TheSimianMind
New Member
What do we have here? A skeleton, eh? Clarice could conduct a full postmortem, but what does she stand to gain from such an extravagance? Nothing to justify the time expenditure, surely; it’s much more sensible to run through the basics and call it a day. Let’s start by determining whether the victim was male or female and proceed from there.
[Action 1 - Investigate] Clarice quickly scan’s the skeleton’s pelvis. Then, she transitions to the skeleton’s teeth and the shape of its skull to narrow down the victim’s species. While a more thorough postmortem might establish the victim’s species and identity, Clarice seeks to answer a single question: is this the corpse of a human, a fae, or a beastfolk?
Clarice doesn’t need to disturb the remains to gather data on any other topic of interest. She is keenly aware of the rapidity of decay from the fetid gases such processes produce. She would guess that the victim perished less than a month ago given the extent of skeletonization and rust/scale buildup. While her knowledge of Plague Boggarts is minimal to nonexistent (why study the ecology of pathetic swamp gremlins when you can study the ecology of devils, demons, negative energy beings, and dragons), she properly links the scratch marks covering the bones and armor fragments to the little pests, but she does not conclude that this is the cause of death. Working backward from the assumption that this area is a Plague Boggart nesting ground, the victim wouldn’t have just carelessly wandered in. Even if the victim was bumbling about, the Plague Boggarts could not have ambushed the victim at this location as there are no sizable bodies of murky water in close proximity. The orientation of the corpse might furnish more insights - unless it was dragged here. The more enticing possibility is that the victim was fleeing - possibly already weakened and wounded - from another entity when it bumped into these pests. This would explain why Clarice discovered no hard-wearing, ruggedized supplies nearby. The victim could have shed the extra weight in its haste. And speaking of lost tools, where is its sword?
Fascinating. Morbid, to be sure, but a mystery if ever there was one.
Here’s the rub: this investigation proves Cayde’s assumption is flawed at best and racist at worst. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together (which necessarily excludes some of her party members, she thinks) would realize that an order of errant paladins is commissioning members to embark on perilous quests in this swamp. It’s exactly the sort of buffoonery Clarice would expect from such a lunkheaded organization. At the very least, anyone who insists the bunny paladin has the favor of the swamp and has lived in the swamp for a few hundred years needs their head checked by a medical professional. Clarice can’t exactly rule out that this is all a ruse, but if it isn’t, this is hands-down the lamest were-critter that ever existed. Clarice has found more impressive were-critters in the stuffed animals section at the toy store. Scylla’s penchant for brewing explosive potions - including healing potions (may Mr. Primpaws, test hamster extraordinaire, Rest In Peace) - is more alarming than that exhausted bunny.
…
Why do I even bother with that girl?
Clarice asks no one in particular. Scylla is trouble with a capital “T.” She doesn’t treat anything seriously, and people pay a premium for her carelessness. Take the “perfected” invisibility potion she brought up for the umpteenth time. Not only did it stain everyone’s clothes, it ruined Clarice’s notes - the notes she needed to study for the midterm at the end of that week. She “earned” a B - a B - on that exam because she didn’t have time to transcribe a new set of notes, write three midterm papers, shop for new clothes, keep up in her other classes, and work her side-job to afford luxuries like food that wasn’t cooked by the disgusting cafeteria goblin that spit in everything “to enhance the flavor” and purchase supplies that the academy didn’t have a hand in creating so she didn’t have to worry about her notebook animating, eloping with her ink pot, and finally being stabbed to death by her quill in a crime of passion! The cake was a sweet gesture, but it isn’t a substitute for attentiveness! Ugh! If she had partnered with Rugalione von Kluge III, she’d be at the beach living the good life right now, not wading through ankle-high muck in a sodding swamp in service of a hag Scylla traded them to in exchange for an ingredient for a mixed drink. Yes, that’s right, an ingredient for a friggin’ mixed drink.
