barbarians the group has suffered through (long story short: flaky players who always insisted on playing barbarians for some reason). Best known for two critical fumbles in a row during a fight. No longer with the party.
Trok'kael: A half-elf ranger/rogue/bloodhound with a pseudodragon cohort. Snarky, overconfident, and given to an occasional bout of stupidity. Joined the group during a prison break.
Sa'aragra: Trok's pseudodragon cohort and sister - or at least he thinks of her as such. Looks after him out of pity more than anything else.
Savath: A wizard with an agricultural bent. Currently collecting funds for founding an arcane plantation. He was introduced to the party through the unfortunate means of an earthquake, and a Caedmon in a rather fragile mental state.
Zacred: A ranger/scout with a horse companion and a very high opinion of his woodsy skills. Missed the fact that at this point most of the party is made up of rangers.
Maxymiuk: Ok, any questions, concerns, comments, cow mutilations to get out of the way before we start?
Caedmon Thaal: ((So let me get this straight . . .))
Caedmon Thaal: ((I'm both a future Paladin and a Magnificent Bastard?))
Caedmon Thaal: ((There must be a prestige class for that . . .))
Saldzar: In fact I would be willing to bet a not insignificant part of my hoard that when you first set off into the woods, you were looking forward to pillaging whatever treasure the goblins may have.
Crowid Beestinger: (( Ahhh...the control not to say anything about his hoard and how tiny it is...do you think he carves all that wood to compensate? ))
Narrator: Suddenly a black shape descends upon Crowid... it's Midnight, half-frozen and bloody furious. The bird practically claws its way into the halfling's cloak where it can find a bit of warmth.
** Crowid Beestinger screams at first, then notices what it is that's attacking him and starts swearing rather pictoriously. "Stay put!" he wiggles on his seat, afraid Jr will panic. "Stand still or I will give you no food!" **
Midnight: Some master you are! Out in the cold the whole bloody night and not even an "Are you alright Midnight? Do you need anything?" But no, the good master had to go and get sloshed!
** Kumbrin Deepdelve examines the wound for anything serious, like possible infection and bleeding **
Kumbrin Deepdelve: examine wound: Heal [1d20+0] -> [1,0] = (1)
Kumbrin Deepdelve: "Hah, yer fine, barely a fleshwound!"
Caedmon Thaal: Long story. I'll tell you later -- AFTER I heal Sonja1
Narrator: ((Little did he know, Sonja2 would be meeting them a few miles down the road))
Narrator: Kelsrod feels something tugging slightly at his sleeve.
** Kelsrod Duthertin looks around, then down. **
Narrator: It's the girl. She looks up at you with big eyes.
Girl: Mister. Did'ja kill lots'f dwaggons?
** Kelsrod Duthertin blinks and smiles down at the girl in confusion. "Kill...What?? No, sweetheart, I don't kill dwa--er, dragons. I've only ever met one and I made friends with him." Okay, so that's stretching the word friend a wee bit... **
Girl: M'mum always tole me d'adventurers kill dwaggons. An' deemons. An' things.
** Kelsrod Duthertin chuckles and squats down to the girl's level, though his eyes keep flicking away from her to continue keeping watch. "Well, I'm sorta new to the whole adventurer bit. So far that bear thing is the only thing I've killed that wasn't for food or hide, and it was sorta already dead." He scratches his head. "I don't really understand that part," he confides. **
** Girl pouts. "So's ye not an' real adventurer?" **
** Kelsrod Duthertin moves his head from side to side noncommittally. "Well, I'd be inclined to call some of what we've been doing lately quite an adventure, myself. But...I suppose in the sense of the ones they tell stories about, I fall a little short of the mark." He pauses, reflecting. "I don't know if I really want to be that sort of an adventurer. Tends to lead to something of a short and difficult life. I'd like to see a bit of the world, try to leave it a better place than I found it, then find a quiet patch of forest with plenty of game trails and settle down." **
** Girl blinks. **
Girl: So's how many dwaggons y'gonna kill?
** Kelsrod Duthertin considers for a moment, then smiles at her and reaches out to tap his finger lightly on her nose. "As many of 'em as need it, I suppose." **
Girl: *she thinks about it, then nods* That's alright then.
