Macav

>>53582957
> Macav, the half-orc so powerful that only two Macavs could kill him
So he died to a single orc? Doesn't sound that powerful to me.

>>53583025
Oh fuck that's actually funny as fuck.

REGARDLESS I'll take a noncommital reply as an excuse to post the story.

Little bit of backstory:

I’ve been playing Pathfinder for just over three years now, with a group that’s been going for a long, long time. They’re all in their mid-to-late twenties, early thirties. I’m twenty-one, and am a newer intro to the group. And boy, are these guys fucking magical. I love every second in that house, with the ridiculous shit that seems to happen every time.

Now, don’t get the wrong idea. The games were not humorous. Not a lot, anyway. There was the typical bullshit that made everyone laugh, but for the most part this group would use the rules as a weapon to buttfuck eachother into obscurity. Every game was very serious, with at least two pages of backstory per character. We took the games seriously, and our characters seriously. Killing each other is just part of the fun. The betrayal of teammates, the insidious liars and BBEG’s in disguise are what make the table so fun for me.

I wasn’t actually in this particular campaign, I was playing a campaign held directly afterwards. These guys live and breathe tabletop games, and played all the fucking time. They aren’t sperglords, though, they all have jobs and convene when they can. But I was there to witness the glory.

>>53583051
>over half the character count of this post was denying that this group was shit in any way before anyone could even say anything
methinks anon doth protest too much

also
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_miller,_his_son_and_the_donkey

Now, Macav is a half-orc barbarian, a worshiper of Gorum. Standard fare, to be sure. But this guy, what made this guy amazing was the situations he was in combined with his (mostly) good party.

There was a gnome cleric of Sarenrae, named Arcan. Arcan was the kind of cleric who would not hesitate for a second to quest/geas someone who was being ‘difficult’. He was neutral good, and possessed an almost ruthless quality to his relentless conversion of his enemies. No antipaladin or Zon-Kuthon pain mistress was too far gone to be saved.

There was a human Paladin of Sarenrae named Fargus. This guy was not incredibly smart, or wise, but goddamn he had a smile like the sun and pursued justice to the ends of the earth. The best teammate you could ask for, but since he wasn’t incredibly intelligent, he let some shit slide that he probably should not have. Keep this in mind as you read what Macav had done. Compromises were made to allow the party to survive.

>>53583135
Nah they were actually super good. I really enjoyed my time with them. Moved away now, but for the time being it was really fun.
Anyway, back to story.
There was a halfling bard named Viktor, and he was most often found in inn rooms with 4-5 hookers hanging on his every word. He often never had to pay them, as he epic regaling was payment enough in itself. Basically, what you’d expect the bard to be. Except the player who played him, Alex, was a theatre major, and would often toss out these amazing quotes. The guy is a fucking amazing roleplayer. I wish he was in more of our campaigns.

So Arcan, Macav, Fargus, and Viktor are joined together by fate, beseeched by the king of some small country to rid the land of giants, and whoever was manipulating the giants behind the curtains.

You see, these normally stupid giants were attacking villages and cities in the most unusual ways. They employed use of advanced tactics, using diversions and siege weaponry. They displayed a military-like intelligence and dedication, and there was no telling of where their finely crafted arms and armor were coming from. They marched across the land, burning crops and annihilating innocents.

Our intrepid heroes were hired to find out, and put an end to it. Arcan and Fargus went along because it meant saving innocents. Viktor came because he needed more epic inspiration for his bardic tales of wonder. Macav went because he saw an opportunity for a real challenge in combat.

The player who played Macav, Walker, has an encyclopedic knowledge of all Pathfinder combat feats. It’s uncanny the amount of technical knowledge he has regarding pathfinder combat. I bet he could name every obscure rule out of any of the rulebooks, and he used that to make himself a combat legend.

Macav felt no real challenge in combat, the paltry foes falling like wheat to a scythe. As a fervent worshipper of the baser aspects of Gorum, this was too easy.

