Trick or Treat: Ghastly Potatoes
Log Info
- Title: Trick or Treat: Ghastly Potatoes
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Jinks, Lysos, Randolf, Merek, Faranmidahn
- Place: A04: Theatre District
- Time: Wednesday, October 27, 2021, 10:15 PM; Thursday, October 28, 2021, 07:15 PM
- Summary: The Eidolon costume shop is back, this time in the Theater district. A bunch of performers are out, juggling, dancing, contorting, standing as statues, performing and orating, generally hamming it up. Merek is getting the last of the energy draining necklaces put on as others wander through. Off to the side, a lumpy looking Sith'makar is performing prestidigitation without a spell! Jinks is thrown out of a lover's lap after laughing at her, and runs of, pulling his clothes on. It's at that moment a second lumpy looking sith'makar exits the Eidolon store and heads over to a few contortionists. Jinks checks that trenchcoat, it is the three kobolds. At this instant, a second Jinks appears, walking out of the Eidolon store and looking less beat up. He rushes the first, to attack. Battle ensues! Randolf casts a dispel magic and new-jinks turns into a rotting, potato person. Merek struggles to be effective while Lysos is not sure, but is sure about her thunderstomp. The original three kobolds run off, trying to escape and trying doors. They are chased by one of the contortionists and a spiritual hammer. Jinks cages most of the lot, and Faranmidahn webs them. They are gradually brought down. The kobolds escape into the dance formation. Jinks chases, greasing them, and they are 'rescued' by a jotun juggler who likes their easy to grab tails. It got a little dicey, but all the potato people were mashed down.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* A04: Theatre District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
While the area contains more than theatre, it is most known for its dueling play houses and established, theatrical families. Competition for talent, especially known actors and playwrights, is fierce. An example of these long-standing, yet well-entrenched feuds are the Flightwright and Flame's Hope--two theatres built within a hundred years of one another yet separated by more than ideology. Owned by opposing families, the various troupes have been unofficially "at war" for over a hundred years.
Ribbons in Ceinara's vibrant colors grace the mismatched and often run-down streets, attesting to the District's colorful and creative background. The buildings possess no single style. Though not the quality in Upper Alexandria, this District possesses a thoroughly bohemian spirit and style amid its contrasting landscapes.
Aside from several well-known theatres, artists and crafters of all sorts make their homes here, as much for company as cheap rent. Callers-out stand on street corners, announcing the latest play, with what's in production reflecting the tone of the times and often, current politics. Street musicians abound, playing instruments or, for more visual artists, offering portraits for a few coppers to silver. Present, too, are Muses and their ilk, whose blessings the houses and various artists compete for.
The very center of the district is home to an open stage, an area raised a few feet from street level and worn flat. Anyone may perform here, and many do, though it's often an area for musician's gatherings and general lounging.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Understudying scene-chewers =-=-=-=-=-= Randolf 4'10" 280 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A burly, well-dressed Khazad in wizardly robes. Lysos 5'6" 105 Lb Human/Tsuran Female Dark eyed tsuran girl. Jinks 3'4" 39 Lb Gnome Male A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry. Merek 5'10" 215 Lb Human Male A black-haired, dusky male with golden eyes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- There for the second act -=-=-=-=-=-=-= Faranmidahn 3'3" 35 Lb Halfling Female Albino Lucht woman. Knight of Spiders. So, SO Fluffy. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- A drama queen herself =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
The theater district!
One is liable to encounter a mime. Other performers abound, from living statues, acrobatic dance troops, street singers and other sorts of buskers.
New to the area is a temporary shop, attracted by the season. An Eidolon Costume Shop, nestled against the Fire Hope theatre. A familiar face about town is there, the Seer of Eluna. He is bent over, neck stretched out, and what seems to be a tired, grey skinned Fey woman with butterfly wings is putting a glowing necklace around the man's neck.
"Nineteen. There, you can go in now." She says, ash dripping off her cigarette.
Lingering nearby, performing an odd sort of magic trick, is a lumpy looking Sith'makar in a trenchcoat. Awkward in stance, he, presumably it's a lizardman, he is doing some slight of hand tricks.
There are also a few people in the crowd that are handing out what seem to be unusual water balloons, or some sort of air jelly-fish. It's a pale, translucent blob that passers by are playing with. Pressed to the face, it makes a brief inverted copy, which then pops out and makes a variety of expressions at the original before reverting to blob form.
Intriguing.
Randolf comes ambling down the way, hands tucked behind his back as he looks hither and thither. His recent experiences in Happy Valley have instilled in him a new appreciation for the thespian's arts, and so here he finds himself in the theatre district. His own performative experience is pretty much limited to amusing his rambunctious nephews and nieces with some crafty Prestidigitation, but he -did- recently turn that skill to good use to pacify a most remarkable flesh golem. He slows in his step as he looks over the trenchcoated sith-makar, his shaggy red brows arching as he nods in appreciation. Those sleight of hand tricks draw his attention, and he studies them intently. After awhile, he turns and continues on his way. He draws his hands in front of himself, repeating the sith's movements in an attempt to replicate the trick. "Hrrm... dinnae seem all -that- hard," he mutters into his beard as he goes.
Lysos, feeling particularly lucky today, came to investigate rumours of this costume shope that had opened up. She's no stranger to the concept, of course... her family had definitely used costumes for their various shows and schemes. But the theme intrigues her. Of course, before she even makes her way over to the shop she gets distracted with watching the slight of hand.. Often when one is very familiar with actual magic, seeing the 'fake' stuff is much more impressive.
"--T OUT!" The shout comes from the shadowed flank of the Flightwright Theatre, preceded by a shaft of light stabbing into the alleyway by an opened door. Jinks comes into view, stumbling in his underclothes with his arms folded protectively around his flank and head as his effects follow him in a violent barrage.
"Now calm--" the gnome ducks and folds both hands over his head when his rapier flies by, glittering in the lamplight as the mithral twirls end-over-end. He stands only to duck again when his pants and belts go by. "-- down. I said you were fantastic! I wasn't--" *fwump* his coat catches him in the face and he staggers when the brooch pinned to its lapel smashes into his nose.
"I didn't mean to laugh when you said you've eclipsed Astanstranzadentella. I--" He stops, twists, and a wine bottle tears past to smash with a clatter against the opposite wall of the alley. The door slams to leave the half-naked minstrel standing in the dark alley. "I was just caught off guard because I didn't know you were a comedienne AND a vocalist." He mutters to no one, shivvering and rubbing his arms as he turns and begins collecting his things.
Merek will look to the Fae woman and to the necklace, "Wait, I have seen you before," the man notes, then he takes a look about the place when he feels a little bit of his power drain from him. Then he nods, "Alright," he walks along and into the shop.
