DM-Tareth

2024-05-19T18:07:35Z

Showing up just in time to hear Celsior's last order, Yahs offers her Captain a crisp salute and starts to wend and wind her way up the galleon's rigging toward the crow's nest. As she climbs, she does her best to use her height advantage to see if the missing pilot can be seen lounging somewhere else less visible to those on deck.

Acrobatics if needed

Perception

Friday at 08:20 PM

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

After running a few dozen yards Malakai realizes the boat is too far away and out in the river to easily wrangle back to shore. They didn't have time. With a quick curse, he turns back toward the camp gathering a couple extra canteens, rations, and any ammunition that would fit with his rifle or pistol. Any other weapons, he tosses into the river figuring there was no sense letting Davy have them back to hand out to any new recruits he might try to gather. That done, he hurries back up the slope to their horses and scans the horizon for any sign of dust that might indicate a large group hurrying toward the ferry. Unfortunately, the rising sun does its utmost to keep him from spotting darned near anything.

Perception

Thursday at 08:45 PM

"Oh for crying out loud...these things are as clingy as a thirty year old momma's boy." The plasmoid exclaims as she is once again wrapped up in a constricting band of stank smelling blight crystal. The detestable odor brings back memories of H'Cantha, Noog, Orlob, Greelob, and of course a certain brood of death ray wielding kittens. A burbling sigh of regret of the fate of Cindy Clawford, Catrick Swayzee, and some of the kittens slips through plasmoid's lips. The past thoughts also brings back the memory of the foul smelling crystals they'd discovered on that tyrant filled planet. Were they the ones behind this attack? Why? She wondered as she wriggled free of the blight's grip for a second time. Either way, she needed to make sure that HQ knows about the similarity in the crystals was now a priority mission objective.

Seeing the halfling dash off after the others, Yahs retaliates against the blight with whirlwind of quick feints and blows hoping to disable the thing long enough for her to follow in the halfling's wake and escape toward the docks. Just before she dashes away, she grabs a podful of shattered crystal. The staff back in R&D might be able to find out something more with a little analysis. And if they couldn't, well, she might be able to make them into a nice set of earrings for her skulls, or maybe even a headband for her gith.

Escape Grapple

Adv Escape Grapple

Mop Attack #1

Mop Damage

Martial Strike #1

Martial Damage

Mop Attack #2

Mop Damage

Martial Attack #2

Martial Damage

Wednesday at 03:43 PM

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

"Reckin' you're right." Malakai says to Sloan. "Best be in the saddle an' on our way soon as we can. That big boom will've been heard fer miles. I hope that old man and his wife moved along."

Spotting the boat slowly floating down river, Malakai curses. "Can't leave him just sittin' out there if he's still breathin'." He takes off running to catch up with the boat. He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because it was one thing to shoot someone in war or even within the bounds of frontier law. It was another to let him drift off into a slow painful death, bleeding out in this slow moving Styx of the western desert. Even though the man likely faced justice at the end of a rope, he just couldn't leave without making sure the man lived or not. Once close enough, he'll see if he can wrangle the boat back to shore in order to see if the bandit is still alive.

May 13

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

"All clear here!" Malakai hollers to his companions letting the tattered remnants of the canvas tent drop back across the battered remains of one of the bandits. The blast twisted and half buried limbs stirred up unwelcome memories of the war. He took no real joy in the lopsided victory, nor did he weep for the scoundrels now facing their own reckoning with the Almighty. They earned their justice, but even so he'd hoped such spasms of destruction had been left behind when he came out west. Satisfied there aren't any more threats hiding within the wreckage he walks over to the first bandit shot to see if he still lives or had joined his fellows in the fires of damnation.

OOC: Basically will spend a bit of time checking to see if anyone is alive. Assuming not, he'll search the camp for valuables to return to victims families or that might be useful in the pursuit of Davy.

May 13

Yahs feels herself squeezed within the constricting vines of alien crystal. Senses her ectoplasmic innards start to lose their cohesiveness as they begin to ooze into and through the narrow gaps of the vine's hard grip. It was like being run through an apple press. An experience she was in no mood to repeat, especially while carrying several bottles of good booze. Fortunately the vines weren't able to create a complete containment field. Even as Fred's thrumming drumbeats suddenly match the inner beating of her hearts, she's pulling herself together and sliding from the construct's grip like a supersized cone full of summertime softserve. The mop sticking out of the quivering mound of ooze like some lemony fresh swizzle stick.

