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You blink away the involuntary tears streaming from your eyes. Where once there stood the priest, now stands the emerald-skinned being before you, over twice as tall and a good deal wider than the unassuming presence of the cleric. Dressed in a simple, shear robe kept in place by a wide flowing sash, the four shining, white-feathered wings protruding from its back twitch and sway. Hadraniel's presence is unnaturally humbling and insidiously evokes feelings of safety within you. Only your iron will and the sight of that looming greatsword which sings of its history and the countless battles it has seen keep your muscle taught, tight and on edge.

The deafening trumpets do not cease nor do the buffeting winds. While you manage to maintain your balance, the ceaseless assault on your ears disorients you – dizzying you while also making you feel nauseous. A quick glance around you and your compatriots seem to be undergoing similar trials from the outsider's mere presence and with much the same difficulty – save for Gabby and Dolah. Both of whom seeming to be faring the best from the multifaceted onslaught.

You take in a deep breath and raise your wand, pointing the burning tip of the wooden rod at the holy figure.

You can feel its gaze fall upon you as you become the recipient of Hadraniel's full and undivided attention.

>Roll 2d100, best of 3. Bonus of 8 to the first. Bonus of 22 to the second, after a subtraction of 5 due to disorientation.

Rolled 57, 48 = 105 (2d100)

>>907880

Rolled 45, 53 = 98 (2d100)

>>907880
A fireball against a celestial being is a bad idea.

Rolled 34, 24 = 58 (2d100)

>>907880
Dub Nat 1s

>>907888
>>907960
>>908164
this was not a good day.

Rolled 23 (1d50)

RNG

>>908171
ok, is that good or bad?

Rolled 66, 27 = 93 (2d100)

>>907880
Rolling to see what I could have gotten

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With a whispered word you manipulate the magical energies swirling in your arm to push forward the mystical power stored in your external focus. Much like the process of operating a bow, once you've expended the effort into tensing the contraption, all that's left is to release the projectile.

The non-existent recoil of the device throws you off for a split second as you watch the large roiling glob of flame and heat emerge impossibly from such a container as the narrow tip of a stick and cast itself down the middle of the church towards your intended target.

It's hard to read the creature's emotions, but Hadraniel appears not to hurl himself out of the way of the incoming blast nor does he look particularly phased by it. You'd like to think he is just taken by surprise or putting on a brave front. You'd like to.

Despite your concerns, the magical attack seems to strike true as the fireball collides with angelic flesh, an explosion of flames, sparks and smoke engulfing that end of this long, wide corridor. The still open central door leading to Calloway's room slams itself shut and a nearby wooden chair catches fire from the residual heat particles. The howling wind and blaring trumpets cease and for a moment you believe what you did actually just worked incredibly well. You may have just saved yourself from relying upon divine intervention.

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>>909129
>for a moment you believe what you did actually just worked incredibly well.
Oh, this will not end well.

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“Incoming!” Gabby suddenly warns, killing your hopes, as a green blur cuts through the center of the lingering smoke cloud, crossing the distance betwixt the point of impact and yourself quicker than your eyes can adequately detect. The sheen of the unnaturally smooth steel of his weapon glints in the firelight cast by the twirling motes of quickly dying embers.

Raising your mythral buckler in a reflexive attempt to catch the brunt of his initial swing – discouragingly fueled by the power of his rapidly approaching and immense bulk – you dig your heels into the floor to weather this flying charge.

Unfortunately, in a demonstration of deft control, the angel alters his blade's swing mid-assault into a piercing stab that he manages to slip under your improvised guard and right into your armpit.

A cold fear seizes you, as distressing as the biting pain, as you feel that initial pressure of Hadraniel shoving a large chunk of heavenly metal inside you, the force of the blow causing you to reel backwards.

To your favor, the Holy General is prevented from following through and skewering you completely as Gabby slips in behind him and grabs hold of two of his feathery wings, pulling upon them with all her might, managing to yank the large figure backwards and causing the tip of his greatsword to pull out of your wound.

Dolah, on the other hand, interposes herself between where you've managed to stumble backwards and where Gabby has grappled Hadraniel. The paladin shoving her Lion's Head shield forward so its animated, snarling maw can snap at and harry the outsider, hopefully keeping him off-kilter.

(Shit! Alright let's do it now!) You hear Rowe think as you nearly trip over an overturned pew in your involuntary stagger. You glance down to see copious amounts of blood dribble down your side, staining your uniform red.

(Are you sure, Rowe? I don't wish to pressure you into this.)

>DO IT!
>ASSIMILATE
>Wait, we can take him!
>Something else? (write-in)

>>909147
>>DO IT!

>>909147
>ASSIMILATE
Go full Eldritch Abomination.

>>909323
I mean, all we're doing is gaining a random and unknown power in exchange for proving all beings right in wanting us dead.
That's a small price to pay for something we might never use, like the Succubus' life drain kiss ability, right?

>>909323
the thing is, it's written in such bold red letters, that something seems rather off about it.

>>909147
>>DO IT!

>>909147
>>DO IT!

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“DO IT NOW, ROWE!” you shout. Hadraniel's heavenly weapon clashes with Dolah's lucerne hammer as his wings flex and flap in a desperate attempt to shake Gabby off of himself. A volley of magic missiles erupt from your arcane support and explode like blue fireworks as they reign down ineffectually onto the angel's skin, seemingly absorbed into the emerald flesh rather than working to damage it.

(Yes, I'm sure. Go! Now!)

(Thank you for trusting me.)

Desden finally lines up a shot with his crossbow, aiming for some vital point he thinks might prove to have a noticeable effect on slowing down the angel. He hesitates, refraining from pulling the trigger when the sudden rumbling of the earth beneath your collective feet throws off his aim. He lowers his weapon from where he had it stabled and looks down.

You follow the inquisitor's gaze to the floor, spying a wide and deep crack, spiderwebbing its way past you, the laid bricks of the man-made structure methodically torn to shreds as verdant green vines and roots, like the tentacles of a mighty squid, push up into the chapel, spreading out due to rapidly accelerated growth.

One thorny tendril weaves its way around your ankle, still freshly wet and covered in the remnants of earthy dirt. Much larger manifestations of plant life surge upwards nearer to the entangled brawl and begin coiling around the still embroiled combatants.

Much more absorbed in the heat of the moment, it takes even Hadraniel longer than a few moments to realize the entire building around you all is shaking and shifting.

The fresh scent of morning dew on grass and an overwhelming aroma of flowers has dispersed itself into the surrounding atmosphere, quickly saturating the air with the sickly sweet smells of natural life. The sense of it all seems to invade much more than your nostrils, a presence of burgeoning vitality stirs within you. The desire to hunt and feast and breed blossoms within your mind. Even as your lifeblood flees your body, running down the length of your clothes, the need to live multiplies in intensity, threatening to overwhelm every rational sense of self control and the clarity of judgment you internally profess to possess. It takes every memory of your own humanity you can recall to keep yourself from ripping your clothes off and scampering off into the wilds to lick your wounds and build your nest.

As you watch flowers bloom out of the long-dead wood of the pews before you, Eve's exclamation of “Holy shit!” draws your eyes from the now much less significant combat and back towards where your lover is meant to be standing.

One part of you screams that whatever entity stands in her place can't possibly be the woman you've grown to know over these past few months.

