#and I would be more receptive to right-wing arguments if they didn't come with a load of phobias

[indecisiveavocado]

every single time i try

me: i should stop hanging out in such jewish places, especially online. let's see. *opens door* right wing: we hate you because you support queer rights left wing, sharpening knife: we hate you because you don't trust us not to kill us the first chance we get, just because we have for 2,300 years. 'centrists': back up one sec, what's a pogrom, who is this kid kfir, and what do you mean antisemitism didn't start and end with hitler? me: *closes door* nope, staying on jumblr.

[itsbenedict]

Two-Faced Jewel: Session 12

Foolish Heroes of Barley

A half-elf conwoman (and the moth tasked with keeping her out of trouble) travel the Jewel in search of, uh, whatever a fashionable accessory is pointing them at. [Campaign log]

Last time, the party had returned to Barley to deal with a few loose ends. They've been staying in town for a while, waiting for their hired Deathseekers to deal with the dragon in the tower. This session, their stay comes to an end, and as you can see from the image here, they don't get into any trouble whatsoever.

A few other things happen before their fateful final night in town:

Kevin Softbreeze, the herbalist from the Deathseekers, visits town and sells Looseleaf some magic flowers that repel demons- though they're not very potent, and she'll need to stop by his garden in Cauterdale if she wants some seeds to try growing. Saelhen buys some potent knockout drops.

The villagers appear to still be arming themselves and preparing for battle with Wheat- since they didn't mention Arnie as the culprit at all, and tried to pin it on the dragon directly, Malath is still skeptical that they're totally safe from invasion, and defensive preparations continue.

Rumors spread that Chitch has gone missing, but no one can find the body. The party spreads rumors of their own- true ones- that Chitch went to go find his daughter after learning that the pain-wizard is dead.

On their fifth night in the village- somewhat earlier than expected- they notice something outside the window of their rooms in the inn. Lumiere's tower, previously unnoticeable, is suddenly aglow with some sort of yellow cylindrical magic barrier, made up of hexagonal panels.

Looseleaf rouses the rest of the party- the plan is to watch from a distance, and not interfere. A very loud roar is heard in the distance, which is suddenly cut off in the middle- it seems the Deathseekers have sprung their trap.

It's not too much longer after that when they begin to hear screams from around them in the village.

Saelhen's elf eyes spot... something rustling in the fields around the village. All of them. Quite a lot of somethings. Except despite the rustling, she can't make out anything but barley stalks. And the nothing- the hordes of nothing- is moving towards the tower.

The party leaps into action, heading downstairs with weapons drawn. On the ground floor, they see... something sort of familiar. Those Greed Echoes, the mud-and-grass monsters they fought on the road- one of them is forming itself out of broken bottles, dust, and wooden planks uprooted from the floor of the Harvester Inn. Cassie, the innkeeper, is watching in terror, knuckles white gripping a frying pan.

Congratulations! You're both right! The dragon is summoning an army of hateful Justice Echoes powered by the roused hatred of Wheat that's been stirred up in town!

Oyobi thinks fast, and oneshots the echo in the kitchen with an arrow, shattering a bottle that'd become its core. The screams outside continue, though, and the party exits the inn to find panicked villagers fleeing their homes. Justice Echoes made primarily from twisted stalks of barley have formed in their fields and homes, taking the weapons amassed for self-defense from their owners. They attack only those who resist, and make their way towards the tower.

Looseleaf: Let's just attack some hate-plague spirits and see if they decide to attack us instead. If they don't attack us at all, then we can just ignore them and run leisurely next to them and pick them off as we go. If they attack us, then it's a regular fight. "We're up to do some heroism this fine night, right, team?" Oyobi Yamatake: "Obviously!" Orluthe Chokorov: "Uh, I don't have that one prepared, do I? Uh..." Vayen: Saelhen du Fishercrown: "I am up to rub Mother K's face in the super obvious consequences of her actions while incidentally preventing pointless suffering." "Go team! Woo!"

Looseleaf starts us off by rending the spirit of the closest barley-monster, using her new Painspike ability to make the target Frightened of her.

However... these monsters have no purpose except to attack that which they fear, so rather than the normal effect of being Frightened, Looseleaf has now drawn aggro from this monster. Which is kind of what she wanted! So, that's a win! She now has a way to goad the enemy!

The party takes some swings at the monsters, knocking a couple out, but most of them seem to just be ignoring them, continuing to run through the fields towards the tower. They could become a problem for the Deathseekers if they're not dealt with- or for Wheat, for that matter.

Backup arrives in the form of Malath Kanthalga, who perceives these events as- what else?- an attack by Wheat. She's screaming, demanding to know who's responsible, and smashing echoes apart with her mace. Still, the echoes are mostly ignoring the village- they're grabbing anything they can find to use as a weapon, sort of ransacking the place, but most of them are just fleeing.

