Piratecat's Updated Story Hour! (update 4/03 and 4/06)
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Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Anyways, Nulloc is a 15th lvl transmuter (wizard). He's not just boasting to toads when he says he's bright; for a variety of reasons, he has an intelligence of 31. He's "ace the wizard academy exams without studying, know what you're thinking before you think it" smart. Not a great wisdom, mind you, and he's got a Vile personality... but you probably wouldn't want to play chess with him. We're looking at primary target DCs for those polymorph spells of DC 28, and secondary target DCs of 24.
But if you noticed, he's not undead. Perhaps the ghouls are learning from their defeats...?
But if you noticed, he's not undead. Perhaps the ghouls are learning from their defeats...?
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WizarDru
Adventurer
Is it just me, or does Nulloc's speech to his toads in his cave evoke images of Boris Karloff as the Grinch, talking to his dog Max? Toadbringer seems a very, well, Seussian villain. 
"A Lizard? A Horse? TWO Paladins, now?
I must stop the Defenders from coming....but How?
I know! I'll toad them, that's just what I'll do!
Once they're all hopping, I'll cook them in stew.
Lolth's Frothing Toad Stew!
That's a stew that I knew
since before I could I spew
little toads...just like you."
I'm just saying, is all.
"A Lizard? A Horse? TWO Paladins, now?
I must stop the Defenders from coming....but How?
I know! I'll toad them, that's just what I'll do!
Once they're all hopping, I'll cook them in stew.
Lolth's Frothing Toad Stew!
That's a stew that I knew
since before I could I spew
little toads...just like you."
I'm just saying, is all.
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Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Note: not to get into a big rules debate, please but it's worth noting a few things:
The sorcerer/wizard mistake was easy to make, that's for sure. Malachite's not immune to the enervation spell, though. To quote from DotF:
Sealed Life (Su): Upon reaching 10th level, a hunter
of the dead cannot lose levels due to energy draining
effects (although death still results in level loss, as do
other level- or experience-draining penalties).
I know that there is some debate on the topic, but I'm happy with my ruling, which is that negative levels still apply from spells and the like. He just can't lose a level from them. Technically, he should also gain negative levels from vampires, but I feel it's fine for sealed life to completely protects a Hunter of the Dead from level-draining undead. This way the PC has protection from his worst enemies (as befits a 10th lvl PrC ability), but is still temporarily affected by other interesting negative level traps. I'm okay with that.
As for not being able to chain enervation, I think... hey, look behind you! A three-headed monkey!
Oh, and Wizardru? You totally rock my world.
Nail said:
The sorcerer/wizard mistake was easy to make, that's for sure. Malachite's not immune to the enervation spell, though. To quote from DotF:
Sealed Life (Su): Upon reaching 10th level, a hunter
of the dead cannot lose levels due to energy draining
effects (although death still results in level loss, as do
other level- or experience-draining penalties).
I know that there is some debate on the topic, but I'm happy with my ruling, which is that negative levels still apply from spells and the like. He just can't lose a level from them. Technically, he should also gain negative levels from vampires, but I feel it's fine for sealed life to completely protects a Hunter of the Dead from level-draining undead. This way the PC has protection from his worst enemies (as befits a 10th lvl PrC ability), but is still temporarily affected by other interesting negative level traps. I'm okay with that.
As for not being able to chain enervation, I think... hey, look behind you! A three-headed monkey!
Oh, and Wizardru? You totally rock my world.
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Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
I'm not finished working all the niggling details out of the next writeup, so I plan to blatantly distract you with other interesting things from the past. First, I have a sermon that Velendo wrote and gave years ago, during the Comet Cycle; he had come across a city that worshipped Calphas as a God of Smiting, and he was not well pleased. It's a good insight into the cleric's character.
Enjoy. Thank Knightfall and Sialia for prodding me to go look through my thousand-odd pages of old notes. And look for an update on Monday.