Quickly reforming into naturally unnatural shape, the Fleet Ensign rolls the bulbs of her pods and tips her somewhat scrunched tricorn hat to the halfling in thanks for aide. Seeing others still trying to escape, she continues to hold the line, doubling her efforts to batter the invading constructs into little more that mosaic bits. She unleashes a series of strikes ending with a simple self slap across her midsection that stimulates her nervous system to remove the chilling cold of the crystal.

MechanicsUse Bardic Inspiration + Mote on Escape Roll: Success

Attack
Extra Attack with Flurry of Blows
Use final Flurry Attack for Hand of Healing

Spent 1 Ki Point

HP: 41-8-3+5=35

Escape using Bardic Inspire + Mote

Mop Attack #1

Mop Damage

Mop Attack #2

Mop Damage

Flurry of Blows

FoB Damage

Flurry of Blows #2 Heal Self

May 9

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

With no other threat immediately obvious, Malakai quietly works his way down the hill toward the camp. Keeping low and his rifle at the ready, he begins a methodical search to root out the rest of Davy's ill fated brood.

Stealth (Base 10)

MechanicsBreaking cover and cautiously moving toward the nearest tent. If possible will use any smoke, debris or other cover to provide a potential bonus to either Stealth or a needed Dodge roll.

May 9

She was on a roll, laying into the cultists like a Chultan jungle cat hopped up on go-go juice. She had a thing about demons. About hell and the cultists who thought it would be a nice place to live. It wasn't. In fact, it is those two little words ringing in her mind when the first true blast hits with it destructive *BOOM*. Like everyone else she turns away from Pudgetackle and his equally out of shape companion and slither-walks closer to the balcony for a better look. Icy spiders crawl through her ectoplasmic core as she orbital bombardment picked up speed and fury. As the temple of Umberlee cracked open releasing a thousand years of unanswered prayers and a pale cloud of burning incense something else cracked open in Yahs' mind. Memories, or at least that is all she could assume the horrible images of another broken and blasted city could be. Another set of streets filled with rubble and bodies and shattered dreams. As the ashes of vaporized demonic dentist blood mushroom into the smoke filled sickly reddening sky, her mind witnesses another red sky where bolts of death from above plucked death from life with casual whimsy.

"S%^t! Not again." She grumbles to no one in particular. But experience matters and thanks to the triggering effects of yet another world ending post traumatic inducing event she knew exactly what to do. Even before Sartell hoofs it for her ship and panic sends the crowd scrambling for where their poor overwhelmed and deluded mind think would be safe, Yahs oozes to the bar and snatches three bottles of Henk's finest top shelf whiskey, the big jar of pickled eggs the bartender kept near the register, and as many Scramsax Selects Smokin' Hot Pepperoni Slims Jim's as she can stuff in her pack.

Biting off a piece of the spicy aged 'meat,' she glances back toward the rapidly growing hellscape being created by the ongoing bombardment and, she now sees, the release of some devilish crystalline plague clearly determined to clear all organic life from its newly adopted home. At least it isn't a giant undead dragon. Is the rather dubious thought that crawls across her mind as a crystal entity puts the pitiful Pudgetackle through a seriously overzealous weight loss program. It is at this moment that the memories bursting through the broken damn of her mind screech at her like an overwrought banshee to save herself and get the hell out. But she was Fleet now. And being Fleet meant something. It meant you did what you could to help others, while keeping costs under budget. It meant fighting with honor, unless nastiness and trickery could get the job done quicker and cheaper. It meant you didn't turn tail and run when there was a nasty mess to be dealt with. And so instead of following Sartell's cowardly retreat, she draws forth her trusty, R&D improved Mop of Cleansing and Disinfecting.

Her eye stalks spot the fleeing canine. Is impressed by its understanding that food meant survival and thus kept the bone locked securely in its jaws even as it spins into a nearly perfect execution of the Whirling Crane Slips Free. An impressive display of martial talent that brings immediate respect to the plasmoid. She also remembers another tenacious canine, clever, loyal, and unrelenting. Its three eyes gleaming in the red haze of apocalyptic doom. Perhaps this time the two could be allies.

She unleashes a high pitched whistle and barks a command at the dog. "COME! HEEL!" Her voice snaps through the growing screams and chaos. If the dog caught on, then perhaps they would travel this new path together. If not, well, there were always the damned cats.

Before the crystal demon, beast, construct or whatever manner of foe could de-limb someone else, she races over and begins to test the things structural integrity with the business end of her mop and fist.

"Captain!" She yells to Celsior. "Best, start getting people out of here. I'll do what I can to hold this oversized piece of cheap jewelry off."

