Cointhief

Shield bearers, just a heads up since an initiative roll might be around the corner and we haven't played together before, I will not assume you have your shield out and equipped.

Because of work constraints with terrible timing, Simon will not be joining us after all. ...Which is too bad for us, because he is a fantastic writer/player. I left the door open for him if things settle down. I will likely not recruit a replacement until after the first part of the campaign, if at all.

ooc: Waiting for posts before next update. :)

Hey, is Thom going back to the inn to try and grab his stuff, or just generally running deeper into the city?

I have always liked the Kalashtar lore from Eberron. I was bouncing between an aberrant mind sorcerer and an order cleric refluffed as a psion.

(editing)

*BLAM* It started with just one. Most dismissed it as a fluke. In fact, Tender Henk was quite relieved when the explosion rang out from the blacksmith's shop up the street...the incessant apprentice was finally silenced. The ensuing rain of coconut-scented horseshoes was a bit more worrisome, with one of the doomed inventions clonking the half-orc right on the skull plate. It would have outright slayed a pure breed. It must've been that strange scent powder they were mixing with the iron, anything is combustible when ground to such a small size. Of course, those nearer to the blast would recognize the large adamantine seed pod fallen from the sky as the real culprit. Soon they would be too dead to spread the word, unfortunately. At least on this plane of existence. *BoOM* It was the second one that got the opera ladies singing their high notes, and the street children scattering like flocks of birds. It did however have the side effect of finally waking up Old Man Willie, who had been sleeping for 16 hours straight much to the dismay of the overtaxed Housewife Tillie. The recently reconstructed belltower they tended was hit next, casualty of another falling adamantine seed (or coffin depending on your level of goth-ness). Deep down the mortar was still wet, so when the bricks started to crumble and fall there was no blinding powder ball...a crisp view of the 5-story destruction could be had by all. *BLAM bLam boOm BanG rrrruuummmmbbbbbblleee....* After that, it was too many to count. Umberlee's temple across the bay cracked and was swallowed by a tide born of some underwater earthquake. Someone shouted "Sundries got smacked!" before they themselves were directly hit with falling pod, splattering into a unique sight of expanding gore. People were diving for cover under shrubs that went ablaze from the frictional contact. People were running full blast into each other, their terrified eyes locked on the celestial slashmarks. A hundred more impacts. Strategic fire. An intelligent attack. Such were the insights of those who could keep their cool, as the sky fell and the earth below trembled. Half of the cafe sheered off in a tremor, plopping onto the drunks down below in the shallows and their beloved hooch organ in a salty splash. The Blushing Mermaid across the street was directly hit, killing every single dentist instantly and voiding thousands of insurance policies. Hairline cracks in the cobblestone started to widen and hiss, turning into gaping hazards that swallowed roadside roast lizard vendors, mimes, and trained flying snakes in their cute little cages. The world was coming apart. But it was not a fiery hell that spewed forth, nor Scribbles the Demon come to extract his revenge on the pamphleteers. Not a mystical gravity inverse to puzzle the sages, nor wild magic hands-into-chickens breed of tomfoolery. Not drow nor duergar in a spiderling assault, not giants or dragons carrying some ancient grudge. Beautiful yellow crystals erupted from the gaps, reaching towards the light of Sol...their unit cells multiplying and assembling in perfect order. The sinuous, crystalline vines rose high above the tallest buildings still standing. It was a pure, godly creation, right in front of your eyes. Celsior recognized the crystals immediately as Astral Elven. Not dead and stinky like the lost mess on H'catha, but alive and active...carrying the scent of cedar and honeysuckle. These were the same specialized engineering crystals that grew mighty Starmoths, but twisted and encouraged to some much greater application. The encapsulation and annihilation of planet Toril. "Well, that's one way to sour a perfectly good afternoon." Captain Sartell remarked. "You all are welcome to join me. I would propose sooner rather than later..." she added as she fled down the stairs at maximum velocity, not waiting even a second for any response. Smaller offshoots of the massive organic structures shattered free, dropping into even more complex shapes. Uprooted and with autonomous liberty, these smaller crystal bodies sourced of the heavens struck an equally beautiful yet horrific pose. One of these beings of prismatic light snuck up behind Pudgetackle, shearing each of his limbs from his body yet leaving the dashing wardrobe intact. A dog with a big brown bone in his mouth shot out of nowhere like a bat out of hell, nearly upside down with all 4 legs flapping trying to avoid another fast moving crystal being. Murderous scenes were numerous and everywhere at once. But it was so beautiful. From all around the crystal sung a single resonant note. The larger vines continued to grow and multiply, racing over the red shingled rooftops and crashing into each other in wonderful geometric patterns. Embracing each other with some unknown moral design, a step-by-step embrace that was following instructions. Rapidly the net was closing off the sky...and soon there would be no way out. The tiefling mumbled "No refunds..." before threading a needle through the chaos, leaving a sticker trail of roving maulers behind. Elsewhere... In the Imperial Citadel of Xaryxis, Emperor Xavan shooed away his herb-broth as the impatient nurse insisted. Of course, to a fly on the wall, the discourse sounded like music. Every syllable and intonation of the alien language was truly a gift to all living things with any real passion in their hearts, and would cause weaker willed brutes to break down and weep at the chorus of sound. "Dogshit. I don't care if only a handful of the Fëa were lost, its still dogshit." the Emperor sang. "I beg your forgiveness. I assure you the planet's incubation is still on track to complete before our joint coronation." a sniveling yes-man assured the old elf, synthesizing a number of department summaries and daily reports. Each scroll was a priceless work of art that would strike blind anyone under the age of 150 that looked upon them directly...not from any magical effect, but the sheer artistic skill that went into crafting them. The solar dragon luckily did not have that problem as it turned to the yes-man, and consumed him. The symphony continued in utter ecstasy, with a splatter of percussion. ooc: As hectic and/or railroady as it seems, you are free to do whatever you like here, as always. You could hunker down somewhere, or try to flee deeper in the city, or something else. The scene in BG unfolds quickly, but not in an instant. Feel free to craft a narrative of around 5 minutes or so if you are up for it. There are 6 Astral Blights (crystal offshoots) within a move of everyone, randomly attacking people, plants, animals, and inanimate objects.