Another part sings of how Rowe has never appeared more beautiful than she does now.

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A green aura coats the feminine figure – a mixture of grassy hills, evergreen leaves and damp moss. A deep contrast to the uncannily unnatural hue of Hadraniel's smooth skin. Garbed in little, save tastefully alluring strips of silk and a flowing headdress of ephemeral and translucent feathers, her eyes glitter with much the same light as the previous outsider that makes it so difficult to keep your focus on her. She nocks an arrow to her blurred bow, shifting in and out of this realm of existence so rapidly you'd think the Goddess's connection to this realm was shaky at best. The tip glows with magic so potent you can taste it like mint leaves left on your tongue.

Out of the corner of your eye you spy the commotion of the melee calm, all three participants awestruck into halting.

For one long glorious moment you all get to gaze upon the form of a Goddess in a moment of complete stillness.

Hadraniel shifts ever so slightly. “So –”

She looses.

The shock wave emanating off the God Arrow as it passes by throws you off your feet and slams you into the wall. As you collapse to the floor in a pained heap, you catch sight of the missile splitting the Angelic general's skull right between the eyes before it detonates, sending your friends, various debris and angel chunks scattering outwards from the point of impact. The backside of the church then caves in on itself, the rear wall collapsing as the private bedrooms are destroyed beyond repair in the time length of a snap or a blink.

>Pass out
>Clamber to Rowe
>Clamber to Gabby and Dolah
>Find Calloway's holy symbol
>Something else? (write-in)

>>911375
>Something else? (write-in)
first, ask if everyone is alright
>Pass out

>>911375
>>Clamber to Rowe

>>911375
>Clamber to Rowe
Mostly to settle Rowe's personal insecurities.
Then we have to check on Gabby and Dolah because they were right at the explosion.

>>911444
>>911763
Oh, I just realized, could this be a trap option?
If Gaea's Warden is still possessing Rowe, we might not be able to restrain ourselves.

>>911763
Clamber to Rowe and check if she's still being possessed, and if so, ask that she be returned politely.

Then clamber over to Gabby and Dolah for healings.

Then get Calloway's symbol.

>>Clamber to Rowe

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You grab hold of one section of busted pew and hold on tight as you lurch up onto your feet, legs unsteady and shaking beneath you. You peel your eyes and glance around for Rowe. For a moment you think she's gone as nowhere you look does the goddess stand.

“Alan, over here!” Ed calls, raising his arm into the sky and waving it to catch your attention. A second wind of energy overtakes you as you jog to where your former roommate kneels beside the prone form of your lover. Quissonce is squeezing her hand. Rowe looks relatively back to normal, the green aura gone as well as the suggestive outfit, but the sight of her unresponsive body – eyes closed – draws to your mind the worst of your possible fears.

“Is she alright?!” you demand.

“She's breathing, Alan,” Ed tells you to put you at ease.

Eve gestures to your bloodied uniform. “Are you alright Alan?”

You nod your head as you gingerly put your hand to your wound. “I'll live,” you explain to brush off her concern. “What happened to Rowe?”

“I didn't see clearly considering the commotion,” Quissonce speaks absentmindedly as she leans over Rowe's face and peels back an eyelid to stare into your lover's hazel irises. “But I believe I saw our friend, the Warden, lie down while she was still wearing her Rowe-skin suit. Perhaps she was being careful to avoid a potential head injury upon taking her leave.”

“So she knew Rowe was going to be knocked unconscious by her presence?” you ask.

“Hmmmmm,” Quissonce utters. “Doesn't seem particularly unlikely.”

“Gaea's Warden mentioned something about Rowe's body handling the possession. How there was a risk.”

Ed shakes his head. “I knew there was going to be some bullshit catch attached to this deal.”

“Well,” Quissonce offers, “let's hope this coma doesn't persist for too –”

“Coma?!” you iterate incredulously. Quissonce glances to you with a furrowed brow.

“A state of unconscious lasting for a prolonged period of time. By definition she's in a coma.”

“Well, let's pick her up off the floor, then!” Eve exclaims.

Ed nods and goes to lift her off the ground while Quissonce gets up off her knees, brushing herself off as she gives the half-orc space.

>Carry her yourself
>Check on Gabby and Dolah
>Something else? (write-in)

>>914638
>>Something else? (write-in)
ask Ed or Quissonce to pick up Calloway's symbol,

We can carry Rowe and head over to Gabby and Dolah.

>>914654
You'll have to leave if you carry her.

Carry her as in carry her out of the church.

>>914663
oops.

Can we ask Gabby and Dolah to accompany us as we leave?

>>914671
No

>>914688
Alright, Go see what Gabby and Dolah are up to and then grab Calloway's symbol, rush back to the rest of the group and accompany Rowe back.

>>914694
No.

You're going to have to choose an option.

>>914638
>>Check on Gabby and Dolah

>>914638
>Check on Gabby and Dolah
They were at the center of the explosion, we should make sure that they're okay.

>>914638
>>>Check on Gabby and Dolah

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Ed picks her up and carries Rowe bridal style, following after Quissonce and Eve as they make their way to the chapel's entrance.

“Be careful,” you call after them. Ed acknowledges your concern with a nod.

“So where are we taking her?” the gnome pesters.

“Let's try the Research Library first, then we can see about . . .” Quissonce's voice trails off as they take their leave and turn the corner.

You sigh out and walk down the remaining semblance of a central aisle, stepping over thick plant vines as thick as logs and weaving through scattered debris.

Desden aids Dolah and Gabby in lifting a sizable chunk of former ceiling off the monk's leg. He extends a hand to her and helps her up onto her feet. Although she makes no pained grunts about her current status, you spy a large bruise running up her leg where a rip in the pants leg of her robe exposes her flesh.

Desden coughs. “Well,” he begins, rounding on Dolah. “We've slain the highest ranking of The Great Will's angel we're aware of as well as the most senior priest of our own order here. In a church. A church we have also structurally damaged. Irreparably so. All of which was done with the aid of a deity we ideologically differ from and do not worship. And we willingly went through with this plot to protect the life of a man whose demonic corruption is dwarfed solely by the idea that he is also the manifestation of an evil, primordial force that seeks to destroy the universe.”

Dolah chuckles as she kneels before where Gabby now sits upon a bench, examining the wound on the blonde's leg. “Having doubts?”

“Depends. Have you lost your powers?” he asks dryly.

Dolah shrugs. “We'll find out in the morning.”

Gabby winces as the half-orc pokes and prods the bruise. “Can't you just wave your hands and make it all better?”

“Unfortunately my healing magics have been exhausted for awhile now. For now classic first aid is all I possess to aid you.”

The temperamental, blue-eyed gal tsks audibly. “Whatever. Just try to not feel me up too much and keep your clothes on, alright tiger?”

Dolah squints. “What are you talking about?”

Gabby chortles. “Don't play fucking dumb with me. I can practically smell it on you.”

Dolah gives the monk a hard stare. But you do see what you think is the hint of a blush on Dolah's cheeks. Which appear . . . harder to see than usual. It might just be the current lighting, but Dolah's skin seems to be a few shades darker than you recall.

Whatever the deeper meaning of the subtly exchanged expressions on their faces, it seems Desden has a much more sophisticated understanding of them and all they cause him to do is grimace uncomfortably.

