#Tuyen Otwana

[critrolepolls]

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[mareastrorum]

I'm torn whether Matt would use this purported superfan as a trap.

Tuyen Otwana might still have it out for Chetney. He got away last time.

[lunarrolls]

20 Life Transference with Chetney

i always get so fucking carried away writing chetney. he’s so fun IT’S NOT MY FAULT. anyways have fun with this sort of double h/c because life transference is like that and so is fcg!

•

Life transference is a 3rd-level necromancy spell on the cleric and wizard spell lists.

You sacrifice some of your health to mend another creature’s injuries. You take 4d8 necrotic damage, which can’t be reduced in any way, and one creature of your choice that you can see within range regains a number of hit points equal to twice the necrotic damage you take.

•

The fucking hunters are back, because nothing can ever be easy and their luck always sucks. Someone in the group definitely pissed off the Matron or whichever god controls the luck of random adventurers just trying to save the world. Chetney’s money is on Ashton, personally, because Ashton is possibly the only person he’s ever met who can piss someone off that badly while also having never met them.

Chetney, on the other hand, did meet Tuyen Otwana. And, well, wasn’t it nice of her to send someone after his ass. Their interaction was fine, really! It’s not Chetney’s fault that she was overcharging like a motherfucker! He left her alive and with medical supplies. She should have just taken the hint. So really, if you think about it, none of this is Chetney’s fault at all. 

Regardless of whose fault it is, Chetney’s face is pressed into the cobblestones of another alley in Jrusar for the second time in as many days, the weight of a silver net pressing down on his back and shoulders, sizzling slightly as he attempts to cast the stupid thing off. The fucker had brought a more magical friend with him, this time, probably to avoid the immediate ass-beating that he’d received from Orym and Fearne last time. Unfortunately for him, Chetney has more friends than that, and the Hells are currently engaged in a bigass fight with his dinky little squad. 

Unfortunately for Chetney, though, that mage is causing problems. They got a lucky shot off and caught Chetney by surprise with a powerful firebolt, if he had to guess, and the other one had taken great pains to try and weaken him before netting him. With their efforts combined, Chetney is currently engaged in an internal battle as his better half fights to gain control.

Normally, Chetney would be fine with this—it’s called his better half for a reason, after all—but in his weakened state, he’s not entirely sure that he’s gonna be able to maintain the level of utmost self-control he normally exudes at all times. And he really, really doesn’t want to fuck up the Hells so soon after—after whatever had happened in Issylra had left Laudna so shaken. He saw how insistent Orym and Ashton had been about letting her unwind, how Prism (who was really very unsubtle about most things) had looked right at Laudna, worried, when detailing how she’d killed the Ruby Vanguard guy with one punch. The pieces didn’t paint a pretty picture for Chetney, and he doesn’t want to make Laudna’s jitters worse.

So he’s stuck. Staring at the ground, half-growling at nothing, trying very hard to think nonviolent thoughts while half of his brain insists very temptingly that murder is always the best solution to every problem.

He’s so focused on trying not to chew his friends’ faces off that he doesn’t notice the hunter sneaking back up to try and drag him off until his hands are already around the net, tugging and bashing Chetney’s head into the stone pavement. Chetney lets out an indignant squawk that deepens into a roar, which is very embarrassing, because he was trying not to roar, but also because he would rather not squawk like that whenever something mildly inconvenient happens.

His nose is bleeding. Dammit. That’s gonna make this a lot harder.

Chetney looks up, trying to survey the rest of the fight before he makes his next move. He catches Orym’s eye for a moment, which is very, very good—the halfling’s expression immediately shifts into one of alarm, seemingly recognizing the conflict behind Chetney’s eyes on sight.

“Fuck—Chetney needs a heal, he’s doing that thing again,” Orym cries out, motioning to the silvered heap that Chetney’s currently contained in as he speaks.

Ashton swears and motions at someone from across the street, hefting their new and improved hammer, and the familiar sound of rolling wheels on stone follows. Fresh Cut Grass rolls in, more mercurial than Chetney’s ever seen them, and manages to snatch the net from the hunter (probably because they caught him off-guard, but Chetney’s still pretty impressed).

Sparks fly as their buzzsaw hand immediately sets to work on the net. It’s not the most effective thing in the world, but Chetney appreciates it nonetheless. From behind them, Ashton comes barreling into the hunter, knocking him down to the floor.

“Letters,” Chetney grits out, “you got any juice left?”

“For healin’?” F.C.G. asks. “How much do you need?”

Chetney winces, taking stock of the situation, letting himself feel everything he’s been trying to ignore to keep the beast at bay. He gets dangerously close to a growl at one point, but he manages to tamp it down and glance back up at his little friend. “A lot, I think. Sorry.”

“No, it’s—that’s fine! It’s not like it’s your fault these people came after us.”

Chetney stays very quiet for a moment and tries his best not to look guilty. Luckily, F.C.G. is otherwise occupied.

“Here, I think—“

A strange metallic crunching sound rings out across the alley. F.C.G. winces, the plates on their body shivering, and draws a hand forward, glowing with blue arcane light. The light grows and grows, consolidating around their fingertips and the indent in their chest where the Changebringer’s face stares off into the distance serenely. Chetney cocks his head, momentarily distracted from his struggling wolven instincts by the difference in light shows. Usually, F.C.G.’s cure wounds are understated, momentary, and that crunching sound was new.

F.C.G. makes a sound like an exhale, a robotic breath, and the light surrounds Chetney’s wounds, invigorating him. He gasps slightly as the feral part of his brain soothes completely, slinking back to the corners of his subconscious where it usually waits.

“Oh, boy, that stings a little,” F.C.G. says, their voice shaking slightly. Chetney frowns—the glitching seems all too familiar after what nearly happened with those birds the other day. 

“You okay, Grass?” Ashton shouts from where he has the hunter pinned and disarmed, Orym standing at his side. Laudna and Imogen are finishing off the caster, and Fearne seems to be preparing something with Mister, probably a plan to get him out of the net like she did the last time.

“Yeah, just—just a little jittery, Ashton,” he responds, shaking his metallic fingertips. For once, he actually sounds honest, and Chetney notices the tired edge to his voice. “Needed to do something to pick Chetney up fast, and it hurt a little.”

“Well, I’m up again,” Chetney pipes up, untangling himself from the net. “And it’s a good thing, ‘cause I’m not gonna let anyone hit’cha. Can never be too careful.”

[wenamedthedogkylo]

"Tuyen sends her regards" yEP @scarilydark It's the shop keeper!! Tuyen Otwana of the Prism Emporium who Chet fucked up lmaoooooo

[plaidonsad]

The funny thing about Chetney’s midnight mauling of Tuyen is that she didn’t overcharge him.

He haggled her down to 7 gold to replace the chisel he lost in Ira’s back. Chetney’s chisel is a reskinned short sword, which costs 10 gold.