Caedmon Thaal: (( see, this is why I only have 10 charisma, LOL ))
Narrator: ((And yet you lead them... by bloody-mindedness, if not force of personality))
Caedmon Thaal: (( The irony has not escaped me. ))
Narrator: Caedmon suddenly becomes aware of just how much Sonja is communicating with body language alone - knowledge that was beyond his reach so far, as much as he may know about animals.
Caedmon Thaal: Whoa.
Caedmon Thaal: Sonja?
Kumbrin Deepdelve: ((don't tell me the wolf has the hots for him. please. It's best left unsaid.))
Sonja: You ask something?
Caedmon Thaal: Whoa. Yeah, I need to ask who attacked you yesterday. Was it other wolves?
Sonja: Yesterday?
Caedmon Thaal: Yes. Um... during your trip down here
Caedmon Thaal: You were attacked?
Sonja: What is, "yesterday"?
Caedmon Thaal: The day before today.
Sonja: What is "today"?
** Caedmon Thaal sighs **
Caedmon Thaal: It's not important now -- we may not have much time. Please. Did other wolves attack you?
** Sonja is puzzled and at the same time somewhat apprehensive. She is somehow failing the Pack Leader, yet she doesn't understand how. **
Kumbrin Deepdelve: ((ooh, ooh, use sun and moon references!))
** Caedmon Thaal recalls the KISS principle -- keep it simple, stupid. **
Caedmon Thaal: Are there other wolves in these woods?
Kumbrin Deepdelve: ((what's a wolf?))
Sonja: *now she recollects* Pack chase One That Is Of Another Pack, yes.
Caedmon Thaal: What is scent of Another Pack?
Sonja: *her hackles rise* Wrong scent. Wrong... bad manners. Pack did not give call to warn One That Is of Another Pack away. They attacked with no sound. It breaks custom.
** Caedmon Thaal realizes that Another Pack refers to themselves -- he makes a mental note to teach Sonja the concept of pronouns sometime **
Caedmon Thaal: Pack With Bad Manners, where come from?
Sonja: *she bares her teeth in what apparently passes for laughter among wolves* Pack Leader can speak properly now, which is only proper. But Pack Leader must work on not sounding stupid, lest his authority is challenged.
** Caedmon Thaal rolls his eyes **
Caedmon Thaal: Pack Leader is different. Pack Leader speaks different to Others of Another Pack. But answer: Where Pack With Bad Manners come from?
Sonja: *remains unconvinced* It is proper for Pack Leader to know how to behave. But Pack Leader lacks fur and fangs. He was not brought up as wolf. That is alright. First Mate can teach him. *pause* The Wrong Pack run there. *she indicates north*
** Caedmon Thaal opens his mouth to ask about the phrase "First Mate," then decides very much against it **
Caedmon Thaal: Would you recognize the Wrong Pack's scent again?
Sonja: It is easy. Can Pack Leader not feel the scent on the wind? It smells of prey that is too dead to eat.
Caedmon Thaal: Pack Leader feels the scent, but First Mate must watch for them. First Mate has excellent nose, yes?
Sonja: Pack Leader flatters his Mate as is proper. He will make a good wolf yet. Yes, I know what scent to look for now.
** Caedmon Thaal looks around to ensure that Kelsrod, Morgan, Crowid, Kumbrin, Cadmus and their assorted zoo are ready to go. **
Narrator: ((The assorted zoo chooses this exact moment to start acting like real animals and begins a battle royale))
Narrator: As our wizard speaks the last of the spell's words, the candles he has lit at various stages of the summoning flare upwards once, then go out.
Narrator: In the darkness, something stirs...
Narrator: And then...
Lizard: Are you bloody out of your mind?!
** Morgan Seafood breathe heavly exhaling a mist for every breath **
Morgan Seafood: "What??"
** Morgan Seafood blinks and looks up **
Lizard: Winter? WINTER?! You summon me into the middle of winter? Have you gone senile from all that magic in your head? Or were you born that way?
Kelsrod Duthertin: ((Born Senile...hmm. Band name?))
Caedmon Thaal: (( Born Senile's new album, "Quest of the Zookeepers," released next Tuesday by Sony records. ))
Morgan Seafood: "We wee well...."
