Degarren, Male Human FavSoul8:
CR
8;
Medium Humanoid ;
HD
8d8+16(Favored Soul)
;
hp
72;
Init +2;
Spd 20; AC:22 (Flatfooted:20 Touch:16); Atk +10/5 base melee, +8/3 base ranged; +13/8 (1d8+6,
Morningstar); +10/5 (1d4+4,
Dagger); +10/5 (1d3+4,
Unarmed strike); +13/8 (1d8+8,
Morningstar);
AL
CE;
SV Fort +8, Ref +8, Will +10; STR 18, DEX 14, CON 14, INT 12, WIS 18, CHA 17.
Skills: Concentration +13, Jump +6, Sense Motive +15, Spellcraft +12.
Feats: Armor Proficiency: light, Armor Proficiency: medium, Combat Casting, Combat Reflexes, Improved Overrun, Power Attack, Shield Proficiency, Simple Weapon Proficiency, Weapon Focus: Morningstar.
Spells Known (FavSoul 6/7/7/6/3): 1st -- Bane, Cause Fear, Inflict Light Wounds, Obscuring Mist, Protection from Good, Summon Monster I; 2nd -- Bull`s Strength, Darkness, Death Knell, Hold Person, Inflict Moderate Wounds; 3rd -- Animate Dead, Bestow Curse, Glyph of Warding, Inflict Serious Wounds; 4th -- Inflict Critical Wounds, Poison, Summon Monster IV.
Possessions:
Weapons: Morningstar (8,308 gp); Dagger (2 gp).
Armor: +1 Breastplate (1,350 gp).
Goods: Coin: gp .
Magic:
Saturday, May 7, 2011
The Black Heart
Thrice woke with a start his hand darting to his dagger while the other thumbs the stopper of an invisibility potion. He did not rise but his eyes worked around, taking in his surroundings. The flaps of his sailcloth shelter flapped in a summer evening breeze, a welcome respite from the obtrusive heat out on these plains. Nothing seemed amiss, yet something woke him. Trusting in his preternatural instincts Thrice prepared for action. Like a coiled spring muscles tightened, breaths became steady and measured, his senses sharpened and his mind began calculating tactics for a hundred different scenarios.
He knew himself to be in danger, ever since he joined this group of ravagers, it was always the case not just this night. At all hours, day and night, their torturous and murderous activities continued. Waxing and waning with their seemingly collective mood. Rising at times to such a crescendo that Thrice feared they would bring justice down on them from Del Ron. Thrice had many occasions to take life and had very few scruples when doing so but the actions of this group nauseated him.
This time it was different, the hoof beats told him that a horse was speeding away and then in a flurry of dust and cloth the tent ripped away from the ground. Thrice bolted to his feet in time to see a horseman charging away with his tent in tow. As Thrice stared after the man his stomach lurched into his throat as he, all of the sudden, felt very vulnerable. He began to raise the potion vial to his lips.
Something reached out to Thrice, grabbed him and tried to hold him fast. Thrice has had many spells cast upon him but with this one Thrice felt his will falter and his feet take root, he was held. In a moment, twenty snarling Gnoll faces and no fewer than ten human ones were sneering at him.
"You've done well!" a sardonic voice from the darkness pronounced.
"It normally takes me moments to pick out a usurper, but with you my fellow, it took some very powerful divination" A large man, wearing black armor covered by a surcoat prominently displaying the symbol Erythnul speaks as he forces his way through the throng.
"You are either very skilled or very lucky, or both. Either way, both have run out. Your misstep was at Glen Falls yesterday, Seren witnessed some very unravager like behavior from you. You came face to face with the enemy and did nothing." he paced before Thrice as he spoke.
Thrice struggled to steel his will against this opposing force but whatever magics held him were unrelenting. This man must be Degarren, Thrice had heard Seren speak of him many times. Thrice was finally face to face with the mastermind. What Degarren had in mind for him Thrice could only guess, but whatever it was wasn't going to be good and he was powerless to stop him.
Degarren turned to Seren, "Put his weapons on my horse, they will make a unique addition to my alter, his heart will adorn the top of it. The one there now is nearly spent, his should last longer."
Seren spun immediately signalling two other ravagers to join him and they marched out of Thrice's periphery. Sneering Degarren turned his gaze back to Thrice. Thrice never saw the dagger, but felt its bite clear enough, could he have screamed he would have. Brilliant flashes of pain induced light flashed before his eyes as he witnessed Degarren's forehead glisten with sweat from the effort of the grisly task. Thrice could feel Degarren's hoof like fist routing inside of his ruined chest. Lightning surged throughout Thrice's entire body as Degarren found his mark. With a wet sucking sound Degarren tore is arm from Thrice's body and held aloft his prize.