Mop Attack

Damage

Martial Attack

Damage

May 7

"If by sands through the hourglass you really mean eel fritters sliding down your gullet, then maybe your Dribbles is on to something. But if you two are the cream of his priestly crop, then my guess is old Dimples spends most of his time getting the brimstone piss beat out of him by his demonic brethren." Yahs replies to the two cultists. She snatches a pamphlet from her own satchel and taps the elongated nose of the turtle ship. "As for that disfigurement, well, the Tortoise Class Hauler is the work turtle of the Astral Sea. Carrying all manner of cargo to every port in the known realms. Unfortunately, it's like he said." Her hat tips along with her pod-like head toward the genasi. "They aren't built for speed or maneuverability. By extending the bow a bit more to accommodate a battering ram she could smash her way through a blockade or ram a pirate galleon foolish enough to try and cut her off. It just offers a bit more options for a Fleet captain and a bit more protection from all the dangers lurking out there in the Astral Sea. Things that would make your Snapple soil his demonic diapers if his mommy ever let him out of his dumpy little pit." She taps the pamphlet with her pointy pod. "So sure, its not entirely accurate compared to the poor little creature you probably turned into soup last night, but if it helps the next load of Karpri shrimp or Chadosian fizzy drink arrive on time, then I'm all for it."

May 6

@Cointhief I would assume that she is in regular Fleet uniform unless ordered not to be by Sartell or Celsior (Her tricorn hat is not really Fleet standard, but she loves the added spacefaring and swashbucklery flair it offers.)

May 5

Yahs shakes the thri-kreen's extended hand. "Indeed, teaching those with the talent the ins and outs of actually piloting a ship is one of the core mission's of the academy." She replies. "But even more importantly..."

Her deep dive into the all the various opportunities offered by Fleet service, especially those related to ship cleanliness and the best ways for removing blood stains (regardless of whether it is one's own blood or that of the enemy) from wood, canvas, or a standard uniform is interrupted by the newcomers and the subsequent outburst by the feline fellow. Her eye pods swivel around to take in the scene, followed shortly by the rest of her body. She immediately sympathizes with the catkin, not just because he reminded her of young Catrick Swayze the Second, despite the fellow's having two eyes, but also because he clearly hated space clowns. That was something she one hundred and ten percent supported. Her experience at the academy had done little to change her own dislike, even if Zibbles wasn't responsible for the sabotage.

"It's a somewhat free city." Yahs says calmly to the one called Pudgetackle. "The right to distribute recruiting materials is outlined within the most recent set of council ordinances and our pamphlets are approved under Fleet regular standards of outreach and marketing materials per regulation chapter six hundred dot thirty-two dot fifteen section a through q." She waves a hand toward the near riot conditions of the dentist convention across the street. "And frankly, if your cult is having difficultly recruiting with a crowd of dentist's in town, then that's on you. We all know demonic blood flows within the veins of any dentist. That crowd should be easy pickings for such a recruitment drive. Perhaps it is the absurd uniforms that are holding you back? Maybe advertising your lack of diet and exercise isn't the best way to attract recruits...or dates for that matter." She adds pointing a pod at the man's belly trying to squeeze its way through the uniform's midriff portal.

May 5

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

Seeing the second bandit begin to slowly drift downstream, Malakai focuses his gaze back toward the burning tents and encampment. Peering through the smoke and settling dust, he looks for any sign of the remaining bandits, his finger resting lightly on the trigger of his rifle.

Perception

May 3

The sudden intrusion of a voice in her head jolts Yahs out of her interest in Sartell. The actual appearance of a potential new recruit being a much more unusual and surprising event than either the rockfall illuminating the sky or Flapjack flip-flopping about the meeting location. Looking about at the nearby faces her eyes focus in on the thri-kreen. Remembering their fellow recruit, Klick-Klack...Klickitat...Klap-trap...only partially remembering their former fellow thri-kreen recruit she does recall the fact that they could only communicate via mindspeech. Sliding out of her chair she walks over to 'Steve' and crinkles her facial features into a wide welcoming smile as she tips back her hat.

"Steve, I presume." She says facing the thri-kreen with the odd instrument. "Fleet recognizes that everyone has talents that can be put put to good use. And I for one would welcome someone with a new music catalog." She says in reply to the thri-kreen's initial question. "As for a friendly atmosphere, why I can say with all honesty I've made more friends during my few months in the Fleet, than my entire existence prior. And don't worry, even if you don't have any practical ship or spelljamming experience, folk like myself an' the Captain over there will get you up to speed on the basics in no time at all."

The plasmoid extends a vaguely hand shaped pod. "Ensign Yahs Anirys." She says proudly. "Glad to meet you Steve and more than happy to answer questions."