** Morgan Seafood struggles with lighting one of the candles **
Lizard: What? Speak up! Damn you ARE simple, aren't you. A bloody apprentice too, I bet. I demand WARMTH!
Caedmon Thaal: Well, ye all know him, or at least know of him! He's Cadmus, the Baron's . . . (quietly) what are ye again, Cadmus? The head of the Guard? (loudly) Ye know Cadmus! We are fellows of Cadmus, and we seek an audience with Garthis, your headman!
Man: What fer?
Caedmon Thaal: (quietly) See, this is why I usually have Crowid do the talking.
Narrator: Inside is almost a copy of what you've seen in the Teldson homestead - the same basic layout, with the huge stove dominating the center of the building, every room built around it. A young, but serious-looking girl with a huge knife hanging from her belt shows you to the kitchen.
** Caedmon Thaal flinches a bit at the cognitive dissonance -- young girl, huge knife. "Does your father know you wear that thing?" **
Girl: 'e made it fer me.
Caedmon Thaal: Ah . . .
Caedmon Thaal: well, then . . .
Girl: 'e says it's fer when a raider tries t' rape me, so's I can cut 'is goolies off.
Caedmon Thaal: Ah. And how old are you?
Girl: 'll be six come summer.
Kumbrin: "Lad, leave tha girl to her knife, or it will be YOUR goolies she'll cut, we got business!"
Caedmon Thaal: I think she'd have an easier time reaching yours, dwarf, but you're right -- business it is.
Lizard: And while we're at it, you may feed ME as well, old fool. Or do you think I can sustain on air alone?
Morgan Seafood: "you just better be happy with me keeping you warm or ill put you outside in the snow."
Morgan Seafood: "But with that said im obligated to feed you I guess, What do you like and ill be sure not to get you it"
Lizard: A mouse or two would be nice. And some beetles. Oh, oops. That's right. You won't find any of those. Cause you went and summoned me IN THE MIDDLE OF FRIGGIN' WINTER
** Caedmon Thaal keeps an eye out for signs of other animals in the victinity -- what kind, how dangerous, whether they show signs of being actually ALIVE, etc. **
Caedmon Thaal: Survival if necessary: [1d20+6] => [1,6] = (7)
Caedmon Thaal: (( *thud* ))
** Caedmon Thaal trips and falls over an outstretched tree root **
** Caedmon Thaal wonders if this is a certain subspecies of horse, perhaps some other kind of mount altogether. Knowledge: Nature [1d20+6] => [1,6] = (7) **
Caedmon Thaal: (( *thud* ))
Caedmon Thaal: Your guest rides a bald eagle?
Verelun: But all in due time. For now... tea, anyone?
Kumbrin: "Never offer a dwarf tea..."
Verelun: Afraid I'd slip some herbs into it while I'm not looking, master dwarf?
Kumbrin: "Nay, We just dun drink tea."
** Caedmon Thaal sips the tea **
Caedmon Thaal: I must tell you, dwarf, that this particular pointy-eared half-breed brews an excellent, and perfectly safe, cup of tea.
Kumbrin: "How'dye know it's safe?"
Caedmon Thaal: Well, obviously, you've seen me drink it, and it's had no . . .
** Caedmon Thaal's eyes widen **
** Caedmon Thaal gasps and clutches at his throat **
Kumbrin: "TREASON!"
** Caedmon Thaal convulses in his seat **
** Caedmon Thaal stops convulsing, looks at Kumbrin and laughs heartily **
Kumbrin: "I have. I served under Lord Feergan, overlord and commander of the fortress town of Ironcliff, We were among the frontier, the first line of defense!"
Kumbrin: "And I cleaved through more elves then I could be bothered ta count. I used ta string up their deformed ears and carry them around as trophies, and my entire chest was covered!"
Narrator: ((Ok, I think Kumbrin just officially advanced from "bloodthirsty" to "creepy" o_O))
Caedmon Thaal: Alright, everyone, but do exactly as Verelun and I tell you -- this may be a critical encounter.
Verelun: ((Because little do they know, that the Pegasus has laser beams for eyes... mwahahahaha))
Verelun: ((Ooops? Was that out loud?))