Thrice's rapidly failing vision spied his still beating heart as Degarren leaned in very near, "Soon Morga's heart will replace your own and Durindana will..."
Thrice never heard the end of the sentence.
He knew himself to be in danger, ever since he joined this group of ravagers, it was always the case not just this night. At all hours, day and night, their torturous and murderous activities continued. Waxing and waning with their seemingly collective mood. Rising at times to such a crescendo that Thrice feared they would bring justice down on them from Del Ron. Thrice had many occasions to take life and had very few scruples when doing so but the actions of this group nauseated him.
This time it was different, the hoof beats told him that a horse was speeding away and then in a flurry of dust and cloth the tent ripped away from the ground. Thrice bolted to his feet in time to see a horseman charging away with his tent in tow. As Thrice stared after the man his stomach lurched into his throat as he, all of the sudden, felt very vulnerable. He began to raise the potion vial to his lips.
Something reached out to Thrice, grabbed him and tried to hold him fast. Thrice has had many spells cast upon him but with this one Thrice felt his will falter and his feet take root, he was held. In a moment, twenty snarling Gnoll faces and no fewer than ten human ones were sneering at him.
"You've done well!" a sardonic voice from the darkness pronounced.
"It normally takes me moments to pick out a usurper, but with you my fellow, it took some very powerful divination" A large man, wearing black armor covered by a surcoat prominently displaying the symbol Erythnul speaks as he forces his way through the throng.
"You are either very skilled or very lucky, or both. Either way, both have run out. Your misstep was at Glen Falls yesterday, Seren witnessed some very unravager like behavior from you. You came face to face with the enemy and did nothing." he paced before Thrice as he spoke.
Thrice struggled to steel his will against this opposing force but whatever magics held him were unrelenting. This man must be Degarren, Thrice had heard Seren speak of him many times. Thrice was finally face to face with the mastermind. What Degarren had in mind for him Thrice could only guess, but whatever it was wasn't going to be good and he was powerless to stop him.
Degarren turned to Seren, "Put his weapons on my horse, they will make a unique addition to my alter, his heart will adorn the top of it. The one there now is nearly spent, his should last longer."
Seren spun immediately signalling two other ravagers to join him and they marched out of Thrice's periphery. Sneering Degarren turned his gaze back to Thrice. Thrice never saw the dagger, but felt its bite clear enough, could he have screamed he would have. Brilliant flashes of pain induced light flashed before his eyes as he witnessed Degarren's forehead glisten with sweat from the effort of the grisly task. Thrice could feel Degarren's hoof like fist routing inside of his ruined chest. Lightning surged throughout Thrice's entire body as Degarren found his mark. With a wet sucking sound Degarren tore is arm from Thrice's body and held aloft his prize.
Thrice's rapidly failing vision spied his still beating heart as Degarren leaned in very near, "Soon Morga's heart will replace your own and Durindana will..."
Thrice never heard the end of the sentence.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Skill or Feat?
I have been asked to post Degarren's character sheet on the chronicles, I will do so following the game today. I will also be posting an update of last weeks game including perhaps a pre-hack and slash monologue from the favored soul himself...not sure, I'm still toying with the idea.
One thing tho that I would like player input on however is something that has come up a number of times. Perception of power. Like was said in the 13th warrior, deception is the point, any fool can calculate strength. How would one know if a challenge is above you. How would you like to walk up to Royce (pronounced Hoice) Gracie standing at a diminutive 170 pounds and pick a fight. For those that don't know he's a multiple ultimate fighter champion. One bad dude. However he looks as though he'd be a push over. I have toyed around with the idea of augmenting Survival in someway or creating a totally new skill however the logistics would be challenging, such as new players not being privy to the same info etc. I've also considered a feat but quickly tossed that idea as there was too much stick not enough carrot i.e. it would be too costly a thing without much payoff. I am leaning toward the survival idea. I've also just considered making it a spot check by adding BAB or caster level. The idea is that fighters would be far better at gauging the strength of other fighters than spell casters and vice versa. The DC's would be similar to this:
DC 15-Is the foe injured, full strength, hindered, or aided in any way.
DC 20-Strength relative to your own e.g. undefeatable or insignificant.
This is not to say Bluff,Disguise, or any other form of deception
is not at work.
DC 25-To what degree is the foe injured or aided,
e.g. how close to defeat or death.
DC 30-Is the foe altering their outward appearance of power.
i.e. trying to appear weaker or stronger than they are.
DC 35-You can see precisely what kind of challenge or lack there of the
opponent is.
As you can see many of these DC's overlap with other skills like disguising your apparent power. A Sense Motive could sniff this out as well.
That being said I'm also considering handling this on an ad hoc basis with every situation being different. Ideas or input?