The sleight of hand performed by the Sith'Makar in the trench coat is indeed impressive. It seems impossible, something that might only be accomplished with an extra set of hands. The little balls thrown in the air, which are dropped, seem to vanish before they hit the ground. It's only barely possible to notice a flicker of cloth, a small purple clad claw-hand catch the ball and pull it back under the coat.
This isn't nearly as impressive as this individual's next trick.
As Merek is about to walk into the shop, the door opens, and the lumpy Sith'Makar in a trenchcoat walks out. He looks exactly like the one across the street. It's like they're staring in a mirror.
The one with all the balls in the air, drops them. They vanish, as before, although there's some frustrated hissing from down below, and the knee's get wriggly.
The one exiting the store immediately walks north.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "roll an intelligence check Randolf, DC5" GAME: Randolf rolls intelligence: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (15)+5: 20 (perception DC for slieght of hand)
Randolf makes a few more of those gestures, then scowls. "Wait a tick." He lowers his hands by his hips, draws them up to his flanks. His shaggy brows furrow closer together as he turns his wrists a couple times. "How the -hell-...?" He looks over his shoulder towards the sith-makar. He squints, lifting his hands and forming Ls with his thumbs and forefingers. He turns his hands this way and that, lining up the angles. Then he boggles. "Beards o' me fathers. Hah! Well isn't -that- clever?" He turns to resume on his way, chuckling amusedly. Timing is truly everything, they say, and he happens to be passing by the alley right as Jinks makes his grand appearance. The dwarf pauses with one foot poised to step, eyes getting wider. And wider. And wider. The wine-bottle crash and door-slam makes him wince twice in succession. He sets his foot down, turning to step a couple steps into the alley. "Rough crowd, eh lad?" he says sympathetically. He hooks his thumb towards the door. "That's why -I- never go fer the ol' rumpy-bumpy wi' stage divas. One wrong word edgewise, an' they -will- shriek." He chortles softly, reaching down to start helping Jinks gather his things. "Maybe stick tae starry-eyed, apple-cheeked barmaids, eh? Those're my personal favorite."
"Yeah I remember you too," The fat fairy says, looking lazily at Merek. "Different owner, same store. You don't want to go in there."
"What iss wrong?" The knees of the lumpy Sith'makar hiss.
"It stole our face!" The unusually small sith'makar's head says. It's hard to tell if his face is missing, as it's cowled. <draconic>
The other lumpy sith'makar in a trenchcoat looks at the one across the street, and hurries over to two contortionists who are twisted up and balancing on each other. It's rather unique.
They disentangle and join the sith.
Lysos almost misses the appearance of the doppleganger.. she's too busy trying to fight off a grin, and failing, at Jinks's rather abrupt and noticeable arrival. A hand is covering her mouth, but the grin is too broad to be completely contained. It's only in looking away from the spectacle that she comes to see the non-magical mirror image event. "Hah, well that's different." Of course, being that the two are cowled, it may just be a case of similar clothes. And shape. And there's the overheard comment about stealing faces. Still, the new lumpy sith has got her attention for the moment, which now includes the contortionists.
There's no reaction from the performers. There's really nothing to react to. Two odd shaped sith'makar, well they're always odd shaped aren't they? They continue to juggle, recite poetry, tell jokes.
They don't have a lot of audience, they're almost performing at each other.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+29: (6)+29: 35 (Perception DC to see through the disguise) GAME: Merek rolls perception-19: (12)+25+-19: 18
Merek will look about the place and nods to the sith'makar, though he seems a bit thoughtful while he takes the time to place both hands to his pockets, "Nice to see ya about," then he watches the man Jinks while he takes a look to the kobolds along in that trenchcoat. Ah, that was why it looked familiar.
Over by Lysos, the trenchcoat suddenly parts and small sith'makar head sticks out. No, it's a kobold. She says, "Eidolon? Why are we here? That's the store that turned us into a demon!" <draconic>
"No demons," the grey fairy drawls, tapping her cigarette and knocking some ash on the ground. "City confiscated them, too many getting murdered. No sexy devils either, or red fallen angels. Only fairies and satyrs."
"I was the butt! It was horrible." The knees hiss upwards. <draconic>
"You're still a butt!" Torso says. <draconic>
"We're getting away." The head says, pointing, then hissing, "Run, run!"
"She'll calm down," Jinks assures Randolf with a smirk, hopping up and down to get his pants up around his waist, "and in the wake of this little sting she'll be starved for validation the next time I see her." His pearly teeth flash in a wolfish grin, made to look grim by the dark blood streaking down from his abused nose to mingle with the white hairs of his goatee. The bandages around his shoulder and left breast drape, tangled and loose to half-reveal a brutal scar threaded with creeping black veins. They're hidden a moment later when he slides into his coat, shirtless.
"See," the gnome waves around, "she kept my shirt and boots. She expects me back and I'll call her bluff... later." There's the sound of an exasperated shout and a silken shirt fabric tearing from behind the closed door of the dressing room. "That was a move of pure desperation, trust me." He waves away any concern, navigating past the shattered glass of the wine bottle to scoop up his belts, scabbard, and rapier. The rapier goes in its leather loop of a home but he carries the bundle in a tiny fist, turning to look past the Khazad. "... I know that voice."
Jinks pads to the mouth of the alley, near to Randolf and points across the way at the lumpy sith, "Stop those kobolds-in-a-trenchcoat! They owe me a Xian teaset I bought for a tallman!"
As if they... it... him... her, the other lumpy makari in a trenchcoat heard Jinks, they turn, look in his direction, then charge.
Perhaps odder, Jinks himself emerges from the Eidolon store, except he has his full gear, no broken nose, the picture of health. As if obeying a silent order, he charges himself.
Randolf chuckles as he hands over Jinks' effects, shaking his head with a wry grin. "Ah, she'll surely be pinin' over ye in no time, laddie," he says. The shriek and the sound of tearing cloth makes him wince, and his grin broadens a bit, turning sheepish. "Och, just listen to 'er. The very picture o' woe, I'll warrant. Why--" He cuts off with a boggle as Jinks points out the trenchkobolds and cries out. He turns just in time to see the -other- set of trenchkobolds tearing across the plaza at them.
"Reos' flamin' beard!" he cries. He takes a step back, pulling his wand with one hand. The other fumbles in his hip satchel, bringing out a scroll. He unrolls it with a snap of his wrist and lifts it high. "Re ex re ahn dor dormus!" he barks. The magicked ink flares gold before drifting away into sparkling dust. There's a burst of hazy blue sparkles around the 'knees' of the trenchkobold, but... they keep coming. He gapes for a moment. "Oh, piss up my -arse-!" he growls, before setting himself into a ready stance, lifting his wand. "Och, aren't -you- the popular one? What'd ye do tae piss -them- off, shag their mothers?"