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Dolah's subordinate clears his throat as he changes the subject back to something resembling a serious topic. “We quite clearly have some work cut out for us in the following days. Reconciling and fixing mistakes. But tonight we have a few pressing concerns we should handle now. For example . . .”

Desden takes a step back and gestures to the large greatsword laying in a heap of rubble, its metallic blade still possessing that extra dimensional shimmer to its. The last remaining piece of Hadraniel in this plane.

“What should we do with that?”

>Take it
>Dolah should take it
>Hand it over to Blackburn
>Something else? (write-in)

>>915125
>take it

>>915125
>>Take it
>>Dolah should take it
one of these, I don't care which

>>915125
>>Take it
hold onto it for now.

>>915125
>Dolah should take it

>Dolan should take it.

I don't think its a great idea to make this thing public knowledge and I feel as though he would be the e best keeper of a holy artifact

>>915186
Well tie breakers on you now senpai.

>>915641
>>915125
>>Dolah should take it
As Dolah will have it easier to wield a greatsword (if anybody of us will wield it at all instead of hiding it), let her take it. We should later try to touch it just to see what happens.

>>915689
Dolah's preferred fighting style seems to be hammer-and-shield. She'll need to either change her fighting style or get the Monkey's Grip feat.

>>915709
>Monkey's Grip

The lucerne hammer Dolah wields is already a 2handed weapon that she uses one hand with a la the Monkey's Grip feat (which doesn't exist in pf for some reason).

Although technically the greatsword is sized for a large creature to use in 2 hands so theoretically Dolah would have to use both hands for it.

ALTHOUGH, apparently, the Monkey Grip feat improves as you level up and this passage:

You may wield a weapon two sizes larger than yourself as a two-handed weapon, and a weapon one size larger than yourself may be wielded single-handedly.

Which I think that means Dolah can use a 2 handed large weapon singlehandedly at this point.

>>915787
Yes, that's how I interpret it as well.

I forgot that Dolah's warhammer is a two-handed weapon.

changing to let Dolah take it.

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“Dolah you should take it,” you decide. She looks over her shoulder to drink in the object's form. “The thing's a holy artifact so it belongs in the hands of the church. You'd probably be best for keeping it safe. And if anyone should use that thing it should be you.”

The highest-ranking member of the church here on Seaside shakes her head. “We really need to fix this place up quickly if we're going to store an angelic weapon properly. I need to speak with Ms. Helbot about repairs and some structural additions.” Dolah retracts her hands from Gabby's wounded leg. “Just a few superficial cuts which should heal fine on their own. No broken bones or internal bleeding.”

“Shit I could have told you that,” the monk responds, swinging her legs as she leaps back into a standing position.

Dolah stands up and moves to where you reside, studying the severity of your wound with a glance from a distance. She seethes momentarily in empathy.

“That looks painful,” she states bluntly.

“I'll live,” you offer to mollify any potential urge to rush the process of aiding you in the name of expediency.

“Alright,” Dolah accepts as she looks you over. “I have a few ointments and some bandages to hold you together until I can get some rest. Take off your armor and your shirt,” she commands.

You slip your coat off and fold it, laying it neatly over the back of one of the more intact church pews. Then you slip your mythral shirt over your head, the links of the magic material softly clinking and begin to unbutton the top part of your uniform. Every time you raise and lower your right arm, a biting pain stabs at you near the shoulder joint.

“Desden, grab a bucket of that fountain water as well as a few cloths and bring it all over here. Alan, sit down.”

You comply with your momentary medic's orders, taking a seat as you finish folding the top half of your Cerilian soldier's uniform and place it next to your General's coat. Your white undershirt is drenched in blood so you just peel that off your skin and crumple it into a ball, tossing it into the refuse to be dealt with later.

As Desden returns with the requested supplies, Dolah sits beside you. Her eyes roam your torso, initially inspecting the extent of the injury now that she can examine your upper body unobscured.

At least . . . you believe it must have began that way. The body inspection lasts much longer than is probably appropriate before you disengage from your internal focus and become acutely aware of her gaze still upon you. The awkwardness of Dolah's unabashed staring is thankfully broken by Desden clearing his throat again, lightly jostling the bucket so the sound of sloshing water breaks her out of her fugue.

“Oh, yeah . . .” she mutters to herself as she turns around and grabs a cloth from her underling. Dunking it into the bucket, she wrings the excess water out of the fluffy white object and turns round, all business again.

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“Could you . . . lift your arm Alan?” she requests. Following the request, much to the chagrin of your body's aches, she gently approaches your skin with her occupied hand, planning to dab at your flesh to wipe away the blood.

But as you steel yourself for the minor stinging pain that will accompany a cleaning of your wound, you find yourself waiting an overly long period of time for Dolah to make contact.

Looking back to her face to detect the reason for her hesitation, you spy her sporting that same zoned out gazing directed at your body. She looks nearly frozen in place, mid-cleaning.

“ . . . Dolah?” you inquire, slightly perturbed by her unusual behavior. The devout woman blinks and shakes her head before managing to stammer out meaningless non-phrases.

“I . . . uh sorry um . . . Desden!” she suddenly declares, turning to where he still holds the water bucket. “You know how to do this.”

He frowns. “Yes,” he answers reluctantly. “I do.”

“Good,” Dolah agrees, nodding her head as she hands over the damp rag. “Clean the wound, apply the ointment to ward off infection and wrap it. I need to . . . take a walk and clear my head a bit.”

Dolah stands upright stiffly and quickly empties her pack of the required materials to patch you up. She then stoops down to heft Hadraniel's massive greatsword over her shoulder before scurrying towards the exit.

Gabby, who has been watching this whole scene play out silently, but with a malevolent grin on her face decides to wait until the last possible second to add her commentary.

“If you want to take a crack at him all you have to do is ask Rowe for permission!”

“You're disgusting, Gabby!” Dolah retorts as she finally escapes outside into the early morn.

Desden merely groans as he methodically and expertly tends to your hurts.

. . .

“I'm afraid of losing Calloway's necklace in the commotion of the cleanup effort,” you tell the man as he wraps the bandage round your upper torso.

He nods. “I understand. I will keep an eye out for it. I suggest you keep your distance from the church for the time being. Most of the parishioners will hold some manner of suspicion for awhile at least. I know I still do. There,” he comments upon finishing, patting your back and extracting himself from the situation.

He moves to where Gabby has dozed off and taps her on the shoulder so she can rouse herself, in quite an undignified manner, you notice.

You gingerly put your clothes back on, careful not to jostle loose your bandage. Gabby helps slip your coat on and together you two exit the church only to be greeted by a bright, sunny day.

“Yuck,” Gabby spits. “Well its officially tomorrow now. And thanks to you and your bullshit,” she bumps you with her hip playfully. “I'm exhausted.” She yawns loudly as she speaks her next line. “Think I'll catch some actual sleep at my shack. You might want to come pick up your pet at some point.”

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Oh yeah! Your squire Du'kov spent the whole night at Gabby's shack. He's probably waiting for your return. You might want to check on Rowe though too, see if she's recovered slightly by now. And Blackburn is still woefully unaware of some of your recent discoveries. You could also stand to profit off of a few hours of deep meditation.

>Check on Du'kov
>Check on Rowe
>Check in with Blackburn
>Meditate
>Something else? (write-in)

>>917104
>>Check in with Blackburn
Let's notify him before anything else

>>917104
>>Check on Du'kov

>>917104
>>917130
on second thought, yeah, let's tell blackburn.

