In Search of... Mr. Tibbys
Log Info
- Title: In Search of... Mr. Tibbys
- Emitter: Cryosanthia
- Characters: Barclaiigh, Shilde
- Place: Campus of the Practical Arcanists
- Time: Wednesday, November 09, 2022, 9:41 PM, Thursday, November 10, 2022, 7:22 PM
- Summary: The Assistant Director of Dungeon Studies and Mythical Monsters has lost a monster and needs some intrepid adventurers to find him on the Campus of the Practical Arcanists. Barclaiigh and Shilde, dwarf druids with some large animal companions, are up to the task. They first investigate the Monster Menagerie, a small zoo holding unusual beasts. Mr Tibbys, the mini-manticore, hasn't been seen in months. Talking with the animal residents, official and unoffical of the zoo, they determine the manticore stops in and consider setting a trap. However, they decide to search and finally locate the kitty-scorpion near the night food trucks. As they approach, the manticore attacks, flinging spines and attempting to flee. He evades and entanglement spell, but not the giant jaws of a flying allosaur, at which point Mr Tibbys surrenders.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Appearing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Barclaiigh 4'5" 202 Lb Mountain Dwarf Male A thick tree-trunk of a dwarf. Wavy auburn hair, loose traveling clothes. Shilde 4'4" 160 Lb Khazad-Aul Female Tall for a dwarf, long blonde hair in a thick braid, big blue eyes. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= As the GM -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Cryosanthia 6'9" 291 Lb Sith-Makar Female A dashingly tall, elegant white-scaled lizard woman. -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=
"Ooo. 'e's such a sweetheart, 'e is. I've no idea where 'e's run off to." The Assistant Director of Dungeon Studies and Mythical Monsters explains. The A-D of DS & MM is an elderly lucht in his hundred and fifties, as wide as he is tall. His office is located in one of the side buildings on the campus of the Practical Aracanists. "Someone left the menagerie door open, an' off 'e goes."
He turns to putter around, opening filing cabinets and checking under stacks of paper, rambling as he does. "Ownin' cats gives you a real appreciation. 'ey take such care of your plants, an' all the resentment for feedin' them."
"AH"
He turns around and produces a colour sketch of an affable looking feline. Although there are some oddities, cats don't typically have bat wings nor a scorpion tail.
"Well that little fella is plum adorable," Barclaiigh observes, taking the picture and holding it over for Shilde to see. He readjusts his grip, his thumb pulling back to reveal the scorpion's tail. "Wait a dang ol' second..."
The Khazadi shaman squints at the paper.
"Y'all dress your kitty up for a costume party?" He purses his wide lips in thought, causing his caterpillar mustache to flare up beneath his nose. "How're them there wings? Workin' yet or is he like to be prowlin' around causin' mischief without th' added fun'a flyin'?"
"Eh. Y've been practicin' yer flyin, 'claiigh. If it's bobbin' about, ye'll catch it.. an' it'll likely be easier t'spot if it is." Shilde picks between her teeth with a thick thumbnail while she takes a gander at the proferred sketch. "Don't look like no normal cat."
"Oh no, oh no. 'e's a rare mini-manticore, a kitten, kept small with magics and proper diet" The lucht reassures. "Mr. Tibbys wouldn't 'urt a fly, but maybe a mouse. Yes, heh-heh, great mouser."
"It has been... a few months, but that wouldn't have been enough time, oh no, oh no." The lucht keeps shaking his head, "reports of 'im 'round campus have been increasin', so the director asked me to get him back, double sure."
GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Sense Motive: (16)+5: 21 (vs DC21) GAME: Shilde rolls sense motive: (20)+5: 25 (vs DC21)
The Assistant Director of Dungeon Studies and Mythical Monsters may be blinded by his professional love. That manticore might be dangerous, larger, and/or flying around.
"Y'all lost this lil' feller a... few months ago?" Barclaiigh's eyebrows scrunch together in puzzlement as he holds the paper back over. "Some folk keep pet squirrels'n birds an' the like. Reckon folk'd be a bit steamed if they done got stung'n ett."
The dwarf reaches up after the paper is taken, hooking his meaty fingers on his darkwood breastplate's gorget and letting his forearms rest against the armor. He takes a deep breath and gives a sigh.
"That's mighty kind of you to say, miss Shilde," he grins a little goofy, glancing at her. Clearing his throat, he returns to task. "Might be this ain't the proper place fer this kind'a critter, friend. Even if we catch him might be we should see him put out t'be with some of his own."
Turning, he considers the blonde Khazadi woman a moment, looking for agreement. "... months?" He can't help but ask a second time.
Shilde puts her thick fingers to the side of her forehead, rubbing small circles while she does her best to keep from scowling. Which is a monumental task. "Months," she says, echoing Barclaiigh. "Y'mean.. months since ye took it, not months since it went missin, aye?" Torn between feeling like she shouldn't have to clarify that, but knowing she'll regret it if she doesn't, she opens her eyes back up to stare at the halfling. "'Cause I know yer not tellin' us this thing's been on th'loose fer months." Except, she doesn't know.
The AD of DS & MM takes out a leather bag and rattles it, "'ere's 'is favourite snacks, 'e'll come right for 'em and snap 'em up!"
"Oh yes, oh yes," He nods vigorously, "sent out a request for 'elp right quick. I couldn't imagine Mr Tibbys out in the cold an' the wet, shiverin' away, thinking I abandoned 'im."
A few months ago Alexandria was smothered in a heat wave.
"The guild tells me they lost tha postin'. I wondered, oh, all those sleepless nights, why no one came." He rubs his hands together, "oh please no, don't send 'im to the farm. 'e's a good, luvely kitty. Promise you'll do the utmost care to capture 'im safe. 'e's been gone so long!"
Bar takes the treats and hooks the bag onto his belt, looping the thong around carefully with his sausage fingers to make sure they won't go anywhere. His hands are a mess of geometric scaring and dark, druidic rune tattoos.
"Ain't no harm in makin' a point to wrangle the fella soft-like, first," he tells the halfling with another dubious look. "But I reckon if he's had a growth spurt'r two... well, ain't like we can let irresponsible pet ownership lead t'folks gettin' killt." He scratches his beard in thought. "But y'all lucked out... might not be many better at gettin' a critter t'see eye t'eye."
The shaman hoists his belt and takes a step back, half-turning and tossing his head out the way they came. "Got us a pair'a furry friends ourselves."
Licking his lips, he considers Shilde and her questions, sighing, and asks the halfling one last thing. "Not fer nothin'... but, what's the day'n date? We been out on the road a bit..."