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Told by Velendo to a worshipful crowd, five years ago:
I guess you all know who I am. Some of you heard Calphas speaking some months ago, when he decided to grant me Proxyhood, and the rest of you have probably learned about me since then. Well, I’m gonna talk to you today mostly about two things. First I’m going to talk about myself, not because I’m that interesting a subject, but to make a point about all of *your* lives. Then I’m going to talk about balance, since it’s a thing I’ve thought about, and learned about, a great deal in these past few years. Forgive me if this gets boring, but I’m just a tired old man underneath all of this holy glow, an old man who hasn’t had much cause to deliver sermons.
I grew up in a small fishing village, a long, long way east from here. It’s called Hunnerstide, and it’s only a few hundred people all told. My father Barando was a priest of Calphas, and he taught me to follow in the ways of the faith. He died when I was about 30 years old, and I spent the next 20 years sitting behind a desk in the little Hunnerstide church, ministering to the needs of the people, and figuring I’d die one day or another, and I’d go to Haven, and that would be that. Fact was, I was lazy. I’d help people repair their shacks after bad storms blew through, and listen to the endless confessions of sailors, but there wasn’t much to do, and that was fine by me.
Well one day Calphas decided I was something of an embarrassment, and gave me a metaphorical kick in the ass. I’ll spare you the details, but through a series of misadventures I found myself in another country, far from home. There I was found by, and adopted into, a group of adventurers, who figured they could go around the land righting wrongs as they found them. I was skeptical at first, but as it’s turned out, we really have been able to right wrongs. An awful lot of them, really. And while we were doing that, I managed to spread the worship of Calphas into lands that had never known his name and his power. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I was really doing was tempering myself -- becoming fired in the ovens of adversity, if you will.
But here’s the important part. I was not becoming, and I still am not, some superior form of life. I’m not a God. I’m just a man. I am a tool in the hands of Calphas, just like all of you are tools. It just so happens that Calphas needed a particularly strong tool for a specific job, and so he imbued me with some extra strength and resiliency. But as all of you should know, there’s nothing inherently better about a big sledge hammer than there is about a simple trowel. God has made me into a sledge hammer, since he needs one right now, but without trowels, and grinding stones, and chisels, and mortar, it doesn’t matter if we’ve got the biggest sledge hammer in Creation.
So remember where I come from, because it’s no better than where you come from. And if you want to look up to me, that’s fine - but look at me not as something to gape at, or bow down in front of, but rather as an example of something all of you can become. ‘Cause in the eyes of Calphas, all of us, from Proxy to peasant, are worthy of grace if we live our lives right.
And that’s enough about me.
I told you I’d also say something about balance. I’ll start with a short anecdote from just a few days ago, in Queenstown. Some of Calphas’ children there wanted some sort of blessing from me, so I gave them one, and I also gave each of them a brick. Like this. [creates a brick, and places it at his feet.] When I did so, one of the people of Queenstown asked me “Are these Bricks of Smiting?” Now keep in mind that where I come from, the Church of Calphas wasn’t so much into the Smiting business. We helped the people who needed help, and made sure no harm came to them. But we didn’t go around smiting the enemy, mostly because the only enemy was bad weather, and you can’t exactly throw a brick at a hurricane.
So when someone asked me if my bricks were Bricks of Smiting, my first thought was, no, of course not, they’re just bricks. Bricks of Building, if you will. I’d always been of the opinion that Calphas was only a God of Protection, and not one of aggression. But here, I’ve found that worshippers of Calphas take a much more forward approach in seeking out and eliminating threats to peoples’ safety. So it was my intention to stand up here and tell you that you were all going about serving Calphas the wrong way.
But I’m not going to do that. I thought about it some, and remembered a recent mission I was on, to stop a fortress full of Hill Giants from attacking passing caravans, near a country to the north called Irojis. I was looking through the Book of Calphas for guidance, and found a passage that read: “...but there are times when the Shield alone will waver, and the entrenched Defender can be uprooted. In such times, do not fear to take the battle to the malign aggressor, for a good offense is oft the best defense.” And I realized then that there isn’t room for passivity in the good works of a good Priest. We killed a large number of Giants that day, some of whom thought they were doing no wrong, and only acting according to their own nature. But they were harming others, while none sought to harm them, and so we slew them. It was during that battle that I was given the gift of my Proxyhood.
