|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 0/10 Clavo had been, for the most part, enjoying the voyage. Truth be told, he wasn't exactly looking forward to getting to Aqualantis, not with what people were saying about its current, insane state, but that was where he was needed in his role as an ersatz Lantern, so that was where he would go. He wondered idly if perhaps he was conning himself about this whole charade, the same thought he had asked himself daily since taking up with Mote, wearing the unearned mantle of Lantern and setting out into the world to do right. "Fraa," he muttered to himself, under his breath. Do right. It was a farce. He was a thief, a crook, a con-man. Or, as they said in Bagalish, a bunder, a tidy bit of thieve's vocabulary that encompassed the entire criminal experience. Wonderfully efficient and expressive, Bagalish thieve's cant was, which was most likely why it stuck with the man now called Padre Clavo for this long. He never tried to con himself that he was a hero, but the truth of the matter was that his life as a Lantern was a better one than his life as a bunder. People treated him with respect, welcomed him into their homes and towns. His words were always measurd and considered carefully, and thanked. He had learned the secrets of speaking with the lights and the secret alphabets that made them heed his instructions. And he had a reliable chivo to watch his back. There was a lot of peril, certainly, but it wasn't as if a bunder's life was one of roses and easy living. And so, he would continue. Down, down, down, into the black depths. To mad, ruined Aqualantis. He shivered and pulled some of his heavier robes around him, then threw the empty bottle over the gunwhale again with a brisk overhand toss. Mote zipped out and snatched it out of the air and retrieved it, dropping it back in Clavo's palm. He flipped the bottle over in his hand a few times, then, without warning, threw it again and his light flashed out to catch it before it hit the calm sea. It was good to give the light something to do- Mote had a habit of fooling around with loose objects when bored, and in close quarters, that could mean a mess. The bottle returned to his palm. Mote flashed about him, turning different colors. "What, what is it?" asked Clavo, as the light flashed and dimmed. "No, of course I didn't feel it," he said peevishly. "How would I feel it?" More flashing, and the light flew around, agitated. "Because I'm a fraa human, not a light! My senses are limited to the five I got!" Clavo shook his head and looked out into the sea where Mote was gesturing. Certainly, there were some dark clouds approaching but...wait, there was something resolving out of the fog, as if entering into our world... Clavo turned at the sight and yelled a warning, eyes wide. "G-g-ghost shiiiiip!!!!"   GET WARPED! Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 01:47 on Jan 22, 2016 |
#
¿
Jan 21, 2016 18:28
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ May 21, 2024 03:07 |
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 0/10 There was the temptation to stay still. As of yet, the dead hadn't seemed to notice him or the frightened knot of crewmen whoo huddled in the fog with him. Maybe the others would be able to take care of the dead? He scolded himself mentally. That was bunder talk. A bunder hides. A Lantern shines. "Mote! Blades!" Clavo roared as be stood tall. In an instant, his hand was filled with a score of longswords made of the sun itself. With a cast that echoed the bottle he had been throwing, the swords spun through the air and slammed into the dead minions that suddenly took note of the Lantern. Volley: 2d6+2 7, reducing Piercing 2 to Piercing 1 Damage: 1d6 2 ok seriously, I think orokos just spits out a 2 every time I roll damage. "Come on, you lot!" he shouted, trying to rally the men with him. "Are you going to be unmanned by a bunch of bony wimps?" Reveal the Way: 2d6+2 7 On a 7-9, they aren't sure it's something they want to do, but you have their ear now - you gain leverage over them.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 23, 2016 18:01
|
|
|
 Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 "Unbelievable!" hissed Clavo at Mote as the sunswords clattered to the deck, but his peevish expression broke as one of wonder came over his face when the assembled sailors and seas scum armed theirselves and rallied at his command. Fraa, he thought to himself. We're doing this! "Cut them to pieces!" he ordered in a manner he was pretty sure was not particularly Lanternly. Now to make sure that the men didn't get cut to pieces themselves. Muttering to the spirits of ambient light (less sophisticated beings than Mote or any other Lantern's light, but still chatty), he tried to gather some sunlight to push against the ghostly devils...but he got the nagging feeling that something was lost in translation. Bend Light: 2d6+2 6  On a 6-, the light is sick of being bossed around - the GM chooses one from the list and uses it against you! • You command the light to attack – temporarily blind or stun a group within Near range. • You calm the light until it stays still - create a wall of light that blocks off one passageway. • You praise the light until it draws close - fill an area with light. • You terrify the light until it flees - shroud an area in darkness.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 25, 2016 02:38
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 It was all going fraa. Despite his entreaties, the light was fleeing from the undead onslaught, and the men who had a moment ago rallied were now falling like wheat. Clavo wiped sweat from his brow, his heart triphammering with fear. He could always run away, sure. But he was on a boat, and what was going on in other parts of the ship was equally terrifying. No, he was going to have to fix this situation. Mentally taking off the kid gloves, he screamed at the light to honor the oaths it had made to him and the Lanterns from time immemorial. Bend Light: 2d6+2 7 • You praise the light until it draws close - fill an area with light. The light flooded back around him and the men, and their hearts were bouyed, but he could feel the light's own fickle heart (such as it was) still full of fear. It could flee at any moment.
