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Post by colpoj on Jul 1, 2012 4:17:30 GMT -5
I'm not quite sure I see the point of all your damage resists. The most damage a player or NPC can do to you in terms of cold/electrical/fire/magical/positive damage (Disregarding spells) is 2d12, wich averages at 12 damage. So i'd save a bit of money by droping all those to /15 resists, maybe even just /10 resists.
I also notice you've not got any acid resistance, which I belive is a bit of a mistake since the best arrows and rapiers on the server both use acid, as do all the creatures in the new dungeon for druids etc.
As a tiny thing to point out, are you sure you want Gauntlets? Gauntlets are used by monks, where as Bracers are used defensively by fighters, and since there are no offensive properties it might make more sence for them to be bracers, especially if they're made of Platinum, since that'd make them very hard to wield as weapons.
If I were you i'd also invest in a bit of Armour Class as well, since its always nice not to get hit by anything.
For a total cost of 1196951 with Bracers as the base item type so the AC was armour class, (Not many armour sets on the server give armour class, I dont think. If you were wearing the battlerager armour you'd get all the AC from this) i'd go for something like
AC Bonus +5
Cast Spell: Shadow Shield (13)(I use/day)
Damage Resistance: Acid /15
Damage Resistance: Bludgeoning /20
Damage Resistance: Cold /10
Damage Resistance: Divine /15
Damage Resistance: Electrical /10
Damage Resistance: Fire /10
Damage Resistance: Magical /15
Damage Resistance: Negative Energy /15
Damage Resistance: Positive Energy /10
Damage Resistance: Slashing /20
Damage Immunity: Damage Type: Slashing: 25% Immunity
Regeneration +3
Skill Bonus Discipline +7
----------------------
But it is quite a large change to your original design. Which I do love, by the way. The use of a shadow shield spell is a great idea.
It'd also be great if you could add some RP backstory about how these Gauntlets/Bracers came to be. Its always nice to hear a story about how an item was made.
Hope some of this helps.
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Post by gatalis on Jul 1, 2012 14:19:51 GMT -5
If he puts AC into the gloves it wouldn't matter actually... Gauntlets and Armor use the same bonus AC, and I'm guessing Battlerager plate has a Bonus to AC rendering these glove's AC useless if he puts it on. Also, the shadow shield effect (if approved) would give him +5 natural AC (which helps against touch attacks last I checked) among other things. In my opinion, 20 in all but negative energy still seems high. I think it's a great item but it still seems a bit high, especially since 15 will usually block out most non-critical-hit damages. (aside from physical ones like slashing) I made these tweeks that I'd like you to at least take a look at. Dexterity +2 Damage Resistance: Bludgeoning Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Cold Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Divine Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Electrical Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Fire Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Magical Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Negative Energy Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Piercing Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Positive Energy Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Slashing Resist 15 / - Immunity: Damage Type: Slashing 25% Immunity Bonus Regeneration +3 Skill Bonus: Discipline +11 Spell Resistance 18 You mentioned your DEX, so I figured this would give you that bonus to armor while the SR 18 would give you a better chance to resist lower level mages casting magic. Obviously a level 10 using feats would only need to roll an 8 or higher, but it's still useful. Another one I came up with: Charisma +4 Dexterity +2 Damage Resistance: Bludgeoning Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Cold Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Divine Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Electrical Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Fire Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Magical Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Negative Energy Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Piercing Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Positive Energy Resist 15 / - Damage Resistance: Slashing Resist 15 / - Immunity: Damage Type: Slashing 25% Immunity Bonus Regeneration +3 Skill Bonus: Discipline +11 Most items (well, not sure of the new Dakuto ones) don't have STR and CHA bonuses so you'll likely get forced to choose a lot. CHA has a lot of direct bonuses least of which include saving throws and RP uses. AB through smiting, damage and AC through feats, etc. I just thought the +4 to CHA could prove useful. One thing I would suggest though if you're set on the 20 resist, is that you switch out either magical or cold as the 15 and make negative as the 20 as most undead bosses in some way or another inflict negative energy damage. Looks pretty good either way, I just think the resistances may be either a bit too many or a bit too high is all. EDIT: Also, just because I'm an asshole I'd personally like to see something RP-related on how he'd obtained the gauntlets  \ Of course I have no official say in it, these are just my ideas |
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Post by zdarkshadowz on Jul 1, 2012 15:04:19 GMT -5
It's only dodge + deflection which add toward touch attack AC.