So I say to you here, that one hand you should hold back to protect the innocent, and that the other hand should be held forward, bringing low those who are seeking to cause harm. Keep one eye on your flock, and let the other keep out a constant watch for wolves. Let your bricks be either Bricks of Smiting *or* Bricks of Building, according to the necessity of the moment.
But I leave you with this thought: If you have but one brick, and all else is equal, use it to shield the innocent, rather than looking around for someone at whom to throw it. For if the Sheep and the Wolf are both killed together, Calphas is not served. But if the Wolf is left alive so that the Sheep can be saved, then Calphas is well-pleased.
May His blessings fall upon all of you here.
And thanks for listening.
Enjoy. Thank Knightfall and Sialia for prodding me to go look through my thousand-odd pages of old notes. And look for an update on Monday.
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Told by Velendo to a worshipful crowd, five years ago:
I guess you all know who I am. Some of you heard Calphas speaking some months ago, when he decided to grant me Proxyhood, and the rest of you have probably learned about me since then. Well, I’m gonna talk to you today mostly about two things. First I’m going to talk about myself, not because I’m that interesting a subject, but to make a point about all of *your* lives. Then I’m going to talk about balance, since it’s a thing I’ve thought about, and learned about, a great deal in these past few years. Forgive me if this gets boring, but I’m just a tired old man underneath all of this holy glow, an old man who hasn’t had much cause to deliver sermons.
I grew up in a small fishing village, a long, long way east from here. It’s called Hunnerstide, and it’s only a few hundred people all told. My father Barando was a priest of Calphas, and he taught me to follow in the ways of the faith. He died when I was about 30 years old, and I spent the next 20 years sitting behind a desk in the little Hunnerstide church, ministering to the needs of the people, and figuring I’d die one day or another, and I’d go to Haven, and that would be that. Fact was, I was lazy. I’d help people repair their shacks after bad storms blew through, and listen to the endless confessions of sailors, but there wasn’t much to do, and that was fine by me.
Well one day Calphas decided I was something of an embarrassment, and gave me a metaphorical kick in the ass. I’ll spare you the details, but through a series of misadventures I found myself in another country, far from home. There I was found by, and adopted into, a group of adventurers, who figured they could go around the land righting wrongs as they found them. I was skeptical at first, but as it’s turned out, we really have been able to right wrongs. An awful lot of them, really. And while we were doing that, I managed to spread the worship of Calphas into lands that had never known his name and his power. I didn’t realize it at the time, but what I was really doing was tempering myself -- becoming fired in the ovens of adversity, if you will.
But here’s the important part. I was not becoming, and I still am not, some superior form of life. I’m not a God. I’m just a man. I am a tool in the hands of Calphas, just like all of you are tools. It just so happens that Calphas needed a particularly strong tool for a specific job, and so he imbued me with some extra strength and resiliency. But as all of you should know, there’s nothing inherently better about a big sledge hammer than there is about a simple trowel. God has made me into a sledge hammer, since he needs one right now, but without trowels, and grinding stones, and chisels, and mortar, it doesn’t matter if we’ve got the biggest sledge hammer in Creation.
So remember where I come from, because it’s no better than where you come from. And if you want to look up to me, that’s fine - but look at me not as something to gape at, or bow down in front of, but rather as an example of something all of you can become. ‘Cause in the eyes of Calphas, all of us, from Proxy to peasant, are worthy of grace if we live our lives right.
And that’s enough about me.