So Saelhen comes up with an extremely well-timed plan. It's a really good plan, I love it, and I'm excited to hit them with the consequences of her plan- until Looseleaf issues a timely bit of advice:

Saelhen du Fishercrown: Saelhen dashes (Cunning Action), steps forward, inhales a great gulp of breath... "FOOLISH HEROES OF BARLEY!" she bellows. "WHILE YOU FUTILELY WASTE YOURSELVES AGAINST WHEAT'S DEFENSES, I, THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR OF WHEAT, WILL BE HERE BURNING YOUR HOMES!" "AND ALSO MENACING YOUR CITIZENS WITH MY PERMISSIVE IDEOLOGY!" She waves her hooded lantern, unlit, above her head, to drive the point home. "WHO AMONG YOU CAN STOP ME AND DELIVER JUSTICE? NO ONE, PROBABLY, I ASSUME!"

Vayen, in a surprising show of, let's call it camaraderie, is very much in support of this plan for some reason! He takes a break from his busy schedule of doing absolutely nothing every turn in combat to cast a helpful illusion, to ensure as many monsters aggro Saelhen as possible!

A few more rounds of combat ensue, with a good chunk of the monsters- including a few very large building-sized hulks- immediately turning to kill Saelhen. The party gets some good hits in, and Saelhen gets a little roughed up. She... would like maybe fewer things to be attacking her, actually.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Their attention is on me, Mother Kanthalga, the secret mayor of Wheat this entire time, but you might be able to calm their anger! These creatures were born from this town's... collective mind, or something, they may listen to you if you order them to stand down!" Benedict I. (GM): Not with advantage, but a 22... "Wh... what? What are you saying? That's..." She hesitates, then speaks, in a booming voice she- well, you spent a few days here, you know she reserves it for sermons. "STAND DOWN! The time to strike against our foe has not yet come!" "We must be prudent! We must defend ourselves, not attack!" [DEFEND OURSELVES,] the echoes agree, continuing to bear down on Saelhen. Saelhen du Fishercrown: Worth a shot!

It doesn't seem like these things are hugely receptive to emotional appeals or logical argument- they have the one emotion, which they're made of, and they don't super do other ones.

In the following combat rounds, Saelhen... takes a few more hits, which she is not designed to do on account of being a rogue.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: WHY DID I NOT DECLARE ORLUTHE THE SECRET SHADOW MAYOR

More echoes emerge from the fields and attack, and Saelhen is starting to look really rough- and Vayen just keeps the illusion on her, not actually helping in any way. Until... one of them goes for Looseleaf, instead. When it starts looking like she might be in danger, he fires off a bolt of blue electricity, which begins to singe one of the monsters attacking her for damage every turn. He's... a higher-level spellcaster than anyone else in the party, apparently!

Looseleaf, with a little room to maneuver, unfolds her wings and takes to the air- up and out of reach of the smaller monsters, drawing their aggro and forcing them to waste turns. Meanwhile, Orluthe and Oyobi, backed up by Malath and a couple of villagers who've reclaimed their weapons, cut down a few more echoes as more surge forth from the fields to replace them.

Saelhen... keeps trying to persuade Malath to persuade the echoes to stop. She does very well at persuading Malath to try that! Malath tries that, wholeheartedly, once again to no effect! Eventually, Malath stops trying.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Would you consider coming to them as a trusted comrade, who trained them to protect them, rather than the one leading them off to war? Maybe?" Malath Kanthalga: "I am going to come to them as a very angry warrior with a mace," she growls. Saelhen du Fishercrown: "Okay! Okay, fair enough. Spiritual remedies off the table, understood."

Orluthe is getting really tired, and keeps whiffing his swings- it's touch-and-go for a while. But Saelhen and Looseleaf's frantic attempts to kite enemies out of range have been paying off, and they manage to down the remaining super-hulks juuuuust before anyone dies.

Benedict I. (GM): Y'know, it's possible that making the two squishiest members of the party draw aggro was not the number one best strategic move Saelhen du Fishercrown: IT MAYBE WASN'T, NO Looseleaf: eh, it's worked out so far!

The combat wraps up, and we transition to a bunch of Athletics rolls to chase down and terminate as many of the smaller echoes as possible. They build a firepit in the center of town, to dispose of defeated echoes in- just in case that's necessary, because who knows what kind of magic is animating these guys.

So after a wild night of chasing, taunting, fleeing, and burning justice echoes- well, it's not so much a wild night as a wild twenty minutes or so- there's a point at which the fields just suddenly fall silent. A pair of echoes chasing Saelhen fall to the ground, inert.

With a good roll...

Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...of course, you're free to dismiss this as the ramblings of a crazed outsider. But keep in mind, Mother Kanthalga, that the ones who fell upon your town, tore it apart in a frenzy of violence, and stabbed you repeatedly for your pains, endangering your people, your daughter and your livelihoods, were repeating the words you taught them." Benedict I. (GM): Malath winces. "That... I don't know why they..." Saelhen du Fishercrown: "...think on it. You're reasonable people, around here. You can come to your own conclusions." Benedict I. (GM): "I tell you, I did not make these things! If not for..." She's kind of lost for words. "...Apologies. I have much work to do," she says, and leaves.

After some work mending the village and cleaning up the aftermath, Looseleaf heads back into the inn to check on Vayen, who hasn't been helping at all and is instead drunk at the bar. He asks "Did she make it?"- and Looseleaf gets a nat 20 on Insight.

She's pretty sure that he was talking about Saelhen- and that he sounded almost hopeful. He was unusually jazzed about a plan that involved her being attacked by a horde of angry monsters- and he chose to shoot the echo that was attacking her, not the one bearing down on Saelhen with a bunch of its friends. When she informs him Saelhen survived, she's able to tell he's disappointed.

Saelhen du Fishercrown: so he doesn't hate us, as a group he hates saelhen specifically Looseleaf: But also weirdly- okay, what if: what if he actually has an ancestral quest involving that bracer and he's mad that saelhen beat him to the punch and furthermore used it as a shitty cover story Saelhen du Fishercrown: saelhen going THE DE LA SURPLUS ANCESTRAL QUEST IS REAL???

Looseleaf switches to talking to Vayen via her spirit-magic imitation of the Message spell.

Looseleaf: (Like, Vayen, everything you're doing is about Saelhen in some way or other. And I can't figure out why. You seem pretty much ambivalent towards all of us except for her. I don't get it. If you want Saelhen dead, why haven't you just killed her? I saw that lightning bolt- if you wanted, I bet you could take all of us, in a straight fight.) (You're sending real mixed signals. If you want her dead, why isn't she dead? Why do you want her to be dead via a hand other than your own?) Vayen: He locks up. And then sighs. Looseleaf: (And now you're sitting here sounding all tired and sad and I feel bad about that.) (I dunno, do you want to, uh, talk about it, with someone.) Vayen: "I don't... want her... to be dead," he says, clearly choosing his words carefully. "I have nothing against her." Looseleaf: (Then it's the- bracer??) Vayen: I'm letting that one Insight roll do a lot of work here, but he definitely reacts to that. "I- um, no," he says, lying. Looseleaf: (There is literally nothing significant about Saelhen other than her bracer, unless you plan on telling me that your deepest desire is to defeat the dance emperor of Kanzentokai in a danceoff and reclaim your ancestral throne of dancing glory.) (Which, granted, if that's the case, that'd be amazing.) Vayen: "I don't know what you're- that's not..." "It's all coincidence. Whatever you're thinking. I don't have- I don't have anything against- Saelhen? Noeru?" Looseleaf: (Look, I- okay, here's how I see things. I don't know how the bracer works, it's weird magic stuff, but the way I see it, there's two major ways the bracer could work.) (That is, you either want the bracer for yourself, because whatever it does or whatever you need it for, you need to be the one wearing it- OR, you just need anybody willing to use the bracer to do whatever it is the bracer's supposed to do.) Vayen: "...Can you not?" "I- I have a job." "I have an important job." "It's from the School of Restricted Arts." Looseleaf: "Well, tell us about the dang important job then! Maybe we can help you with it." "I don't get why you're preassuming that we'd never do anything you might want us to do." Vayen: "It's from the School of- are you listening?" "It's secret." "Look, it's- you don't need to worry about it, okay?" Looseleaf: "Hhhhhrlgkrkshxzshktkrrrzzzzktttttkzzz," Looseleaf says, reverting to her natural dialect in a brief moment of frustration. Vayen: "Sure, it's easier if- I mean, she- that was her idea, she wanted to..." "I just- I can just..." "As long as I can keep an eye on..." He groans. "I shouldn't be talking to you." "You're not in the School." Looseleaf: "Okay, just- hhhjkkkkkrkxxxxxtk." Vayen:"Are... you okay?" He's never asked a question like that before. Looseleaf: (I'm fine, that's just how we express frustration, our throats don't naturally conform to making sounds like 'hrrrrrgh', whenever I do that it's a performative thing that I do to adhere to human expectations- look, the big reason why I'm trying to, pound my way through your portcullis of secrecy with a twenty-foot battering ram of blunt communication,) (is because right now Saelhen is like, probably 80% convinced you're trying to poison her in your sleep.) (Seriously, this amount of in-party distrust is, like, way too Ccorde-damned much.) Vayen: "I wouldn't do that," he says. "If I were going to do that, I'd have done it already. Looseleaf: (If you'd express, in a credible way, that you're actually just trying to get Saelhen to do whatever it is she'd do anyways, she'd feel a lot better about it!) (And then she might even work with you to further your goals directly!) Vayen: He doesn't say anything for a little while. "...This is stupid." "This isn't even- it's wrong, even." "Maybe that's why." Man, that bottle he's holding is emptier than you thought it'd be. He's only been here less than half an hour. "Don't try to- guh, friends. He'll never- stupid. What's the point." He sort of collapses on the bar.