Shilde doesn't turn to go right away when Barclaiigh does... instead she remains in place, and.. yes. There it is. The scowl she was trying to keep at bay. Its full force gets fixed upon the halfling. She only turns away from the assistant director when Barclaiigh pauses to ask about the date. "One of these days.." she mutters, stepping up to the other dwarf and then past him.
"Oh it's Tariday, and it's..." He turns around and peers at a wall calendar, set to last month. He taps a square, "This one."
Reassuring.
"Oh what are your friends? Are they outside! Would you be able to bring them to a class for ... oh, your busy folk, right, and I'm holdin' you up from getting Mr Tibbys back."
He trundles over to the door, "academic studies," and waves for the pair to exit.
It's highly unlikely that a manticore of any size is wandering the corridors, and while the campus of the Arcanists is large, it's not that large and is in the middle of a city. The only real 'wild space' is a wooded park that reaches down to the tornmwar. There is sports field, a central commons with some benches, various buildings, a greenhouse and a magical lab.
Lots of places a regular cat could be, fewer if it was larger. Regular pedestrians and a distinct lack of screams are a positive sign... that finding Mr. Tibbys will take a little searching.
Going quickly from being a bit sympathetic and confounded to barking a laugh in spite of himself, Barclaiigh nods at the professor. "Yeah, I reckon. Maybe...
"Y'all got anyone? A misses? Kin? An assistant? Things so hectic these days, the days can run away from y'all if yer not careful..." He smiles his friendly, guileless smile and shrugs. "Reckon we can talk later... time to wrangle yer kitty."
His armor rattles and clatters as he turns to catch up with his partner. "Y'hear that, miss Shilde? He wants Rocky fer show'n tell." He's grinning a bit like an idiot.
"Bah. Yer's bad as Rocky'd be," Shilde snorts. "A'right. Might be we'll wanna check its pen, first. An' see if maybe the other animals know, aye? Mice. Birds. Cats. Could get Rocky t'sniffin.. but not knowin' how long ago it disappeared, that might not be much help."
The menagerie pens are around back of the magical beasts building. Generally accessible through the building but there are also gates in the walls. It's effectively a mini zoo with several animal pens. One is for birds, another is water-filled. There's one pen that is frozen, a few normal sized and appearing enclosures.
No attendents currently, and one obviously empty unit.
Laughing in spite of himself (and a little harder for Shilde's comments), Barclaiigh jogs up to pass Shilde and hold the office door open for her. He nods his agreement. "Plum clever idea... even if th'chances are piddlin' after the critters been out'n about so long. Still a good place'a start."
The dwarf detours to the large lump of snoring bear, curled up like an oversized armadillo beneath his enchanted barding. "Alright, fella, y'got more'n yer fair share'a snoozes at th'e Grove these past two days. We gotta work," he grunts as he crouches down and takes a knee. He takes Porter's face in his hands and lifts it up, going nose-to-nose and mocking the bears tired moaning. "Oooooaruh yerself, fuzzy. Let's make like rocks'n roll."
There's some vigorous neck-scritches and the wants-to-be-hibernating black bear is up and moving in short order.
At the pens, he stops and cranes his neck to have a look around. Porter chuffs, sweeping his snout across the ground and having a sniff.
"... seems a bit unfair," he grunts for no one at the row of cages. "Had more room on the farm'n this fer the critters."
One of the enclosures is an aviary, the water filled one has several small alligators and snakes. The snow-filled cage doesn't appear to have an occupants. There is a pen with a scratching post and ball.
In addition, there are small critters that aren't residents but which benefit from the regular feedings and unattended food. A sharp whistle and a smack on her hip summons Rocky, though it's not immediate.. there are too many interesting things about, after all. In fact, him joining the trio (two dwarfs and a bear) probably has more to do with them leaving without him than any real obedience to the female druid. Even after he joins up, he cavorts.. nipping at Porter's heels, chasing after a bit of fluff that floats by...
The dog's behaviour doesn't seem to bother Shilde, however. Almost like the more 'civilized' a place she's in, the more secretly happy she is with him being a nuisance. Particularly when faced with civilization like this....
Yes, there's the scowl again. "Alright. Ye wanna have a sniff around, then?" she asks Barclaiigh as her eyes settle on the unofficial residents. "Me'n them're gonna have a word, I think."
GAME: Shilde casts Speak With Animals. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Shilde rolls wildempathy: aliased to druid+charisma: (9)+8+1: 18 (vs DC18 - success, unfriendly to indifferent)
The local unofficial residents remain in the walls and the unused bedding in the pens. They don't seem to want to have a word. 'Hide, hide'.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "So Porter has scent. Base DC is 10 modified by how pungent the order is." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Then +2 to the DC for each -hour- since the target was there. So, if it's been months it's a no-go." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Bar'll just use regular Perception to line up the animal with the sketch and then compare the size" <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "It's been months, yes. Okay. You can roll perception GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Perception: (16)+16: 32
"Ayup!" Barclaiigh agrees. He totally didn't pick up a stick and huck it back the way they came for Rocky to run off and chase it down. The happy dwarf rubs Porter's flank and moves towards the pen with scratching post and ball. He makes sure it's empty before letting her and Porter in to have a look around.
"Alright, fella, let's put that nose'a yers t' work..." Meanwhile, he squints his tiny eyes and has a look for tracks and other animal sign.
The pen has a plaque, 'Mini-Manticore - Mr Tibbys', and seems suitable for a creature the size of the average dog, or smaller. An oversized feline would fit just fine, and from the area set as a bed, the food bowl, the level between platforms, it likely housed something in that range, a big cat.
The food is long gone. There are tracks, but no scent.
Shilde kneels near where she suspects the rodent population hides.. or at least enters the area. The signs that they do are plain to her, at least. Nibbled feed bags, droppings in the corners that get missed during the sweeping. She doesn't seem put off by the initial reluctance of the diminutive squatters, instead reaching into a pouch to pull out a few pieces of.. yes.. cheese. It is cliche. But it's also so tasty! She puts in on the floor in front of her. "Food?" she asks, though the sounds come out more as squeaks to the untrained ears. "Food for favour? More food."
The cheese is effective. A few whiskered noses appear, followed by sleek, creeping forms that scuttle over to the cheese. 'Favour. Favour. Favour while food.' Appears to be the consensus. The rats are willing to answer while they're eating.
There are manticore quills in the cage. They are smaller than typical, also oddly soft with a residue inside them. The residue is some kind of poison, too old to be effective.
GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Survival: (11)+18: 29 <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Not going to go too far but want to get a general sense for which way the kitty went."
"We ain't gonna go far, miss Shilde," Barclaiigh announces after wrapping the quills in an old rag and stuffing them into a pouch. He grins and nods at Porter when the bear makes a disappointed noise and they both start off to follow the tracks while the other half of their group consorts with rodentia.
"Looking for big bat-cat," Shilde explains, attempting the mental gymnastics required to explain from the perspective of the rats. She tosses one of the pieces of cheese across into Mr Tibbys pen... not so much to get the rats to chase it, but to try and coax a reaction.. perhaps a label.. from them before crumbling a few more pieces from her small cheese wheel out for them. "Must find." A hand gets held up in acknowledgement to Barclaiigh, but her attention remains upon the group of squeakers.. the spell won't last long, after all.
'Bad. Bad. Bad. Bad. Gone. Good Gone.' The squeakers have a consensus. They didn't like Mr Tibbys and they're happy he left. Only one of the nibblers adds anything new. 'Up, roof. Likes water.' By the sense of it, the rat means the water enclosure. It clearly isn't there, but that suggests down by the Tornmwar might be a possibility.
As well as any belfry on any building nearby.
Outside the menagerie enclosure is too travelled on the ground for evidence to remain. The roof is a possibility.
"... huh," Bar muses from where he stands outside. Both he and the bear have their necks craned to look up the menagerie wall and consider the various scratches and score marks. "Alright, fella," he sighs with a smile, "keep an eye on th'lady for me." He points and waves a pudgy finger back and forth in front of the door to the barn.
Once Porter has bellowed his agreement, the Khazadi shaman fishes out his boar's tusk necklace and begins a quick chant. He reaches his thick arms out wide and jumps, flapping like an idiot until he pops down into the form of a common barn owl midair. "This'll be a hoot, y'all..!"
Then he's flapping, head spinning circuits on his downy shoulders as he climbs and finds a perch on the roof. Landing, he starts the process of waddle-hopping his way around at a rather awkward rate. There are a lot of "hups!" as he goes, too. "... iiiinnerestin'. Huh."
Hoot, he goes. Hootie-hoo. "Reckon we might could jus' wait for him, miss Shilde." He's perched on the edge of the roof, his fluffy owl butt sticking up into the air behind him as he peers through a window. "Fella's comin' back frequent. Fresh tracks up'ere."
"Aye. Bad kitty," Shilde says to the mice. Not necessarily agreeing.. but from their perspective, it certainly wouldn't be a great neighbour. She breaks down the last of the cheese and tosses it to the mice in thanks.. not promising that the creature won't return, but appreciative of their help nonetheless. Then she brushes her hands off after smelling of of her fingers regretfully, and turns to wander outside with Porter... once again whistling for Rocky. She watches the owldruid for a little bit, cocking her ear as he reports down to her. "Might be best, aye.. if'n we can hide from 'im. Could check down by the river, too... or couple other places up high. Th'rats had a few things t'say."
"Reckon we could," agrees the Bar'owl. He grunts and gives a couple flaps to get himself oriented rightside-up again and puts his head back on the swivel. "Well, if these readin' types lack fer somethin' it ain't buildin's."
The tawny bird's chest puffs out and then eases back down as the druid enjoys the variant feel of his borrowed shape.
"Howabout we have the fellas follow down below'n have a fly, you'n me, miss Shilde..?" It might be the first time an owl puts his weight on one claw and kicks the other bashfully. "Yer boys always keen fer a run an' Porter'll manage." The owl shrugs. "It might be fun?"
Thursday, November 10, 2022, 7:22 PM
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay. So I've thought how your searching could go, Roll stealth for yourselves and your animal companions and Mr Tibbys will roll perception against the lowest DC. If successful, it will be a bonus to his stealth, although Barc and Shilde can also roll animal empathy, and against his sense motive, and if he fails, he doesn't notice you're suspicious, so it would only be his regular stealth you'd roll perceptions against." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "hahaha, I'll roll for Porter and I'm sure that'll be the lowest." GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+2-1: (14)+2+-1: 15 (Porter Stealth) GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Stealth+2+8: (11)+2+2+8: 23, "Owl is Tiny (+8 to stealth) and +4 Dex bonus for Size." GAME: Shilde casts Reduce Animal. Caster Level: 8 DC: 17 (Owl) GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+3: (12)+3: 15, (Rocky's stealth) GAME: Shilde rolls stealth: (14)+19: 33 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+16: (8)+16: 24 (Mr Tibbys Perception) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Tibby sees Barc, Porter and Rocky but not Shilde, would be +9 to stealth" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+6: (10)+6: 16 (Mr Tibbys sense motive) GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+0+8: (10)+0+8: 18 (vs DC16 - success) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+9+6: (8)+9+6: 23 (Tibbys' Stealth) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "DC23 for Rocky & Porter, DC14 for Barc & Shilde" GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+7: (19)+7: 26 (Rocky Percep vs DC23 - Success) GAME: Shilde rolls perception: (9)+16: 25 (vs DC14 - Success) GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Perception: (16)+16: 32 (vs DC14 - Success) GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+6: (12)+6: 18 (Porter percep vs DC23 - Fail)
Porter ambles along the grounds of the arcane institution with his wet bear-nose in the air, snuffing. His muzzle is open slightly, too, so he can taste the scents on the air. The leather armor with its matte metal studs gives him away as being attached to some soft of thinking-animal. He also has a simple druid's cloak that hangs down on flank, stitched into said boiled leather plating.
Above, flying at night on the hunt (as owls are want to do), the Bar' Owl alternates between long glides and a few powerful flaps of his wings. He does his best to keep his eyes down on the rooftops and the dark paths between the various buildings but he can't help to spare a glance or two at the other shapeshifted druid keeping him company on this job.
Shilde is not as adept at flying as her druid compatriot; thankfully the task at hand involves little in the way of acrobatics, and more simply soaring about, keeping large eyes peeled for the subject of their hunt. Just like any owl. Nothing strange or suspicious here. She follows Barclaiigh's lead, relying on him to pick the flight paths that keep them clear of running into towers and walls and strange up and down drafts, all the while looking for a cat with draconic wings....
Rocky just looks like any other dog you'd see in an alley. Well, better fed. Better health. Probably cleaner, too. But enchantments keep his size to the upper end of what's considered normal for a dog, and his flagging attention span lends credit to the canine being distracted just as easily as most others. He flags along behind Porter, pausing to sniff at some of the ursine's leavings at one point before sprinting to catch up again. Until he freezes, growling low, eyes fixed upon something...