Anyway, the group trudged across the land, mopping up stray giants and helping townsfolk as they needed. Macav grew impatient. There was no real challenge in these foes. He began to get more aggressive, seeking out combat at every opportunity. Fights that could easily be avoided became personal, and he used any excuse to annihilate his perceived villains.

Eventually, a single event led to the Questing of Macav, a decision that went down as a terrible fucking idea. The event in question went like this:

The group shambled towards a small town at the foot of a mountain, as the sunlight dwindled rapidly. Torches eerily lit the path, accentuating the gaunt features of the adventurers. It had been a rough couple of battles leading up to this point. There was not a drop of healing to be had amongst the group and so they trekked onward towards some much-needed respite. Macav held his trusty greataxe, simply named ‘Blood’, out in front of him. Javelins adorned his back, and he wore no armor. Arcan looked resplendent as ever, if a little worn, in his white armor, gleaming in the torchlight. Viktor, clad in robes of silk, jauntily danced ahead of the group, seemingly no worse for wear. Fargus travelled wearily in back, tired after tanking the last few battles.

Upon reaching the gates to this small town, Macav slammed Blood bluntly on the gates a few times. An irritated guard’s voice echoed over the palisades.
“What the fuck do you want at this god damned hour? We paid up last week, and your man is already inside here with his assholes to make sure we don’t ‘misbehave’.”

Macav grunted, and called back in a voice that sounded like an earth elemental fucking sandpaper.
“We are not some petty thieves. Open this gate, I’m tired.”
A different voice echoed over the thin wooden walls, this one sounding like a petulant toddler in a grown man’s voice box. “Thieves? We’re making an honest living erm...protecting...these savages. We don’t have to let you in if you’re being rude. Go away.”
Macav growled, his prominent teeth grinding.
“Palisades aren’t walls. They’re kindling. Open the gate or I’ll come in anyway.”
Fargus and Arcan exchanged worried glances. Macav was getting agitated again, and the last thing they needed was another fight.

Ever thought about making a blog?

>>53583343
Not really. Dunno if it's my thing, I really like /tg/.
More story (Not too much longer, this ain't a novel):

Fargus called out, “Please let us in. We’re just travellers spreading the word of Sarenrae and doing good for the populace. We’re here on the king’s orders.”
Suddenly, the gate opened. Standing in the midst of roughly a dozen thugs was a man in ruffled finery, encrusted with an obscene amount of jewelry. He stood with a knife in his hand, held across a young woman’s throat. “King’s orders, eh? Do-gooders? Then give me all the coin you’ve got, or she dies. And if you’re really spreading the good news, I expect you’re willing to resolve this peacefully.”
Macav slowly unbuckled a javelin from his back, but Viktor put a small hand on his thigh (the highest he could reach).
Arcan nervously twitched, and mumbled, “Please, we abhor violence. We can settle this in a most respectful man-” and was cut short.
A thin gurgling broke the immediate silence. The young woman coughed, blood pouring out of a new wound in the center of her chest. A javelin stuck straight out of her heart, and she collapsed weakly. The bejeweled man stood in shock, and no one said anything for several seconds.
Macav finally broke the silence.
“She was already dead. Situation accelerated.”

Now, at this point, the entire group around the table was fucking dead silent, until Zack (playing Fargus), exploded with an OOC “What the FUCK.”

The situation quickly devolved into combat, with the guards being quickly dispatched now that they had no convenient bargaining chip.

A serious, but secret, discussion was had whilst Macav slept soundly. Fargus and Arcan convinced Viktor that the only way to keep Macav from murdering was to Quest him.

First thing in the morning, Macav woke up to being Quested. Now, the text of the spell states that the caster can choose to have the creatures abstain from a course of action rather than to follow a specific course of action.

The activities to refrain from were, in order of importance:

Do not attack/cause harm to innocents.
Do not needlessly create fights/violence.
Obey Arcan.

