Kayla joins the group and pitches in all of the gold that she has - better to use it on healing potions now than to die later and lose the chance to spend it...
(32 gold - that makes 105 so far. 2 potions is 80 - one is Chrome's outright. If no one else pitches in, then he can have his 20gp back, and Kayla and Ursk will spend 30 and 10 respectively. Ursk - do you want to hold the potion?)
OOC: I think I've got a feat that keeps my hp bonus from raging active even if I'm knocked unconscious, so I'm happy to let you or someone else hold on to it. As long as we're resource poor, Ursk's standard actions are probably better spent smashing things. If desperate, someone could poor it down his gullet.
(04-03-2017, 02:01 AM)Ursk Wrote: [ -> ]OOC: I think I've got a feat that keeps my hp bonus from raging active even if I'm knocked unconscious, so I'm happy to let you or someone else hold on to it. As long as we're resource poor, Ursk's standard actions are probably better spent smashing things. If desperate, someone could poor it down his gullet.
[OoC: That sucks that in PF you need a feat to not lose your Raging. In 3.5 I don't think you lose your rage bonuses automatically when falling unconscious. Even in a Sage Advise it stated there weren't any rules and if there were there would be too many dead barbarians dying from falling unconscious in battle! ]
[OoC2: Sorry for my sparse replying. Weekends are rough for me and my workplace is expecting a Ministry Audit next Monday so guess who has to make sure everything is perfect?
So I've been even more busy than usual. ]
Cin listens. She digs through the lint in her belt pouch and says,
"I have about ten or eleven gold pieces for the pot if it will get us another potion."
Bronze wind chimes and clockwork statues decorate the domed portico of this compound dedicated to the goddess of invention. The oldest faith in Torch, Brigh’s temple sees regular worship from many of the town’s citizens, and also includes a meticulously organized workshop managed by the town’s religious leader, Joram Kyte. His friendly demeanor, active interest in the metal trade, and innovative crafting skills helped land him a seat on the town council many years ago. Joram’s temple includes a small shopfront selling magic items and gear.
Joram Kyte is grinding his teeth when the both of you enter. His pained expression softens when he realizes your purpose here. "Thank you for coming to our call of help. You may have already heard of me but I'm Joram Kyte, the head of Brigh's temple. Who might you two be?"
[OoC: Gurkagh and Seaven, please introduce yourselves.]
The man is bit flamboyantly, if still practically, dressed in the style of the Varisians, which bears more evidence in the almost signature small mustache and goatee. An orange handkerchief sticks out his back pocket. He does a quick, low bow, with an arm flourish that shows off his billowy puffed sleeves. Coming up from the bow, his blond hair falls in his face boyishly, and he brushes it away with a smile.
"A pleasure to meet you. I am called Seaven." He noticed the teeth gritting, causes some mild concern. "Are you alright, mate?"
The man who enters just beside Seaven appears to be his polar opposite. Dirty and unkempt, his brown hair and beard in wild tangles, and his skin covered in the remains of some sort of white paint, he is clad in rough hides. His only weapons appear to be an antler handled dagger thrust in his belt, some javelins slung on his pack, and a sling looped on his belt.
Despite his rough appearance, his smile is warm and friendly as he greets the other two men.
"Tag,Gurkagh.." he thumps his chest lightly. He gazes wide-eyed at all the clockworks and wind-chimes. "Wundorcræftas!" He marvels in Hallit.
"Oh, yes.. Taldane must remember, speak Taldane.. Glad to be here, I am Gurkagh. Town guard say you need help?"
"Yes... yes... I'm doing well," the priest replies to Seaven unconvincingly. His eyes seem to soften slight before adding, "Or at least doing a little better seeing the both of you. We have sent 3 or 4 expeditions down into the caves and I've just heard that only the latest group has returned. But only 3 out of the group wish to carry on to find out what has caused the torch to go out. The others are moving on. Perhaps their constitutions weren't up to dealing with damp caves. You both may do well in contacting the three and joining them. I believe there's a Gunslinger; an Alchemist; and a Wizard among them. I'm sure two formidable warriors such as yourselves would be welcome."
"No warrior, shaman. Uncle Shimu warrior." He whistles and a tiny little, brightly coloured blue and yellow thrush flies into the portico, lands on a windchime causing it to chime, then swoops down to alight on Gurkagh's shoulder.
"You were great warrior, weren't you Uncle." He says to the tiny little songbird.
https://youtu.be/VP4kQfFQ2e8 - Varied Thrush (Uncle Shimu - Size: Diminutive Male Thrush)
Seaven cranes his neck to look at the little bird. "Oh, will you look at that. He's quite..." He searches for a word for a moment. " ... fierce." He looks at the priest for help.
The tiny little thrush turns its head to stare at Seavan with one eye.
In a tiny high trilling voice the bird speaks to Gurkagh in clear Hallit.
"Hé gabede æt mé?"