|
|
#
¿
Jan 29, 2016 21:52
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 Clavo caught himself mid motion and froze as that duk man crushed the crewman's throat. "Jamhro!" he shouted at the metal thing as he crouched by the shattered man, who was gawping and gasping from his ruined neck like a fish that had been pulled to the deck by a hook. Directly translated, it meant "collaborator", or "snitch." Colloquially, it was used to mean "rear end in a top hat". Normally, when people died, well, it was sad and all, but that was what happened, especially in the bandratta, the thieve's life. Even after becoming a Lantern, Clavo could easily hide his feelings in those old bandratta customs, harden his heart when it was needful. Besides, the bard was trying to work some charms, and then the killer attempted some kind of battelfield surgery. But this man had been fighting for him. Clavo had put the sword in the man's hand and turned him loose into battle. It was bad enough that someone had fought for him, Clavo wasn't going to let someone die, or at the very least, be maimed for him if he could help it. Healing Light: 2d6+2 7 Healing: 1d8 4 hp Whispering urgently, he reached out without looking and plucked a thread of sunlight, just the tiniest wisp, feeling it wriggle curiously between his fingers as he deftly wove it into the man's wound. The sunlight was unfamiliar with the current arrangement of the gasping man's organs and, disapproving of this new and bizarre configuration, pushed things to rights, clearing his airway and knitting together torn blood vessels. Clavo let out a breath and smiled. Normally, when people died, well, it was sad and all, but that was what happened. But not this time. He got up and wiped his hands on his robes, then looked at the gawping men. "Uh. Get back to it," he suggested, then stepped belowdecks to find the rest of the undead scourge. Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 02:26 on Feb 2, 2016 |
|
#
¿
Feb 2, 2016 02:11
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 2/10 There were ghosts to kill, sure, but there were the living to save as well. Lest they become ghosts themselves. Clavo began to make his way among the survivors, stitching sunlight into the wounds while he could. Healing Light: 2d6+2 6 On a 6-, the sunlight is uncooperative - they take -1 forward from the searing pain Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 19:07 on Feb 5, 2016 |
|
#
¿
Feb 5, 2016 17:01
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 This sickbay was going from bad to worse, it appeared. He tended to the wounded as best he could, but he wondered if perhaps there just wasn't enough sunlight to go around, if he was running low on light himself with which to help the sailors. The sailors who, at the moment, were getting pretty uppity about the cooking they'd had to put up with on this journey. Clavo winced as Thrash clocked first mate, which set off another's keening and shrieking. It was going from bad to worse, and that was before the ghost ship's prow began to push through the wall, frost blooming around it as its herald. Fraa! Bend Light: 2d6+2 8 • You calm the light until it stays still - create a wall of light that blocks off one passageway. On a 7-9, it works, but the light is fickle and the effect will not last long - you'll need to hurry to take advantage of it. Without thinking, he began sweet-talking the light, praising it for its utility, its warmth and its kindness, old con-man instincts coming back. It gathered around him and he threw out his arms, knitting the light into a solid mystical barrier and throwing it onto the wall, blocking the ghost ships's prow, giving it something that it couldn't push through. Reveal the Way: 2d6+2 10 When you show a non-hostile NPC their best course of action, roll +CHA. On a 10+, they will take that course of action, although they will take it in the way that benefits them most. "You men!" he barked, sweating as he held the barrier of light that kept the ship at bay from the bay. "Gather the wounded, get them out of here! Orderly, you hear me? Not a man gets left behind!" "Mr. Thrash!" he shouted to the cook desperately, "this fraa phantom is still coming, even without a crew! It's hungry! It's hungry and you're a cook! What can you feed it?"
