#Red could also use a secondary thing beyond his affinity for animals he by far has the weakest characterization out of the main cast
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So I'm trying to think up some ideas for some AvA poster-like art to test my new tablet out with, and I've only just realized that The Chosen One has like no character traits at all, at least compared to every one else.
Orange has his art and his crafting and sleeping, Green has his music, his building, and his social media stuff (if that's a thing that will last for him), Yellow's got redstone and coding and engineering, Blue's got potions, cooking, gardening, and archery, Red's got his animals and pranking, Purple has the elytra/flying and cherry trees, King's got the staff and the entire 'king' motif, TDL has the virus stuff and the virabots and destroying shit, and victim has his clones, their weapons, his lasso, and his entire corporation.
What does Chosen have that's been associated with him? Truly?
His powers, sure; definitely fire. Freedom, perhaps. But neither of those are really things or interests.
Chosen has nothing like that. We don't know about ANY interests or hobbies he has, what things he likes. What he's enthusiastic about, what his passions are. Who really is he, beyond all the things that have happened to him or that he's done?
We know basically nothing about Chosen as a character, because every time we've seen him, it's just been him fighting in some way. The only times this hasn't been the case was when he was being used as a pop-up blocker, before his confrontation with Dark, and when victim has him tied to the chair.
We don't know who The Chosen One really is, what things make up his personality and identity and define him.
A part of me wonders if Chosen himself even knows. Has he ever had a chance to figure that stuff out about himself? Has he ever even tried?
#alan becker#ava#ava the chosen one#This realization has broken my heart#The only thing that Chosen sorta had was his friendship with Dark#But even that wasn't very much#Chosen has no identity for himself#Who is he? Who is he?#Alan please give your boy some character development#Please Chosen is already the Loner he needs a little TLC#victim also suffers from this to an extent he's mostly defined right now by his motivations and things around him#rather than any interest or hobby he likes#Purple and King too to a lesser extent especially post AvMS3 but they at least have a little bit of SOMETHING for them#Red could also use a secondary thing beyond his affinity for animals he by far has the weakest characterization out of the main cast
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Chapter 5: The Marvelous Manor of Madness
The island was to be a two-hour trip from Port Town. Enough time for me to prepare a special little spell, which if this is not the final draft will likely be on this page if it hasn’t already been expended. Sorry about that, I’ll undo the effects if you weren’t the intended target. Hope you at least have a nice nap.
Anyways, it was a quick and uneventful boat ride, until the last moments. As we approached the island, we found there was an ominous storm brewing. Blood red clouds had gathered in the sky above Gladshire’s manor. I would not blame you, dear reader, if you find this storm very similar to the roiling pink clouds which had gathered when Ulong had frozen Dualwood. Certainly, that is what we feared as we approached the island. But this proved to be a different phenomenon entirely.
We dropped anchor at the shore and made our way inland on foot. As we approached the manor, we came upon four shambling animated corpses and a foreboding looking tree.
Issac, our dear nature expert, informed us that the tree was a very dangerous undead plant called a Hangman Tree. It’s a tree…that does exactly what its name implies. It’s an insidious creature that uses spores to trick your brain into thinking it’s nothing but a normal tree, or even a friendly treant. Then when your guard is down it snags you by the neck with its vines, strangles you to death, and then eats you!
As we formulated a plan of attack, Issac warned that it wasn’t particularly flammable by normal means—but it would likely be set ablaze by a well-placed lightning bolt.
That meant it was John and Vigo’s time to shine. John called upon his goddess’ wrath and bolts of lightning rained from the heavens, striking the tree and the zombies that meandered around it.
Strange that a goddess of death would have an affinity for storms…although I suppose many people are likely killed by lightning strikes, so it’s not utterly uncalled for. It would make more sense I think for a cleric worshipping Nairon’s goddess to strike down foes with lightning. But again, I am no expert on divine magic. If a goddess of death wants to grant her followers control of the weather, who am I to say it makes it seem as though the world we live in has no internal consistency?
With the zombies weakened, Vigo followed up with a wall of lightning that blew them apart. Thus in mere seconds only the tree remained.
I began a reading to focus my companions’ minds to the task at hand, and also sent a spell at the tree to slow its movements to a snail’s pace. Even if it released its spores, I thought, it wouldn’t be able to immediately grab any victims.
