Okay, we're going to flip these numbers for dramatic effect. Dramatic effect is important.
2. Before Michael begins his Fites in the Coliseum, he is informed that there are three rounds of fighting in a traditional Coliseum battle. First he must fight the magitech beast's handler; then he must fight the beast itself; and finally he must fight both at once. Our questions for you, then, are: would he agree to this, and would his strategy change at all based on this information? We are happy to roll one round at a time to allow for changes of strategy as well if you'd prefer, or we can do all three rounds at once. Just let us know!
1. Oh, Michael. The attempt is appreciated, really, but it's no good. (DC 13; 2) The ripe mango Michael is trying to lay over its glitched counterpart actually sticks, but only for a few moments. Then, with a staticky noise, it glitches again, pixelizing spasmodically through the air towards Michael's face. In a fraction of a second, he perceives (DC 13; 13) that under the corruption and pixelation they're thinner pieces of cosmic material, each still disrupted by whatever has caused the glitches in the first place, but braided together to form a thread.
They lash out, grab his face, and something shocks him. It hurts, and then all of a sudden it has never hurt. The mango is not fixed. For the next 24 hours, Michael is convinced he's a were-rabbit. You're welcome and encouraged to play around with psychological effects of Rabbit Mike.
no subject
2. Before Michael begins his Fites in the Coliseum, he is informed that there are three rounds of fighting in a traditional Coliseum battle. First he must fight the magitech beast's handler; then he must fight the beast itself; and finally he must fight both at once. Our questions for you, then, are: would he agree to this, and would his strategy change at all based on this information? We are happy to roll one round at a time to allow for changes of strategy as well if you'd prefer, or we can do all three rounds at once. Just let us know!
1. Oh, Michael. The attempt is appreciated, really, but it's no good. (DC 13; 2) The ripe mango Michael is trying to lay over its glitched counterpart actually sticks, but only for a few moments. Then, with a staticky noise, it glitches again, pixelizing spasmodically through the air towards Michael's face. In a fraction of a second, he perceives (DC 13; 13) that under the corruption and pixelation they're thinner pieces of cosmic material, each still disrupted by whatever has caused the glitches in the first place, but braided together to form a thread.
They lash out, grab his face, and something shocks him. It hurts, and then all of a sudden it has never hurt. The mango is not fixed. For the next 24 hours, Michael is convinced he's a were-rabbit. You're welcome and encouraged to play around with psychological effects of Rabbit Mike.