GAME: Lysos casts Shield. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17
"Well, that's even wierder.." Lysos says when she sees the copy of Jinks, thoughts translating directly to voice as she talks to herself. Randolf's outburst draws a quick glance and she sees him use his wand.. though she doesn't connect the actual effects, she knows invoking a wand's power when she sees one. "Hey! Careful! People are already mad at us for throwing magic around willy nilly!" she warns, before nearly back stepping into the kobolds-in-a-sith-suit as she realizes the charging duplicates don't look like they're about to start. Almost reflexively she thrusts her hand forward, gahtering power and shouting, "Defendarus!".. the power releases into a partial sphere before her, a glowing, blue translucence that fades away seconds later.
Merek does not know which of the Jinks is Jinks, all he can think to do is place the Snapdragon Fireworks, the man knows that kobolds like things like that maybe, it will attract all of them to that possibly as well while he works.
The little dragon fizzles across the square, explodes, explodes again!
GAME: Jinks casts Major Image. Caster Level: 7 DC: 19 (DC 20, +1 for gnome)
Jinks chokes on his response when he sees the image of himself tearing out of the strange shop he'd visited earlier and come running this way. He stammers and takes a step back, nearly turning to run but wondering if he can actually manage to get away. He coughs, clenches his jaw so hard his teeth grind with a quiet squeel, and exhales through flared nostrils.
The gnome's eyes narrow and the world flexes out around from him in ripples, the threads of the Weave stretching as he concentrates.
"That's not me. It couldn't be. The things you see what make you flee. I guarantee you won't agree and make a plea, beg 'Mercy!' when I charge you twice... my appearance fee!" The gnome reaches to his side. Where did the rope come from? He tugs it and a gigantic cage slams down from the blackness of the sky above. It lands with a massive, ear-punishing clatter, and kicks up dust from the cobbles beneath.
The show must go on, and for most of the street performers, it does.
The dancers ignore their fallen members. A few make frustrated 'pfft' noises as they collapse. Couldn't keep up. Only one breaks formation to try and rouse a sleeper.
The three kobolds in a trenchcoat, the friendly, tea-set stealing ones, not the angry charging ones, back up towards the steps of the Flightwright.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "DC13 to dispel it" GAME: Randolf rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18
Randolf startles, ducking down and clapping his hand over his bonnet as that gigantic iron cage comes crashing down out of the clear blue sky. "Gah!" He straightens up once it's clear that he, himself, has not been squashed by sudden freak cage-hail. He's had no luck at -all- with the weather lately, so it'd be just about par for the course. But now that the trenchkobolds and the duplicate Jinks are imprisoned, he puffs up his burly chest. "Well... -this- is gettin' tae be about ridiculous!" he growls. He snaps his wand out, tracing a complex pattern. "Re ex raya dunor ahneg negatos! HAH!" He makes a final grandiose flourish. A ghostly sphere flares around the dupli-Jinks before shattering and crumbling like glass. As it does, the image of the dapper gnome warbles and fades, becoming a large, lumpen figure. Not unlike a humanoid-sized potato, stained with fuzzy white fungus and rot. "Ohh -ewwww-!" is about all the burly dwarf has to say on the matter. "What the hell is -that-?! Some sort o' tater-demon? Och, the Dark Lords o' Hell must be gettin' -really- desperate, if -that's- all they got tae throw at us!"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "+1 on your next roll Randolf" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "anyone that uses a potato pun, gets a +1" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+11: (11)+11: 22 (vs DC 20 - Success) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+11: (4)+11: 15 (vs DC 20 - Fail) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+11: (12)+11: 23 (vs DC 20 - Success)
Tater-demon, spud-buds, whatever they are, they keep coming.
Two of them. The potato formerly appearing as Jinks runs straight at the illusion, as if he was going to cheese-grater himself through, only to be unobstructed. He continues to charge at the small troubadour. Another, one of the contortionists, dives sideways and seems to twist between the bars. She runs after the retreating tea-thieves, right by Lysos.
The third, the other contortionist, runs straight into the bars, then rattles them. He's seemingly convinced they are real.
That other lumpy sith though, pauses and draws several symbols in the air, and a dark halo surrounds it, one that sparkles with spikes.
<OOC> Jinks says, "Going to stop concentrating on Major Image." <OOC> Jinks says, "It'll last two extra rounds. Gonna start inspire courage (+2) as a move action." <OOC> Jinks says, "Gonna cast Sound Burst as a standard action at the two dopple-fried potatos in the "cage." GAME: Jinks casts Sound Burst. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17 (Fort) GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8: (4): 4 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+8: (11)+8: 19 (Ghastly Potato Fort Save) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22 (Ghastly Potato Fort Save) GAME: Jinks spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE. GAME: Jinks rolls Knowledge/Dungeoneering: (4)+12: 16 (vs DC 15) GAME: Jinks rolls Spellcraft: (5)+7: 12
Jinks has a monster running at his face. Some kind of backup would be pretty cool.
Dopplegangers! Except, something wrong with them. Pretty sure the 'kobold' one cast a protection from something. They look really rotten... perhaps... undead
The gnome isn't thrilled when two of the duplicates just push their way through the now-shimmering bars. Or when another starts casting a spell. It's a small relief that one seems to bump against the illusion and remain held. "This situation becomes less a-peeling as time progresses!" He shouts.
Jinks brings up his rapier in a ready stance against the charging lump of not-Jinks and bellows the Hymn out across the performance yard. "Boil them! Mash them! Stick them in a STEW!" He doesn't make a hobbit of singing Lucht feast songs but today he'll make an exception.
STEW-EW-EW-EW-ew-ew-ew-ew echoes across the space to slam against the two creatures still stuck within the illusory prison. "They're shapechangers! Doppelgangers! But diseased or undead. FAMINE POTATOES!"
The show goes on. The dancer that is waking the others moves onto the next one. As a dancer is roused, they rejoin the routine.
The three kobolds in a trenchcoat wobble awkwardly up the Flightwright's stairs and to the first door. They fumble and pull at it, it seems locked.
"Help." The head hisses, looking over his shoulder. <draconic>
"We don't need help!" The legs argue. <draconic>
"Yesss, we do." The torso-bold says, then louder, "Help. Help!"
GAME: Merek RAGES!, gaining +2 to melee attack/damage/Will saves and 40 temporary HP GAME: Merek rolls will-19: (11)+21+-19: 13 (vs DC20)
Merek will take the time to begin to charge the barrier, swinging his weapon to try to get through that, although he doesn't manage and looks like it will take a bit while he works.