Not sure what's up with Simon, I will nudge things forward substantially tonight though (eta 3-4 hours).

Yeah, the FR lore has some fairly hefty connections to actual Earth, especially the Imaskari being being straight up ancient Egyptians: . ...and of course Peruvians are ubiquitous to all settings and tabletop games, as they should be. edit: Also big Farscape fan, though I've not watched it for a decade and some change. Great old show. There's one song from the soundtrack I always hum to myself when its go time...

Sure, I love anchovies.

Sure, don't forget you need to physically touch writing to read it with that spell.

Sorry I thought I had already gotten back to you on the magic item. Choosing one from that list is ok, besides the boots.

Chipluck halfling rogue 1 11.18.12.13.16.16 | init +4 | AC 15 | HP 9/9 | HD 1 Acrobatics +6, Deception +5, Investigation +3, Perception +5, Sleight of Hand +8*, Stealth +6, thieves tools +8* More exposed than the thief previously realized, he fired off a opportunistic shot before putting a few more bodies between him and the hungry predators. ooc: Attacking with Sneak due to Victor adjacent to W2. Moving from Cf to Ct.

Simon should be entering the game tomorrow, holding off pushing the scene too far until then. Please bear with me. :)

The crisp, blue afternoon was soon punctuated by the slashmarks of falling stars...the sharp strokes the penmanship of uncanny roving maulers, as the tiefling would have you believe for a small fee. At times impacts could be heard and even seen, striking distant hills in plumes of smoke, or crashing the rocky shale cliffsides in splintering avalanches. The thunderous cracks were more exciting than scary, and some lingered on benches with opera glasses to spy the event with interest. Geometrically speaking Baldur's Gate was a small dot on the map, and its residents an even smaller target. Surely someone would see the coffin-sized objects coming and be able to juke at the last moment. Sure, you could be struck by lightning, but who ever heard of being struck dead from outer space pebbles? And so the strange rain continued to be seen as a novelty. The drunks down on the shores below had scrounged up a flotsam chalkboard fragment, using basic sounding techniques to guess at the distances to the latest impacts...and predict the next. Their harsh organ brews corrupted their long division but nonetheless bets were made and small fortunes of river shells changed hands with a steady chorus of hardy-har-hars. When Raaol approached the entrepreneurial mad-ramblings specialist, the tiefling's first response was thunderstruck adoration. "*gasp* Aww! Look at the little meow meow, who's the mommy that dressed you up for your big day in town, eh little guy? You've got your widdle hat and widdle belt..." The adoration made a rapid change into confusion when the cat in the hat plunked 3 gold coins into his cup. "Er..I..didn't know cats could handle standard currency like that..." offering up a few stickers as promised. The confusion morphed into pure fear when the cat with the loaded sidearm started spewing impatient vitriol, curious demands and irrational paranoia. Obviously terrified, the man's knees clack together uncontrollably in a bony staccato "Woah, easy! Oh my god even when you are terrifying you are soooo cute! Listen, I dated a girl from the Circus of the Last Days once, that's it! I'm not a clown I promise! Look, my nose is regularly shaped, neither red nor spherical! Behold, for a man my height, my shoe size is a mere 9 1/2!" he pleads. Flipping furiously through his little research notebook "...here, here! Look...the maulers are coming to teach us, not destroy us. Although their methods seem radical to our fragile, eggshell minds...they come riding the streaks of the night. They will be revered as masters of both the natural and the moral philosophies, logic, and of course medicine. The mauling prophet is indeed the last prophet, you see, for the enlightenment of society as a whole soon follows. ...please can I just put this little ribbon on your tail?" pulling out a surreptitiously prepared itty-bitty pink bow. The whole scene made Steve realize Raaol would make an excellent dentist. "Somewhat free does not equate to turning our beloved turtles into a mockery, does it? I oughta sue your asses for animal rights infringements." Pudgetackle's companion countered in a non-point, struggling to keep the upper hand. "And perhaps our uniform is beyond the comprehension of one who has never heard the elegant whispers of Scribbles the Demon! The midriff comes and goes with the sands of the hourglass, so guided by the whims of our dark lord." Pointing to Yahs' well-clothed stomach-like vacuole, the neutral greys of the Fleet