The searchers are being observed. A pair of emerald eyes with wide, round pupils, keep watch on his territory, blinking slowly. When the feline isn't sleeping, that is. He is familiar with all the light touches and many of the shadows. The magic using students are known quantities, recognized, ignored as they are not threats. Only so much that they so often have a nose in a book they might step on him. These hapless subjects are tolerated.
A bear and an unusually rough looking dog are new additions to his territory, and easily spotted. These two are enough to make his majesty sit up and notice. There's a spotted owl that seems out of place... but the owl can be ignored. It isn't suspicious after all.
It's his tail which gives him away, big, scorpion-like, it sticks out from a bush near the night-time food truck that's frequented by the students. His Majesty, Mr. Tibbys, has found good hunting near the waste bins the students toss their unwanted food in, preying on the scavengers. However as the searching bear draws too close, he darts to another thicket, becoming very obvious to the seekers.
The other obvious thing is, he doesn't like being hunted.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, so, two sets of limits, taking distance penalties into account." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "the furthest away you could be and spot him is Barc 160', Shilde 100' and Rocky 90'" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "the closest is (your max) -(your stealth - his percep) or 0' Shilde, 10' Barc and Rocky" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Porter is spotted at 90' away" <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "30' overhead is good for me if that makes sense for you, Cryo?" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14 <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "22, flat-footed would be... 20" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (6)+7: 13 <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "His max health is 59 (+7 of what it shows). So you can just damage him for 6 this time, Cryo?" GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+9: (10)+9: 19 (Porter Fort vs DC14) GAME: You damaged Barclaiigh's companion for 6 points. 46 HP remaining.
The leopard sized shadow crouches in the thicket. With a spring like a coiled whip, the scorpion tail flicks in Porter's direction. Several spikes fly the bear's way, one connects painfully, and oozes. The others land in the grass.
GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+6-20: (3)+6+-20: -11 (-20 sniping, attempt to re-establish stealth - Fail) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (18)+10: 28 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (2)+10: 12 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (13)+10: 23 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (6)+7: 13 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (2)+7: 9 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (5)+7: 12 GAME: You damaged Barclaiigh's companion for 34 points. 12 HP remaining. GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+9: (17)+9: 26 (vs DC14 - success) GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+9: (9)+9: 18 (vs DC14 - success) GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+9: (12)+9: 21 (vs DC14 - success)
Having successfully ranged himself, his majesty launches another wave of spines. This time, only one misses. His clustering appears to be a grouping of three and one at a further range.
The vigorous tail-pumping has made the quasi-kitty rather obvious.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Alright, we'll have Porter retreat. Faerie Fire the kitty. Fly check to hover." GAME: Barclaiigh casts Faerie Fire. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Fly+2+4+0: (7)+7+2+4+0: 20, "+2 for Dex (tiny), +4 for size (tiny) + 0 for Avg. Fly speed mod." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "no save on FF, he's just a -20 to stealth for 8mins."
"Git, Porter!" Barclaiigh hollers from above the miniature manticore. The bear bellows, looking like he was on the wrong end of investigating a porcupine. When he turns, its with some obviously reluctance, and his powerful claws dig deep trenches in the earth-- but he does lope off as he was instructed. The wounds are fairly grizzly.
"Y'all best be grateful yer pa asked nice-like," the owl chastises the kitty, more than a little fluffed-up about the hurt done to his friend. He extends his wings down, pointing primary feathers at the creature as he chants a quick druidic rite.
PAFF the kitty-core is outlined in a verdant, roiling green.
<OOC> Shilde says, "Rocky will move to 4,9. Shilde will move to 1,12, and cast resinous skin GAME: Shilde casts Resinous Skin. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18
Shilde probably ought to figure out that trick Barclaiigh has of speaking people words while shapeshifted.. thankfully there's a few default behaviours for Rocky, and one of them is to rush to her and potentially bite whatever she's struggling with lacking any other instructions. And so he runs, lucky to have not been on the receiving end of those flying spikes....
Shilde the owl circles around, flying to the large kitty's other side as she casts a spell of her own, one that begins secreting a sticky sort of ooze upon her skin that somehow doesn't interfere with her ability to fly.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay another standard tail flick, at Rocky, and the FF spooks him, so he takes off into the air" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (20)+10: 30 (THREAT) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (19)+10: 29 (Confirmed) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (12)+10: 22 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (15)+10: 25 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (10)+10: 20 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 2d6+14: (2)+14: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (1)+7: 8 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (1)+7: 8 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: You damaged Shilde's companion for 43 points. 23 HP remaining. GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+9: (3)+9: 12 (vs DC14 - Fail) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "it might have, but it didn't" GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+9: (13)+9: 22 (vs DC14 - Success) GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+9: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL) (vs DC14 - Fail) GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+9: (18)+9: 27 (vs DC14 - Success) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d2: (2): 2 <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Rocky take 2 points of Int damage."
Bright lights are always startling, and not his friend. When a sudden glow erupts out of nowhere, Mr. Tibbys bolts. Except the light is chasing him!
Frantically he jumps in the air, and keeps climbing upwards. His heavy wings flapping, slowly lifting him.
Sudden movement, that frightening dog, prompts a defensive flick of spines that all strike. One very painfully sticking up a nostril far enough to prompt a sneeze.
A venom of some kind leaks from the tips, causing sensations to feel muffled and thoughts to slow.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "I'll fly directly above, 15', and try to Hydraulic Torrent it back down to the ground." GAME: Barclaiigh casts Hydraulic Torrent. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18 GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d20+8+Wisdom: (6)+8+5: 19 (vs CMD 26) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+3: (8)+3: 11 (Mr Tibbys Fly vs DC10 - success) <OOC> Cryosanthia thinks... Mr Tibbys thinks... o O (did a bird just poop on me? what's wrong with that bird!)
Barclaiigh grumbles as he watches the lit manticore take flight. He dips one avian shoulder and cuts a tight turn, beating his wings mightly out of the turn to gain altitude. Another quick circle the opposite direction and he's above the creature. He chants again and blasts a stream of water straight down atop the kitty. Sadly, it does little to interrupt the stray's flight.
