[Gaming] D&D Jay's Game - She's Dead Jim

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Yes: 2, No: 0, Undecided: 3

Anyway, some Tyrdin stuff:

"I tried so hard, and I got so far, but in the end, it didn't really matter."




Okay, the real Tyrdin stuff:

Tyrdin didn't watch Rathkor fall in the hole. Part of him regretted it, and part of him regretted doing it at all. He'd felt a touch of Rathkor's emotions as he burrowed into the dragonborn's mind, finding the places of suggestion that would move his legs and arms, shoving him to believing there was a non-existent enemy to attack, and dropping him in a pit. Only Rathkor would know he'd done it, and only Tyrdin knew those feelings on the outside--guilt. Some sickness, maybe. He hadn't wanted to do it, but he felt he had no choice.

Worst, Tyrdin could sympathize, to some extent. He'd been there, in a place where he had to do the hard thing that seemed like the right thing, only it wasn't always the case.

Mother didn't deserve that, he thought, walking the quiet stretch of hallway. None of it. I don't know what her affair with the tiefling involved, but it was likely just a moment. She didn't deserve my father--Lord Non's abuse. Tyrdin gritted his teeth. The pained cries and Samia's wailing flooded through his mind, like a wave rising from his memory, and tears formed in his eyes. She didn't deserve him. She shouldn't have been burdened with me. I should've had my head cut off back home, not run away. Or I should've sent her home to Samia. Now I've killed both her parents. She gave up everything to help me. His fist tightened as she shambled up the steps where the enormous undead monster had been killed in the room of symbols.

"That was pretty fucking stupid, mother," Tyrdin growled. "Didn't you know what am I? Of course you did. You knew my father, the real one. I'm not that important." A shadow caught his eye and he looked, almost seeing the acid-burned splotches of Lady Milla's head scattering over the floor. He realized some of her blood had spotted his pants and he grimaced. "Never should've been here. It's your own fucking fault!" His voice echoed through the chambers. He didn't know or care if the others heard him or if they were even following. He didn't know if Rathkor was dead or alive. I can't do this.

He passed the remainder of the catacombs, following the trail of blood that had probably been his mother's, and then through the snow-swept cemetery, back past the darkened town, toward his home. She hurt. A lot. He placed his hands on the small house's front door, hanging off the frame, and fitted it into place as he moved inside. "There. That's something I could fix." He smiled slightly. "I can control some things." He extinguished his Everburning Torch and tossed it carelessly to the side of the door, stumbling through the house, his knees weakening as he reached his room and collapsed on the bed.

"Now what?" Tyrdin buried his face against the mattress, refusing to cry anymore. "What else is there?"
 
That's the majority; we're on for this week. Woo!

Recording: Session 13, The Bottom of Dougan's Hole

Again, on the robe: I'm looking at that Daily power and it's not very good. It's the ability mod, +1 for the Robe's power, not even including half your level. I'm pretty sure any of most of our magic attacks can do better than that. I don't think the Radiant attack is relevant.
 
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rathkor

I dunno, this is jay were talking about. he likes to throw in items with something specific in mind. plus, i can think of some out of combat use for that ability. heck, i can think of a way we could have used it in that last combat. the ability does have its uses.
 
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rathkor

Damage isn't always what is needed. as i said, i can think of a few ways to use that power. 3 specifically: 1) if jay decides to throw in another one of those fights that end in a chase, we could daze him to limit his escape options. 2) we ever need to run from a particularly strong boss (like last night) we can daze him and run. 3) we get falagar to do something stupid, he fails and alerts someone (like with Bubbles), we daze the person and run. thats 3 uses off the top of my head, and there may be more to pop up. you souldnt dismiss something just because it does no damage.
 
Little white-blond tresses of hair sweep over the butcher’s altar, as a little waif of a little girl crawls on hands and knees, sing-songing in no particular language. Puffs of dust and air rise around her, light particles taking flight like sparks from a sputtering fire, scattering all around her dirty form and taking root in the blood-encrusted stone. Seeds of light blossom into plumes of light, brightening the deep, dank reds and browns of the entrails, rotted flesh, and thick, viscous blood soaking and crusting every inch of her used-to-be white peasants’ dress.