I told you I’d also say something about balance. I’ll start with a short anecdote from just a few days ago, in Queenstown. Some of Calphas’ children there wanted some sort of blessing from me, so I gave them one, and I also gave each of them a brick. Like this. [creates a brick, and places it at his feet.] When I did so, one of the people of Queenstown asked me “Are these Bricks of Smiting?” Now keep in mind that where I come from, the Church of Calphas wasn’t so much into the Smiting business. We helped the people who needed help, and made sure no harm came to them. But we didn’t go around smiting the enemy, mostly because the only enemy was bad weather, and you can’t exactly throw a brick at a hurricane.
So when someone asked me if my bricks were Bricks of Smiting, my first thought was, no, of course not, they’re just bricks. Bricks of Building, if you will. I’d always been of the opinion that Calphas was only a God of Protection, and not one of aggression. But here, I’ve found that worshippers of Calphas take a much more forward approach in seeking out and eliminating threats to peoples’ safety. So it was my intention to stand up here and tell you that you were all going about serving Calphas the wrong way.
But I’m not going to do that. I thought about it some, and remembered a recent mission I was on, to stop a fortress full of Hill Giants from attacking passing caravans, near a country to the north called Irojis. I was looking through the Book of Calphas for guidance, and found a passage that read: “...but there are times when the Shield alone will waver, and the entrenched Defender can be uprooted. In such times, do not fear to take the battle to the malign aggressor, for a good offense is oft the best defense.” And I realized then that there isn’t room for passivity in the good works of a good Priest. We killed a large number of Giants that day, some of whom thought they were doing no wrong, and only acting according to their own nature. But they were harming others, while none sought to harm them, and so we slew them. It was during that battle that I was given the gift of my Proxyhood.
So I say to you here, that one hand you should hold back to protect the innocent, and that the other hand should be held forward, bringing low those who are seeking to cause harm. Keep one eye on your flock, and let the other keep out a constant watch for wolves. Let your bricks be either Bricks of Smiting *or* Bricks of Building, according to the necessity of the moment.
But I leave you with this thought: If you have but one brick, and all else is equal, use it to shield the innocent, rather than looking around for someone at whom to throw it. For if the Sheep and the Wolf are both killed together, Calphas is not served. But if the Wolf is left alive so that the Sheep can be saved, then Calphas is well-pleased.
May His blessings fall upon all of you here.
And thanks for listening.
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Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Nulloc’s teeth part in a satisfied grin. Some twenty five toads dot the cavern floor beneath him, croaking and hopping in agonized confusion. That leaves four or five people unchanged. He’ll have to deal with them a bit more thoroughly, but the battle has been effectively won in the space of fifteen seconds. THESE are the people who gave those ghouls so much trouble? Just as he has predicted, he’s completely and unerringly crushed them. Not a surprise, but it’s invigorating to always be correct. He’ll have to ask the ghouls for more money.
And yes, right on schedule, there is the sound of his trolls – well, servile goblins polymorphed into troll shape, if the truth be known, because they’re so much easier to bully – shambling out of the side passage with sacks and cages aplenty. Superb! Soon all of his new pets will be safely stored away, and he’ll have new friends to talk to.
First things first, though. Four enemies left: a halfling wizard, a human paladin, an old cleric, and a flame-haired bard. All four look panicky and scared.
What to use? Well, let’s start with a quickened slow, of course, countering that fiery-headed man’s mass haste. Tsk, tsk. Then what? Chain blindness is always fun, what with the stumbling and staggering and humorous falling into the slime pit. Or maze. He can turn someone to stone nearly irresistibly – but best to save that for someone who can shapeshift, he thinks. Drawing out all of their moisture would be funny, because human corpses always get so wrinkled when hit by a horrid wilting! He also has aberrate, which would mutate them into hideous abominations, or grim revenge, where their hands would rot off and begins to insolently slap them – but truly, those spells are more for fun than actual combat. Sometimes it’s best to stick with the classics. That means a standard polymorph other, followed with a heightened version of the same spell. Who to target? His finger bobs as he recites a drow choosing rhyme, “Spi-der climbed the rock-y wall, try-ing to catch.. YOU!” That makes it the wizard and the paladin. Welcome to life as a toad, fools.
*Blink* It didn’t work.