<OOC> Shilde says, "okay.. gonna fly above it and try to get it in an entangle spell," <OOC> Shilde says, "using the trees as source/anchor. Avoiding getting myself and Barclaiigh if possible." GAME: Shilde casts Entangle. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+9: (15)+9: 24 (he escapes the weeds) <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "40' radius where is centre? <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Actually, 1,12, sorry." GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+8: (2)+8: 10 (Rocky Reflex vs Entangled DC16, - Fail)
Shilde loops about as Rocky gets spiked, looking like a porcupine victim.. but there's little she can do for him now if she wants to stop this menace. Yes, she's reclassified it as a menace. So as Barclaiigh attempts to hose the bad kitty down, she loops around to gain a little more altitude.. then coaxes the trees to come to life, magically sprouting branches and vines in an attempt to catch and entangle the manticore.
The dog also gets wrapped and secured by the grasses and vines, keeping him in place.. which may be for his own good.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, Tibbys is scared of water and grabby trees and double moves away," <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "first move is climbing up so he's at 30' now, and the next is 50' level" <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "I think his move is halved in the entangle, Cryo, even if he makes his save."
Light is frightening; water is worse! Not a stranger to buckets of water flung in the night, Mr. Tibbys yowls when an utter torrent of ice cold water is dumped on him. Puzzled, shocked, that a bird could carry that much, he's spurred to bolt.
A reflex that only increases as vines and weeds wind up, attempting to encircle him. Meaowling deeply with displeasure, he flies hard from his formerly trustworthy hiding spaces.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Alright. Fly to Shilde. Will do a loop and end up at 5,10." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Spend more than half movement so no need for skill check. Casting Air Walk on her. Inspiring Speech." GAME: Barclaiigh casts Air Walk. Caster Level: 8 DC: 19
"Y'all're gonna need t'snag 'im!" Barclaiigh screeches as the flickering form of the forlorn feline flees the field. Sounding very much like a heavyset dwarf struggling to run over hill and dale, he beats his wings and turns a long, lazy arc.
Wings tuck at the last moment and he corkscrews, flying past Shilde just close enough to brush his downy forehead against the side of hers as he chants druidic.
"Light as a feather, miss Shilde!" He cawls.
<OOC> Shilde will fly to 10,18.. with 60', Then use my standard to wildshape into an Allosaurus. GAME: Shilde spends ONE use of WILDSHAPE. GAME: Shilde spends ONE use of WILDSHAPE. GAME: Barclaiigh refreshes special ability pools. GAME: Barclaiigh spends ONE use of WILDSHAPE. GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+8: (3)+8: 11 (Rocky escape attempt - fail) <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "He tries to chew the vines off and ends up biting his own tail." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "+6STR, -4DEX for size, Shilde. And +6 Natural Armor if he attacks you." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "CMB will be +5 from your normal (+2 for huge and +3 from STR)"
Shilde gives a nod.. well, it's more sort of a head bob, which could be lost in the general flapping of wings and... ah heck, she just makes owl sounds at Barclaiigh then speeds off. They laughed and talked about stuff like this one a few of their past trips. Well, now the joke's about to become real. She darts forward, winging wide around the fleeing manticore, then comes right up into its face! Well, not quite that close.. but she does fly in front of it, then invokes her druidic talents at body shaping (not to be confused with body shaming) and suddenly changes from a tiny owl into a monstrously sized reptilian. With big teeth. And sharp claws. Standing in the air as if it were solid ground.
Meanwhile, in trying to escape the nasty plants, Rocky bites his own tail while trying to chew through vines. Yelp!
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I think he will tailflick spikes and fly a move away" <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "So your roll ranged attacks with the spikes. Normally, this would provoke an AoO." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "But it's an (EX) which normally doesn't provoke an AoO. HMMMM." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "well... two things, moving away might provoke an AOO" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "and he has flyby attack, so he doesn't have to do it before moving." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Well, yeah, moving would. Shilde is also Huge. So she's 15x15 and threatens 15'." <OOC> Shilde has combat reflexes as well, "So moving away might give me two AoOs. My dex drops to 10, so only one AoO." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "The bite has grab, too. So we might get lucky here. Thought I imagine his CMD is pretty darn good." GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (3)+10: 13 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (14)+10: 24 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: You damaged Shilde for 11 points of nonlethal. 11 total. GAME: Shilde rolls fortitude: (19)+10: 29 (vs DC14 - success)
There's another yowl of terror as a giant allosaur appears out of nowhere! Well, there was an owl, but who is paying attention to owls! Mr. Tibbys retreats from the terrible, flying lizard, flinging a tailfull of spikes at it. The soft projectiles rattle off the scaled hide, except for one, that sticks near an eye.
GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+6+6-2: (12)+6+6+-2: 22 (AOO - hits) (Size modifier is -2 to attack) GAME: Shilde rolls 2d6+6: (8)+6: 14 GAME: Shilde rolls cmb+2: (14)+14+2: 30 (grab - success)
Shilde, the flying Sharptooth, weathers the spikes that spill over her hide.. the one that gets her near the eye will definitely need seeing to, but that's for later. Then, loomingly, reaches forward and closes her dagger lined maw over the frightened cat, taking advantage of its surprise, and traps the batcat between her jaws.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Greater Magic Fang on Shilde. We'll do +2 on the bite. Fly to 9,16" GAME: Barclaiigh casts Greater Magic Fang. Caster Level: 8 DC: 18
"Good golly... yer wonderful," coos the Bar' Owl, flapping mesmerized for just a moment before shaking out of his stupor and returning to the battle. He flies again, quickly crossing the distance to brush his wing against the transformed druid once again. This time reptillian fangs glow! Runes trace themselves across the short sword-length teeth and her entire maw begins to shed a green light similar to that lining the magical feline.
"Alright, critter!" Bar pants between wingbeats. "Reckon that don't feel so good! Y'all need t'simmer down now! Too much hurt goin' 'round!"
<OOC> Shilde says, "Going to try to shift the grapple into a pin. Can I do that?" <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "You roll to maintain the grapple. If you succeed you can attempt to pin." GAME: Shilde rolls cmb+2+2: (1)+14+2+2: 19 (EPIC FAIL) (+2 from GMF) <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "So, as of now. Both parties lose the grappled condition. Shilde is out her Standard action." <OOC> Shilde says, "So will use a move ation to maintain altitude with it, and get on its east side." GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+8: (6)+8: 14 (Rocky vs DC16 - fail)
Maybe she was distracted by something. Likely the squrming cat in her mouth. Whatever the cast, as Shildosaur tries to adjust her bite to better secure the manticore, she ends up sneezing it out. Cat Dander! Ugh! Another sneeze, and then she's stomping through the air to try and get on the manticore's other side.