uniform a stark contrast. "So last season." He makes a weird gesture in front of his pale, hairy exposed stomach "Now is a time of flowing, not ebbing." he states with absolute authority. "...as for the thighs, well, you need to try it before you knock it." "Sir, she has a point about the dentists actually." Pudgetackle wisely realized. When Raaol jumped into the fray, landing on its feet, Pudgetackle was visibly hurt. "...I...I'm not 'odd'..." the bald man starting to cry. Minnifred was struck by the display and began to appeal to everyone's good nature, buying a round for all and compounding the interest in the tieflings paper cup. The tiefling had actually not stopped talking since Raaol abandoned him, its just no one had noticed or cared. He was now holding up a strange symbol, remarking its similarity to the cluster of constellations the celestial bodies appeared to be coming from. "Sure, let me just go get all the booze...and please be thinking up the most complicated cocktails I can prepare for you." Tender Henk sarcastically remarked while rolling out a little keg marked 'Tips'. Back in the cafe's more civil conversation, Celsior plodded Sartell for more information, which she was happy to give. "Yeah, sure. Stay grounded too long and you get addicted to the fresh air. You know, it's easier to get wood down here compared to on the Rock. Ah...no I'm not talking about the Sharess' Caress girls. The boys loaded up what we needed to repair our mangonel early last night and were able to get some R&R. They've probably slept it off by now. Of course Flapjack's still dancing in the crow's nest for all I know..." Rush's comments brought hope back to the cultists "Really? I've always wanted to learn a martial art...you don't think I'm too old for it?" Thom explained how he was past one hundred thousand miles, but the unpolished exoskeleton of the space bug clattered in recoil as strong warnings flashed in his mental circuitry.

Hey, would you mind posting the battle map link in each combat post for easy reference?

Is Yahs wearing her Academy Fleet uniform? Inquiring Pudgetackles want to know.

Hmm, I haven't seen that before. I have to say no, sorry. That is a really strange item, I don't think it should be uncommon.

Yes, piano, organ or harpsichord for keys. I suppose since there are full humanoid robot automatons synths aren't out of the realm of possibility.

Sunny Suel Barbarian 1 16.14.16.8.10.10 | init +2 | AC 15 | HP 15/15 | HD 1 Animal Handling +2, Athletics +5, Intimidation +2, Perception +2, Performance +2 Rage: OX At Allera's polite remark, Sunny realized she just gave away information which might connect her back to the Cairn Hills Force. The blonde softly stuttered "Er...yeah, trivia night at the Feral Dog can be fun. You don't want me on your team though...eheh..." ooc: Fine with rest as well.

Space Booty: None :(

*Used for quick reference and daily tracking when necessary. Combat updates handled in gameplay thread. Variants and Houserules: Initiative Order Matters when it Matters: Usually it doesn't matter what order your actions are resolved. Sometimes it does. Most commonly for spells that resolve at the end of turns, or for healing 0hp PCs. When it doesn't matter I ignore order. When it matters, I pay attention to it. No short rest identify. Requires Identify spell, specialist merchant, library, etc. Exotic languages from background cost double. (Chapter 4 PHB for list) Does not apply to racials or Linguist. Slow Natural Healing. A healing kit charge is required to heal hp during any type of rest, once per player. Both short and long rests require HD to be spent.

Looks good but missing armor class. You mentioned wanted to finalize some equipment choices, so I assume that's why. Let me know what you pick so I can know your AC. Also any of those magic items are ok with me, take your pick. edit: Please also nail down your language choice.

You pick specific, individual instruments from the list in the PHB equipment section. The list is not exhaustive and players can make up their own. Same with gaming set. On the Pipes of the Sewers, I would allow any wind instrument proficiency (Bagpipe, Flute, Horn, Pan flute, Shawm) to satisfy the requirement. I'll have to think on Instrument of the Bards. Let me get back to you on that one. Incidentally this is one of the things they are changing with One. And I agree, your choices here are unlikely to ever matter. edit: Yeah, on the Instrument of the Bards I will say you need the matching proficiency to get the performance bonus and spellcasting focus benefits. You would need cittern for the Mac cittern, despite it not being one of the example instruments in the PHB.

Thanks, I was overlooking the bonus from Gunner. Good to go.