Caedmon Thaal: (( Oooh, does it also have shark robots? ))
Kumbrin: ((aye, Kumbrin DOES have a soul... He's just really misunderstood. Under his hard, elf hating mercenary exteriour... There's a special child inside to be discovered!))
Kumbrin: ((I'm SERIOUS!))
** Caedmon Thaal stops just shy of her, and is confused -- what, exactly, is the proper human-Pegasus ettiquite? **
Caedmon Thaal: Hello.
Kumbrin: ((and the pegasus rears and kicks Caedmon right in the face.))
Kumbrin: ((ok, so now we have a ranger in a love affair with a recently widowed horse. the plot thickens.... ^^))
Narrator: ((Ye lords. Why does every game I run touch upon animal pornography sooner or later?))
Caedmon Thaal: (( wasn't MY idea . . . ))
Maxymiuk: Heh, Crusader made a new character. I think I intimidated him a bit too much, actually.
Chichiri: LOL
Chichiri: You certainly read him the riot act, and thank gods because the char was getting on my nerves
Maxymiuk: It's a female, half-elf, druid of Ehlonna.
Grunn (enter): 18:45
Maxymiuk: I predict that if she and Kumbrin ever meet, there's going to be some kind of an explosion.
Chichiri: LOL!!!
Chichiri: Are you serious?
Maxymiuk: Unfortunately, I am.
Chichiri: I hope he's not making some kind of point -- or if he was, I hope he lets it go at char creation
Maxymiuk: Well, I did bring that up with him, but apparently he knows what he's doing.
Grunn: ummm, guys, as embarassing as this may be, it's me, Kumbrin. ^^
Caedmon: My friends, I apologize . . . I acted without thought. This will accomplish little, and it is certainly not what Verelun would have wanted.
Caedmon: You said he was making like hell for your Baron's stronghold? I will have to hope that he finds his justice there.
Caedmon: If not, he had better hope that we never meet again -- for I will deliver it upon him myself.
Caedmon: But not now.
Caedmon: Then he'll be alone once more. With any luck, he'll find the justice he deserves sooner or later. Knowing his personality, probably sooner.
Caedmon: And if not, well, as I said . . . no, there'll be no more thinking about that. Come, for Brokenbracken.
Caedmon: ..and I doubly apologize to YOU, Kelsrod, for being willing to strand you in the wilderness like that. Please forgive me.
Narrator: ((Just a few thees and thous, and we'll make Caedmon into a decent Shaekespearian character))
Narrator: ((Ok, time to get this game rolling again. Werewolves attack))
Caedmon: (( O.o ))
Narrator: ((Well, not realy, but take that as a hint.))
** Naila seems surprised. **
Naila: "you know of him? Verelun is eldest."
Caedmon: Yes, well . . . I'm deeply sorry to have to tell you this, but Verelun is dead. He was murdered this morning.
Narrator: ((And that's why Caedmon isn't a diplomat))
** Naila looks down at her horse. "He likes your horses. He wishes mating, he will follow." **
Cadmus: ...
** Dargor raises an eye brow. **
Caedmon: . . . . . fair enough.
Kelsrod: ((...Uh, you know, I hadn't really paid attention to this before, but...do any of you people ride mares?))
Narrator: ((I did though, and no, they don't. Nalia's horse has unusual tastes))
Caedmon: (( . . . . . . ))
Narrator: ((And I'm getting this Spellsinger vibe right now, so no one friggin' DARE bring up virgins))
Narrator: ((She doesn't like bathing and rides a gay horse. Hmm... not much of a resume))
Naila: ((one of you must ride a mare... cmon, riding stallions isn't easy))
Caedmon: (( My girlfriend has had no complaints . . . ))
Narrator: ((And you know, I'd fast forward, but since those two are busy developing a romantic subplot here...))
Narrator: ((In the middle of trying to outrun a blizzard, no less... :P))
Maxymiuk: I have plans.
Maxymiuk: Mwaha
Naila: for dramatic deaths? ^^
Maxymiuk: Like yours?
Maxymiuk: Oops...
** Maxymiuk has said nothing. **
Baron Morderey: ((The PC Shield will only earn you guys that much slack))
Baron Morderey: ((Just so you know...))