As for the RP behind the gloves I was sort of going to make him acquire the gloves from his stash that went with the sunken ship as per his background... I did have something in mind of how he acquired it before he came to Siranda in the first place to lose it in the sinking ship, but it's sort of a very looong story in itself if I started drawing up all the details... Paladins live such heroic lives, it's not like they were a nobody before they came to Siranda. ;3
So if you aaaaaall keep insisting I'll end up writing a short novel just for you all. *sighs*
As for your suggestions, gatalis, I'll think about them, but you know how stubborn I can be. Stubborn enough to risk perma-killing my character on Erinyes's, stubborn enough to almost keep dying in the harsh training regime I'm putting him through with his crappy AC, stubborn enough to persuade you to give love a shot... etc etc, but I'll try make an exception in this case and see if it'll be better off for me, since people are worrying I'm cheating myself out of a decent ascension item chance,
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Post by zdarkshadowz on Jul 2, 2012 7:56:10 GMT -5
It was a dark winters night, snow gently falling upon surrounding forests as a road cut deftly and rudely within. The sound of gallopping could be heard, as seven horsemen rode at a quick pace, a glowing orb of light leading them, lighting the path in the shadows of the trees. The journey felt like it went on for hours, until the path rose a little and they crested a hill in the road before the leader halted and the others followed suit. Before them lay the lights of a rather unknown but fairly large city of Gatherford.
The smell of smoke was the first thing to assault their senses, and at first the horsemen thought the city had already been set ablaze by the armies that lay waiting to the north. This brief moment was quickly disappated, as they noticed the bonfires were set in a pattern around the city, the sound of troops being marshalled and commanded echoed across the cold breeze as the dawn began to crest on the horizon behind the city. With a short wave of his hand, the leader and his horsemen descended into the town to the nearest garrison.
"Halt, who goes there?" A hundred spears were pointed at once, as a couple dozen swords were drawn from their sheath, their united blades glowing a rosey red in the morning light, the sound of scraping metal grating in everyone's ears.
"If such a welcome is given to the Order of the Golden Lion, I should fear to think what welcome you will give your enemies!" The leader of the horsemen said outloud, laughing heartily as he took off his hood and flung back his cloak, bearing his emblem proudly upon his shining steel mail as the rest of the horsemen followed suit, the final horsemen in the back the only exception, still wearing a standard squire's outfit of white and blue. Dark blue eyes adorned with jet black hair was revealed with the parting of the younger lads leathery-green hood as he looked around warily. Almost all the spears and swords were quickly sheathed at a gesture from their commander, who obviously commanded respect in ample measure. A firm gauntlet landed on the young lad's shoulder, startling him out of his reverie.
"A fine thing, a trained military force, is it not, Sol? Still, they would do better to oil their weapons a little more regularly." Sol looked up to meet the golden beard of Sir Jaltin, the only person the sullen lad had opened up to about his past since he first took his vows to the Code and the Order. A quirky smile adorned the knights face as his brown eyes stared off into the distance, the commander issuing their leader some papers and motioning them onwards.
"Pay attention, Sol, we're moving on. It would do well not to dwell on what has happened. Everyone has their demons, some are just more real than most." Sir Jaltin ruffles Sol's hair a little before the lad donned his hood once more. 'He always knows what I'm thinking'... Sol thought. Sir Jaltin's grin only widened.
"We can only hope what has befallen this town isn't as perilous as what happened to Tilverton." A flick of reins like a wave went over the group as they continued riding on toward the city. This city wasn't even on the map anymore, the tyrant to the north's attempt to quietly erase them from existence, coupled with a wasting plague not unlike Neverwinter's Wailing Death had made many people attempt to conceal the roads and knowledge of this newly sprung city, diverting the new trade routes that had lead to Gatherford to bypass the city altogether. Even if this city was to be saved, it would fall into ruin and obscurity. The people, on the other hand, were still not beyond saving. Two other garrisons of the Order of the Golden Lion had already been sent to investigate beforehand, but even they had fallen to the plague, more quickly than the citizens themselves, confirming that there was indeed a malevolent intent behind this plague.
They rode onwards toward the town and began their investigations.