May 2

Yahs shrugs a squishy shoulder at Sartell's criticism of the latest Fleet pamphlet's. The plasmoid could admit, the whole nose-schnoz campaign was a low point even for those in the Marketing and Promotions. Even now she could see several of the pamphlet's she'd left on the nearby tables being used as coasters or a makeshift napkin to sop up spilled beer. They certainly weren't drawing folk into the recruiting office. However, she wasn't inclined to openly criticize because she'd managed to sweet talk one of the new boys in Marketing to get her one of the last feathered tricorn hats left over from last year's Pirates of Penzance Fleet Fundraiser. The hat rode jauntily upon her slowly shifting features as she gazed out across the open waters sipping the blended mix of high proof grain alcohol and lemonade she liked to refer to as a four-oh-nine. It doubled as her go to stain remover and floor polisher as well, which is why the gith skull hanging on her belt smelled summertime fresh and gleamed brightly beneath the tavern lights.

Wrapped in a pair of lips formed slightly off center and much too far below her 'nose,' a cigar burns slowly. The trail of blue-gray smoke drifting with the breeze coming off the open water. She understood people's desire to leave the city. Ever since she'd arrived on Toril, she'd had an odd feeling that it wasn't her first time being here. Wasn't the first time she'd walked the dark alleys and filthy avenues of Baldur's Gate. Baldur's Gate and...some other place that still eluded her. Fortunately, she'd had their mission to keep her occupied. Thus even though they were nearly 100% ineffective, she'd done her best to put them where ever possible throughout the city.

Nodding when Celsior brings the meeting around to the real business at hand, she turns her lopsided gaze toward Sartell. The tip of the cigar burns bright as she waits for an answer and taps the growing length of ash into a small oyster shell tray resting on a bed of plasmic flesh extended from just below her neck.

May 2

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

Not seeing any other bandits emerging from the camp, Malakai pivots the barrel of his rifle to catch the man attempting to vamoose on the ferry. Shortly after Mickey's shot cracks through the early morning air, the bark of Malakai's rifle echoes across the valley.

Mechanics

Rifle Attack

Rifle Damage

April 23

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

Once the hillside stops tumbling from the sky, Malakai quickly braces his rifle on the rock and takes aim at the bandit near the river. He really didn't care for spilling blood. He'd done plenty of that during the war. But then he recalls the bodies sprawled out next to the train. Recalls the old man and how they surely would have killed him and his wife if he hadn't acted quick enough. Recalls the natives and all the other stories he'd heard about these men. Sure enough the uncertainty left his mind and he put the crosshairs of his rifle direct on the bandits chest. A quick pause. Breathe. Fire.

MechanicsAttack Modifiers:

Distance 15-19 yards: -5
Size and Speed: 0
Accuracy: +6
Braced: +1
Total: +2

Base Rifle Skill: 13
Modified Skill: 15

Kneeling and firing from partial cover.

Rifle Attack(15)

Rifle Damage

April 22

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

Malakai tucks himself behind a solid patch of rock and cactus. At the moment he can draw a solid bead on the scoundrel busy filling the river full of rocks. But knowing the blast is going to send up a big cloud of dirt and dust he doesn't worry about keeping tabs on the bandit for too long. Instead he reaches over to grab the plunger for the explosives. Getting the nod from his two partners he takes a deep breath and then pushes the handle down while ducking back behind the protection of the rocks.

April 16

Malakai will also go prone behind whatever cover is available prior to the explosion, then he'll start to aim and shoot as bandits emerge from the dust.

April 15

Great, I thought that was just for those creating new characters. Thanks.

April 15

@Cointhief I think I have to go with the Magic Mop just for RP and character purposes, even though the slippers might be a bit more practical and useful over the long haul. Did we actually get a share of the adamantine coffin sale? Or do we need to hawk our graduation pins to get some additional spending money. Yahs has to buy a tricorn hat. And KG is correct, I'd also like to purchase a grappling hook because I don't think we had one before and that just feels wrong. :)

April 12

Well....let's see...

The Class 1 Overachievers Cleansing and Disinfecting Mop: Faced with an ongoing personnel shortage Fleet Captain's were being forced to make a difficult choice. Either dedicate several crew members to keeping their ships in spic and span or reduce the cleaning detail and take the chance of gaining a potential black mark on their record during a surprise inspection by Command. Command certainly didn't want their captain's reprimanded unfairly, but with a recruiting drive on, they couldn't afford having any ship looking like some long haul garbage skow. Thus orders were passed along to Fleet R&D to develop something to make the cleaning crews more effective and efficient so others could be freed for other important duties. After numerous failures including one incident that resulted in the disappearance of Ensign Maynard G. Proctor. (His attempt to integrate millions of tiny transplanar portals to remove all forms of dirt and grime instantaneously was shelved when he accidentally erased himself from existence after slipping on a recently cleaned test surface.)