Well, I was right, but that didn’t stop it from releasing said spores. As Terrance and Nairon pushed forward, intent to take advantage of the plant’s slowed state, a cloud of spores were released into the air. I saw Candy let out a gasp, breathing in the mind-altering pollen. I couldn’t allow that to happen to my friend, of course. I snapped my book shut, abruptly ending my performance. The remaining magic was channeled to Candy, clearing her lungs of the dangerous substance.
Unfortunately, in doing so I left myself open to breath in the same pollen. Things got a bit fuzzy from there. The tree actually looked quite friendly. I think I was about to run up to it, before John utterly annihilated it with another lightning strike from above. It is quite possible I owe John a life debt for that, and I will repay him in kind.
Nairon and Terrance had apparently also been taken in by the tree’s mind warping properties. They expressed discomfort with going any further after such a harrowing experience, and decided they would return to the ship and keep watch from there while we cleared out the manor.
So we parted ways, and our band continued onwards. As we approached the manor it was clear all was not well. Many of the once opulent windows had been shattered, and a quite deceased body hung out of one. Not moving, unlike the corpses that had stood vigil around the tree, thankfully.
However as we approached a voice spoke up from the body. At first it appeared a lingering spirit was calling for our aid. What we discovered, however, was that the body had one of those Stones of Farspeech on its person, and Oswald Gladshire was trying to contact us through it. The Wizard of the Stars was being held captive within his own tower by a vile necromancer—who also happened to be his grandfather. Gladshire requested our immediate aid, to clear out the monstrosities that now infested his home, and to free him from the bird cage he’d been locked within at the highest point of the tower.
We needed his guidance to save Dualwood, so we were of course going to do so regardless. Adventurers save nobles in distress because it’s the right thing to do, that is a given. That he offered to let us keep anything we picked up that could help us within his manor was, of course, a secondary concern.
He quickly dropped the call as he heard his captor approaching, but promised to keep in touch as the situation allowed.
The inside was both as extravagant and as wrecked as the outside had been. Rubble blocked a ruined staircase, necessitating us going the long way around to get to higher ground.
There were a number of rooms down the halls to both sides, many with placards denoting what the room was. Vigo stuck he head into a room labelled “WC”, which he said didn’t have anything of interest. John and I went looking into the “Horse Room”, which was a mostly barren room with a single large golden statue of a horse. Someone—Gladshire I must presume—had placed sunglasses upon the horse’s face. Quite reminiscent of Nathaniel’s usual attire, in fact, although something about the statue gave me a feeling that this horse was much older and more venerable than my own dear companion. I gave him a polite nod in greeting, as I would Nathaniel if he had been there at the time, before being on my way.
Down the next hall we came upon an imposing metal door—Gladshire confirmed over the Stone of Farspeech that it was a vault. He was fairly certain some baddies had made their way inside, and asked that we unlock it and clear it out. One itty bitty little problem stood in the way of that—the door was protected by a device that was password protected. A skull mounted above the door would spit acid at anyone who guessed the password wrong, or tried to open the door through brute force. Gladshire didn’t know the password himself, he’d had his apprentice Elena set it for him, and he hasn’t seen her since the attack. All he knew was that he’d told her to set it to ‘something you will remember’.
Clever adventurers that we are, we took the most prudent course of action. Guessing wildly. Paige confirmed that a few…admittedly rather vulgar terms were not the password. I tried Elena’s name—after all she was sure to remember that! We brainstormed other possibilities, and were about to give up when Paige tried the word ‘Something’. While the door remained closed, the skull didn’t activate.
A brilliant thought hit me—Gladshire hadn’t said the password need be only one word. Heart pounding, excitement flowing through my veins, I spoke the password.
“Something you will remember”
And voila! The skull remained inactive, and there was the sound of a lock opening. I pushed open the door.
And immediately back-peddled for Candy to take the lead, as there was a golden skeleton waiting directly within the doorway. A swift flurry of kicks was all it took to do away with that little problem. We got a number of nifty trinkets courtesy of Gladshire’s generosity, and we continued on our way to keep clearing the manor of such ghouls as that. Not literal ghouls. I don’t think we faced any literal ghouls. A few…other things, as you’ll soon find, but no ghouls.
We circled back around, finding that the next hallway led back the way we’d come, but also continued forward in the opposite direction. John found a “smoking room”, and he and Vigo took a number of seemingly enchanted cigars from there. One was as long as Vigo was tall, and smelled…just atrocious, really. I had to excuse myself, alongside Peanut whose poor sensitive bear nose must have been burning from the putrid smoke.