-----
"Here... take this." A small, black opal is thrust into a gauntleted hand in the midst of a burning city, before the hand is forced onto the pommel of a sword hilt. The army to the north had finally attacked, but what had happened was entirely unpredictable on both sides, as the fallen began to rise from the dead, and attack both sides.
"The darkness... cannot be defined without the light..." Sir Jaltin spoke with his dying breath as his skin began to decay and shrink from his face, letting out one final groan... before he groaned once more, and was put down with his own blade, a trembling, bloodied Sol grasping the hilt. Taking his hands off and looking at the opal palmed within.. Sir Jaltin had always been full of wise words and courageous deeds... but since when did he carry around gems? He shook the thought from his head to stand up and ran towards the centre of this infection. The maps that hadn't been tampered with in the old library archives, they had proven what the former members of the Order had guessed at. The infection cut a perfect circle around the Magistrate.
He drew the blade out of what was left of Sir Jaltin, resting it across his chest and clasping the former knights hand around the hilt. Finding nothing to place the gem in without losing it amidst the chaos of death and fire, Sol broke Sir Jaltins' pocket watch, hollowing it out and strapping it around the base of his left leather gauntlet firmly, the gem fitting snugly inside, it's shadowy obscure surface flickering in the firelight.
A mad dash through the streets, his self-wrought scimitar, that had been with him ever since that dark day too soon ago, cutting down the undead as they began to rise. It had been... odd. The people that had died in this town, who weren't even apparently afflicted by the disease had been rumoured to twitch a little, chalked up to their nerves spiking in their death throes. All this death... their lives, it must've been too much for whatever was draining the cities people to process at once. Some sort of recoil effect, perhaps... Sol shook his head and continued running. The Art was for more knowledgeable people, and the ones that lay in the marble monstrosity of a building in front of him had seriously abused that knowledge.
A determined resolve took over him, as he ran full-tilt into the front doors, falling backwards almost instantly, winded. The door hadn't been without it's own punishment however, the wards surrounding it had long since fallen, and the door had cracked under the assault. Another charge and Sol broke through into the wreckage of an apparently long-deserted building. A frail old man crawled out from behind a fallen bookcase as Sol replaced what timber he could across the door before the undead could find where he had run off to.
"Tell me what happened here, or by the True I will take... you into custody." Sol said bitterly, politely to the man. Of course, on a city on the verge of absolute destruction, such an endeavour would be a futile attempt...
The man had explained, with too many stuttering words, of a dracolich descending on this town in its early stages, entrusting the Magistrate with a large dark orb roughly twenty metres in diameter. It was apparently a phylactery for the beast, and with a little prodding the old man did reveal that the Magistrate had been run by the Cult of the Dragon. Apparently the orb formed a pair with another very far away, so it didn't need to guard both.
The Cult had wanted to see if they could bind their souls to the dracolich through their phylactery, but instead their souls were locked within the orb, constantly being drained toward the dracoliches life force on the other side. They had figured afterwards that with the origins of a dragon, naturally being a beast tied to magic in an inexplicable way mortals can never comprehend, it was drawing their souls to it such as gravity draws people toward the larger mass of Toril. The only way they could sustain themselves was to divert what they could of the life of the people for themselves.
"I've heard enough, we need to break this thing."
"We? No... no I'm leaving..."
"Have you looked outside those windows lately?!" Sol demanded, furious. Was this man completely unaware of what was happening outside? He shook his head, and took a deep breath. I need to calm down... think... take in the surroundings... and glanced a stairwell leading up.
"This orb is up there, isn't it?"
A slight, quailing nod was all the answer Sol needed, and he charged down ahead, almost stumbling over the debris before ascending up the stairs. A couple flights later, a fairly exhausted Sol entered a large, circular room, the Orb deep in the centre with a circle of skeleton-faced hooded mages chanting ominously around it. Flickering, pale orbs hung in their sockets as they turned to face the intruder in their lair, their chanting never-ceasing, as the orb in the centre drew in thin threads of flickering light out of the air, channelling it within itself to the dark shades within, who were becoming more solid, more real. Sol took a step forward, and another, and another, but whatever was left of the skeletal figures held no sentience left, just an unending task. He walked forward slowly, and threw his scimitar from a distance to behead one of them, ducking behind a pillar and waiting for an explosion, or something equally devastating to happen. The sound of rags falling to the ground and the clattering of his scimitar was all that was heard, glancing back he saw the figure fallen, and one of the dark shades within the orb shattering into pieces, the glowing orbs in its sockets, disappating in seconds.