GAME: Randolf casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16 GAME: Randolf rolls Ranged+1: (16)+3+1: 20 GAME: Randolf rolls 4d6: (11): 11
Randolf narrows his eyes as the big tater-beast lurches through the cage as though it weren't even there. Which, if one is being exact, it isn't. His grip tightens on his wand and he narrows his eyes. "Oh, sod -this-!" he snarls. Up comes his wand, whipping a brisk pattern through the air. "RE EX RE AKH ASCORIUS! HAH!" He snaps his wand out at the beast, firing a line of searing orange light. FZZZZZZSHH! The rotted skin blackens and chars as the molten beam skates across its surface. "Break out the butter an' bacon bits, I'M HAVIN' BAKED TATER TONIGHT!" he bellows. His elation is short-lived, however, as a puff of oily black mold erupts from the scorched skin. "Ohh, now that's just bloody -gross-!" he growls. Seems he's lost his appetite for baked potato.
<OOC> Lysos says, "First! Casting defensively, thunderstomp, on 2, then moving to 5,17" GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+6: (12)+8+6: 26 GAME: Lysos casts Thunderstomp. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+6: (5)+8+6: 19, "+2 from Bardic Performance, then." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "ok! CMD 20, so 21 trips it"
Lysos's face is pure disgust when the magic reveals the true nature of one of the 'copies' that emerged from the costume vendor. "Gross!" Surmising that the other copies are very likely the same, ducks away from the one near her, gathering power as she does so.. then channeling it down through her leg, foot, and into the ground as she stomps. "Karak!" The road ripples underneath the hostile juggler and tips it over, leaving her to scurry quickly over to the wall of the building of Jinks's earlier hasty departure.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "1 charges Jinks, Jinks and Randolf need to make a DC 15 fort" GAME: Jinks rolls Fortitude: (5)+4: 9 GAME: Randolf rolls fortitude: (12)+5: 17 (Saves) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+4: (6)+4: 10, Jinks, sickend for 10 minutes, that's lots of -2s to everything" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "2 stands up, 3 goes to try and attack Merek through the bars, and potato-bold does a spell" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+13+2: (11)+13+2: 26 (Charge attack on Jinks) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+4: (1)+4: 5 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+13: (14)+13: 27 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+4: (7)+4: 11
The Ghastly Potatos move. Potato-Jinks, now simply Potato-Primo, charges the gnome and slashes, raking a hand that has turned into a claw across his bare chest, ripping the bandage away. It's choking, moldy aura follows.
The one that was fallen, stands.
The other potato, in the cage, charges at the raging Seer, slashing at him through the bars. The potato-bold casts a spell, and a force hammer appears beside the real kobolds, swinging. They duck, and it knocks on the door.
<OOC> Lysos says, "alright. Casting force punch, with reach spell, on 2." <OOC> Lysos says, "I am not familiar with the use of metamagic, so my cast is going to just be another spell of the appropriate level." GAME: Lysos casts Telekinetic Charge. Caster Level: 8 DC: 20 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+4+3+2: (18)+4+3+2: 27 (Ranged Touch - Hits) GAME: Lysos rolls 8d4: (18): 18 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6 (vs DC 19)
This is when the panic starts to set in.. having removed herself from immediate danger, Lysos only now gets to see how much MORE is going on. Potato men everywhere! And who knows how many others in the district are potatoes masquerading as people? Almost without thinking, she starts gathering power again.. mentally grabbing her panic in a strangle hold by repeating to herself, "What would Strike do?" Well, clearly, Strike would punch. Lysos gathers more, then focuses on the one she tripped.. and just as its getting its feet, she takes a step towards it and thrusts her hand forward, like a fist, yelling, "Forzare!" A ripple seems to travel nearly instantaneously through the air, connecting with the copied juggler and sending it stumbling backwards, almost all the way to the summoned cage. The magical blow seems to force out a puff of black, as well...
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Merek, you are blood raging, a thing is in front of you. Make a fort save vs DC15" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "illusion cage, which you believe, gives it +2AC, also gives you +2 AC for it" GAME: Merek rolls fort-19: (2)+15+-19: -2 GAME: Merek rolls melee: (11)+13-19: 5 GAME: Merek rolls melee-24: (2)+13+-24: -9 GAME: Merek rolls melee-29: (15)+13+-29: -1
Merek looks to the wall while he takes the longsword and will swing along into, well it doesn't look like he is able to do a lot, he manages to swing into that barrier a little. There's not a lot he can do.
<OOC> Randolf says, "Mmm, julienne taters." <OOC> Jinks says, "We're all gonna get sick and end up with tuberculosis." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "+1 Jinks" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "remember to use it in your pose, make a potato pun, get a +1 to do whatever with on your turn" GAME: Jinks casts Haste. Caster Level: 7 DC: 18 <OOC> Jinks says, "So +2 to-hit, +2 to weapon damage rolls, +2 to saves vs. Fear and Charm." <OOC> Jinks says, "Then +1 to hit, AC (dodge), and Reflex saves. +30' to base move speeds. +1 attack on a full attack action."
Jinks' eyes water and nose begins to burn when the swirling mass of choking spores surrounding the fuzzy doppelganger wash over him. His song hitches when he stops to spit, then covers his mouth with his sleeve. His form begins to take on a soft, fuzzy film of tuberculosis down.
He finds the Hymn again and resumes the song after a measure of rest. The coda now, a repeated verse. It's all in Gnomish, though, so who could tell? He manages to twist the queasiness he feels into a melodic vibrato.
The gnome slides back from the pressing attack, slashing awkwardly to ward off the creature while his other hand dances, fingers wriggling through the threads of reality until he finds the silver thread binding the quintet of adventurers. The line goes dull before it reaches Merek but you can't have everything you wish form. He twirls it around a finger and begins tapping an increasing rhythm on the cool night air. The world seems to slow quite suddenly for the adventurers joined in battle with the diseased, ambulatory rude vegetables.
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "gonna drop a web at 18,18" GAME: Faranmidahn casts Web. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (18)+5: 23 (GP Reflex save) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (9)+5: 14 (GP Reflex save) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13 (GP Reflex save)
Emerging from the door to one of the performance halls, a pale Lucht in black armour is momentarily gobsmacked at the bedlam before her eyes.
With a blink, and shake of her head, she scans the area with her hand coming up.
Seeing Merek in some sort of cordon with three... beings, Faran errs on familiarity and begins to chant, "My willwork binds thee as a fly, within my weave you twist and writhe!" <halfling>
She nudges Torrent, working the reins with her other hand, steering the mastiff-sized black Huntsman spider down to try and support the fellows close at hand.
En route, with her sorcery complete, her casting hand draws a lance from her saddle in time to draw up at range to the creature, "What's going on?" she asks.
Always know the if you should before you just go in settling people's hash.