Worse. No one has found him yet, but one of the toads – HIS toads, thank you very much – has just changed to a unicorn. Blasted shapeshifters, she’ll get the petrification spell. And she’s – what is she doing? Something forming in front of her…
Oh. He recognizes that. She’s opened a gate.
And stepping through it, a huge.. Lloth’s bloated belly, what IS that? Oh. A solar of some surface Goddess. And next to the old cleric, a now there’s a summoned Astral Deva. Angels? Arch-angels? Oh, dear. And now the trolls are running for their pathetic little lives. Hrmmm. And that damn Solar has just dispelled a half-dozen of his toads, and the Deva is starting to do the same. Less toads, more people, and that’s not good. Nulloc doesn’t like live people. Sweat trickles down his brow, cutting through the ghoul-colored makeup of his disguise.
The drow wizard quickly re-evaluates his options, brain flashing down paths of possibility as he clutches his magical staff. Only one strategy seems guaranteed to work. He thrusts out his hands and raises his voice in an elemental chant, and his projected image does the same. With a sound like a stopping heart, the ceiling in the cavern turns into a slab of thick, falling mud.
The malodorous mud crashes downwards, crushing and coating and burying everything beneath it. The buoyant toads begin to instinctively surface, but before anyone can fully act Nulloc uses his hasted action to cast transmute mud to rock. There is a brittle sound like ice freezing, and with a ripple of purple fire every bit of mud in the cavern suddenly returns to its natural state of solid stone. The drow lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, and takes a long look to see what he still needs to do to finish this fight.
The angels? Trapped, along with every person and toad in the cavern. The halfling is trapped up to his neck, the others to their lower chest. Perfect. Nulloc takes the time to glance behind him.
“Croak!”
“Why thank you, my darlings. I agree. It was inspired.”
But by the time he glances back, everything has changed. The solar has teleported several creatures free from the mud, and is pointing not at his projected image but directly at him! Then there is that bloody unicorn directly in front of him. He backs up in the alcove, but there isn’t much space. Dimension door out? Yes! But his hands are shaking and he’s starts to stutter from some sort of horrible aura emanating from the beast, and he fumbles the spell. No! Turn her into stone, quick, quick – it fails! And here is a githzerai that he hardly even noticed scrambling into the alcove past the illusion, casually slamming a fist into his belly as leaps to his feet. Oof! And the unicorn slashes at him with her horn, and now the arch-angel has teleported the paladin in, and his sword is so very bright ---
Falling, tumbling. And then there is nothing.
To be continued…
And yes, right on schedule, there is the sound of his trolls – well, servile goblins polymorphed into troll shape, if the truth be known, because they’re so much easier to bully – shambling out of the side passage with sacks and cages aplenty. Superb! Soon all of his new pets will be safely stored away, and he’ll have new friends to talk to.
First things first, though. Four enemies left: a halfling wizard, a human paladin, an old cleric, and a flame-haired bard. All four look panicky and scared.
What to use? Well, let’s start with a quickened slow, of course, countering that fiery-headed man’s mass haste. Tsk, tsk. Then what? Chain blindness is always fun, what with the stumbling and staggering and humorous falling into the slime pit. Or maze. He can turn someone to stone nearly irresistibly – but best to save that for someone who can shapeshift, he thinks. Drawing out all of their moisture would be funny, because human corpses always get so wrinkled when hit by a horrid wilting! He also has aberrate, which would mutate them into hideous abominations, or grim revenge, where their hands would rot off and begins to insolently slap them – but truly, those spells are more for fun than actual combat. Sometimes it’s best to stick with the classics. That means a standard polymorph other, followed with a heightened version of the same spell. Who to target? His finger bobs as he recites a drow choosing rhyme, “Spi-der climbed the rock-y wall, try-ing to catch.. YOU!” That makes it the wizard and the paladin. Welcome to life as a toad, fools.
*Blink* It didn’t work.