Caedmon: ((PC shield?))
Baron Morderey: ((PC Shield - PC special ability. Negates consequences of doing dumb sh** on account of you being the PC))
Brother Kerias: Er... yes. A thin, maddened, hunger-driven beast can indeed do terrible things to assuade that need. And in the midst of a fight, who's to say a snow-blinded man couldn't make an honest mistake like that?
Caedmon: There was no snow in the air that day.
Narrator: ((Snow blindness is brought on by reflected sunglare btw))
Caedmon: ...and it was cloudy.
** Dargor draws his sword and runs toward Kerias and holds the sword up hailing it down at Kerias. **
Dargor: (( Attack roll: [1d20+4+3] -> [1,4,3] = (8) ))
Dargor: (( T_T ))
Narrator: ((Miss!))
Dargor: (( a..one..))
Narrator: ((Oh, that's right, it's a fumble, isn't it?))
Narrator: ((Hmm... how evil do I want to get?))
Kelsrod: ((Or maybe I did. No, armor spikes can be used as an off-hand attack.))
Narrator: ((So... you body slam him with them?))
Narrator: ((What is this, a mosh pit?))
** Dargor jumps in rage his eyes widen as he lets a cry and holding his sword up and swings it down fiercly attemping to seperate kerias shoulder away from his body. attack roll [1d20+7] -> [20,7] = (27) and Damage [2d6+7] -> [4,1,7] = (12) **
Dargor: (( O.O ))
Dargor: (( :D ))
Narrator: ((And Dargor... you forgot your sword is stuck))
Dargor: (( T_T ))
Narrator: ((So make a Strength check if you want to free it. DC is 6))
Dargor: (( I forgot. [1d20+3] -> [1,3] = (4) I was damn excited.. ))
Dargor: (( This is clearly.. crap.. )
Narrator: Dargor pops a disk.
Naila: ((why do we have this guy with us again? ^^ ))
Narrator: ((Comic relief?))
Dargor: (( T_T to keep the floor busy? ))
Caedmon: ((because he's damned good against ceilings!!))
Dargor: (( I'll go hide alone in the corner. ))
Naila: ((wait, wait, he actually botched that roll, he rolled a 1. I demand more humiliating disaster for Dargor! :p))
Caedmon: ((Dude. His ass is being kicked by the FLOOR. I think that's enough for one guy . . . ))
Trok'kael: " Why am I here? "
Trok'kael: " I've been down here for two weeks, one of the guards decided to start insulting me, and I think he got offended by my replies... "
Trok'kael: " O' course, the whole attempted escape didn't help my case... "
Trok'kael: " Would have made it too, if I hadn't fallen off the wall "
** Kelsrod tries to figure out where in an underground castle would be a wall suitable for falling off. **
Kelsrod: "Your sister sounds somewhat dangerous."
Trok'kael: " She can be "
** Kelsrod grins at the far wall of his cell. "Is she pretty?" ***
** Kelsrod adds almost immediately, "No offense meant. For some reason I've just always wanted to ask someone that." **
Narrator: ((Ok Kels, what did you miss?))
Kelsrod: ((Comp bombed on me while the pans were rattling. Cook had just gone wide-eyed.))
Kelsrod: ((I tried to get it to come back from the lock, which is why I only just now got back in.))
Narrator: ((Long story short, the castle nearly fell apart, the dungeon floor caved in, a dragon came through, grabbed Kumbrin, and disappeared down the hole))
Kelsrod: ((The HELL?))
** Caedmon spots Kelsrod and another man at the bottom of the hole, a strange man **
** Caedmon jumps off of Trok's back as soon as it's safe, runs up to Savath and GRABS him by the shoulders. **
Caedmon: Are you going to turn into a giant animal on us!?!?
Savath: No, what?
Caedmon: Do you have a tiny dragon for a sister!?!?
Savath: umm.. no?
Caedmon: Are you capable of walking on verical or near-vertical surfaces at will!?!?
** Savath looks around fairly worried. "No? What are you talking about? **
Caedmon: . . . so what you're telling me is, you're a completely and perfectly normal human being??
Savath: I think so.