With the weaves of magic drawn taut by the tethers betwixt Faranidahn's will, tied by her blood to the mana planes beyond, a sticky, shimmering lattice of gosammer strands, appears to encompass Merek's assailants. The net clings between wall and pavement, snaring most of them, but not all.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "DC5 perception, every 1 over is one that notices what's going on and decides to move away." GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20: (15): 15 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (6)+5: 11
Entertaining chaos ensues, as the cage fighters go at it, and webs descend on the area surrounding several of the presumably potato people. It's all part of the show, and the show must go on.
However, it's looking very convincing, and the dance troop on the stage decides a little distance would be in order. They retreat -in formation-, except for the two that are still unconscious and the one that is rousing them.
The three kobolds in a trenchcoat run to the next door on the FlightWright, attempting to enter and find it is locked as well. They just barely duck the force hammer that is persuing them.
At least one performer decides to hide in the Eidolon store.
GAME: Randolf rolls Fortitude+2: (13)+5+2: 20 GAME: Randolf rolls 1d20+6: (7)+6: 13 GAME: Randolf rolls 5d6: (22): 22 GAME: Randolf casts Lightning Bolt. Caster Level: 5 DC: 17 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15 (GP reflex save)
Randolf coughs and gags on the foul miasma surrounding the prime-tato. He staggers back a step--suddenly finding himself moving with greater speed than he's used to. Drawing himself up to his full height, he grips a handful of his beard, briskly rubbing it over his wand before snapping it out. "RE EX RE INCARDO LEVINTAS! HAH!" A blast of lightning crackles out with a mighty ZZZRRAAKKAKAKOW!, sending arcs of electricity rippling over the beastie. "Wasn't it bad -apples- in every bushel? Och, the whole damned field's gone sour!" he grunts. He peers at the beast, gripping his wand tightly. It's still sparking and zapping with snaps of electricity, but remains up. "Och, aren't you dead yet? Hrrumph! Fine, guess we're makin' us some -mashed- taters then!"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay... hammer chases bluebold, 1 5' steps and full attacks," <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "2 claws on jinks, bite on Randolf", 2 runs after blue bold," <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "3 attacks Merek, redbold I'll figure after the others" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7 <OOC> Jinks says, "AC is +1 for Haste. <3" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+13: (12)+13: 25 (Claw) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+13: (16)+13: 29 (Claw) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (16)+5: 21 (Bite) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+4: (4)+4: 8 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+4: (6)+4: 10 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+3: (1)+3: 4 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Randolf, DC15, save vs paralysis, are you immune?" GAME: Randolf rolls Fortitude+2: (16)+5+2: 23 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+8: (6)+8: 14 (GP CMB) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (13)+5: 18 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (9)+5: 14 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (14)+5: 19 (#2 Reflex, exits)
The eletri-fried spud-bud lurches up to Jinks, and flails away, laying claws on the little man and ripping his skin. Not very ap-pealing. It bites at Randolf, suddenly grown a neck that allows it to reach over and bites the dwarf.
The one that was chasing the kobolds struggles through the webs, breaking free and heading up the steps of the Flightwright.
The kobold is frantically knocking on the door, aided by the hammer, which swings, and knocks VERY HARD.
Merek's opponent claws at his necklaces, attempting to tear one off, and failing. While the potato-bold struggles to get free of the web, and where it's pinned against the illusory cage.
<OOC> Lysos says, "I'll cast thunderstomp on the one threatening Randolf and Jinks," <OOC> Lysos says, "and then scurry on over to the blue kobold tower." GAME: Lysos casts Thunderstomp. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+6+2: (20)+8+6+2: 36 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+13: (14)+13: 27 (#2 AOO) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+4: (2)+4: 6
"Karak!" Lysos channels power through the ground again, this time sending the nasty potato monster biting and clawing at Randolf and Jinks to the ground. And then she's moving. Well, run stumbling is more like it.. this slowed perception of time, while making her very quick, is disconcerting, and it's a thing she's not entirely used to! She tries to zip by the clone juggler she punched, but overcompensates when she tries to dodge and gets a shoulder clipped for her efforts.. but she makes it up to the kobolds-in-a-cloak.
GAME: Merek casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17 GAME: Merek rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2
Merek will begin to calm away from that rage, and lifts up a hand while he fires a magic missile into the creature while he takes the time to think about it. "You know, I like potatoes, though this is really changing that a little!"
<OOC> Jinks says, "Gonna move to 8,20 to get out of the stink. <OOC> Jinks says, "Haste speed is 40', half speed is 20' and will get me there with an Acrobatics to not trigger the AoO. <OOC> Jinks says, "Continue to inspire as a free. Then a standard to glitter dust on the kobold potato and 3." GAME: Jinks rolls Perform/Dance-2: (13)+15+-2: 26 (vs CMD 18 - Success) GAME: Jinks casts Glitterdust. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+7: (17)+7: 24 (GP Will Save) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+12: (6)+12: 18 (GP Will Save)
The spores are getting thicker and Jinks is starting to have a hard time seeing past the gunk accumulating in his eyes. The aggressor tumbles like a sack of potatoes when the Tsura stomps the yard and he sees a chance. He moves around the fallen doppelganger in a twirl, arms folded above and behind his waist. When the creature lashes out he half-kneels and jumps, cartwheeling his feet through the air without his arms touching the ground. He lands in a tight roll and comes back to his feet free of the, ugh, rotten potato.
The gnome's pants are starting to sag without his belts and with all the twirling-- this will either be over quickly or the whole square will see his briefs. The gnomish song continues apace, levering up and down octaves as he snatches a pinch of glitter and flicks it through the air. Brilliant pink motes explode, glowing and violent over the two trapped creatures even as the cage tumbles into nothing; a key thread snaps and the whole thing tumbles back into the true reality.
<OOC> Faranmidahn says, "startchy bastatd" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "+1 for Faran" <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "ok" <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "guess we'l go with the classic. magic missile on 2, using AAM to avoid spell fail chance" GAME: Faranmidahn casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 8 DC: 15 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls 4d4+4: (11)+4: 15
Well, that sort of has them- whoop! No, there one goes!
Slippery bastard!
Given the familiar faces involved, trying to handle the unruly tubers, Faran gives up on an explanation for now and resolves to get a proper heads up, later.
Instead, she twists in the saddle, tracing a figure-eight in the air with index and middle finger extended together as she invokes her spell.
"By will in strife, I send might's shards, go forth and strike!" <halfling>
With the final cross of the eight, four incandescent arcs of force streak out to converge unerringly into the Killer Potato, managing to bore into it's frame, but it's still standing.
So spudly!
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13
The topmost of the kobold tower turns his head towards Lysos as she runs up, "Thank you!"
"Helpsss." The torso hisses.
"Going to the next door!" There's something even more hissy from the legs, and then they're lurching towards the remaining door. They duck, as if anticipating the hammer.<draconic>
It slams at them, knocking on the door again.
"Isss vat of goo in the sstorre." The body hisses randomly, as they run off.