"Well... I have nothing else to go on to stop this madness..." He muttered to himself as he charged forward, and picked up the scimitar, and started beheading them one at a time, finishing off the last one, the last of the shades breaking into wisps of solid smoke, before walking over to stand where he had slain the first, raising his scimitar to strike the orb itself... before a bolt pierced his right shoulder from behind. It was a little too much, he let out a brief scream of agony, dropping the scimitar and spun around, falling to one knee to witness the tyrant clad head to toe in his damnable Wished steel armour leveling a massive yew crossbow from the top of the staircase.
"I'll not have you destroy my greatest spoil. I've been looking for this for a long time..." Spoke the man, each word escaping from his mouth with a satisfied finality.
"I have to.. destroy this, before m-more people get hurt." Sol stammered, getting up to one knee before a bolt slammed into his shoulder once more. Muttering a prayer, Sol stemmed the flow of the bleeding, but almost instantly the orb behind him cracked as wisps of darkness of the fractured shade sought out the sudden, pure light with a deadly vehemence. Sol turned once more and stumbled backwards on all fours, and they both watched in horror as the fractured shards of the shades left the orb and coalesced to form a new terror, a figure wrought entirely of shadow. The tyrant arrogantly strode forward, putting away his crossbow to draw a flaming greatsword from the hilt behind his back, and took one sweep at the shadow, which simply disappated in the blow and appeared on the other side of him, a thin thread of shadow still connecting it to the orb.
"We are the many, the eternal hunger of the darkness made manifest... and you... you both look particularly scrumptious." It's shadowy head tilted to one side as it wrought a blade of pure darkness. The tyrant just laughed.
"I don't know what you are, but I am immortal, you can't hurt me so long as I wear this armour. Multiple Wishes wrought under perfect influence to create an impenetrable field, nothing can stop me, not that pitiful worm..." The tyrant pointed his greatsword at Sol, "nor you, so relinquish your hold on my prize."
The shade then wasted no time striking at the tyrant, the invulnerability of the armour fading as it drunk in the magic of his suit of armour with each blow... until all that was left was a defeated, aged man surrounded by the broken shards of his armor, and the blade finally struck through his heart and out the other side. The tyrant dissolved promptly into a puddle of smoke and was devoured in seconds. It then turned to face Sol, and began striking at him as Sol tried to dodge the blows, injured arm in tow. The shade slowly, methodically struck as if sensing the paladin's movements, grazing him from multiple angles as if it relished drinking in the paladin's soul bit by bit.
Fragments of Sol's life flickered across his memories as it was taken from him, dredging up that damnable day at Tilverton, and all Sol could feel was a fury building up inside... Another abomination... another creature attempting to drain his life... before he just shouted out at the ceiling.
"Sir Jaltin... what in the Nine Hells is this madness... what did you mean by "The darkness cannot be defined without the light?! How is this relev..." The phrase triggered the gem in his gauntlet, and he instantly became encased in the protective embrace of shadow... and the blows of the creature before him started swinging wildy.
"What devilry is this, how could you escape me?" The echoing voices of thousands of consumed souls tore through the air in outrage, attempting to find the light that had now become concealed. Carefully avoiding its darkened sword lest it dispel this temporary cover, Sol grabbed his scimitar and ran full-tilt toward the orb, setting the edge into the crack of the orb. It jammed, and the shadowy figure turned towards the orb. He started slamming his fists into the scimitar, before picking up a shard of the broken armor nearby, setting it up flat against the pommel of the blade to get a good hit and punched.
The scimitar soared through, the orb shattered into pieces around, and a large gale of wind swept the pieces, and the shade, far away from the building off into the west. He didn't know it, but whatever was left of that shade kept going, sweeping across the Sword Coast and into the seas beyond... perhaps to whereever the other phylactery was. The screams of battle, once muffled through the walls of the tower, died down completely, and all that could be heard was quiet sobbing, and then cheering, before the sounds of battle resumed once more between the two armies.