Macav was furious, but showed nothing on his face. He merely said, “I understand,” and began dreaming up ways to get around it. You see, Arcan made a huge mistake. He provided Macav with a challenge. His new challenge was finding ways to cause the party to fight, and to kill. For example, the next day, he threw a javelin into the air, before even looking around him. The javelin landed on a villager, killing them, and another fight erupted.

After the carnage, Arcan was furious. He stormed up to Macav, and yelled “I told you not to attack or cause harm to innocents!”
Macav merely replied, “It wasn’t my intention. I did not look to see whether or not a fool stood where he did, I merely threw my javelin.”
Arcan went stark white as he realized just how hard he had fucked up.

He had focused the fury of Macav into a laser point by giving him a seemingly unbeatable obstacle. He provided the challenge Macav wanted all along, and he placed the laser point on the entire party.

From then on, the entire group spent all of it’s time making sure that Macav wasn’t trying to get around the tenets. He was now a chained attack hound, eager to be the double edged sword. Every time Arcan gave him a command, he sought for ways to circumvent it in the simplest ways possible, as if to demonstrate the cleric’s folly.

Arcan approached Macav during one of the days they weren’t marching across the countryside, in a shoddy inn. He said, “Macav, I command you to answer my next question truthfully and fully.”
Macav laughed. “I would do that even if I wasn’t under your compulsion.” Arcan, nervously swallowed, and said, “What would you do if I stopped Questing you?”

Macav downed his tankard of ale, and turned to Arcan with a grin on his green face.
“I would begin by killing you and that paladin. I would leave the bard alive to tell the tales.”
Arcan gulped. “And then?”
Macav laughed. “I would go on a killing rampage of the likes this plane has never seen. Just to spite you and your goddess. Only the innocent would die.”
Arcan’s face became a mixture of fascination and revulsion. “But isn’t that contrary to Gorum’s philosophy? There is no challenge.”
Macav leaned forward, the malice on his face apparent. “Challenge, no. That would be my reward.” He grinned. “The challenge is getting to that point. So keep sending me at your foes in the meantime. I gladly kill for you. It keeps my appetite...whetted. And my skills…” he ran his brutish hand delicately down the side of the sweating gnome’s face. “Sharp.”

Unsurprisingly, the tension eventually came to a head. They had finally tracked the leader of the giant army to a mountainside palace. After fighting their way through the entirety of the palace they came to a room. This room was circular and massive, at least 100 feet in diameter. In the center of the room were two doorways, 10 feet square each, standing 20 feet away from each other and facing each other. They warily stepped into the room, Arcan commanding Macav to go first. Upon entering the room, the doorways shifted, showing a shadowy realm beyond. They slowly went dark as the party approached, and the room went dark, lit only by eerie floating lights in the center of the room, about 40 feet up. As Macav approached, the mirrors began to reflect him, despite Macav not being in front of them. As they coalesced, two identical copies of Macav stepped out of the mirror, laughing. They faced Macav, and each hefted a copy of Blood. Before anyone could react, they made two charge attacks on the flat-footed Macav.

In the seconds he had left to live, he murmured one word.
“Magnificent.”
The axes clashed down at the same time, and decapitated Macav. The entire party sat stunned as the the two half-orc copies charged past his corpse and straight into them.
Arcan immediately dodged to the side and resurrected Macav. As the immense half-orc stood up, Arcan screamed at him.
“Go on! Do what you do best! Kill them!”
Macav laughed.
“No.”
“...what?!”
Macav sat down, and the clones converged on him and decapitated him once more. Macav died with a smile on his face, glowing in the insult that was his last moments.

The party died that day. Complete and total party kill.
Ironic that the only thing that could kill Macav was two Macavs.

He has gone down in history around our table as the barbarian that ruined the quest, and yet remained completely chaotic by deciding NOT to fight.

And that's it. That's what I've got. Hopefully wasn't too long of a read for y'all.

Bit of a "that guy" material here.

>>53583679
Yeah, what he said.

The story was fairly entertaining, but the player sounds kinda like an asshole to be honest.