Vayen, it seems, can't hold his liquor. Looseleaf... carries him back up to his room.

Next time: the party finally leaves Barley, for good this time! And also a minor medical emergency happens, and also they kidnap a twelve-year-old, but like, it's fine. It'll be fine. Don't worry about it.

[leam1983]

Narcolepsy's always been a problem in the family. Humans get it too, occasionally, from what I understand. In my case, it means you sit down at the bottom of the ocean to have a think and the next thing you know a hundred million years have passed. Not only that, but a weird bit of convergent evolution makes the land-monkeys receptive to your own species' telepathy, and you wake up realizing that you've, oh, driven a few hundred thousand people insane across History. They've seen your back yard, but you've dreamt of their cities, too. Their lives, their civilizations, their bad habits...

The poor cultists; they think I got up from the Atlantic's seabed for them, when what really got me out of my funk was how irrational their economists were. Their scholars accuse me of spreading madness, but what about the factory bosses and landlords that actually break these minds I'd happen to unfortunately innoculate?

Of course, there's a flipside, too. When I'm awake, I can slip all sorts of thoughts in other people's heads. Tacky Pulp Fiction authors would say I'd make a homely woman behave as though she were possessed by the soul of her ancestor, but all I really did was show poor Asenath that she didn't really need to make do with self-absorbed scholars, nevermind so-called propriety! She's a grown woman; she doesn't need some hoity-toity scholars from Miskatonic to sign off on her research!

Excuse me, I, er, got slightly sidetracked, here... My ability also makes everything else easier, too. As I am how others perceive me to be, all I needed was to imagine myself as person-sized, easily clothed and not too squamous, with tentacles that could curve into a smile, three-fingered and clawed hands you'd still want to handshake, and a silly pair of vestigial wings that serve more as emotional markers, now. I climbed up Providence's beachfront with a singlet and a straw hat on, kicked an old rubber ball back at a few kids and spent a few minutes convincing the locals that seeing a dumpy man in a dripping singlet saunter over to the closest haberdashery really was nothing special. Green skin? What green skin? There's nothing there, isn't there? By the time I had clothes on, nobody cared about my wings anymore.

I knew the risks, of course. By day, I'd pick up the local cannery, hire workers and keep them fed and lodged, but as soon as I'd lay down to rest my subconscious would wage war against the sleeping minds that surrounded me. The only way I could muffle out my call was by keeping a consistent sleep schedule, but a fair and flexible factory boss doesn't get the benefit of consistency.

I napped a few times. I fell asleep at my desk a few times. Only one worker died - poor old Johanssen - but he already wasn't quite right, back when I hired him. What was I supposed to do, leave a drunk ship's captain without a ship who couldn't speak more than three words of English before defaulting to Swedish ramblings alone on the docks?! Alone, with no place to stay?!

I may be Eldritch, but I'm no monster!

I try and console myself with the study grants I've financed, the houses I've bought, the marriages I've covered, the baby showers I attended - or the fact that our count of workplace injuries is far, far lower than what you'd find out of an outfit helmed by just any other profit-motivated human, but it's hard not to feel responsible when they call you by your assumed human first name and wonder why you don't have a wife or a family of your own.

I would, believe me; but my call is the one injustice I can't fix. Besides, I can consider my workers' union to be a family of sorts, right? We certainly have enough professional dinner dates together and enough arguments on how the factory needs to be run. All civil, of course - not that it stops outsiders from asking questions.

They say Christopher Thülen is an occultist, a cult leader. They say he comes to people in their dreams. Nope, that's just Chtulhu - what I'm stuck being. Like you never chose to have eyes that couldn't see into the infrared spectrum, for instance. Did you know mantis shrimp actually have jokes about human eyesight? I'd translate a few, but I'm afraid the punches wouldn't land. Get it - mantis shrimps, punches?

Oy. Tough crowd, huh?

No, what I'd like to know, Nodens, is why you, the purported protector of all Reality in the face of my myriad perversions, come to me in the guise of a Federal investigator - after planting scabs in the factory I helped unionize over in Brattleboro...

“When the Old Gods returned, they were surprised how easy it was to amass an army of followers. Turned out all they had to do was offer fair wages and good benefits, with reasonable deadlines and working conditions”