Sylvaria’s head tilts up momentarily to turn a corner, a bit of gray matter swinging in her eyes from her hair, Sune’s sweetly perfumed essence seeping through her large, round, ruby-amber eyes encompassing the selfish brutality of the lower creatures carried out for vain reasons only the gods knew now. Body parts rent into lunch meat, souls grated into a sort of puree of what used to be something that loved, lived, and died. And here crawls a little girl, saturated in a paste made of body tissue and mud, still somehow trying to pick up the pieces of the rent dead and heal the air.

“Devil man’s mommy is dead. Devil man’s eyes are leaking. Devil man isn’t a devil.” Invisible hands scoop up the girl, in a manner that could almost be called lovingly if such a thing were possible, and she arches her back and slides back down onto her feet.

“Not done yet. I want soup too. Maybe a kitty didn’t finish her milk somewhere. Maybe someone doesn’t mind no money. Maybe someone doesn’t mind hungry…” Her feet are cold against the stone and she looks back to the others, healing one another, bringing one another back from the brink of death. Her eyes lift to look at the short, gritty woman in pain. Chests are thrown open, prayers are said, breath is chased and caught. Then light. Sparkling, pure, sweet, bright, clean light. Like a strong wind on desert grounds, Sylvaria’s small, fleshy feet pad to the promise of being warm and not a left over zombie meal.

Tug.

Tug tug tug tug tug.

“What the…?! Get off!” growled the towering dragonborn, clutching a richly jeweled dagger and a small, girl-sized robe shining in every color the rainbow had to offer and then some.

Tug. Tug. Tug.

“I said… Get OFF!” the dragonborn booms, Sylvaria’s eyes growing even larger. Pricks of salty water stab and stick in her eyes, her face falling and her small pink lips, cracked from cold and wind, quivering of their own accord.

“Cold. Nothing else. Need to see in the no sunshine. Cold cold cold.” The tears all agree to have a friendly chat together at the tips of her eyelashes, then go skydiving down her greyed cheeks. The dragonborn quickly stashes his dagger in his clothes’ pocket and yanks hard, but another set of hands yank back on either side of Sylvaria. Her exhaustion and fright and freezing body can’t take it anymore and she lets out a sad, mewling cry and shivers uncontrollably.

Tug tug tug. Sniffle. Tug tug. Shiver. Tug.

“…no other clothes. No money. No blanket. Cold…”

Hiccup! Tug. Hiccup! Tug, tug, tug…

Helga’s eyes lock on the scene.
 
Helga's eventual shopping list:

- climber's kit (2g)
- thieves tools (20g)
- a yeti fur cloak for Sylvaria (5g)
- +1 Avalanche Craghammer (840g) ..... someday.

As far as RP, I have a couple moments planned, but I can't really do them effectively out of game. You're just gonna have to WAIT.
 
Remember folks, play nice. If you cannot agree on the loot, you'll roll on it next game at the start of the session. Some players have received jack squat from the start of the campaign. (No fault of mine of course, failing at getting treasure caches an' all). Daily on items don't mean much when you'll use it once every 2 months or so.

I assume there's a game this week. A lot of interesting things will happen. You have survived your first real dungeon crawl, impressive. I'm waiting on your journal entries and even if you receive one piece of new gear, I mandatory want your character sheet. If not, my rolls will be against your old defenses and I won't acknowledge your items. :)

Nice piece of RP from Tyrdin and Sylvaria. Very nice.
 

doomdragon6

Staff member
Very subtle, Julie. ;) "Child-sized robe"

I have some things I have to do, but I'll try to get journal entry up within a day or so.
 
So, I assume the Brooch is now Sylvaria's?

I'd like by Wednesday night everyone sending me their updated character sheet. I'm in the process of setting up the next part of the campaign and it's important that I got all the info I need, you want loot? Right? :)

Someone should also prepare a full list on who's got what (including sellable items) and player's gold totals so that I can validate on my end.
 