Since Gabby is going to her shack, ask her to tell Du'kov to come over to meet us at the infirmary or wherever and see Rowe,

>>917104
>Check in with Blackburn
Still our boss. And while we have a responsibility to Du'kov, Blackburn also deserves to know of shit that threatens his town.

>>917104
>>Check in with Blackburn

>>917104
Ah, wait, changing >>917332
to
>Check on Du'kov
One of our responsibilities is to teach our squire about our chain of command. We should bring him to our meeting with Blackburn so that he can be introduced to our boss and see first-hand how things are handled in our society.

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“I need to relay everything that's happened in the past two weeks or so to Blackburn,” you explain.

“Everything?” Gabby emphasizes suggestively.

You roll your eyes. “Well, everything relating to the security of Seaside. When you kick Du'kov out of your place could you give him directions to the Overseer's Complex? I figure I should introduce him to the chain of command and the command structure here. He also has a better idea about some of what I'm going to be telling Blackburn.”

“Sure,” Gabby answers. She starts to walk away, heading in the opposite direction of your own destination. “Have fun with your little meeting. Hope Rowe recovers soon,” she comments.

“Me too,” you concur. And with that you part ways.

. . .

The wait for Du'kov is a short one. The boy seems happy, the faint scent of dog slobber wafting off of him as he approaches. You clasp the teenager on the shoulder and guide him inside to meet the unassuming, short bald man that coordinates the entirety of your forces here on this island.

. . .

Blackburn patiently listens to your report, nodding thoughtfully as you explain the encounter with what could potentially be an entire tribe of skinwalkers as well as the current diplomatic situation regarding the Mountain Rider tribe.

Thankfully Du'kov is there to paint a more complete picture of the timeline and situation regarding his tribe's dealings with the Kardassians.

After you conclude informing the Overseer of all you know, he opens a drawer of his desk and pulls out a map which he lays across the table, smoothing it flat so the edges don't curl back inwards again.

>>918133
I thought we had cleared out the Temple?
Or is it still giving off negative energy?
Or did the Master move in, and it's still a security threat?

>>918161
Quissonce nods, reluctantly. “And there is that temple out there. Scouts are reporting that whatever influence it had on killing the land has stopped, so The Master and his forces have most likely pulled back from that location. But it's not like it disappeared as quickly as it appeared in the first place. Maybe there are books on necromancy inside or cave drawings or who knows what."

>>918193
I'd forgotten about that, sorry.

So we have on our plate:
1. Attack and burn down the Imperial port, to get Burn to stop aiding the Imperials.
2. Provide military aid to the Acidspit Clutch to get their military assistance.
3. Clear out the Temple? (maybe keep it there so that it acts as a buffer between us and the Imperial fort?)

>>918193
Oh, are you waiting for something or writing the next post?

>>918274
Writing the next post. Taking longer than I thought it would.

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“I see a few ways forward,” the tactician explains. “The Imperials want to play the coalition game? Then we surpass them at it. Form military alliances with forces in the various regions of the Island and empower them so we control the place by proxy. The lizardfolk in the swamp. The kobolds in the hills. Potentially the elves in the forest if we could actually find them. Expand our zones of control and box the Imperials out.”

He moves a finger and plants it right where the docks of the Imperials are located. “Or. We could attempt to cut the bullshit and strike a killing blow. We cut off their supply line and not only will they have trouble shipping firearms to the Mountain Riders, they'll have trouble staving off starvation. The expediency comes with the added risk of going horribly wrong and losing us assets we can't afford to lose.”

He points to the section of the map illustrated with a depiction of the active volcano at the Island's center. “And finally, we could attempt to remove the dragon from play. How? I have no clue. But that thing leaves the Kardassians sitting pretty and it makes the prospects of eliminating this port of theirs a much more daunting and risky maneuver.”

>Bolster our allies
>Assault the docks
>Deal with Burn
>Something else? (write-in)

Attached is an updated, slightly more accurate map. If there's anything you recall should be on there that you remember but don't see represented, point it out.

>>918337
>>Bolster our allies
but continue to gain more information on Imperial holdings so that we can conduct joint operations. Perhaps our allies have certain attributes that will make such missions easier?

>>918344
Will our allies still stand with us when they find out that Burn sides with the Imperials?

There's nothing we could do to realistically protect them from a dragon attack.

Though, since the deal that was struck between the General and Burn seemed to only cover protection of the fort, then we might be able to move around and find something that can kill Burn/let us raid the Imperial Port more easily.

Speaking of raiding the docks, do we really need to stick around to loot it?
Why not pop invisibility, get in close, and then burn the place to the ground by having two or three spellcasters dual-wielding Wands of Fireball?
Then once everything is burning, get out of there via Invisibility, Teleport, or other such escape measures?

>>918365
Perhaps not necessarily standing by us out in the open, but we could use some informants across the island.

Though, as you said, if the Dragon is only agreed to defend the fort, is there really a reason to fear its wrath any more than usual?

We may not need to stick around to loot it, just make sure it's destroyed or inaccessible.

Interesting plan. Perhaps we could see if any alchemists can produce explosives for us to carry in as well, just to make the job more thorough?

Additionally, Trick, is it possible to request a naval detachment to harass the Imperial's resupply efforts?

>>918383
The Imperials are being supplied via Roscoli merchant ships. Your forces don't know what naval route in the Patrucian ocean these ships are diverting from so intercepting them is difficult both in practice and from a diplomatic standpoint.

>>918365
>>918383
I just realized that the precious metals won't burn up, they'll just stay there and possibly melt into a big pile, and it could be dug out.
Also the docks could be rebuilt if we don't continually harass them. They'll likely have a some problems with resupply, but since we're not actually cutting the supply route, they just need to hold out until the docks are repaired and the next ship arrives.

>Other:
Using Kyra as our teleport beacon, and purchasing the teleport services of the Archmage, how about kidnapping one of the Roscoli captains in order to get the naval route from him?
Kyra sneaks onto a boat and finds the captain's quarters, we teleport in, knock the man out, and then teleport out.
Then Republic privateers could be waiting just as the traders start to enter the waters around the Island, and take them.

>>918406
I'm sure Blackburn could tell us what diplomatic repercussions this would have back home, and if this idea is worth pursuing.

>>918406
However, if the Roscoli figure out that their route is compromised (likely because one of their captains mysteriously disappeared), they may just change routes.

Unless we somehow have spells that can mindwipe people and send him back where he came.

>>918406
That could work

>>918406
>>918406
This

>>918422
Yeah, I was trying to think of a way around that.

>>918430
What if, instead of kidnapping a captain, we take a look at their navigational maps?
We could have Kyra use some scrolls of Scrivener's Chant to make copies of the Roscoli navigational charts.

http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic/all-spells/s/scriveners-chant

Either she comes back to pick them up, or we purchase the services of the Archmage.

Which is another thing we should do; have a talk with the Archmage on providing spell services, one of the most convenient being Scry-Teleport. It would help the funds for the Circle immensely.

>>918457
hey, if we can get instant copies of their nav charts, that'd probably do.

We have actual charts to look over, and we won't make any suspicious 'disappearances' that the Roscoli might think twice over.

>>918457
Of course, the problem is that Scrivener's Chant specifically references written works, so it might not be able to do pictures.