One thing tho that I would like player input on however is something that has come up a number of times. Perception of power. Like was said in the 13th warrior, deception is the point, any fool can calculate strength. How would one know if a challenge is above you. How would you like to walk up to Royce (pronounced Hoice) Gracie standing at a diminutive 170 pounds and pick a fight. For those that don't know he's a multiple ultimate fighter champion. One bad dude. However he looks as though he'd be a push over. I have toyed around with the idea of augmenting Survival in someway or creating a totally new skill however the logistics would be challenging, such as new players not being privy to the same info etc. I've also considered a feat but quickly tossed that idea as there was too much stick not enough carrot i.e. it would be too costly a thing without much payoff. I am leaning toward the survival idea. I've also just considered making it a spot check by adding BAB or caster level. The idea is that fighters would be far better at gauging the strength of other fighters than spell casters and vice versa. The DC's would be similar to this:
DC 15-Is the foe injured, full strength, hindered, or aided in any way.
DC 20-Strength relative to your own e.g. undefeatable or insignificant.
This is not to say Bluff,Disguise, or any other form of deception
is not at work.
DC 25-To what degree is the foe injured or aided,
e.g. how close to defeat or death.
DC 30-Is the foe altering their outward appearance of power.
i.e. trying to appear weaker or stronger than they are.
DC 35-You can see precisely what kind of challenge or lack there of the
opponent is.
As you can see many of these DC's overlap with other skills like disguising your apparent power. A Sense Motive could sniff this out as well.
That being said I'm also considering handling this on an ad hoc basis with every situation being different. Ideas or input?
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Redux...again!
I am currently striving to breathe some life back into the campaign. There have been many changes on my end of the game so I beg your forgiveness and offer thanks for your patience and understanding. A new job, a quickly expanding family, my wife's school and my addiction to hunting have left little time for prep and OUR gaming sessions have suffered for it. I will try to do better and try to get some more dice on the table and bad guys in your faces. There will be some changes, you may have already noticed some, like the continuing voyage to Del Ron. You have covered a great many days in just few minutes of game time. Before it would have taken us a year to get there. Also you will notice, hopefully, the absence of mundane and redundant role playing. Such as whole shopping days, if I have my way those will be a thing of the past. I am certainly open to any and all suggestions, after all this is your game too. We dedicate a great deal of time and resources to playing D&D and I want it to be worth the cost. So please let me know what you guys want, need, or would like to see. Again, bear with me some of these changes will be hard won, as I can be a bit stubborn. Thanks, good luck, and as always play your sheet, I will try to do the same.
Another slain...eh purified.
A flash of blue, red, yellow and white assault the almond eyes of the elf. The visage of the vrock still emblazoned on his reflexes, he sees the blast too late. The insufferable heat washes over his form. He hears the bowstring of the Eagle Cry snap. The crackle of his torso tells him that the Dark Leaf armor has turned to cinder. The smell...ghastly.
The pick delicately and deftly slides from the too complex lock.
"That was too easy!" he thinks to himself.
The sound of revelry and merriment can be heard on the other side of the heavy iron door. The barrier slides effortlessly open without a sound of complaint. The chamber is enormous. Bathed in tapestries of rich reds and yellows, pillows of every description, it wreaks of opulence and comfort. Revelers in various forms of undress laugh, sing and drink. Melodic and dulcet tones rain on them from a lute, played under the expert and tender ministrations of an olive skinned man. Brown of hair, dressed in silks and satins, the man's eyes fall on the newcomer at door.
"Enter, I bid you welcome, traveler. Your journey, tho swift, was a hard one. Please take comfort, drink and nourishment."
For the first time, Thalinor, since picking the lock becomes aware of his attire. He is now barefoot in billowing silk breeches and flowing robe. Moments ago he was dressed in flame blasted armor.
The platinum trays of foods, many of them so exotic that Thalinor had never heard of there kind, were ceaseless. The wines and spirits a torrent with nary a drop wasted. The wenches, beauty enough to drive nymph or succubus to tears of jealousy.
"Ha Ha, laugh my friend, the great game has ended and the tables have turned on the table turner. The stealthy has been caught, and the laugh is on the prankster." the brown haired man laughed as he spoke.
Silently taking in the man's words, Thalinor wondered how it was he came to be in this place of delightful debauchery and vice. Then a moment of remembrance, an epiphany overtook the rogue.
"The blasted spell slinging sorcerer!" Thalinor's laughter elicited spontaneous and infectious giggles from all in attendance. "He lit me up like a Richfest festival in Vunderbilt." Thalinor thought.
The man's voice was a thousand bells, his music was a thousand times as many. Those around him, the men slinging jokes, laughter, and song, the women smiling, caressing, and undulating in the lush sheets all bearing rosy cheeks and permanent grins.