Worse. No one has found him yet, but one of the toads – HIS toads, thank you very much – has just changed to a unicorn. Blasted shapeshifters, she’ll get the petrification spell. And she’s – what is she doing? Something forming in front of her…
Oh. He recognizes that. She’s opened a gate.
And stepping through it, a huge.. Lloth’s bloated belly, what IS that? Oh. A solar of some surface Goddess. And next to the old cleric, a now there’s a summoned Astral Deva. Angels? Arch-angels? Oh, dear. And now the trolls are running for their pathetic little lives. Hrmmm. And that damn Solar has just dispelled a half-dozen of his toads, and the Deva is starting to do the same. Less toads, more people, and that’s not good. Nulloc doesn’t like live people. Sweat trickles down his brow, cutting through the ghoul-colored makeup of his disguise.
The drow wizard quickly re-evaluates his options, brain flashing down paths of possibility as he clutches his magical staff. Only one strategy seems guaranteed to work. He thrusts out his hands and raises his voice in an elemental chant, and his projected image does the same. With a sound like a stopping heart, the ceiling in the cavern turns into a slab of thick, falling mud.
The malodorous mud crashes downwards, crushing and coating and burying everything beneath it. The buoyant toads begin to instinctively surface, but before anyone can fully act Nulloc uses his hasted action to cast transmute mud to rock. There is a brittle sound like ice freezing, and with a ripple of purple fire every bit of mud in the cavern suddenly returns to its natural state of solid stone. The drow lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding, and takes a long look to see what he still needs to do to finish this fight.
The angels? Trapped, along with every person and toad in the cavern. The halfling is trapped up to his neck, the others to their lower chest. Perfect. Nulloc takes the time to glance behind him.
“Croak!”
“Why thank you, my darlings. I agree. It was inspired.”
But by the time he glances back, everything has changed. The solar has teleported several creatures free from the mud, and is pointing not at his projected image but directly at him! Then there is that bloody unicorn directly in front of him. He backs up in the alcove, but there isn’t much space. Dimension door out? Yes! But his hands are shaking and he’s starts to stutter from some sort of horrible aura emanating from the beast, and he fumbles the spell. No! Turn her into stone, quick, quick – it fails! And here is a githzerai that he hardly even noticed scrambling into the alcove past the illusion, casually slamming a fist into his belly as leaps to his feet. Oof! And the unicorn slashes at him with her horn, and now the arch-angel has teleported the paladin in, and his sword is so very bright ---
Falling, tumbling. And then there is nothing.
To be continued…
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Piratecat
Sesquipedalian
Yeah, once they figured out where he was, it was just fast and messy. Malachite did something like 130 points of damage just by himself in one round, and I hadn't counted on those damn solars and devas.
Luckily Agar had a rock to mud prepared, freeing everyone else still trapped and toadified. The celestials used dispel evil to unerringly turn folks back.
At the time I made an on-the-fly ruling that said that the toads could get mostly to the mud's surface. I was too lenient; if I was to do it again, I'd let them make a save (DC 29!) to do so. Just goes to show that mistakes happen. *shrug* Luckily, when all was said and done, Agar's spell meant that there was no in-game effect other than a suspicion by my players that I was going soft.
The chained enervation turned out to be brutally effective. Velendo lost both miracle and sovereign wall, for example, and Agar took a similar hit. This was a challenging fight, considering the levels and numbers involved.
Luckily Agar had a rock to mud prepared, freeing everyone else still trapped and toadified. The celestials used dispel evil to unerringly turn folks back.
At the time I made an on-the-fly ruling that said that the toads could get mostly to the mud's surface. I was too lenient; if I was to do it again, I'd let them make a save (DC 29!) to do so. Just goes to show that mistakes happen. *shrug* Luckily, when all was said and done, Agar's spell meant that there was no in-game effect other than a suspicion by my players that I was going soft.
The chained enervation turned out to be brutally effective. Velendo lost both miracle and sovereign wall, for example, and Agar took a similar hit. This was a challenging fight, considering the levels and numbers involved.
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