No grade or mixed drink is worth suffering the company of these weirdos and wastrels. Posthumously receiving high marks just ain’t the honor it’s cracked up to be, and the longer this lot is together, the worse their chances of survival become. She might fare better on her own - where the mistakes and dysfunctions of others can’t hinder her. If that corpse had a serviceable sword, she would take it and leave in a heartbeat. Maybe then Scylla would realize that her actions have consequences. It’s not like she could really influence the outcome of the battle anyway.
Clarice prepares to venture into the unknown. She steels her will, checks the fuel in her lamp, and is about to step off when Scylla’s yelp pulls her back.
[Action 2 - Movement] With urgency, Clarice pivots and dashes toward the battlefield.
Whatever startled Scylla must have fallen, for Clarice spots no adjacent hostiles as she approaches.
You’re infuriating, you know that? Stop pretending this is a game; if the paladin dies, all this was wasted effort!
[Action 3 - Movement] Clarice charges toward the paladin, ignoring Baharius cutting down swaths of enemies with the ease of a thresher reaping crops. So too does she pay no heed to Cayde and Nissan’s competition, Chandra’s sharpshooting, or Kesh’s roguish talents.
Cerulean light shears through the shadows swirling in Clarice’s eyes as she levels the Aspect of the Sapphire Dragon at two of the Plague Boggarts encircling the paladin. Imperiously, and with a dazzling flourish, she prepares to bind them to her will.
Noting the paladin’s wounds, Clarice calls to Scylla over her shoulder.
Scylla, I’ll have need of your skills momentarily, for I suspect that this is just another hapless soul questing for honor and glory in these godless fens. I found the corpse of one of its comrades-in-arms half-buried in the mud in the underbrush, so this isn’t an isolated incident - their order, much like our academy, is sending them to die out here for some reason. Don’t heal it until we assess the threat it poses or it takes a sudden turn for the worse. Until then -
Clarice slams a gauntlet-clad fist into her bullseye lantern and deposits ordinary sewing needles, small buttons, and other assorted materials into the hot oil beyond the shattering glass.
I need to blow off some steam.
((Updated to account for “magic users can’t move on turns in which they cast spells” rule. Please note, however, that Telekinesis is a Mental Skill, not a Magic Skill. Thus, different rules may apply.))
[Action 1 - Investigate] Clarice quickly scan’s the skeleton’s pelvis. Then, she transitions to the skeleton’s teeth and the shape of its skull to narrow down the victim’s species. While a more thorough postmortem might establish the victim’s species and identity, Clarice seeks to answer a single question: is this the corpse of a human, a fae, or a beastfolk?
Clarice doesn’t need to disturb the remains to gather data on any other topic of interest. She is keenly aware of the rapidity of decay from the fetid gases such processes produce. She would guess that the victim perished less than a month ago given the extent of skeletonization and rust/scale buildup. While her knowledge of Plague Boggarts is minimal to nonexistent (why study the ecology of pathetic swamp gremlins when you can study the ecology of devils, demons, negative energy beings, and dragons), she properly links the scratch marks covering the bones and armor fragments to the little pests, but she does not conclude that this is the cause of death. Working backward from the assumption that this area is a Plague Boggart nesting ground, the victim wouldn’t have just carelessly wandered in. Even if the victim was bumbling about, the Plague Boggarts could not have ambushed the victim at this location as there are no sizable bodies of murky water in close proximity. The orientation of the corpse might furnish more insights - unless it was dragged here. The more enticing possibility is that the victim was fleeing - possibly already weakened and wounded - from another entity when it bumped into these pests. This would explain why Clarice discovered no hard-wearing, ruggedized supplies nearby. The victim could have shed the extra weight in its haste. And speaking of lost tools, where is its sword?
Fascinating. Morbid, to be sure, but a mystery if ever there was one.