"I still have a job to finish, it seems..." Sol muttered in anger as he picked up the shards of the broken armour, and wrapped it into his cloak. It appeared to be made of reinforced steel with scraps of platinum. Practically useless now compared to its former power. He took the flaming greatsword of the tyrant, and made his way out of the building, labouring under the effort the battle had taken. When he reached outside the Magistrate, he lifted up the sword and shouted.
"The tyrant is no more. Get lost."
Their immortal leader, defeated by some brat in a squires outfit would have been hard to believe, if it weren't for him dumping the shards of the broken armour onto the ground. He pointed the blade toward the invading army with his left hand, the point swiftly and deliberately falling due to its weight to his own cloak, setting it ablaze. The pieces of the armour that were left flickered with what little remnant of power they had left and snuffed out the flame quickly, and the hostile forces knew that this really was their liege's remains, and made a swift retreat.
Sol didn't stay for the mourning of his comrades in Gatherford, all of which had fallen in the onslaught defending the village. He didn't intend to stay for the festivities, either It seemed... almost petty. Sir Jaltin was gone, three garrisons of the Order of the Golden Lion destroyed and yet... he looked around at the smiling faces, everyone working together heal the sick. Fortunately, the undead had stopped moving with the destruction of the orb, so they performed a kings funeral for everyone that had fallen that they could find, friend and foe alike.
At the end of the day... they knew what they were getting into. They lived and died honourably... perhaps someday it will be my time, and I can see them all again. Until then... I don't know... there are people out there that still need me, and the High Cleric will be waiting for a report. He comforted himself briefly with that thought, and after letting the citizens take care of his wounds, he saddled up with a given war horse gifted to him by the people, and he named it Rhia. The ride home was rough, the saddle uncomfortable, and the constant jolting kept his shoulder aching. It never really recovered, and he'd be prone to rolling it from time to time for the rest of his life.
When he made it back to Tantras, he explained everything that happened, showed his lord the black opal, which the High Cleric frowned at considerably, but took the opal and the shattered shards of the wished armour, and wrought... or rather, 'sanctified' them into a pair of leather gauntlets, plated with the reinforced steel and inlaid it with the platinum scraps into the motif of a dragon and a lion, representing Bahamut and Torm. The black opal was set into the wrist of the left gauntlet, wrapped in a small gold circular band holding it in place, the inscription circling it bearing Sir Jaltin's dying words. Apparently the nature of the opal was that after it had been triggered, it activated a 'Shadow Shield' spell, and it would restore itself with the following dawn...
"A trophy, to commemorate your first quest, and to remember those that have fallen defending the people of Gatherford." The High Cleric Barriltar presented him with the gauntlets, and knighted him before those assembled in the temple.
"I'm sorry, I don't feel like a knight... not until I've proven myself as honourable and wise as Sir Jaltin... If you don't mind, m'lord, I would forsake the title of Sir." The High Cleric simply nodded, and the temple held its own celebration in rememberance of the heroic and fallen.
------
A few years had passed since that day, as Sol looked out over the flooded ruins of the Kalaram docks.
I had thought keeping such a powerful artifact away from the eyes of this land would be a courtesy to not draw undue attention, but there is too much evil here as it is... I've been defeated by mad mages, erinyes, felled by undead too many times to count. This has to end. The people that live here deserve better than this... and there are Cyricists here, apparently. The Debt of Dereliction demands I use every resource possible to eradicate them. I need to take up the arms once more.
He smiled slightly at his own joke, an acquired taste on this island in the middle of the sea, fulled to overflowing of the stench of undeath. Sol took off his armour, wearing but a cotton tunic and pants made of soft leather, and swam out into the ruined docks, until he was above where the trading ship he had ridden on had sunk over a couple weeks ago. He dived down into the cold abyss...
A walker would have treaded past the still water by the shore if it wasn't for a gauntleted fist arising from the sea, dragging behind it a gasping and half-suffocated man with jet black hair and dark blue eyes. The old woman, jaw dislocated, drool and broken teeth leaking out of the gaping hole that was no longer a mouth turned and attempted bite at him, as he lay there gasping for breath, but the metal shards in the gauntlet repelled the feeble blows until the man summoned an Undeath to Death spell to disintegrate her. He made his slow way over to his armour and equipment he had set aside, donning each piece slowly and carefully, before muttering the phrase and activating the gem to make sure it worked before he took a deep breath, let it out, and made his way slowly into the darkened streets of Kalaram once more...
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