There's Prestigitation, which can do a lot of different things.

If it can't, then we have Alan ASSIMILATE the cartography and naval navigation skills, then have him teleport in, read the navigational charts, then teleport out.

>>918468
I brought up Presigitation because it's used in the creation of the Autonomous Cartographer, which is basically an auto-map.

http://www.d20pfsrd.com/magic-items/wondrous-items/wondrous-items/a-b/autonomous-cartographer

We really should have the Circle trademark the motto "There's a spell for that."
Because really, it's like a magical App Store.

>>918468
>>918477
sweet. So we jump in, get a map copy, and then jump out with them none the wiser.

>>918481
We'll have to be very careful, though.

The Imperials aren't idiots. They've seen teleport tactics in action, and probably have taken precautions against it.

The one thing working in our favor is that we're teleporting into the captain's quarters of a Roscoli ship, something that the Imperials won't have had a chance to harden. Especially if it's a fresh ship just coming in after weeks at sea.

I just hope that Kyra can swim well, and her ability to sneak unseen is good enough.

>>918496
can we apply buffs to her?

Also, if it's a fresh ship coming in, how long do they stay in port?

That could give us enough time to sneak in while the crew are off having R&R.

>>918430
So I believe we now have 3 votes for asking Blackburn about the diplomatic repercussions, if any, of having Republic privateers capture Roscoli ships working for the Empire, if we can successfully get copies of the Roscoli navigational charts while their ships are docked in the Imperial port.

>>918528
Though, I'd also like to assign some people to gaining informants/allies among the other tribes around the island, on the side.

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“What would be the diplomatic repercussions if we had Republic privateers capture Roscoli ships we knew were trading with the Empire?” you ask after pondering upon the map for a good long while.

Blackburn taps the table as he digests your question. “How would we know which ones were doing the trading?” he responds.

“Well, we can scry Kyra and teleport to her location practically at will. If we sneak her onto one of these ships we can poof in, grab whatever we can – navigational charts, a registry, a knowledgeable captain – and return just as quickly to study the things we take to determine who it is dealing with the Kardassians.”

He crosses his arms across his chest. “Well the issue would be obtaining concrete proof these merchants in particular were dealing with the Imperials that we could show to any of the princes or guildhouses moaning about our actions. Even then, explaining where we obtained this proof and how we knew the Imperials were stationed on this island in the middle of nowhere could put the nature of our settlement in jeopardy. The location of Seaside is still a confidential secret.”

“The Imperials already know we exist though,” you point out.

Blackburn sighs. “Still. Its apparent they're keeping their own settlement clandestine as well. Probably the reason they're employing Roscoli middlemen rather than their own sub-par navy. We don't want each and every two-bit government that can field a few ships staking a claim if this gets out to the broader public. That becomes a diplomatic nightmare of a competition. Technically, the Roscoli have vowed to remain neutral in regards to our conflict and technically that conflict has been contained to the border regions on the mainland. There is also the possibility that some of these captains haven't been made aware of our settlement. They could easily act as such, play dumb in front of a tribunal. A backroom deal to bring supplies to a remote Imperial outpost practically removed entirely from the conflict – on paper – would earn them a slap on the wrist at most. And there is the not-so-small chance one of these ships working for the Imperials in secret is connected to a guildhouse the Republic does official business with. That could strain relations.”

You grimace. “Sounds like a resounding no.”

Blackburn licks his lips. “The Roscoli value a profit. If ten or so ships of theirs suddenly went up in smoke doing transport work off-the-books . . . well that's not profitable at all, is it?”

“Yeah, but if you're right,” you point out, “and these sailors don't know what's going on . . .” you trail off, leaving your implications clear.

Blackburn nods and takes a seat. “I understand. Killing those who may qualify as 'innocent' in this debacle may strike a sour chord within you. That's fine. Intercepting the Roscoli ships on their next supply drop is not an impossibility. If that's how you wish to handle things . . . I'll stand by your decision. Or, if you wish, I can have Irontide handle the situation. His team may be less daunted by the . . . morally questionable aspect of the mission. Or we can scrap the plan entirely and focus on one of our other avenues moving forward.”

>Assault the docks
>Let Irontide assault the docks
>Sneak in and copy/capture navigational charts
>Forget the Imperial Port
>Something else? (write-in)

>>922268
>>Sneak in and copy navigational charts

>>922268
>>Sneak in and copy/capture navigational charts

>>922268
>>Something else?
Use teleportation insertion with Kyra to burn the ships while they're docked.

1. Not as many sailors will die since they're right at the dock and can jump off the ship.
2. The burnt hills will sink into the water and make it near impossible to dock and make the harbor effectively into a reef.
3. The Roscoli lose ships, making them reconsider this deal.
4. The Imperials will need to dedicate resources to protecting their port and lessen what they have available elsewhere on the island.

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You rub the back of your head, exchanging a glance with your squire. His expression suggests while he is clearly out of his element on this whole planning business, he supports his master's decision unequivocally.

You sigh. “I think the risk of diplomatic blowback is worth doing this the right way. Is it possible you could make it seem like unaffiliated pirates or another state actor intercepted and captured the ships?”

Blackburn shrugs. “That story would be best corroborated if we killed the crews and sunk the ships far from any prying eyes.”

You grimace slightly. “That isn't what –”

“I know,” Blackburn confirms with a genuinely sympathetic half-smile. “I can keep things hush hush temporarily. Put some pressure on a few contacts and have these men escorted from their destination to holding cells for a few weeks. I can't keep it secret forever but perhaps in delaying the issue long enough we can be in the position to handle whatever strains this action has on our relations with the Roscoli.”

He rolls up the map and lightly slaps it onto his tabletop a few times to signify an end to that topic of discussion.

“As for the mission proper,” he begins as he slips the map back beneath his desk. “How many people can Quissonce bring with her when she teleports?”

“Four,” you answer. “But we'll need to save a spot for Kyra so we can bring her back.”

“I assume you'll be going,” Blackburn postulates. “You always do. That leaves us with two other agents.”

Du'kov's eyes shine bright. He looks to you. “Please, sir! Let me accompany you.”

Your overseer shrugs as you eye him for any sign of disapproval at the Island local's outburst. “You have a much better sense of his qualifications than I. I will warn you that the more people you bring the better a chance this mission has of going wrong. I'll leave the roster up to you.”

>Who is Quissonce bringing? (Write in anywhere from one to three people. You don't have to choose yourself. Du'kov wishes to accompany you.)

>>924703
well, we're obviously going, but I'm unsure as to how Du'kov will be useful.

I want to make sure he's not a liability. We should test him on his stealth first to see how good he is. If he can prove himself able to sneak around, we can bring him along.

The second thing to test is to see how well he can hold himself in a fight.

>>924703
For now, tell Du'kov we need to keep the numbers small, but we'll bring him along for other missions.

It'll just be us, Quissonce, and Kyra.

>>924703
We'll need to first test Du'kov on how well he can swim while encumbered, and sneak around.

If he passes, then I'll vote for
Alan, Quissonce, Du'kov. Kyra is assumed since she'll be brought back.

>>924771
yeah, let's first test Du'kov. If he succeeds, then it will be Alan, Du'kov, Quissonce, and Kyra.

though, we may need to ready ourselves. There's likely to be that invisible ninja guy. Do we have anything for detecting him? or making him visible?