** Caedmon releases Savath and emits a profound sigh of relief. **
Caedmon: Just checking.
Trok'kael: " The dragon probably knows the way out, lets follow it "
** Trok'kael looks for tracks... which souldnt be hard. **
Caedmon: Follow the dragon?
Trok'kael: " I doubt it lives down here "
Caedmon: Okay, my objections to that plan of action are as follows, and this is in no particular order.
Caedmon: One.
Caedmon: IT'S A F***ING DRAGON!!!!
Narrator: When last we left off our protagonists, they have just escaped from the Baron's dungeon by means of a sudden dragon.
Narrator: ((Weasels count as loot now?))
Trok'kael: (( apparently ))
Trok'kael: (( Or Caedmon likes bondage ))
Caedmon: ((If this were CoC, Caedmon would have failed like 4 or 5 sanity checks in a row, and would currently be beating you all to death with a steel dildo.))
Narrator: ((I'd have cast aspersions on his sanity for having one in the first place))
Naila: ((what? every guy needs a steel dildo...))
Narrator: ((Right. What was I thinking? I'm going to go out and buy one right now))
Caedmon: ((oh, it was Morgan's . . . ))
Caedmon: ((he didn't tell, I didn't ask.))
Savath: ((he had one?))
Narrator: ((No, but he had this huge, limp lizard))
Narrator: ((Rule #2))
Narrator: ((Trok, tell him about rule #2))
Trok'kael: (( Never forget rule 1 ))
Narrator: ((*ert* Wrong!))
Narrator: ((Rule #2: When the GM errs in your favor, don't argue!))
Trok'kael: (( When the DM rules in your favour, dont tell him ))
Savath: If my horses are still there they have trail rations with them ((I think, I took them off my sheet when I "lost" them))
Kelsrod: ((If Naila's horse is still there, stay away from it, it might try to sodomize you.))
Caedmon: ((If Naila's horse is still there, then I'd say the food problem is solved . . .))
Narrator: Floor one. More barracks, empty hallways, big collapsed pile of rocks.
** Caedmon descends to floor 2 **
** Savath follows behind, keeping his crossbow tucked closely **
Narrator: Floor 2. Servan't quarters, dead bodies, deep crack running through the length of the level.
** Kelsrod sighs. **
** Caedmon considers briefly the possibility that their gear is in the serveants' quarters, then rejects it and decends to level 3. **
Narrator: Floor 3. Guestrooms, large a chasm running through the middle of the castle, a man who sees you, screams "Elves!" and runs off.
Savath: Well that's not very nice.
Caedmon: As it happens, we're not hostile, and we want to help if we can. But we can't, and we sure as hell WON'T, if you're trying to kill us!
Voice: Oh, helpful, are ye? Damned neighboorly o' ye! Jes' came around an' decided t' play th' Good Mairan, have ye?
Caedmon: Friend, we can discuss atruistic ethics, or we can throw you a rope. Not both. What's your pleasure?
Voice: I don' need yer stinkin' rope!
Kelsrod: ((Well, all right, Rambo.))
Kelsrod: ((For the record, I think "I was having breakfast when the ground split beneath me" would be a great first line for a novel.))
Caedmon: (loudly) Tis Caedmon Thaal, Cadmus. We escaped from your dungeon when . . . when THIS happened, and found another way to the surface. We've returned for our gear, and to see if anyone survived.
Narrator: There is a long silence.
Cadmus: Damn it, yer supposed t' be dead! Th' entire dungeon collapsed!
Cadmus: Is that yer ghost or somethin'?
Caedmon: Would a ghost worry about behing shot full of arrows?
Cadmus: How in th' hells am I supposed t' know? Never been one 'fore!
Caedmon: All right, the rope's secure. Now, if you'd be so good as to send over one of your men with our gear . . .
Cadmus: Hah. An' then have ye kill him an' cut the rope?
Caedmon: Why would I do that?
Cadmus: Why wouldn' ye?
Caedmon: Why WOULD I?
Cadmus: Because ye asked fer yer gear first off?
** Caedmon rolls his eyes at Sa'ara. "Oh, stop being a bloody plot device." **
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* I will if you stop acting like some hero.