Rocky whimpers as another vine curls around his leg and pulls him down.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so I was trying to decide if he would do the cat bitey-ball" <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "but since he fell out of your mouth, scamper away is back on the menu." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "So tailflick spikes and AOO for you as he flies away. 2 on Barc, 2 on Shilde" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (8)+10: 18 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (4)+10: 14 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (6)+10: 16 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+10: (1)+10: 11 (EPIC FAIL) GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d6+7: (3)+7: 10 GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Fortitude: (12)+10: 22 (vs DC14 - Success) GAME: You damaged Barclaiigh for 10 points of nonlethal. 10 total. GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+6+6-2+2: (16)+6+6+-2+2: 28 (AOO) <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Are you OK with us doing nonlethal at no penalty since the critter is, Cryo?" <OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "sure." <OOC> Shilde says, "oh yeah, nonlethal." GAME: Shilde rolls 2d6+8: (8)+8: 16 GAME: Shilde rolls cmd+2+2: (6)+14+2+2: 24 (vs CMD 26 - fail)
Mr. Tibbys flails in the air, catching it with his wings and attempting to bolt again. Another snap of his tail flings another quartet of spikes, two at Barclaiigh, two at Shilde, with one stabbing into the owl and the rest missing or bouncing off scales.
He shows his butt and tries to flap away.
Shilde snaps at the fleeing manticore again, but the nimble feline is taking full advantage of the druid's allergies!
GAME: Barclaiigh casts Strong Jaw. Caster Level: 8 DC: 19 <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Huge (2d6) to Colossal (4d6)." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Will fly to 8,5"
"Got' dang-- c'mon, y'all!" Bar' Owl is exasperated. He's never had cats even if there were a few semi-feral ones that would prowl the fields and brewery keeping the mouse population in check. His best friend was a pig. Now he wanders the world with a bear.
He's made a point to live in a cat's fur for days on end, trying to get in their minds and understand their impulses. This one is giving him a run for his money. Maybe it's the wyvern's wings and scorpion tail?
Fluttering next to Shilde, he offers one last enhancing spell before surging across the skies after the retreating Mr. Tibbys. "C'mon, pal! Don't y'all want yer saucer'a milk? Some fishies..?"
<OOC> Shilde is going to.. pounce.. in the air... <OOC> Shilde says, "So pounce is a charge, that gives a full attack, and rake." GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+bab+strength+2+2-2: (9)+6+6+2+2+-2: 23 GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+bab+strength+2+2-2: (9)+6+6+2+2+-2: 23 GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+bab+strength+2+2-2: (2)+6+6+2+2+-2: 16 GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+bab+strength+2+2-2: (17)+6+6+2+2+-2: 31 GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+bab+strength+2+2-2: (16)+6+6+2+2+-2: 30 GAME: Shilde rolls cmb+2+2+2: (18)+14+2+2+2: 38 (vs CMD 26 - success) GAME: Shilde rolls 4d6+6+2: (12)+6+2: 20 GAME: Shilde rolls 1d8+6: (6)+6: 12 GAME: Shilde rolls 1d20+8: (8)+8: 16 (Rocky reflex vs DC16 - Success)
To the onlooker, the situation must look quite... fantastic? Ridiculous? Alarming? Majestic? It might depend on ones perspective and tastes. Whatever the case may be, however, it certainly isn't subtle... not as a giant, mostly bipedal lizard armed with very many sharp body parts literally leaps through the air, landing on the catlike manticore which is several grades smaller than its attacker. Once again Shilde's teeth close around the manticore to keep it still, and she smacks it hard with one of her claws to try and drive home the message.
Meanwhile Rocky manages to finally chew his way free as he crawls out of the northern end of the shambles Shilde summoned.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Mr Tibbys does bitey catball" GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+12: (2)+12: 14 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+12: (14)+12: 26 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 1d20+12: (18)+12: 30 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 2d4+7: (2)+7: 9 GAME: Cryosanthia rolls 2d4+7: (4)+7: 11 GAME: You damaged Shilde for 20 points of nonlethal. 31 total. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Name | CHP (T) | HP | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ | Barclaiigh....| 60 | 60 | | (C) Porter....| 12 | 52 | | Shilde........| 67 | 67 | | (C) Rocky.....| 23 | 66 | ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Caught in the very large jaws of the flying allosaur, the mantikitty responds as all bad cats do, curling in up in a ball, biting and scratching at the threat that has caught him. Resistance to the end!
His majesty is not able to bite the teeth biting him, a convoluted conundrum if every there was one, but he does succeed in scratching at the Shildesaur's jaws, his claws ripping into the gums
Painful! Yet, not as much as they should be.
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Will convert spike stones to summon nature's ally 4." GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Fly: (16)+7: 23 <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "hover is good. Turn!" <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Also, I can't summon so I wasted my turn." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "do you want to do something else besides the summon?" <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "It's fine! I don't have anything else at this point."
Bar Owl flaps his wings, steadying himself in place as Shilde does the heavy lifting. He starts chanting, a longer spell that has thr air rippling.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "so, still grappling him" <OOC> Shilde says, "Until I roll the 1 again." GAME: Shilde rolls cmb+2+2+5: (1)+14+2+2+5: 24 (EPIC FAIL) <OOC> Shilde says, "amazing." <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "it is. I do this with HP every level." <OOC> Shilde says, "Dice are forcing us to pummel this into unconscioussness." GAME: Shilde rolls 1d8+6: (1)+6: 7 (forgotten Rake Damage) GAME: Shilde rolls 1d8+6: (6)+6: 12 (forgotten Rake Damage) <OOC> Cryosanthia says, "well he goes limp and mewls then"
After a final frenzy of feline obstreperousness, Mr Tibbys suddenly goes limp in Shildesaur's mouth, mewling pitifully.
When Shilde feels the fight slip out of the manticore, she relaxes a little bit herself, then, as if she was going down a spiral stare case, stomps down to the ground... careful not to step on anything important. She bends forward, depositing the creature on the ground carefully before rising and positioning a taloned foot over it... not stepping on the beast, but keeping it pinned to the ground while she raises her head and lizard eyes to the sky to look for Barclaiigh. And snorts. As if to ask 'now what'.
The owl flutters down to land on the ground near the cowed kitty. Immediately, his form rearranges into that of a thick, broad Khazadi shaman in enchanted darkwood armors.
"Awe, fella," he's sympathetic even if he's not exactly sorry. Porter looked miserable and Rocky was worse off. "Reckon you don't belong in these parts."