Here’s the rub: this investigation proves Cayde’s assumption is flawed at best and racist at worst. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together (which necessarily excludes some of her party members, she thinks) would realize that an order of errant paladins is commissioning members to embark on perilous quests in this swamp. It’s exactly the sort of buffoonery Clarice would expect from such a lunkheaded organization. At the very least, anyone who insists the bunny paladin has the favor of the swamp and has lived in the swamp for a few hundred years needs their head checked by a medical professional. Clarice can’t exactly rule out that this is all a ruse, but if it isn’t, this is hands-down the lamest were-critter that ever existed. Clarice has found more impressive were-critters in the stuffed animals section at the toy store. Scylla’s penchant for brewing explosive potions - including healing potions (may Mr. Primpaws, test hamster extraordinaire, Rest In Peace) - is more alarming than that exhausted bunny.
…
Why do I even bother with that girl?
Clarice asks no one in particular. Scylla is trouble with a capital “T.” She doesn’t treat anything seriously, and people pay a premium for her carelessness. Take the “perfected” invisibility potion she brought up for the umpteenth time. Not only did it stain everyone’s clothes, it ruined Clarice’s notes - the notes she needed to study for the midterm at the end of that week. She “earned” a B - a B - on that exam because she didn’t have time to transcribe a new set of notes, write three midterm papers, shop for new clothes, keep up in her other classes, and work her side-job to afford luxuries like food that wasn’t cooked by the disgusting cafeteria goblin that spit in everything “to enhance the flavor” and purchase supplies that the academy didn’t have a hand in creating so she didn’t have to worry about her notebook animating, eloping with her ink pot, and finally being stabbed to death by her quill in a crime of passion! The cake was a sweet gesture, but it isn’t a substitute for attentiveness! Ugh! If she had partnered with Rugalione von Kluge III, she’d be at the beach living the good life right now, not wading through ankle-high muck in a sodding swamp in service of a hag Scylla traded them to in exchange for an ingredient for a mixed drink. Yes, that’s right, an ingredient for a friggin’ mixed drink.
No grade or mixed drink is worth suffering the company of these weirdos and wastrels. Posthumously receiving high marks just ain’t the honor it’s cracked up to be, and the longer this lot is together, the worse their chances of survival become. She might fare better on her own - where the mistakes and dysfunctions of others can’t hinder her. If that corpse had a serviceable sword, she would take it and leave in a heartbeat. Maybe then Scylla would realize that her actions have consequences. It’s not like she could really influence the outcome of the battle anyway.
Clarice prepares to venture into the unknown. She steels her will, checks the fuel in her lamp, and is about to step off when Scylla’s yelp pulls her back.
[Action 2 - Movement] With urgency, Clarice pivots and dashes toward the battlefield.
Whatever startled Scylla must have fallen, for Clarice spots no adjacent hostiles as she approaches.
You’re infuriating, you know that? Stop pretending this is a game; if the paladin dies, all this was wasted effort!
[Action 3 - Movement] Clarice charges toward the paladin, ignoring Baharius cutting down swaths of enemies with the ease of a thresher reaping crops. So too does she pay no heed to Cayde and Nissan’s competition, Chandra’s sharpshooting, or Kesh’s roguish talents.
Cerulean light shears through the shadows swirling in Clarice’s eyes as she levels the Aspect of the Sapphire Dragon at two of the Plague Boggarts encircling the paladin. Imperiously, and with a dazzling flourish, she prepares to bind them to her will.
Noting the paladin’s wounds, Clarice calls to Scylla over her shoulder.
Scylla, I’ll have need of your skills momentarily, for I suspect that this is just another hapless soul questing for honor and glory in these godless fens. I found the corpse of one of its comrades-in-arms half-buried in the mud in the underbrush, so this isn’t an isolated incident - their order, much like our academy, is sending them to die out here for some reason. Don’t heal it until we assess the threat it poses or it takes a sudden turn for the worse. Until then -
Clarice slams a gauntlet-clad fist into her bullseye lantern and deposits ordinary sewing needles, small buttons, and other assorted materials into the hot oil beyond the shattering glass.
I need to blow off some steam.
((Updated to account for “magic users can’t move on turns in which they cast spells” rule. Please note, however, that Telekinesis is a Mental Skill, not a Magic Skill. Thus, different rules may apply.))
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