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rathkor

Rathkor, barely able to stand on his own two feet after suffering a vengeful attack from his own teammate, Examined his surroundings. He does not blame the devilman for his attack. He knew the pain he must be feeling, but at the same time, he felt he did what he had to do. He saved the devilan from a terrible fate. what he saw as his mother was no longer his mother. the life had exited her eyes. she was a souless abomination, like the many others they had faced to get here. he would forgive Tyrdin for his momentary lapse in judgement, for he might have had trouble doing so if it were someone he knew. I fact, he had enough trouble doing such a thing to his friends loved one. That moment of uncertainty led to a fluctuation in his energy levels, causing the attack's energy to spike.

Examining the area, he noticed his saior, Helga, was holding a magically imbued dagger and robe. Being the only one to use Daggers, he figured he could make the best use of it. Studying the Robe, he noticed a fine energy stitched in the strands of silk. He believed one could release the energy in controlled amounts, could create a light source. But, by focusing the energy into a larger burst, one could release a strong burst of lights, incapacitating a nearby unsuspecting enemy. While examining the Robes, the tiny child who had been allowed to follow us trough some of the more dangerous aras tis group has face tried to snatch te robe from m claws. Surely such a small child could not make full use of the magical energies of this robe. Before rathkor could offer the girl his old robes in exchange for the magically imbued ones he held now, the Helga, who was clearly using the little girl as an allegory for her own child, grabbed the robes and glared angrily at him.

Rathkor tried rationally explaining to the group why the robe should go to someone in the group who might make better use of its magical properties, but he felt as if his well meaning points were falling onto deaf ears. He felt letting such a useful tool fall into inexperienced hands would be a tragedy that he feared we might regret later. He was more than willing to try to compramise or deal for te robes, but he was unsure that could even be possible with the whole group seemed to be on the little girl's side.

that was just a small bit of RP, the days journal shall be posted later on this week, if all goes well.
 
I like the way people are just using me in their RP to do something that I didn't actually do.
Added at: 05:15
Helga's Posessions

Gear
Chainmail
Craghammer
Yeti Fur Cloak
Shield of Speed and Evasion
Amulet of Resolution +1

Items
Adventurer's Kit
Light Shield
Bloodstinger Poison
Floating Lantern

Miscellaneous
Letter from Magar to Carmine
530 gold
 
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rathkor

gusto, i only added it because she did first. since mine was a response to hers, i had to maintain continuity. i considered abandoning that part, but ended throwing it in there anyway. sorry man.

doom, not drunk, but i havent slep much this week and i suspect it is catching up to me. might sleep in tomorrow.
 
I told her not to control what others were doing that they didn't do in the recording, because there were ways of getting these things across without doing so, but she said she wanted to give Sylvaria's perspective, which I'm assuming gives the child-like capacity to see what she wants to see and hear what she wants to hear. Or was Sune tells her happens.

Continued RP:

Helga then erupted into a drunken rage, flinging beer mugs and chunks of marble across the sacrificial chamber, gibbering nonsense as white foam dribbled over her beardless chin. Sylvaria began to cry, hiding under her invisible companion, while Rathkor, realizing he was no match for Helga's shitfaced tantrum, played dead next to the evil Dragonborn. Falagar tried to hit on her, but the only thing of Helga's that his crotch touched was the fast-swung end of her hammer. Falagar, too, played dead near the evil Dragonborn's corpse, although more against his will than Rathkor.


There. That's how I saw the Battlerage thingy.

:p

Also, Rathkor, since my attacks just hit the mind, the only ones who know that Tyrdin made Rathkor fall in the pit are those two; to everyone else, it might just look like Rathkor walked over and fell in. It'll be up to you whether to keep that to yourself or let the others know that Tyrdin dug into your mind.

On that note, I guess it's a good thing I sometimes say "Tyrdin waves a hand", or else the only time it would look like Tyrdin was doing anything is when he does Infernal Wrath as a counterattack. "Hey, I feel better for some reason! Couldn't have been that tiefling. It's the power of positive thinking!"
 