The dwarf shifts out of his pack and retrieves a bag of bandages, balms, and tinctures. He'll see to the worse of the manticore's wounds and make sure he's not bleeding freely.
"Thinking we see him out to th'Grove, miss Shilde. That pen ain't a fit place and that furfoot is three fruit short of a bunch..."
GAME: Barclaiigh rolls Heal: (11)+12: 23
Mr Tibbys lies limp, accepting his fate with dignity. All kings must fall.
It might be possible to communicate. Manticores are intelligent and have a language, just below demi-human average. Unbeknowingst, Mr. Tibbys has slightly above average human intelligence, knows common even though he can't speak it, and has gone to magic school.
The manticore growls quietly, protest mewls, familiar to anyone who has treated an animal that doesn't understand what's happening.
Shilde huffs, then steps back. With Barclaiigh close and the manticore in the condition it is, she decides she can abandon the allosaurus form.. which she does with some haste. Leathery skin shifts and folds, bones bend and condense and rearrange.. and gear shimmers back into view as she resumes her own, natural dwarf form as well. "Aye. T'ern't'be trapped in no cage, no. Might have issues gettin' it out o'the city... 'n that AD of the FGB and S might not like't much. Might be courts'n stuff." But she kneels down beside the mewling feline. "If it grew up in th'cage... s'gonna need rehabilitation."
Rocky manages to make his way over to the pair of dwarfs as well, looking somewhat miserable and more confused than usual... he only gives the fallen manticore a once over and a sniff before dropping down onto his belly, head in his paws, staring at the three of them.
Mr Tibbys grew up in a cage. The Lucht said something about a 'special diet', to keep him small. He's no longer house-cat sized, but isn't immense like a lion either, rather somewhere inbetween. He might grow. His claws are unusually blunt, and the remaining tail spikes not as rigid as they should be.
He'll need a lot of rehabilitation.
A closer examination shows he is not de-clawed, but based on his attacks, something magical must have been done to him to make him non-lethal. Something like an Amulet of Mighty Fists with a merciful enchant.
Between that and the environment he grew up in, then rehabilitation might not even be possible.
He could be returned to the halfling, but bringing the matter to the druid council on what they did to the creature would be worthwhile.
"... well, think th' big twigs're the best suited'a anyone." Barclaiigh pets the cat's flank and shoulders his pack. He steps back before falling down to all fours and reshaping into a sleek, furred killing machine. The panther nuzzles the prone manticore and grunts a brief druidic prayer to heal wounds.
"Rowwor, mrrr," he calls and lowers his head. 'New place, safe.'
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "So, Bar can speak with animals of the same type while wild shaped." <OOC> Barclaiigh says, "He can be a cat. He can't be a manticore. Your call. Also CLW" <OOC> Shilde says, "And domesticating magical beasts does have precedence. Griffon riders, etc." GAME: Barclaiigh casts Cure Light Wounds. Caster Level: 8 DC: 16 GAME: Barclaiigh rolls 1d8+5: (8)+5: 13
He could be a Druid Grove semi-feral. They could keep an eye on him while he has a better quality of life. The pen won't hold him, obviously, and the halfing isn't fit to care for him.
'Meaaowrrrl' the manticore replies, saying a lot with a little the way only cats can. He is the great monarch of this land, raised with wisdom then escaping the garden of comfort to conquer his birthright, and then conquered by an incomprehensible foe, that vanished as fast as it appeared.
He knows every tree and belfry, every hidden balcony and gable, the best place to fish in the running water and the homes of the rodents, fat on the free food.
More importantly it seems, he has both no fear of and no malice towards humanoids, and knows enough to avoid them.
"Mrr..." rumbles Barclaiigh, stretching his head down from sitting on his haunches. "Rowrrrrrrr, hrrf." There's agreement and understanding as he stands back up and stretches. 'See new place. Safe place if danger. Then back.' He pads off a short distance and then turns to look back at the little manticore. "Rwr," he adds. 'Go quick, then back.' Whiskers flare, then his nostrils before he dips his head.
"He don't wanna leave his home. Ain't gonna git in no one's way..." the panther finally says, looking up and back at Shilde. "Figger we just show'm the way to th'Grove. Jus' in case he needs to runnoft. Then we come back an' tell the ol' coot mister Tibbyses's jus' got a bigger pen'n he'll check in when he feels like..?"
Shilde rubs a thick finger along the bridge of her nose as she listens to Barclaiigh's suggestion. Her scowl is still there, but it's not quite so sour, perhaps. She touches just under her eye, wincing a little bit... then she nods. "If'n he don' wanna leave, then he don' wanna. Be nice for 'im t'know of a safe place, though, aye. And maybe we avoid gettin' labelled thieves this way too. Critter don' look ready t'survive on its own... maybe never will, seein' what they probably did to it."
She circles around the 'cat to check in Rocky, pulling one of the spikes free from his hide.. slowly working to do the same with the others, whispering softly to the dog who just whimpers and groans as she does so. "Rock seems 'bit punchdrunk. Venom from th'spikes. Wonder if this is related t'the lucht's scatterbrain, eh? An' maybe what led t'the pen bein' left open."
These suggestions please his Majesty, Mr. Tibbys. He'd like to learn more of his empire, and a safe place to retreat is always good. He agrees with a cautious 'mewaaawoorrrl'.
It's easy enough to lead the manticore out of the city, he's naturally sneaky, it's dark, and a route along the Tornmwar makes the most sense especially with his ability to fly. That helps with the trip through the wilderness out to the Druid's Grove. There's a distinct change in his body language though. Actual forest is not the carefully curated and manicured parkland he is used to. It's too dense, dark, and there are long stretches without buildings or people.
It takes some convincing, a few more spells and a couple druids in a feline wildform, before Mr Tibbys accepts the Grove is safe. He clearly wants to return to the territory he knows.
As best as can be determined, he likes living around the arcanist campus and wants to be an 'outdoor' cat, but not a wild one that lives ferally in the woods. He's accustomed to the smells and sounds of the city. He understands common, even if he can't speak it, and a little bit of magic theory. He'd be willing to return to a more comfortable enclosure, (specificaly - larger) on occasion especially if regular food was involved.
The final estimation is he was the subject of a domestication attempt, and while it didn't fully succeed, it was successful enough he likely couldn't return to the wild. Especially as he has a nicer temper than most manticores.