>>924836
>Do we have anything for detecting him? or making him visible?
We still have the Glitterdust spell that we should prepare.

>>924783
>>924771
seconding

Rolled 43, 92 = 135 (2d100)

>>926647
was that Du'kov?

>>926677


RNG stuff

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You cough as you weather the energetic and hopeful stare of an apprentice giddy to see how the master works his stuff. So much naivete that you desperately wish you could avoid dashing upon the rocks. But you'd rather be a stick in the mud than risk your student's life recklessly.

“This operation isn't much of a . . . 'strut my stuff' gig. We'll be going in and out as fast as possible. The less action the better.”

Du'kov nods along to your words, listening intently although some part of you doubts deep comprehension of what you're implying by saying all this.

You grab the bridge of your nose and ponder upon the ramifications of yielding to his desires.

“Du'kov, let me ask you,” you preface. “How proficient are you at sneaking? Hiding, moving silently. Can you mask your presence while still moving forwards towards an objective?”

He gasps and his chest swells up with pride to precede the boast. “Alan, whether it be over rolling hills, across craggy rocks or between swaying trees – Du'kov hunted beasts aplenty to feed his tribe. I was a whisper on the wind. So quiet I was that I could be poised to jump upon a grazing buck before it knew I was there. I can sneak!”

“Alright,” you acknowledge, an inkling of a thought to verify these bragging claims forming in the back of your mind. “How well can you swim?” you follow up.

He opens his mouth to respond but mid-breath he seems to register what you just asked and freezes. He remains frozen for a long moment before you quirk your eyebrows.

“Du'kov?” you probe. He closes his mouth and . . . yeah he's definitely blushing.

“Uhhhh, I . . . can't . . .” he murmurs to you, trailing off his response as if he would like to say more to make that truthful response less damning.

“Not at all?” you continue, honestly surprised at a complete lack of ability in regards to the subject.

“. . . No. No I can't swim,” he informs you. He quickly speaks in a rapidfire burst of words. “But I am dexterous enough to avoid falling into –”

You silence him with a raised hand and a shake of your head. “No, Du'kov. That's too much of a liability. I'm sorry but I'll bring you along on something much more conducive to training you later on.”

“I can learn to swim!” he rebuts futilely. You awkwardly laugh at the earnestness of the claim.

“I'm not taking someone who just learned how to swim. That's the end of it.” You turn to Blackburn. “Quissonce, myself and Kyra should be enough.”

Your boss nods as he listens. “Well you'll have to wait a week or two for the next shipment of supplies to arrive. Which should provide you with ample time to prepare and inform the others of your plan.”

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You grimace as you think about Kyra's field work. “She's been out in the field for over a month now,” you comment.

Blackburn looks thoughtful upon your observation. “She's returned once or twice in the middle of the night since she began this impromptu scouting. Restocked on food and a few other miscellaneous items before vanishing. Whatever power she's employing is a far cry more than we ever expected of her.”

The man in charge of manipulating all the strings that keep Seaside functioning sighs once more. “Well, our affairs seem in order for the time being. You're dismissed, Rodain. Du'kov.”

You take your leave of the Overseer's Complex. With that out of the way and your squire at your side, you have a few options available to you. You could check on Rowe to see how she's recovering. You could go find Dolah and ask about her weird behavior. You could meditate for a few hours. Or you could do something else if you're feeling inclined. A lot of uncertainty in the air considering recent events.

>Check on Rowe
>Find Dolah
>Meditate
>Something else? (write-in)

>>927366
>Check on Rowe
Also, I think that we should train Du'kov how to swim, and consider taking him on other excursions.
We are responsible for his training, and introducing him to the fighter's guild would help with that. Also we should see if he has any spark of magic in him.

>>927366
>>Check on Rowe

>>927446
Also seconding this, the little bugger needs to learn how to swim.

>>927366
>>Check on Rowe

Strolling through the city streets, you arrive at the Research Library and push open the doors to be greeted with the smiling face of the head researcher, Gilda. Her eyes crinkle slightly upon recognizing you.

“Alan, great to see you!” she calls, giving you an enthusiastic, full-arm wave. “It's been awhile.” Her eyes flick to Du'kov as he strides in behind you. “And who's your friend?”

You gesture with your thumb. “This is my squire, Du'kov. He's from the Mountain Rider tribe.”

“Oh!” Gilda exclaims with genuine enthusiasm, her sunny disposition brightening further. “Well it is a pleasure to meet you, Du'kov,” she greets him in Orcish. “My name is Gilda.”

He semi-gingerly raises a hand to acknowledge the address. “Hello.”

Gilda looks back to you. “Are you here to see Rowe?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you affirm. “Is she still . . . unconscious?”

You've never been more relieved to see an immediate shake of the head. “No. Shortly after your friends rushed out of here she managed to rouse herself back to the land of the living. I was watching her for a bit to make sure she was OK. Renault showed up a short while later and is with her right now. You know how to get to the infirmary from here?” she asks.

“Yeah,” you say before turning to Du'kov. “Stay here. I'll be back in a moment.”

You traverse the sterile hallways of the second-most sprawling building in Seaside fairly quickly before spotting he medical room. Familiar voices stream through the open doorway which your hyper sensitive ears manage to parse accurately while you're still a fair few feet away.

“He was more stubborn than you, I can tell you that.” Renault. Rowe laughs.

“I find that hard to believe,” she eventually says. Her voice sounds hoarse and strained.

“As did I at the time.”

Stepping inside, their heads swivel to regard you. Rowe lies upon a soft bed in the middle of a rather bare room. Your balding recruiter sits in a plain wooden chair at her bedside. Cabinets line the furthest wall, most likely stocked with a variety of medical equipment. Rowe appears relatively untouched – although her face has a tired, haggard look to it. Like she hadn't slept in a day or two and had just ran a marathon.

“Well,” Renault remarks. “Speak a devil's name and he shall appear!”

“Hey Alan,” she whispers with a smile. “Did I do good?”

“Wonderfully,” you answer as you come to her side, leaning down to place a kiss upon her forehead. Renault stands and offers you his seat, but you refuse his kind gesture as you take one of Rowe's hands in your own, giving it a squeeze. “Hadraniel never knew what hit him. Will you be alright?” you ask with concern.

She nods. “Yeah. I'm just exhausted. Being a goddess takes a lot out of you.”

Renault scoffs. “I'm still reeling from this whole,” he waves his finger in a circle, gesturing to the both of you. “divine intervention situation. You can manifest a goddess's power?”

“I can whistle too,” Rowe quips.

“Can you do it again?” Renault inquires, eyebrows rising.

You chuckle. “I don't think she –”

“Probably,” Rowe cuts you off. “Just have to ask Miss Warden real nice. Not any time soon though.”

“But once you've recuperated, you could?” Renault specifies with his leading question. “Bring the wrath of a god down upon . . . whoever. Whenever.”

She shrugs. “Theoretically yeah.”

>I don't think we should do this again
>It's quite the handy tool
>Something else? (write-in)

>>931425
>Something else?
Useful, but there's so much setup and she still needs a team to protect her. And it's still risky.

>>931425
>It's a rare blessing, but we should not use it frivolously.

>>931425
>>Something else? (write-in)
I can admit, such an ability would come to be useful certain situations, but we shouldn't rely on it, nor take it for granted. Use it sparingly only for the most dire of situations, but no more than that.

