Ashin's Commission: Buried Alive
Rystil Arden
First Post
*He detects auras on all the same items as the chaplain. He doesn't see a magic aura on himself, but then, it was the chaplain's second spell, whatever it was, that detected the curse, not Detect Magic.*
Rystil Arden
First Post
*Michael has absolutely no clue--no ranks in Spellcraft.*
Rystil Arden
First Post
(OOC: Sounds great--let me know when you figure that out!)
Rystil Arden
First Post
(OOC: Cool.
@The Armour--Well, Magic Items are sunderable in 3.5, so I guess it's possible. If he does, it will break and lose all magic, though)
@The Armour--Well, Magic Items are sunderable in 3.5, so I guess it's possible. If he does, it will break and lose all magic, though)
ajanders
Explorer
Michael returns
Michael sleeps well in a browse bed, and awakens with a renewed sense of purpose.
He finally has some time for some nice, peaceful meditation, which soothes his soul and allows him to rearrange his scattered thoughts.
He regains spells.
He laboriously sorts, packs, repacks, and fiddles with his gear.
Finally, some of it is cached in his browse bed, some of it is in his horse's saddlebags, and most of it is on him.
Michael sighs at the necessity of wearing his breastplate: it's no more protective than the chain shirt, and it's heavier. He could get down to a pretty light load, but that would require bearing the sigil of Mishtru on his chest, which is unacceptable.
But when I get someplace civilized, I want to see if I can get one of those made with the pillar on it.
The horse sighs too, and Michael is able to read the animal's mood.
Oh gods of horses, can't somebody get this lump of fat LIGHT ARMOR?
"Figures." Michael says dryly, and shifts a few more goods into his cache.
"You know," he addresses the horse, "I've really lost quite a bit of gear on this trip. We're not carrying rations, a bedroll, rope, oil, holy water, or the lantern. And I'm pretty sure there's less of me."
He tries to slap his belly, then realizes that expresses nothing in a breastplate.
"Easy riding today, too. We'll be with infantry."
The horse appears not to be mollified.
"Look on the bright side. When I go insane and turn into a rabid beast, I'll probably fall off. Of course, then I'll try to eat your flesh."
The horse finds this a dubious consolation.
Michael leaves the horse to its feelings and settles himself into more meditation. When he sets all desires away from him -- at least, temporarily -- he dispassionately mashes the holy symbol of Amphousa into a lump.
He looks at it with the beginnings of satisfaction, then quashes them before he gives Amphousa the satisfaction of getting passionately happy.
Finally, he works on his last task.
He takes out the non-elven amulet with the strange writing, casts Comprehend Languages, and attempts to read it.
"I'm gonna be so annoyed if all it says is "Sucker!" in Draconic."
Michael sleeps well in a browse bed, and awakens with a renewed sense of purpose.
He finally has some time for some nice, peaceful meditation, which soothes his soul and allows him to rearrange his scattered thoughts.
He regains spells.
He laboriously sorts, packs, repacks, and fiddles with his gear.
Finally, some of it is cached in his browse bed, some of it is in his horse's saddlebags, and most of it is on him.
Michael sighs at the necessity of wearing his breastplate: it's no more protective than the chain shirt, and it's heavier. He could get down to a pretty light load, but that would require bearing the sigil of Mishtru on his chest, which is unacceptable.
But when I get someplace civilized, I want to see if I can get one of those made with the pillar on it.
The horse sighs too, and Michael is able to read the animal's mood.
Oh gods of horses, can't somebody get this lump of fat LIGHT ARMOR?
"Figures." Michael says dryly, and shifts a few more goods into his cache.
"You know," he addresses the horse, "I've really lost quite a bit of gear on this trip. We're not carrying rations, a bedroll, rope, oil, holy water, or the lantern. And I'm pretty sure there's less of me."
He tries to slap his belly, then realizes that expresses nothing in a breastplate.
"Easy riding today, too. We'll be with infantry."
The horse appears not to be mollified.
"Look on the bright side. When I go insane and turn into a rabid beast, I'll probably fall off. Of course, then I'll try to eat your flesh."
The horse finds this a dubious consolation.
Michael leaves the horse to its feelings and settles himself into more meditation. When he sets all desires away from him -- at least, temporarily -- he dispassionately mashes the holy symbol of Amphousa into a lump.
He looks at it with the beginnings of satisfaction, then quashes them before he gives Amphousa the satisfaction of getting passionately happy.
Finally, he works on his last task.
He takes out the non-elven amulet with the strange writing, casts Comprehend Languages, and attempts to read it.
"I'm gonna be so annoyed if all it says is "Sucker!" in Draconic."