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Helga then erupted into a drunken rage, flinging beer mugs and chunks of marble across the sacrificial chamber, gibbering nonsense as white foam dribbled over her beardless chin. Sylvaria began to cry, hiding under her invisible companion, while Rathkor, realizing he was no match for Helga's shitfaced tantrum, played dead next to the evil Dragonborn. Falagar tried to hit on her, but the only thing of Helga's that his crotch touched was the fast-swung end of her hammer. Falagar, too, played dead near the evil Dragonborn's corpse, although more against his will than Rathkor.

:(
 
The English Language Bitch Goddess Executive Administrative Assistant can be held back no longer! Take coverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr! *hulks out*

Rathkor:

Rathkor, barely able to stand on his own two feet after suffering a vengeful attack from his own teammate (which Rathkor had inflicted upon HIS teammates several times previously), examined his surroundings (i.e. looting everything in sight after a well-deserved beating from the son of Rathkor's victim). He does not (No, you JUST used past tense in the first sentence. You cannot then go to present tense. Stick with one or the other.) blame the devilman for his attack. He knew (Or "knows"? Pick either past or present to speak in, not both.) the pain he must be feeling, but at the same time, he felt he did what he had to do. (Who is "he"? You use the pronoun "he" way too much, meaning it could either be Rathkor OR Tyrdin "feeling pain" or "doing what -HE- had to do". Think about your audience. You should never assume anything. Use proper nouns where clarification is needed.) He (How many times are you going to start a sentence with "he" in a row? This isn't even a stylistic choice; this is just lazy.) saved the devil(M)an from a terrible fate. (W)hat (Capitalize the beginnings of sentences. Again, lazy.) he (Who is he?) saw as his mother was no longer his mother. (T)he life had exited her eyes. (S)he was a souless abomination, like the many others they had faced to get here. (H)e would forgive Tyrdin for his momentary lapse in judgement, for he (He, he, he, he, he, he. This should be a song. A Lady Gaga song.) might have had trouble doing so if it were someone he knew. I (Is this an attempt at first person, or a general lack of caring that the word "in" has two letters?) fact, he (I'm just assuming "he" is the all knowing, omniscient God who does all things at all times now. God sure has been busy today.) had enough trouble doing such a thing to his friends (Is this meant to be singular possessive or plural possessive? Either way, where is your apostrophe?) loved one. That moment (What moment? When?) of uncertainty led to a fluctuation in his energy levels, causing the attack's energy to spike. (IT'S OVER 9000!)

Examining the area, he noticed his saior (sailor? Sailor Moon?), Helga, was holding a magically imbued dagger and robe. Being the only one to use Daggers (Woah, woah, woah. Are you telling me that Rathkor somehow divined out of the clear blue heavens that no one else in that whole damn room had the ability to use a dagger? Somehow, it's not only implausible, it's ridiculous. And why is the word "daggers" capitalized in the middle of a sentence? It is not a proper noun. Do not capitalize it.), he figured he could make the best use of it. Studying the Robe (Again, this is not a proper noun; the use of capitalization is incorrect.), he noticed a fine energy stitched in the strands of silk. He (I'm pulling my hair out here. Every once in a while, please simply consider using character names. Assume your readers assume nothing and don't know what you are talking about unless you tell them. Pronouns are good tools to use, but you must intersperse them with proper nouns when there is more than one subject that could be addressed in any given scenario.) believed one could release the energy in controlled amounts, (and) could create a light source. But, by focusing the energy into a larger burst, one could release a strong burst of lights, incapacitating a nearby(,) unsuspecting enemy. While examining the (r)obes, the tiny child who had been allowed to (Oh ho ho, hold your horses there, fella. "Allowed" to follow? Not only was Sylvaria invited by at least one party member, she very much BECAME a party member when she saved your sorry ass several times. If anyone is being tolerated at best, it's Rathkor. Rathkor frequently harms his fellow party members, commits matricide, and should by all accounts be dead.) follow us (Define "us". You've been speaking in THIRD PERSON the whole time and now you are switching to first person?) t(h)rough some of the more dangerous ar(e)as t(h)is group has face(d,) tried to snatch t(h)e robe from m(y) claws. Surely(,) such a small child could not make full use of the magical energies of this robe. (The same "small child" that makes use of SEVERAL magical energies and becomes the vessel of a GODDESS who has culled several enemies several times now? This is not logical. If Sylvaria was not an ingenue with quite stunning, holy, magical talent, then sure, this logic would fly. However, this is quite obviously not the case at all. This makes the character "Rathkor" look willfully imperceptive.) Before (R)athkor (Aww, man. You finally got around to using a proper noun and didn't capitalize it.