>>931445
well worded

>>931475
that wasn't in character though. We could make it so, if you want.

>>931480
Yes, I like it. Something good to have for emergency situations, but only for those.

I think Renault is leading towards having Rowe assassinate Burn, the General, or go back to the continent to assassinate the Emperor.

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“I admit,” you chip in. “Seeing it in action – it was awe-inspiring. Everything we threw at Hadraniel glanced off him but in one powerful stroke She obliterated him. But,” you add on, “It's risky. Draining, definitely.”

Renault frowns thoughtfully. “Perhaps it's an issue of strength. Maybe as you become more powerful the process of taking Her on will become easier to handle and manifest.”

You squint and lick your lips in slight confusion at the knight's postulate.

Rowe shrugs. “It's a theory,” she states, unconcerned.

“Still,” you argue. “Even if that were the case I don't think it's something we should rely upon or take for granted. Enacting direct divine retribution shouldn't be a crutch for us. We should reserve it for only the most dire of situations.”

“A powerful dragon who could raze all of Seaside. An Imperial outpost led by a ruthless general with a roster of their own magically empowered individuals. Whoever this 'Master' character is,” the aging knight lists all the major threats looming in your future as he leans back lazily in his seat. “They all sound like dire threats to me.”

Rowe shakes her head. “No, when I slay Killmen it's going to be me pulling the bowstring. I'm not giving that experience away to anybody else. Goddess or not.”

Your recruiter gives the gal a conciliatory nod as he laughs. “I understand that sentiment completely. But this seems to be the most powerful tool we're packing and I think it's the ace-in-the-hole we need to fend off . . . everything. Wouldn't wish to see it squandered.”

“What can I say, Renault?” you offer what meager reassurances you can. “We'll have to play it by ear. I'm not jeopardizing Rowe's safety frivolously.”

He recoils, perplexed, and raises his arms, palms open in a gesture of bafflement, as his shifting pauldrons scrape against his gorget lightly. “You already have. The test run was successful. If it was going to go wrong –”

“Renault!” you spit.

He lowers his arms and shuts up, shocked into silence at your outburst.

(Alan) Rowe's mind blurts out. She extricates fingers and runs her hand down your arm – an reflexive attempt to console you.

Your good friend gulps, eyes downcast as he chooses his next words carefully. “I apologize,” he admits his folly, establishing eye contact with you both once more. “Now is not the best time to discuss this, I realize. I'll take my leave.”

Renault stands up, gives you both a stiff bow and then retreats from the discussion with a measure of dignity.

You let go of Rowe's arm and take a step back, facing her fully.

“I noticed you remained rather neutral about the whole thing,” you point out. “It's your body and, ultimately, your decision.”

She sighs out, taking a long moment to think. The silence lasts a while as she gathers her thoughts.

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(I'm lucky to still be breathing.) she eventually reveals. (And I . . . think Gaea's Warden is . . . benevolent. Ugh. I don't know. If I can save lives or end the war with a quick switch – I'm doing it. It's a sacrifice I'm ready to make.)

You absorb those thoughts before breathing out. “Alright,” you accept. A much less comfortable silence follows.

(So, uh . . . in other news, I thought last night was fun.) She thinks with a light-hearted change of subject. (The pre-Angel part.)

You laugh harder than usual at a joke like that. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

(I'm sure a whole other part of you agrees as well.)

“Very True,” you acknowledge with a smirk. “So you wouldn't mind if we did that again?”

She giggles. (Yeah, not anytime soon. I need a few weeks of bed rest before I'll be back at one-hundred percent. Operative word being rest.) She stretches her head backwards before snuggling a bit further under the covers.

“I should be able to heal you up soon. If not me, then Dolah.”

She shakes her head. (No, I'm not . . . injured. At least not . . . it's hard to describe. But I don't think it's the type of thing you can just 'heal'. I need time for my body to . . . return? I don't know what I'm saying. Or thinking, rather. I'm not saying anything.)

“I think I understand,” you say. “This isn't something we've dealt with before. Just one more reason to be extra careful.” You think about what you've got on your plate in the coming weeks. “Well, I'll probably have to handle Blackburn's assignment before you've fully recovered.”

(Oh. What's the job?)

“Sneaking onto a Roscoli ship to copy a few naval charts so we can starve the Imps of supplies.”

(Neat! Well. Make sure to have fun.)

“I will,” you promise.

>Anything else to say? (write-in)

AND

What do you do between now and when you interrupt the next naval shipment?

>Learn something (what?)
>Train Du'kov
>Purchase something (what?)
>Something else? (write-in)

>>934398
>Anything else
Does Rowe want us to get Sif, or get him anything?

>Train Du'kov
>Learn teleportation and how to create a pocket plane where we can control the rate of time
>Something else: Talk with the Circle magisters and the Archmage about formally making teleportation a service to be sold to interested parties, especially Blackburn and adventurers, and of the feasibility of a Teleportation-Scrying Beacon Network
By Teleportation-Scrying Beacon Network, I mean setting up secure places around the Island where we have placed specific linked items that can be easily scryed upon and then teleported to.
Or, working towards the creation of a network of teleport circles. While it admittedly could be a security hazard, it does also provide a means of quickly getting around the Island, giving us an advantage over the Imperials. And the Circle would collect a toll for each person using it.

Is there anything else we could be learning?
Probably.
Fighting tactics and techniques from Gale.
Hand-to-Hand stuff from Gabby.

Come to think of it, does Essentia need any more life coaching? She seems to be doing very well now, and even stood up for herself by refusing to let people (Alan) continue abusing her sanctum's time dilation effect.

>>934398
>>Train Du'kov
definitely need to train him how to swim.

>>934648
I'd like to enhance our ninja techniques, because I get the feeling we're going to be facing that guy again.

>>935293
>I'd like to enhance our ninja techniques,
I suppose we could try training with Gabby again.
Maybe we can also improve our Thrown Weapons skill and get to throw like that ninja did.

>>935323
sure.

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“Do you want me to Get Sif, Rowe?” you ask. “Or maybe get him something?”

(Yeah, actually. Now that you mention it. Let him plow the shit out of Pascala.) she lazily think as she drifts closer back to sleep.

“Uhhh,” you mutter as you digest that stream of fading consciousness. “A-a-alright. Anything else?”

(Nah.)

. . .

In your downtime you decide to spend your efforts on a variety of pursuits you are interested in furthering.

Speaking with Quissonce about matters of magic while you inform her of the upcoming mission the two of you will embark upon, she guides your desires as best she can.

As of right now, your magical capability in the realms of spells and wizardry is too weak to access any stronger forms of teleportation and you are a far cry – in terms of potency – from dilating or truncating time itself. She does however let you copy down what she has written with regards to her mirror dimension spell. A few cautionary words of proper instruction is all it requires for you to feel confident you could cast the spell yourself in a pinch. You can now create your own, temporary pocket plane!

. . .

Next you speak with Essentia and pitch your idea of setting up a scrying and teleporting service to offer adventurers and the like at a cost. You also suggest setting up a beacon network of sorts, whereby you could quickly traverse the Island to key secure locations in the blink of an eye so as to cut down on travel times and to enhance the capabilities of a quick action response team.