The last of the sleeping dancers is roused, and they rush to join their formation. Meanwhile the juggler closest to the other juggler eyes the cloud of black spores and decides it doesn't want to be a part of this performance.
Now, the glittering web that has a few people writing in it, that's performance art! There's even a spider. Amazing.
<OOC> Jinks says, "+3 to hit and +2 to damage, too." GAME: Randolf rolls Melee+4: (17)+4+4: 25 GAME: Randolf rolls 1d8+5: (6)+5: 11
Randolf blinks owlishly, the mold making his eyes water and run. "Grrraaaah, damn it! Sod -this-!" he snarls. He pulls his battleaxe off his belt and rears back, bringing the dwarven-forged steel down on the Tatomus Prime. "YEARRRGH! THE DWARVES ARE ON YE!" he bellows, whamming that axe down a couple extra times for good measure. Once he's certain that the beast is well and truly hash browns, he hawks and spits on the corpse before turning to join Jinx. He lifts his wand to level it at the next set of tato-bolds, wrinkling his nose. "Think I'd prefer the snooty theatre diva tae -these- ugly spuds!"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "3 and redbold try to break free of the web. 3 will go after Merek," <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Redbold is heading towards blue bold. Hammer will hit blue bold," <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "2 goes after bluebold also. You can't AOO the hammer but you can 2, Lysos" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7 (3 Reflex) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (2)+5: 7 (Redbold Reflex) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (9)+5: 14 (Spiritual Weapon)
As the potato person is chopped into slices, it explodes in a last cloud of mold and blight. The foul particles dispersing and fading away.
The two in the web, remain stuck in the web, struggling and glittering away.
The one on the stairs runs the rest of the way up, and sliders past Lysos, chasing the tower of lizards. The hammer pairs up with it, swinging away, still failing to land.
<OOC> Lysos says, "I will ranged force punch 2 again." GAME: Lysos casts Telekinetic Charge. Caster Level: 8 DC: 20 GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+4+3+2+1: (3)+4+3+2+1: 13 (ranged Touch) <OOC> Lysos says, "Oh. My destined bloodline does grant me a reroll once/day." GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+4+3+2+1: (9)+4+3+2+1: 19 GAME: Lysos rolls 8d4: (18): 18 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+4: (2)+4: 6 (vs DC 19) <OOC> Lysos says, "Sorry, 18 damage, and he moves 20' like a bullrush."
"Forzare!" Since it seemed to work so well the last time, Lysos tries it again, channeling magic into pure force which she hurls at the same doppledancer she struck before. This time when the wave of force hits it, it just.. comes apart into so much starchy mess as the mass goes flying past Jinks's kobold friends. Lysos doesn't see the cloud of mold disappearing.. she's too busy turning away and dry heaving.
GAME: Merek casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17 GAME: Merek rolls 1d4+1: (1)+1: 2
Merek takes the time to begin stepping back from the place then he will lift up a hand to cast another magic missile into one of the creatures.
GAME: Jinks casts Sound Burst. Caster Level: 7 DC: 17 GAME: Jinks rolls 1d8: (8): 8 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+4: (7)+4: 11 (Fort) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+4: (4)+4: 8 (Fort) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "both stunned, one round."
The agi-taters are slowly being taken care of and Jinks can take a deep breath now that he's out of the cloud. He does his best not to look at the smeared gunk left behind when he drags his sleeve across his eyes. Now to see if they can dispatch the last two imi-taters. Maybe next time they'll get to meet some sweet potatoes.
The gnome hesitates near the webbing, glancing back at the actual three-kobolds in a trenchcoat. "Don't let them get away, tallman!" He requests of Lysos between verses. Then it's back to the two tangled creatures. The next verse ends after a rapid crescendo, sixteenth notes tripping over eachother as they build and slam against the pomme de terrible duo. Soon they'll need a wagon to kart offal away.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "+2 for Faran!" <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "ok, going to split a magic missile between 3 and the fake kobold, see if i can get waffle fries" <OOC> Faranmidahn says, "using aam to avoid casting mishap" GAME: Faranmidahn casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 8 DC: 15 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls 2d4+2 vs fakebold: (5)+2 vs fakebold: 7 GAME: Faranmidahn rolls 2d4+2 vs #3: (6)+2 vs #3: 8
The Purple Rose is set to some ease as the other magic flinging lady, mashes the potato, and she swivels back toward the mess near Merek.
Once more, Faran begins tracing the figure eight, chanting"By will in strife, I send might's shard, go forth" <halfling>
However, as she comes to close the sigil the Sorceress-Knight splays the two fingers slightly, sending a pair of glowing bolts apiece at either of the creatures from their tips, "-and STRIKE!" <halfling>
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (20)+5: 25 (THREAT vs 3Kobolds) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (7)+5: 12 (Not Confirmed) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d8+5: (7)+5: 12 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+2: (14)+2: 16 (Three Kobolds Performance/Dance) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+8: (16)+8: 24 (Performers performance/dance)
None of the doors open for the tower of kobolds. There's assorted squeaks and squeals, as the potato person chasing them simply explodes in a shower of starch and is splattered down onto the streets.
A few mimes are caught in the spray.
The kobolds make a break for it, and get wacked solidly in the back. They're spun down the stairs, half running, half falling, a strange sight where they lean improbably. They are saved, by crashing into one of the street performers who is pretending to be a statue. This breaks the statue's pose, and spins them out. The kobolds trip on the edge of the dance platform and by the time they catch themselves, they're in line with all the other dancers.
So they dance!
Vermin crawl out of a hive and begin to dance for their queen. What a perform ants.
The glittering kobold and contortionist in the web are still stunned from the cacophonic blast. Stunned.
<OOC> Randolf says, "Hrm. Okay, I'll fire a Scorching Ray at 3." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Looks like a contortionist, human male in tights" <OOC> Randolf says, "Aight, he's about to be even hotter." GAME: Randolf casts Scorching Ray. Caster Level: 5 DC: 16 GAME: Randolf rolls ranged+3: (20)+3+3: 26 (THREAT) GAME: Randolf rolls ranged+3: (6)+3+3: 12 (Not Confirmed) <OOC> Randolf says, "Yes plz. re-roll." GAME: Randolf rolls ranged+3: (2)+3+3: 8, "ffs" GAME: Randolf rolls 4d6: (16): 16 GAME: Randolf rolls 4d6: (14): 14
Randolf casts his gaze around, pulling a couple deep breaths of fresh air. But there, not so far off, is another cloud of those nasty, moldy spores. Lifting his wand, he sketches another quick pattern. "Re ex re antu AKH ASCORIUS! HAH!" He snaps his wand out, firing another searing beam of molten fury. It slashes through the spores and skims over the contortionist. Fibrous skin crisps as the dwarf peels that potato in disguise, burning away the false appearance to reveal a thoroughly baked potato beneath. "I'm never touchin' potatoes again, I swear tae fuckin' -Reos-," he snarls, squaring up and leveling his gaze on the kobold. "Any -other- garden varieties care tae have a go?!" he thunders.
