CHEW HIS FACE OFF
Okay. Faces: not chewable when helmeted. Ow.
Awaken to your sorcerous powers and accidentaly cast colour spray in his face!
“IT’S WORKING! I’S A SORCERER NOW!”
“Nope. You’s probably just hallucinating from the smoke.”
“Oh. So then..?”
“So then you’s get your foot off the altar.”
Snap the spire and wield it as a weapon to defend yourself, asking whats theys doing.
Ask why they did that?
Turns out this spire is WAY sturdier than expected. You flail your rear talons menacingly to save face.
“Why you’s gotta hammer me?!” you demand. All things considered, it’s a pretty reasonable demand.
“Direct orders from da big ‘bold downstairs.”
“I’s a mid-level cleric. I’s cast commune, like, ALL the time.”
“Kurtulmak says you’s can’t be any class that casts spells.”
“That means no sorcerer.”
“Or cleric or wizard, come to think of it.”
“You can come down from there, you know.”
“Uh, no thanks. I’s fine.”
“Suit you’sself. So’s, the smoke meant Kurtulmak’s watching. Donked you, we’s good. Anyway, I’s can offer you an industrious career as an expert or warrior! Fine kobolds like you’s don’t need to be commoners.”
“WHAT.” You try to explain something to him. On a scale of okay to not okay, this is the kind of thing that calibrates the not-okay side.
“We’s just can’t fit any more casters in the city. Population limits,” he explains, but you remind him that doesn’t make this okay. It has been firmly established what end of the spectrum is involved.
“Look, even for it being a high magic world, we’s already got triple the caster population we’s supposed to.”
Do you need to change your wording here? Not okay doesn’t seem to be working. Maybe it’s the helmet.
“I’s – fine. Fine. I’s know a few back doors in these kinda situations. You’s can’t be’s a sorcerer, or… any caster, really, but there are alternate systems.”
Go on, you say.
“The Tome of Battle guys haves been pushing for mainstream acceptance. I’s got a kickback thing with the incarnum dudes going on. And, well, psionics are core.”
“I’s can’t pick other things?”