** Caedmon stops in his tracks and looks at Sa'ara thoughtfully. **
Caedmon: I do have a bit of a hero complex, don't I?
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* You mean you've just noticed?
Caedmon: Hmm.
Caedmon: Perhaps I should switch directions.
Caedmon: Perhaps I should try to be an evil bastard
Caedmon: Of course, then I'd end up a reluctant in-spite-of-myself hero.
Trok'kael: " As long as I get to do the talking Caedmon. "
** Trok'kael smiles. **
** Caedmon looks at Trok. **
Caedmon: Only if I can strangle your sister.
** Caedmon sighs. "Damn our polythestic society anyway. Ah well." **
Narrator: As you step through the door, you behold a dimly lit interior that... however, comparative archtecture becomes the least of your concerns when a dark shape detaces itself from the wall and points a sword at Caedmon's chest. "Ye have five words to explain yerself adequately, else ye die," a harsh female voice demands.
Trok'kael: (( we came to pray ))
Trok'kael: (( then we get 1 more word ))
Savath: ((Please?))
Warden Ceria: Arrogant and pious, all rolled into one. I'd say a typical Flame... but then, a typical Flame would've been ravin' at th' mouth now, about heathen gods an' women who don' know their proper place.
Warden Ceria: So I'll write ye off as a typical male then.
Caedmon: ((how old is Ceria? is she at all attractive?))
Trok'kael: (( Tip: Hitting on the female warden pointing a sword at you is a *bad* idea. ))
Caedmon: ((Bad ideas are Caedmon's watchword.))
Caedmon: ((I was going to try some flattery, dammit, and wouldn't want to have to lie))
Caedmon: ((besides, Caedmon's the type to be all mysterious and alluring until he finally sweeps her off her feet and kisses her))
Warden Ceria: ((At which point she puts a dagger in your kidney))
** Savath looks to the "sky" and gives a "not bad" expresion **
** Caedmon pauses, asking himself whether he really wants to say what he's about to say, and decides he does. **
Trok'kael: (( Would you join me for a meal tonight? ))
Narrator: ((You're not as old as you look))
Warden Ceria: *scornfully* Who do ye think ye are anyway? Ye think ye can jes' come into town an' proclaim "I'm here t' solve all yer problems" from th' rooftops? An' maybe even expect people t' say "Oh, alright"? Like some damned hero from a fairly tale?
** Caedmon sulks as they proceed to the town hall, his hero complex sadly unfulfilled **
Narrator: ((And here is a good place to break for tonight))
Trok'kael: (( damn... ! ))
Narrator: ((Oh, ok, go ahead and tease Caedomn for a bit))
Narrator: ((I'll give you 10 minutes))
Trok'kael: So, did I detect you falling in love before she told you to bugger off?
Caedmon: You most certainly did not.
Trok'kael: " Ahh, but you blushed "
Savath: What did you say to her?
Caedmon: I blushed because I thought I'd insulted her.
Savath: You insulted her? You can't be left alone for 5 minutes!
Trok'kael: " Hah, you don't blush when you insult someone, you blush when your embarrased "
** Savath crack a smile **
** Caedmon glares witheringly at Savath **
Trok'kael: " I'll bring this up some other time Caedmon, you haven't had the last of my taunting. "
** Trok'kael grins **
** Caedmon stops in his snow-covered tracks **
Caedmon: No . . . we came because I remembered a convenient stopping point, convenient both for our journey and my own spiritual health.
Trok'kael: And for love.
** Trok'kael grins again **
Trok'kael: Onwards ! To the grayish Mayor.
** Caedmon glares at Trok. **
Caedmon: Aye. And if your sister should choose to bite your chin off en route, I'll not weep bitterly.
Narrator: Session 19 ends... with love.
Caedmon: And no, I wasn't purposefully flirting with Ceria -- as will likely be explained next session, I'm still kinda pining for someone else.
Maxymiuk: Caedmon, you didn't need to tell us that.
Maxymiuk: Now needling you just won't feel the same.
Caedmon: We're passing through, on our way to White Tower Wood.
Narrator: ((We're off to see the Tower... the wonderful White Tower Wood...))