OOC
===================== Current Initiative Order - Round 1 =====================
---Init--Name------------AOO-Notes--------------------------------------------
20 Mr. Tibbys
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19 Barclaiigh 1 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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13 Shilde 5 Flat-footed (0 rnds active)
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==============================================================================
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| Name | Race | Class | CHP | HP | AC/FF/T |CMD |For |Ref |Wil |
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|Barclaiigh|MOUNTAIN_D|Dru | 60 | 60 |15/13/13 | 24 | 10 | 5 | 12 |
|Shilde |MOUNTAIN_D|Dru | 67 | 67 |23/21/14 | 20 | 10 | 4 | 11 |
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
inspirational pic
https://www.deviantart.com/datura00/art/Baby-Manticore-166957870
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gr0EAxo8esg
https://preview.redd.it/z27hsj2lw6s11.jpg?auto=webp&s=abd50c92c352dd28ff71f1b2781f87811ce9203c
Map
https://www.mipui.net/app/index.html?mid=mldkdd2wg0i
Seek
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Seek, I think!"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay! doing a mental calculation"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I don't think you can stealth while searching, really, right?"
<OOC> Shilde says, "In my head I don't see why you couldn't. It would be like hunting. Sort of? But I can't see any rules on it."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "because if it can see you coming, (perception) from far away, the distance would give a bonus to stealth, and it would be able to sneak around and use cover to make it harder"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "well you'd go slower, which would mean it would take longer to search an area... which is hard to represent when I want to use just one roll each from you (and possibly your ACs) to represent searching"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "okay, well roll your stealth, and I'll roll perception, then figure out the difference (or not) and that would be a bonus to it's stealth, which then you'll roll perception against. That should work."
<OOC> Shilde says, "I see your point. That would mostly matter if time were going to be a factor (which it may be, not sure what your plan is). Another option is to search as what would likely be seen as non-threatening, or the like. Blend in with the other birds flying around, or some such."
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "Time is a factor in the sense of RL it's 1am, what used to be 2am last week and I'm tired, and would a part 2 be okay?
<OOC> Barclaiigh stops Shilde with hands on her shoulder. "Remember... fly casual."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "the IC time factor is it might get dark"
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "So, if Shilde and I are birbs, hopefully that won't scare the manticore off. And maybe he sees Porter and Rocky running around but if he's on a roof who cares about a dumb dog and bear, right?"
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Like how cats like to sit on fences and stare smugly down at dogs they know can't get them!"
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Jerk cats!"
<OOC> Shilde says, "Until some jerk human comes and pushes the cat off the fence."
<OOC> Barclaiigh doesn't really like cats but wouldn't feed them to doggos. :(
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "We can break whenever, Cryo. I was going to say that I've got 24mins max, myself."
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Getting ~5hrs of sleep is starting to wear."
<OOC> Shilde says, "I just learned what time B is suppoesd to be up in the morning, and this is about an hour past his bed time."
<OOC> Shilde says, "Yeah, if B has less than half an hour, it may work better to pause this now so you can both get some sleep."
<OOC> Shilde says, "I am sorry that I slowed things down tonight."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "no it's fine, it was RP and I was curious how you'd solve the problem"
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "I thought the pacing was fine, honestly. And I had so much fun getting to play Shildy and Barwinkle."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I knew what the manticore was doing, but there were no rails to get PCs to it, and with a different mix this could have gone nowhere"
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "The interaction was very fun, yes.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Okay, so, pause and we can pick up again when it's convenient, and I can sleep too? I have to go to the nursing home tomorrow, so I can't sleep forever either"
<OOC> Shilde enjoyed it. Seeing B in action is always fun, and it's nice to get to put druid skills to good use.
<OOC> Shilde says, "That works for me."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "yes, actualy, this worked quite well with druids!"
Alternatives to Free Re-Roll
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Huh. So I just had a random thought. I stopped doing the free reroll because I had a series of plots where PCs just never failed. And the one time they did, they rerolled for free."
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "Maybe, like, have a new rule. 4x d20 checks that go sub-10 and you get a free reroll."
<OOC> Cryosanthia nods, "yes, I recall you mentionning that. Being put on supervision and a similar experience made me stop doing that, since it was 'unbalancing'
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "And then 6x or 8x after that and you get a second free reroll."
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "So if you have ATROCIOUSLY bad luck, you can earn two free rerolls."
<OOC> Shilde says, "THat's an idea. I can run it by WP"
Injured ears'
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "and coming up with a pose... need a few moments"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "wishing my ears weren't bothering me"
<OOC> Shilde hugs
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "That really sucks, Cryo. I'm sorry."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I wish it wasn't attached to a 'this wouldn't have happened if you weren't a big bag of stupid'"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "like, if I'd just checked what sounded weird instead of 'oh it'll be fine, it's probably just popped back into place'"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "or put on the damn hearing protection that I have 3 sets of 5 feet away from where I was working"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "like it was COMPLETELY avoidable if I was paying attention. which I never seem to be. My last cat died because I wasn't paying attention"
<OOC> Shilde hugs. You are not alone there, Cryo.
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I'm half tempted to smash the bike with a sledge and throw it in Lake Ontario so it can't hurt me again"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "or anyone else. It broke 2 people's arms before I got it"
<OOC> Shilde says, "Or return to it, warier, and fix it up and show it who's boss."
Cats are Evil
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "manticores are normally LE, I figure he's either LN or N"
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "It's a cat. NE."
<OOC> Barclaiigh ;)
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Some are good. Tibby (also called Tibbs and Tibbys) was my first cat. Got him from my cousins, he was on the aloof side. Spatch (Spatches) was my second cat. Liked to suck on things. He was on the goof side. nose, ears, nipples, fingers, toes, whatever he could get at. started my lifelong habit of completely sleeping under the sheets.
<OOC> Shilde says, "Haha awww."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "I left him with my parents when I moved to the US, because they wanted him. He lived for quite a while after, remembered me when I visited. Lived fairly long. Then died because my uncle forgot to feed him often enough while my parents were away."
<OOC> Barclaiigh :(
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "which I try not to think about too much. I mean, I could have taken him if I really wanted, but... he was an outdoor cat, and Florida wouldn't have worked for him. Took the damn bike there and back though. Now Zsofi was the Cute Evil, through and through. A little lioness thug. Spatch thought he was a dog, to a degree. He also copied Tibby, and from behind they looked like the same cat."
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Tibby was a part-persian black cat, and Spatch was a long haired tuxedo cat"
<OOC> Cryosanthia says, "Spatch also figured out judo."
<OOC> Shilde says, "They sound like they were wonderful cats."
<OOC> Barclaiigh says, "The only cat I ever liked really was Lucifer. My roommate's cat in college. He was amazing, fantastically chill. He would drool when you pet him."