"This is forever, my friend, you have arrived. I am, as you may have guessed, Olidammara. Your patron, your host and your servant. This is Ysgard. As you will see, it is anything I want it to be. There is no room for misery here, no temperance, and certainly no chaste." a wide grin formed on his rakish face as he spoke.
The music was intoxicating, the food delicious, the women soft, the wine was indescribable and plentiful, as Thalinor fell to the lush pillows atop the deep carpet he again thought to himself, "It would be a strong force indeed to wrest me from this place."
The pick delicately and deftly slides from the too complex lock.
"That was too easy!" he thinks to himself.
The sound of revelry and merriment can be heard on the other side of the heavy iron door. The barrier slides effortlessly open without a sound of complaint. The chamber is enormous. Bathed in tapestries of rich reds and yellows, pillows of every description, it wreaks of opulence and comfort. Revelers in various forms of undress laugh, sing and drink. Melodic and dulcet tones rain on them from a lute, played under the expert and tender ministrations of an olive skinned man. Brown of hair, dressed in silks and satins, the man's eyes fall on the newcomer at door.
"Enter, I bid you welcome, traveler. Your journey, tho swift, was a hard one. Please take comfort, drink and nourishment."
For the first time, Thalinor, since picking the lock becomes aware of his attire. He is now barefoot in billowing silk breeches and flowing robe. Moments ago he was dressed in flame blasted armor.
The platinum trays of foods, many of them so exotic that Thalinor had never heard of there kind, were ceaseless. The wines and spirits a torrent with nary a drop wasted. The wenches, beauty enough to drive nymph or succubus to tears of jealousy.
"Ha Ha, laugh my friend, the great game has ended and the tables have turned on the table turner. The stealthy has been caught, and the laugh is on the prankster." the brown haired man laughed as he spoke.
Silently taking in the man's words, Thalinor wondered how it was he came to be in this place of delightful debauchery and vice. Then a moment of remembrance, an epiphany overtook the rogue.
"The blasted spell slinging sorcerer!" Thalinor's laughter elicited spontaneous and infectious giggles from all in attendance. "He lit me up like a Richfest festival in Vunderbilt." Thalinor thought.
The man's voice was a thousand bells, his music was a thousand times as many. Those around him, the men slinging jokes, laughter, and song, the women smiling, caressing, and undulating in the lush sheets all bearing rosy cheeks and permanent grins.
"This is forever, my friend, you have arrived. I am, as you may have guessed, Olidammara. Your patron, your host and your servant. This is Ysgard. As you will see, it is anything I want it to be. There is no room for misery here, no temperance, and certainly no chaste." a wide grin formed on his rakish face as he spoke.
The music was intoxicating, the food delicious, the women soft, the wine was indescribable and plentiful, as Thalinor fell to the lush pillows atop the deep carpet he again thought to himself, "It would be a strong force indeed to wrest me from this place."
Saturday, December 18, 2010
Del Ron
On the shores of Larthyn Lake, lies Del Ron. The fifth largest city on the continent of Straag. The city is home to craftsman, fishermen, loggers, and timber men. With trade, excellent natural resources, and a strategically important location, Del Ron is considered vital to the strength of the larger cities of Straag.
4012 people call Del Ron home, and nearly half of them are woodcutters, wainwrights, or wood craftsmen. Despite frequent but minor clashes with the forest elves, the city is highly involved in conservation efforts to make sure that the forest is around for many generations to come.
Del Ron also sits in the shadow of the Chimera Mountains and more importantly the mountain fortress of the march lord, Marquis Gran Cadoc. As one would expect, Del Ron is not without its defenses. Defenses that have been tested of late. With a sudden outbreak of undead and their ilk rising to wreak havoc on the citizenry, the Baron has recently traveled to Straagor to plead his case for aid.
4012 people call Del Ron home, and nearly half of them are woodcutters, wainwrights, or wood craftsmen. Despite frequent but minor clashes with the forest elves, the city is highly involved in conservation efforts to make sure that the forest is around for many generations to come.
Del Ron also sits in the shadow of the Chimera Mountains and more importantly the mountain fortress of the march lord, Marquis Gran Cadoc. As one would expect, Del Ron is not without its defenses. Defenses that have been tested of late. With a sudden outbreak of undead and their ilk rising to wreak havoc on the citizenry, the Baron has recently traveled to Straagor to plead his case for aid.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Previously on Straagor nights.
As we can see Queg had quite the experience, he is now firmly back on the material plane. Through no small expense of his companions including quite a discount from the priests of Pelor, he has rejoined the group and is anxious for action.
The companions make ready to face D'gru uth Dunne. The hunter becoming the hunted. The only question is on whos terms will this battle be on.
The companions make ready to face D'gru uth Dunne. The hunter becoming the hunted. The only question is on whos terms will this battle be on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)