Narrator: ((There's Dorocaedmon, and Totosonja. The Scarevath, Kelion, and Tin'trok))
Savath: ((Why do I have to be the Scarevath?))
Narrator: Savath eventually makes his way back from the temple.
Caedmon: (as Savath enters) Really, that many? I myself have only torn the hearts out of eighteen men with my bare hands.
Caedmon: Wizards all. Can't stand the buggers.
Caedmon: Oh, hello, Savath.
Maxymiuk: So a quick breakdown: not much happened.
Maxymiuk: Expanded breakdown: Savath had a conversation with Ceria about life in general and Ehlonna in specific.
Maxymiuk: Trok and Caedmon shared their life stories.
Maxymiuk: And the group (theoretically) has a new member that has a thing for his horse.
Kelsrod: Again???
Kelsrod: What is it with this group and horses?
Maxymiuk: What is with this group and animals, you mean?
Simon: this horse isnt gay, yet
Kelsrod: Or an eagle.
Maxymiuk: I still remember Caedmon molesting me about the gender of his wolf for undisclosed reasons.
Simon: He was lonely.
Maxymiuk: Last night the ultimate goal of the campaign slid into focus for me
Maxymiuk: It involves some of my usual moral tangles. And strong possibility of death.
Maxymiuk: And since it looks like you're the only character that's going to stay constant through all this.
Maxymiuk: The plot is going to be, by and large, centered on you.
Maxymiuk: So if everyone dies, you're to blame.
** Caedmon cries **
Caedmon: Have a backup plan in case I disappear mid-plot ;-)
Maxymiuk: Well, if that happens, everyone is screwed.
Maxymiuk: That's what you get for being a hero.
** Keeper Destian props himself up. "Ehlonna's Chosen is known, above all, for utmost respect for life in all its forms. He may not take a life needlessly, nor see a life needlessly extinguished if it is within his power to prevent so." **
** Caedmon nods. **
Trok'kael: (( Caedmon: "I used to be a mass murderer" ))
Kelsrod: ((Perhaps Kelsrod should get drunk. It would be an interesting and new experience for him.))
Zacred: "So how did you end up in this band of Caedmon's?"
Kelsrod: "I was going the same direction they were. Or decided I was. Met on the road...been traveling a week or so. Two weeks? Can't remember. Out to seek my fortune." He waves an arm and nearly knocks over his mug. "M'teacher was getting hitched, y'see. Wife wasn't comfortable around me, me being human. They were going to move closer to the enclave. I coulda stayed at the old place but decided to see the world. Well, I've been sheein' it. Seeing. Seen villagers starvin' coz of goblins starvin'. Seen a dragon wind up leadin' goblins. Seen a bear that was already dead almost kill me. Seen a dungeon, and more dragons. Still haven't seen a desert or a Dwarven city. Gotta work on that. Save th'world first though." He takes a mighty pull from his mug.
Narrator: At this moment - perhaps conveniently so - Caedmon appears in the entrance.
** Kelsrod raises his mug in a toast and almost sloshes its contents out. "Here he is now! Hail, Caedmon, the human lodeshtone!" **
Caedmon: (softly) Found a friend of ours outside.
Zacred: "Umm... An invisible one?"
Savath: **quietly** The small dragon that the half elf belongs to
** Zacred whispers "You mean that belongs to the half-elf?" **
Savath: **quietly** No.
Caedmon: (softly) Since Trok isn't with you, can we assume he's in trouble again?
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* What do you think?
** Caedmon sighs. "Tell me what happened, then." **
Sa'aragra: *Caedmon* He decided to pick a fight, what else? While wearing that elven stuff you lot found in the caverns.
Caedmon: . . . . . .
Caedmon: okay, let's just settle this right now . . .
Caedmon: why, WHY in the name of all the gods did you decide to adopt such an IDIOT?
Trok'kael: I have told you truthfully. We came here to resupply.
Trok'kael: We were then asked to solve this... siege, peacefully.
Marshal Terone: By whom?
Trok'kael: Various people, townsfolk.
Trok'kael: Well, not directly, but we try to do good.
Trok'kael: We asked what the situation was about.
Marshal Terone: ((Ok, that's such a bad lie that I HAVE to ask for a bluff check))