Stunned, but that doesn't mean they are unmoving.
The contortonist that was swiping at Merek earlier, shimmers, and melts, shifting into a perfect copy of the Seer, down to his beltcape, potion belt, and the visor from Merkabah which he wears. It bubbles and warps, as if it is several globules of matter trying to escape itself while still mimicking a human form, then abandoning it. The head flops off, dragging itself away by flinging strings of itself before it finally burns to a crip. A leg grows eyes and breaks off, the ribs burst from the back of the torso and it scuttles on them like a giant fleshy crab before also going still.
And it screams, so much.
The tower of kobolds meanwhile shudders in place, and their trenchcoat flaps open. It's clear they are not a lumpy sith'makar, they are three kobolds on top of each other. Except... they aren't. There are no gaps between the bodies, only strange, pasty unscaled sections between them. Joining them into a kobold totem pole, arms permanently linked into the legs of the one above, heads a part of the crotch. A single monstrosity with horrifying implications.
Stunned, trenchcoat flapping, flashing their horror.
Somewhere, lawyers look up.
While the potato man from Merkabah dies in consuming, screaming flames.
Lysos stumbles a bit, supporting herself with a hand pushed against the doors, her other hand on her gut. Her lips are pursed, and she's breathing very deliberately in and out.
GAME: Merek casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17 GAME: Merek rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3
Merek takes a moment to lift up the hand of his while he begins to cast another magic missile, this time into a kobold it will look like.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "+5 jinks puns" GAME: Jinks spends FOUR uses of BARDIC PERFORMANCE. <OOC> Jinks says, "Gonna charge and grapple the kobolds in a trenchcoat." <OOC> Jinks says, "AC 19 with haste, -2 for charge is 17." GAME: Jinks rolls CMB+2+2+1-2: (18)+5+2+2+1+-2: 26 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+4: (18)+4: 22 (3Kiat Trip vs CMD 16) GAME: Jinks rolls Perform/Dance: (6)+15: 21
Jinks says, "OOH I'MA GETCHA YOU TEA-STEALING STACK O' TROUBLE!"
"Tallman...!" Jinks gives a frustrated sigh when the kobolds begin making their escape. He coughs a spits, nearly losing the melody, but finds it before he dashes off. He snatches the trenchcoat just as a tail whips into his ankle. The gnome stumbles full into the disguised trio of sticky-handed hardly-dragons and the whole thing comes tumbling down. Jinks on his back, one kobold wearing an oversized coat like a toddler playing dress-up, and the middle- and bottom-kobolds standing in plain sight for all the world to see.
"They steal money from orphans and old grannies! Grab them!" He shouts at the confused dancers.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "+1 Faran pun" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 4d4+4: (7)+4: 13
The spider strides closer to the web, the albino knight reaches, tracing a web pattern in the air. "With uneering wish and daring derth, strike the night and find the light." <halfling>
Four bolts fly from her hand, striking the totem kobold between the trenchcoat flaps.
The confused dancers do not. They are in the middle of a routine and will not have it ruined, by clones, potato people, kobolds or small scaramouches. They continue to pirouette, spin, and rumpshake.
The trenchcoated kobold whips it off and slaps it over Jinks, "He's a kobold, get him!" He slips between legs. The other two kobolds, also scramble and run.
There's still a spiritual hammer after them, and it's coming this way.
<OOC> Randolf is gonna go for a magic missile at the darkness--er, the Potatobold Centipede. GAME: Randolf casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 5 DC: 15 GAME: Randolf rolls 3d4+3: (8)+3: 11
Randolf can, for a moment, only stare at Jinks as he sends the Tower of Kobold Power tumbling down. "Sweet blessed Reos an' all 'is wacky tapdancin' -newphews-," he grunts. "Are ye bein' -serious- wi' this shit?" He turns his attention back to the horrific amalgamation closer at hand. He stalks forward, lifting his wand and making a quick twiddle. "Re ex re ur ekisos! HAH!" He snaps his wand out. Three glowing blue spheres burst from the tip and whirl in a helix pattern at the faux-bold. PA-PA-PAH! They impact unerringly, strobing brightly as they slam into the beast. "OY! -THIS- ONE CALLS UP WRETCHED POTATO DEMONS FROM HELL!" he thunders. It's not that he doesn't sympathize with the orphans and grannies. But the unnatural -thing- probably warrants a bit more attention right at the moment.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "spiritual hammer attacks Jinks now, redkobolds turn into jinks and commands Merek to approach," <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "will save DC16 merek, remember the -2 for being sickened. Does Merek have any bonuses from your singing Jinks?" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15 (Spiritual Hammer vs Jinks) GAME: Merek rolls will-19: (14)+19+-19+2: 16 (+2 with Charm) GAME: Merek rolls reflex-21: (15)+12+-21: 6 (vs the web - stuck)
The wretched thing, the stack of kobolds that is one multi-headed, unsettling, dragon-cerebus that boggles the imagination thankfully stops existing.
It turns into Jinks instead. An exact copy of him after he was thrown out of the Flightwright, sans trenchcoat over his head.
The spiritual hammer swoops in to nail him to the ground, but proves as uneeringly accurate as it was against the tower of teapot thieves. It misses completely. Narrowly, but completely.
New-Jinks points at Merek and commands, "Approach!" Should he heed this, he will stride straight into webs.
GAME: Lysos casts Thunderstomp. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 GAME: Lysos casts Invisibility. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18 (Metamagic Boost to range) GAME: Lysos rolls 1d20+8+6+2: (12)+8+6+2: 28
Lysos finally seems to get control of herself, looking up... there are still so many people around, and it's difficult for her to recapture any sense of what's going, expecially with the images of smashed potatoes that were once people still in her mind's eye. But she does here Jinks yelling.. whether it's at her, or not, she has no idea. But she does manage to spot the kobolds he was talking about.. the ones she was trying to help earlier. Well, maybe they can answer questiions... so the power is gathered, much more than before, and when she yells, "Karak!" there's a little bit of an extra thrumming to the sound. One of the kobolds tumbles as the stones under their feet heave.
GAME: Jinks spends ONE use of BARDIC PERFORMANCE. <OOC> Jinks says, "I'll stand up and Grease 22,3, 23,3, 23,2, and 22,2" GAME: Jinks casts Grease. Caster Level: 7 DC: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (11)+5: 16 (Spiritual Weapon AOO)
"Time to face the music!" Jinks grumbles, rolling onto his stomach and standing up, resuming his song and ducking away from the swinging, half-there weapon. He snatches a little waxpaper bundle of grease from a back pocket and squishes it in his hand, adding a flick as the musical notes rise through the register with a slur. The ground shimmers and goes slick beneath fleeing kobolds.