Next we came to a parlor. The room beyond had music coming from it. Issac decided to try to scout ahead. He transformed into an adorable little hedgehog and skittered forward to peek beyond the door.
He didn’t get far. In the next room a number of awakened skeletons waited, and they immediately spotted the tiny hedgehog that pushed his way into their midst. The music grew louder and more focused, as one of the skeletons—whom I later learned was named Georgio—began playing trumpet.
I felt a challenge had been issued, and whipped out Nathaniel’s flute to begin a tune of my own.
While Georgio and I provided background music for the skirmish, Candy had a more up close and personal fight with one of the musician’s friends. (A backup dancer perhaps…?) I threw my hat into the ring as well, so to speak, when the skeleton had some disparaging words to say about Candy. His companion may have been a fine musical talent, but a gentleman this one was not. I called up a new spell I’ve been toying with—biting words—and told him just what I thought about him speaking ill of my companions.
Between the five of us, the musician’s two companions fell quickly. Georgio didn’t seem to have much in the way of battle prowess himself, and quite frankly I felt no desire to destroy him. He was a man of true talent after all!
It would seem he had no desire for a physical confrontation anymore, either. He ceased his trumpeting and challenged me to a far more desirable duel—one not of magic or sword, but of musical might.
Unfortunately for him, he flubbed his notes rather quickly, while I was quite on point. He tipped his hat to me.
Before exploding.
…I know some people don’t handle a loss very well, but looking back that still seemed a bit excessive.
I took both his trumpet and a fiddle from the wall, which I shall play in his short lived memory.
With the skeleton band out of the way, Issac stole a peek into the next room. It was…beyond description, and even if it weren’t I fear I don’t desire to make use of words to do it justice. You shall have to fill in the gory details yourself, dear reader. Suffice to say there was a veritable horde of Fetches. They were seated at the table eating. Not food—oh no—but viscera, scraps of flesh, the last remains of many a visiting noble’s carcass...
I apologize, I did say I would not describe it, but the memory is difficult to banish.
Standing before the feasting horde was a man. Although ‘standing’ and ‘man’ are both inexact. It was more ‘floating’ and ‘ghost’.
I recognized the man from some old news I’d read some time back, while Candy realized she’d seen this man first-hand in the past. A vile fellow by the name of Count Bartholomew McLaurin. For those not in the know, he was once a count in Donmum City. However he was caught up in some dark business—human experimentation, warping creatures together, and who knows what else. All at the behest of some group called the Society of Great Enlightened Ones. He died in an explosion, a suicide bomb, I suppose to escape any punishment for his crimes.
What connection he had to this place was at first unclear. Without knowing we feared we couldn’t best him permanently—for as everyone knows, a ghost will just keep coming back if it still has unfinished business in the mortal realm.
And it would seem I was to be the one to uncover the truth. The others were rather quick to volunteer me for the task. I cannot deny I have a knack for words. I wouldn’t be an author if not! But I must say this entire situation was rather off putting. Quite frankly, I wasn’t certain that the entire room wouldn’t just mindlessly attack me. Not that all undead are mindless—as we saw from Georgio that is very much not the case, and I am well aware of the rise of awakened undead in cities across the globe. However these were…you know, eating viscera in the middle of a manor where most everyone had apparently been slaughtered…it didn’t seem like an ideal place for a chat. Georgio aside.
Still, my companions felt this was the best course of action. The fetches wouldn’t be difficult due to their pyrophobia, but we feared the ghost alone might be enough to drag one or all of us to the grave if we weren’t careful. So we hatched a plan to speak to the ghost, butter him up to learn what we could about what bound him to the mortal plane. We brainstormed possible codewords to use to call in reinforcements if things got out of hand—and settled on ‘would you like some merlot with that’, since the undead were eating. Issac also decided to come along with me—transforming into an adorable little black rabbit who helped calm my nerves tremendously. I wonder if anyone has ever told Issac he’d make an amazing therapy animal in that form?
To be quite honest with you, dear reader, I found the idea of talking to a ghost a rather frightening concept. I know we were in a haunted manor, but I didn’t expect to find a real ghost of all things!
As a wise man once said “I ain’t afraid of no ghosts”. Actually, I think maybe Vigo said that. Regardless, with a plan in place, a very fluffy bunny in hand, and a few spells cast to grant myself a…let’s say confidence boost, I strode forward into the feast of horrors.
#entry#pathfinder#pathfinder campaign#dungeons and dragons#d&d campaign#Morris 3M#a totally normal horse
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