The Archmage is reluctant to waste such powerful, limited spells in the name of profit – especially when so few individuals can scry and with the history of spontaneous surprise obstacles that have arisen requiring such able services at a moment's notice. However, she believes your latter idea quite feasible if given ample time to perfect and shares it with Blackburn. After some discussion and preparation, Ms. Nells informs you that she has gotten familiar enough with the exact location of the Acidspit Clutch and the Firegem Nation that if you wish she can bring you there instantly. As can Quissonce.

. . .

Desden finds you in the middle of your busy schedule taking a short break in your room at the Circle. Upon opening the door, he stretches his hand out, offering you a familiar necklace. Upon a chain of silver links hangs a crescent moon. The silver enamel upon the carved chunk of obsidian seems to have been partially melted or scraped off, probably from your scrap with Haadraniel. You gingerly accept the holy symbol of your late spiritual mentor into your palm like the precious gift it is.

The inquisitor coughs as you take the piece off his hands. “Ms. Helbot found it while making her repairs. The church's renovations are coming along nicely. I'd suggest for you to come by, except . . .”

You nod, rolling the cold curved shape in your offhand. “People are still concerned, I'd imagine.”

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“We only yesterday held a funeral for Father Curtis. Explanations as to the circumstances of his passing have been difficult to communicate. Soon – hopefully – people will come together. Good day, Alan.”

He bids you a farewell to his short business visit and leaves you to your solitude.

. . .

You decide to focus on training Du'kov on how to properly swim over the course of your free time. Thanks to the magical properties of the Helm of Underwater Action – which you've had since nearly the beginning of your stay here on the island – you have been able to get him used to treading water without fear of drowning. With that major limitation removed from his mind he is able to throw himself into the act with abandon. It does not take long for the young orc to master the basic swimming strokes that coastal denizens like yourself learned at a very young age.

. . .

As for your own self-improvement, you resolve to direct your efforts into shoring up your ninja abilities even further. You have a gut feeling you may just run into this Allant character again. Maybe even on this very next assignment. You are heading deep into what would be considered Imperial territory. The ghost himself may be skulking around the ships as they bring in the Kardassian weaponry. And when you do eventually face him down you want to be prepared and beat him at his own game.

The only real questions is what you want to focus on of his specific skillset.

>At-will invisibility
>Two weapon fighting
>Undetectable presence
>Deadly throwing weapons

Regardless, roll me 2d100, best of 3.

First one has a bonus of 17 and is related to utilizing Calloway's holy symbol.

Second one has a bonus of 43 and is related to assimilating whatever skill you choose.

Rolled 37, 99 = 136 (2d100)

>>939436
>Undetectable presence

Rolled 8, 86 = 94 (2d100)

>>939436
>>Undetectable presence

Should I roll the third set of dice, just so we can get moving?

>>939570
yeah

Rolled 21, 37 = 58 (2d100)

>>939436

>>939451
>>939512
>>939581
>54, 25, 38
These are disheartening figures for using Calloway's holy symbol.

>>939584
most disappointing.

Rolled 87, 44 = 131 (2d100)

>>939436
just flexing to see what I would have gotten

File: Ninja.jpg (44 KB, 736x1129)

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The ghostly aura that the ninja called 'Allant' is able to exude still fascinates you. Only the blood dripping from his body gave away his position during your eerily silent duel – a fortunate reminder of just how human this man still is. And yet – despite your critical study and the weeks of effort you have poured into mastering his style of combat – the quiet nature of his very being manages to elude the full extent of your assimilation capabilities. Perhaps this is because the Imperial ninja is the one subject you have desperately tried to mimic without having the form before your eyes to learn from in real time. Or perhaps it is simply because this man, unlike any other, has lived and breathed his craft since he was a babe, the skills stitched into his skin so deep it would take even you years to absorb his lifetime of work. Regardless, your natural desires to indulge in such a riveting ability are exasperated by the fast-approaching reconnaissance mission you are to take part in. And so you throw yourself into 'quieting' your movements as you go through the motions of the exotic fighting style.

Every day, for hours at a time, you draw your saber and dagger, adopting the stance you have urged yourself to master in recent weeks, and focus on the fine details of your footwork. Over and over you run the memory of your combat in your mind's eye, analyzing the hazy vision you have of the master ninja's motions, and then try your damnedest to self-actualize what you see.

Surprisingly, your remembrances appear crystal clear when you center your recollection on how his feet seemed to glide across the stone floor and merely tap themselves upon the earth as if gravity had to enact itself upon his extremities in secret. It comes as quite the lucky break when you make major headway into adapting Allant's soundless manner simply from adjusting and altering the positioning of your legs to more accurately reflect your memories.

You almost giggle as your feet seem to feel much nimbler and dexterous, a vibratory buzz streaming to the tips of your toes. You wiggle them in sudden, naturalistic delight. The sense of progress inspires you to capitalize on your gains as rapidly as possible. Stripping off your boots to free your feet, you spend time bounding through the streets as fast as possible while still maintaining that feeling of a light airiness to your lower body. The second you feel yourself coming out of sync – when the sensation of hard slapping, collisions between the soles of your feet and the hard-packed earth of the ground you tread rings in your ears and your heart – you stop yourself, resituate and roll your feet until you're ready to begin your unimpeded travel once more.

File: The Stealthy One.jpg (14 KB, 180x311)

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This new power is not only useful for minimizing your presence! Although you are reassured by the fact that when you utilize it to dash across the beach you barely touch the grains of sand, neither kicking them up into the air for bystanders to see nor leaving footprints in your wake for any would-be sleuths to perceive. You can also sprint across more unstable or difficult-to-traverse terrain as quickly as if you were running down an average street in Basye to no physical detriment. Over jagged rocky ground or a forest floor littered with gnarled roots and other hazards. You even grow so bold as to run over broken glass in your bare feet and are enthused when not a single sharp sliver has embedded itself into your flesh.

Its only once you start gliding across shallow water like a swooping bird of prey skimming the water that you recognize how fantastical the power you now possess truly is. Your feet aren't even wet when you make it back to shore.

All in all, gravity's tether upon your body feels to have slackened quite a bit after twelve days of drilling this technique until you can employ it unconsciously.

As amazing as the breakthrough in that field of your diverse powerset has been, an equally disappointing setback has cemented itself in your psyche over the same amount of time.

No matter how hard you pray or focus or dwell on unleashing your clerical talents once more via your keepsake from Father Calloway nothing seems to manifest. You can't heal. You can't channel energy. You certainly can't cast divine magic. Each day, after the same hour long prayer you offer The Great Will when you wake up, you make an attempt to use the crescent necklace as a conduit of His powers. And you repeat the attempt at night, right before going to bed.

Nothing.

You grow more despondent and more concerned with each passing failure.

>Shelve it for now, focus on the upcoming job
>Seek Dolah for guidance
>Give up on your clerical connection
>Something else? (write-in)

>>942173
>Seek Dolah for guidance
This is a cause for serious concern, in-character.

Out of character, we know that we just failed a test to use this specific item as a divine focus.
But in-character, Alan would be starting to panic that maybe Hadraniel was right, that killing His greatest general was a step too far for the Great Will and He has withdrawn His divine touch.

>>942172
>ninja called 'Allant'
I thought Allant was the name of the country he was from?

>>942173
>Seek Dolah for guidance

>>942236
>I thought Allant was the name of the country he was from?

It is both. Sorta like calling someone 'Tex'