|
|
#
¿
Feb 15, 2016 14:19
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 "What? No!" shouted Clavo to Thrash as he strained to keep the light together. Already he could see the light's interest wane, his barrier flexing under the pressure of the ghost ship's onslaught. It was at that moment that 01 that jamhro came rocketing past, shattering the barrier and bursting through the ship. "OH WELL THAT'S JUST GREAT!" he yelled, exasperated, exhausted. "JUST SUPER, THANKS JAMHRO DUK MAN!" Shaking his fists in the air with frustration, he followed the duk man into the ghost ship, perhaps unwisely, but he was too angry to care "YES LET'S ALL JUST GO ONTO THE GHOST SHIP! SURELY THAT WILL GO WELL!" he shouted, to no one in particular. No one was particularly certain if Lanterns threw tantrums, but if not, what this was the uncomfortable beginnings of was anyone's guess.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 18, 2016 14:39
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 "You want to see what that is, chivo?" Clavo asked, looking into the calabash at his hip. The light inside blinked and flashed, and Clavo nodded sagely. "Yeah, me neither. Best we stick together. But you got to come out, we might got to burn some holes in whatever's coming around." Clavo stepped carefully over tools and whatnots until he could get a clear shot at whatever was in the storeroom, but while still keeping some space (and the duk man) between them. "Mote," he whispered, holding out one hand. "Blades." Arrows of Light: 2d6+2 13 Damage: 1d4 1 Hurling blades of light at whatever's in the storeroom, provided of course it's not just some jamoke crewman hiding or something.
|
|
#
¿
Feb 26, 2016 01:12
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 6/10 "Fraa!" The dead man was going to eat the chef. An amusing inversion, to be sure. And it wasn't as if the loss of the...ingenious...orc would make any negative impact on the food served on the ship, but he was brave, and that was reason enough for him to live. "Cutter, chivo," he called, and Mote formed a sunblade of greater puissance than the ones that Clavo had been tossing about. This blade wasn't a beam of sunlight to be cast at an enemy. This was the sun itself gripped in his fist, burning and roaring with the barely withheld force of his and Mote's wills, bound together like the hydrogen and helium of the solar reaction he arrogantly used like a sword. Activating the Twilight Blade He cast one hand out imperiously, this time commanding the light, lacking the time to flatter it as he should, instead browbeating it with the urgency of the situation and his station a Lantern. You swore allegiance to my people, he reminded it. Stand between us and the dead. Bend Light: 2d6+2 6 It wasn't the right tack to take. The light rebelled, and in its fury Mote dissolved back into a his normal form, whizzing about and flashing with surprise. Clavo found himself with an empty hand and some light angry with him. "Fraa, fraa, fraa!" Defy Danger +DEX: 2d6 9 edit: You're totally right, I've edited my post to reflect that. Also looked over my roll history to check how many XP I should have and man, Clavo is not good at talking to the light. Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 23:56 on Mar 2, 2016 |
|
#
¿
Mar 2, 2016 20:18
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 If you wear big pants, don't be surprised when you trip, was the saying that rattled through Clavo's mind as the energy spilled out of his control. With the last of his will, he directed the flare towards one of the zombie crewmen that didn't appear to be standing near anything too dangerous, hoping that the dead body would soak up some of the energy. Then, everything was white. Damage: 1d4 2
|
|
#
¿
Mar 7, 2016 03:03
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 1/10 Clavo scrubbed furiously at his eyes with the heels of his hands, teeth grinding together furiously. Blinking erratically, he squinted around him as the chaos of the engine room continued. "Mote! Mote, where are you chivo?" he called. Looking up, he saw his accomplice floating lazily, perhaps more stunned than Clavo himself was. Clavo clucked his tongue and held up the calabash. It had been years since it had held any liquor, but he fancied that he could still smell it, just a hint. Painstakingly, Mote drifted down and rested in the gourd, and Clavo replaced it on his hip. Well. He could barely see or hear, and his magic weapon friend was out of sorts. Next best thing then. He shook his head vigorously and tried to fight down the disorientation. Defy Danger +WIS (to shake off the stun): 2d6+1 6 FFS
|
|
#
¿
Mar 10, 2016 18:02
|
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 7/10 "Thanks chivo, but that's not how this Lantern thing works," said Clavo. "Unfortunately," he added ruefully. That's good, he thought, the fear somehow kept at a remove that he attributed to shock and the blurry state he was in after Mote's blast. Kind of thing a real Lantern would say. "You want to help me, help me get those deader off those two." He snatched up a wrench from the deck and swung it wildly at the arm holding the gunwoman. At least this one doesn't have any teeth, he thought absently. I'm trying to break the zombo's grip, but I don't know if that would be considered to be in combat, so DD+STR I guess? If it's H&S, just take the roll to mean that. Defy Danger +STR: 2d6-1 9 Vulpes Vulpes fucked around with this message at 02:56 on Mar 17, 2016 |
|
#
¿
Mar 17, 2016 01:03
|
|
|
|
| # ¿ May 21, 2024 03:07 |
|
|
Padre Clavo Damage: 1d6 | Armour: 1 | HP: 17/17 | XP: 7/10 The danger apparently past for the moment, Clavo let out a breath and peeked and eye into the gourd at his hip. "How you doing in there, chivo?" Mote flashed wearily, and Clavo let him be. He had enough sick and wounded to care for that Mote could take a break. Healing Light: 2d6+2 7 Healing: 1d8 8 So maybe spread that around all the NPCs who need healing?
|
|
#
¿
Mar 19, 2016 12:54
|
|