R&D still has three promising prototypes in development. The first of which has been approved by Fleet Command for an initial trial period. This is the Class 1 OCD Mop. Armed with the latest and strongest alchemical cleaning reagents, the OCD Mop removes stains of any type, from any surface quickly and with little to no scrubbing. Just a single swipe leaves metal surfaces gleaming like new, wood surfaces bright and polished. Even fabrics such as silk, canvas, leather, or hemp are quickly cleared of even the toughest blood or chocolate stain with one swipe of the OCD Mop.

Recognizing that one of the most efficient methods of dealing with tough stains is to eliminate the underlying cause of the stain, R&D added an expanded cleaning reservoir. Activating this reserve unleashes a highly toxic and potentially lethal blend of acidic reagents that will quickly vaporize flesh, blood, or other potentially stain or grime causing fluids and substances from any living being in a matter of moments. By blasting a potential Spiller of Coffee or unwelcome boarder with this reserve, R&D reports that post combat clean up will be reduced by 23%. However, use of this is quite limited due to the small size of the reservoir, so R&D recommends Fleet Personnel should be judicious when determining the biggest potential sanitation threat to their ship.

Researchers Note: It is often the case that the actual crew are the dirtiest aspects of any Fleet ship. Lack of proper bathing and laundry facilities being an ongoing issue. Trials using the OCD Mop to directly remove dirt and odor from living flesh were somewhat mixed. Most subjects walked away clean and with a pleasant pine fresh scent. However, some test subjects reported severe rashes that resulted in reddened skin, itchiness, and in rare instances, an outbreak of warts. Elves were especially susceptible to the condition. Most symptoms were gone within three to five standard days. R&D does not currently endorse the use of the Class 1 OCD Mop for this purpose, however, any additional data gathered by willing subjects will be appreciated.

Actual Game Stats: Acts as a constant Prestidigitation spell on anything the mop head touches. You can use an Attack action to generate a cone of acid up to 15'. Any within the cone must make a DEX save vs DC14 or take 2d6 acid damage. Half damage on a success. The mop cannot be used this way again until the bearer has completed a short or long rest. Outside of combat, if the mop is used on a living surface, the subject must make a CON Save vs DC14 or suffer from an unsightly, irritating rash for 1d4 days.

April 12

Sure thing. Slippers it is.

April 11

Malakai Wallace

ST: 11 | DX: 11 IQ: 10 | HT: 10 | Will: 11 | PER: 11 | Speed: 5.25 | Move: 5

HP: 11/11 | FP: 10/10 | Dodge: 8 | Parry: 9 (Brawling) / 8 (Knife) | Thr: 1d-1 | Sw: 1d+1

With the cold of early morning seeping into his bones, Malakai rustles himself up and begins to quietly gather his gear. He does his best to put aside any worry about whether he'll walk away from the next hours event or not. That was all in Fate's hands at this point. If he'd wanted to avoid all this he should've kept to his own business back at the train. Most folk would've just road away at the sound of gunfire. But runnin' from a fight, just wasn't in his blood. He didn't relish killing. Not after the war. Youthful blood lust had long since been drained from his soul onto the fields and hills of Georgia, Tennessee and Virginia.

But some men never lost that desire to bring pain and death into the world. Never tired of takin' from others. Davy and his bunch were those kind of men. And as far as Malakai was concerned nothing stops men like that except other men who were willin' to say a hard no usually with a bullet or length of rope. Today Malakai and his partners were the ones who were going to stand their ground against Davy or die tryin'.

After checking his rifle one last time, Malakai gathers his share of the dynamite from Mickey and sets out once again for the ridge over looking the bandit camp.

Stealth (10)

Demolitions (10)

April 10

Rolling HP for 5th level over here....

HP

Gain: Extra Attack, Stunning Strike

Adj: STR - 1 = 10 / CHA +1 = 10

Proposed Uncommon Magic Item: Winged Boots OR Slippers of Spider Climbing OR +1 Magic Mop

Text_1	Text_2	Text_3	Bold_1	Accent_1	Mood_1
Warm_1	Warm_2	Warm_3	Bold_2	Accent_2	Mood_2
Cool_1	Cool_2	Cool_3	Bold_3	Accent_3	Mood_3
Bright_1	Bright_2	Bright_3	Bold_4	Accent_4	Mood_4

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