Son, I am disappoint.

)
could offer the girl his old robes (Yes, his old, huge, dirty, ugly robes. Think about it. She's a 9 year old girl. She wants the newly found robes because they sparkle and shine in every color of the rainbow. Kind of girly, wouldn't you say, large dragon man? I'm sure Rathkor will be the manliest man in all of Dougan's Hole now. ;) Stylin'!) in exchange for the magically imbued ones he held now, the Helga (The Helga? Who is "the" Helga?), who was clearly using the little girl as an allegory for her own child, grabbed the robes and glared angrily at him. (Helga did no such thing. There is a vast difference between saying someone in a roleplaying scenario, whose character is not yours, saw what was happening around them and that same character actually doing something about it. I emoted Rathkor's reaction, because it is essentially what the reaction in game was before everything went "OOC".)

Rathkor tried rationally explaining to the group why the robe should go to someone in the group who might make better use of its magical properties (Yes, because IN CHARACTER, Rathkor would know who would put it to the best OUT OF CHARACTER use. Do not roleplay out of character number crunching. You have no way of knowing who would make the best use of a ROBE in character.), but he felt as if his well(-)meaning (Honey, it was never well-meaning. It was pure selfishness. You just got a fabulous new dagger, effectively bringing the loot count for everyone in the party, save Sylvaria, to one or more. I asked for it in character for in character reasons and you whined, saying “But, I waaaaant it.” Yes, completely selfless.) points were falling onto deaf ears. He felt (that) letting such a useful tool fall into inexperienced (How in the hell is Sylvaria “inexperienced”?!) hands would be a tragedy (Yes, a “tragedy” if Rathkor can’t learn to share with little girls.) that he feared we (Who is “we”?) might regret later. He was more than willing to try to compr(o)mise or deal for t(h)e robes, but he was unsure that could even be possible with the whole group (seemingly on) the little girl's side. (And when did anyone give away any hint of taking sides? Never. No one did.)

Gusto: I just said Helga saw the scene. I didn't make your character do anything. I merely noted that she could see the scene unfolding before everyone’s eyes in the center of the chamber. ;)

Darryl: LULZ. XD

...

Darryl says I'll regret this later. Peh. If you want to say that people are afraid of me, let me give you something to be afraid of: GRAMMAR NAZI JULIE. Cower in fear, MORTALS!

gusto, i only added it because she did first. since mine was a response to hers, i had to maintain continuity. i considered abandoning that part, but ended throwing it in there anyway. sorry man.
P.S. Do NOT say you don't have a choice. I am SO sick of hearing that bullshit excuse from you. You ALWAYS have a choice. "But, mooooom! She hit me firrrrrst!" Grow a pair and take responsibility for your own damn actions.
 
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rathkor

Jay, WTFIWWY? lol
Added at: 12:34
also Tyrdin, i will be keeping it to myself. if andone asked, i slipped in some blood or something. lol
Added at: 12:44
Oh, and Julie, thanks for the Corrections. They make the story make a little more sence. There were a ton of typos and wierd sentences choices. I should never type when I'm half asleep like that. lol
 
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rathkor

That's how some people wash their pets in Japan. Not kidding. I saw it on a show called What The Fuck Is Wrong With You (WTFIWWY) on tgwtg.com
 
That picture was my reaction after reading that wall of text.
Still not entirely sure what kind of reaction that is. "Lemme out! Lemme out!", perhaps? English-language-teacher-in-the-making-if-I-didn't-hate-teaching-snot-nosed-brats-so-damn-much wasn't that bad, was it? Heh heh heh. I had some valid points, you know. Several, in fact. Outlined in bright pink. I killed it with fire.

WITH FIRE.





And with "A Goofy Movie".
 
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