GAME: Merek casts Magic Missile. Caster Level: 14 DC: 17 GAME: Merek rolls 1d4+1: (2)+1: 3
The Seer is compelled to step forward, and does so into the web.
Merek takes a moment to follow along with a step forward, with a hand which will begin lifting up to fire a magic missile into the thing!
The thing, the ghastly thing, with the consistency of a potato and the blight of a wight, and an appearance which shifted from a tall stack of three kobolds, into a garrolous gnome, is struck.
Impaled by the Seer's magic missle, disrupted and destroyed. It collapses into a pasty heap of rotting starch.
The hammer that's trying to brain Jinks, vanishes.
Lysos says, "Take that with a side of sour cream!"
Faran moves torrent closer, peering at the Seer, "You all right Merek?"
Jinks says, "Now to deal with the real villain of the piece."
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (10)+5: 15 (Kobolds Reflex) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+5: (8)+5: 13 (Kobolds Reflex)
"Arp!" One of the kobolds says, as Lysos' thunderstomp spell trips him up.
"Yarp!" The middle one, squeals as her feet go out from under her and she falls flat in the grease.
"Eeep!" The head says, also slipping and landing on his tail.
"It's 'Bud' - 'Wise' - 'Err!' You idiots." The nearest dancer hisses at them.
All the commotion is enough to draw the attention of the nearby jotun juggler who strides over with an ominous laugh and heavy steps. She does not put a foot in the grease, she does not fall down.
"Mine now." She snatches a trio of kobold tails and tosses them in up the air, one at a time, mixing them in with her batons. She is very resistant to letting them go.
Very.
"Heeeelllpssss!"
Epilogue
Jinks tries to rope the Watch in to arrest the kobolds after they're good and dizzy, and the Jotun has had her fun. There's not a lot that's going to stop her having fun.
Jinks is vexed at these Kobolds. VEXED.
Depending on which watch gets them, they might just kill the kobolds. They are a vermin species after all.
Randolf finally relaxes his stance, lowering his wand and shoving it into its holster. He stares around the plaza--smeared and spattered with crisped, toasted, scorched, mashed, folded, spindled, and otherwise mutilated potato-things. The jotun juggler picking up the three kobolds just has the burly dwarf slapping his hands to his face, slowly dragging them down. "What the hell was I -thinkin'-? If -this- is what bein' a thespian is all about, then count me the hell -out-!" He flings up his hands in the air and turns to stump away. He'll let the Guard deal with this particular pickle. "What the hell d'ye even -put- on a potato-bite?!" he can be heard grumbling as he trundles back to the relative safety of the Arcanists' Guild.
Butter. Butter goes on a potato bite.
Merek would keep the others from going to the city watch. Big trust issues. He teleports them... somewhere.
OOC
MAP!
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=m9n8qcsqnyl
Cage on the Map
https://i.imgur.com/5ReffqS.png
Inspirational Music
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P0TzUNti3rY
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VW9wlPtDc50
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rT7AH4JyuNs
Hieroglyphics
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8B8bbrkETQ
SFW, and relevant to the moment
https://i.imgur.com/XsPQani.png
https://cdn3.whatculture.com/images/2015/07/oYFdgQZ5-600x338.jpg
Kek
https://www.deviantart.com/dariuszkieliszek/art/Forgotten-Gods-Ogdoad-Kek-895416199
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 4 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
24 Randolf 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>> 23 Ghastly Potatoe 1 <<
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
22 Lysos 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
20 Merek 1 Raging (2 rnds active)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
13 Jinks 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2 Performers 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
==============================================================================
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 6 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
24 Randolf 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
23 Ghastly Potatoe 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
22 Lysos 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>> 20 Merek 1 Fatigued (3 rnds remaining) <<
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
13 Jinks 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
4 Faranmidahn 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
2 Performers 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
==============================================================================
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 8 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
24 Randolf 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
23 Ghastly Potatoe 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
22 Lysos 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
20 Merek 1 Fatigued (1 rnd remaining)
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
13 Jinks 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
4 Faranmidahn 1
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
>> 2 Performers 1 <<
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
==============================================================================
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
| Name | Race | Class | CHP | HP | AC/FF/T |CMD |For |Ref |Wil |
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|Faranmidah|HALFLING |Cav/Sor | 8 | 41 |22/19/14 | 18 | 7 | 6 | 8 |
|Jinks |GNOME |Bard | 41 | 46 |18/15/14 | 18 | 4 | 8 | 5 |
|Lysos |HUMAN |Sor | 40 | 40 |13/10/13 | 21 | 3 | 5 | 7 |
|Merek |HUMAN |Brg/Clr/MTh| 111 | 111 |17/13/16 | 29 | 15 | 12 | 21 |
|Randolf |MOUNTAIN_D|Wiz | 40 | 40 |11/10/11 | 15 | 5 | 2 | 5 |
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
| Name | CHP (T) | HP |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
| Faranmidahn...| 8 | 41 |
| (C) Torrent...| 33 | 33 |
| Jinks.........| 23 | 46 |
| Lysos.........| 34 | 40 |
| Merek.........| 111 | 111 |
| Randolf.......| 36 | 40 |
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
<OOC> Jinks says, "We'll wrap this up and deal with these guys. Then in two months someone is gonna find a dead one we forgot about wedged into an alleyway and it's gonna have a bunch of roots growing out of it."
<OOC> Jinks says, "I mean, Jinks would be OK with a sort of work-release/rehab program in Mictlan if the Sith wanna deal with them."
<OOC> Merek says, "THEY'RE MADE OF WOOD."
<OOC> Merek says, "Merek will ship them somewhere."
<OOC> Merek says, "to be handled by"
<OOC> Merek says, "top"
<OOC> Merek says, "people"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "pah"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "top people"
<OOC> Jinks says, "You know. Tops get a lot of credit but you can't have a top without a bottom. Maybe we should let them be handled by bottom people."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "bottom kobold disagrees"
<OOC> Jinks says, "There is this one user on imgur who posts, like, 10 MLP things a day."
<OOC> Jinks says, "And they're always lewd."
<OOC> Jinks says, "And her user name is "ElbowDeepInAHorse""
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "pah"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "wow"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "that's owning it"
<OOC> Jinks says, "It's to the point that when I'm browsing imgur and I see her post it's like walking past that guy in the office you know and kinda nod to but never stop to talk with."
<OOC> Jinks says, "But you'd probably miss them a little if you showed up one day and they weren't there."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "well something happens to three kobolds, but it's probably the juggling jotun keeps them"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Merek & Jinks can debate the merits of speaking to the corrupt guards"