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    Kuulvheysoon's Avatar

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    Apr 2011
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    Default Re: Iron Chef Optimization Challenge in the Playground XLVII

    He's everyone's anyone.
    Quote Originally Posted by Gilles de Rais-Loquart


    I came here to hunt witches.- Gilles de Rais-Loquart.
    Class level breakdown
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    LE Human warblade 5/cold iron warrior 2/zhentarim spy 5/ cold iron warrior 8


    abilities:
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    str 14 dex 12 con 14 int 16 wis 14 cha 8 (boosts to wis)


    Gilles de Rais-Loquart
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    {table=head]Level|Class|Base Attack Bonus|Fort Save|Ref Save|Will Save|Skills|Feats|Class Features

    1st|Warblade 1|
    +1
    |
    +2
    |
    +0
    |
    +0
    |balance 4, concentration 4, disguise 4, forgery 4, gather info 4, jump 4, know (nature) 4, tumble 4 |City Slicker, Education|Battle clarity (reflex saves), weapon aptitude

    2nd|Warblade 2|
    +2
    |
    +3
    |
    +0
    |
    +0
    |balance 1 (5), bluff 1 (0.5), concentration 1 (5) disguise 1 (5), forgery 1 (5), gather info 1 (5), jump 1 (5), tumble 1 (5)| |uncanny dodge

    3rd|Warblade 3|
    +3
    |
    +3
    |
    +1
    |
    +1
    |bluff 1 (1), craft (written composition) 4, concentration 1 (6), disguise 1 (6), tumble 1 (6)|Power Attack|Battle ardor (critical confirmation)

    4th|Warblade 4|
    +4
    |
    +4
    |
    +1
    |
    +1
    |bluff 2 (2) craft (written composition) 3 (7), concentration 1 (7) disguise 1 (7), tumble 1 (7)| |

    5th|Warblade 5|
    +5
    |
    +4
    |
    +1
    |
    +1
    |bluff 4 (4), craft (written composition) 1 (8), concentration 1 (8) disguise 1 (8), tumble 1 (8)| |Bonus feat (Iron Will)

    6th|Cold Iron Warrior 1|
    +6/+1
    |
    +4
    |
    +1
    |
    +3
    |bluff 1 (4.5), craft (poisonmaking) 3, craft (written composition) 1 (9), concentration 1 (9), disguise 1 (9), know (nature) 1 (5)|Deceitful|Smite fey (1/day)

    7th|Cold Iron Warrior 2|
    +7/+2
    |
    +4
    |
    +1
    |
    +4
    |bluff 1 (5),craft (poisonmaking) 5 (8), craft (written composition) 1 (10), concentration 1 (10)| |Detect fey, iron mind +2

    8th|Zhentarim Spy 1|
    +7/+2
    |
    +4
    |
    +3
    |
    +6
    |bluff 1 (6), UMD 9| |Cover identity

    9th|Zhentarim Spy 2|
    +8/+3
    |
    +4
    |
    +4
    |
    +7
    |bluff 6 (12), disguise 1 (10), UMD 3 (12)|Ironheart Aura|Sneak attack +1d6, undetectable alignment

    10th|Zhentarim Spy 3|
    +9/+4
    |
    +5
    |
    +4
    |
    +7
    |bluff 1 (13), disguise 3 (13), tumble 3 (11), UMD 1 (13), second impression| |Poison use, unlikely cover

    11th|Zhentarim Spy 4|
    +10/+5
    |
    +5
    |
    +5
    |
    +8
    |bluff 1 (14), disguise 1 (14), sense motive 3, tumble 2 (13), UMD 1 (14), assume quirk | |Slippery mind, sneak attack +2d6

    12th|Zhentarim Spy 5|
    +10/+5
    |
    +5
    |
    +5
    |
    +8
    |bluff 1 (15), disguise 1 (15), sense motive 7 (10), UMD 1 (15)|Stormguard Warrior|Deep cover

    13th|Cold Iron Warrior 3|
    +11/+6/+1
    |
    +6
    |
    +6
    |
    +8
    |concentration 1 (11), craft (written composition) 6 (16), disguise 1 (16| |Dispel magic (1/day)

    14th|Cold Iron Warrior 4|
    +12/+7/+2
    |
    +6
    |
    +6
    |
    +9
    |concentration 6 (17) craft (written composition) 1 (17), disguise 1 (17)| |Mind over magic

    15th|Cold Iron Warrior 5|
    +13/+8/+3
    |
    +6
    |
    +6
    |
    +9
    |concentration 1 (18), craft (written composition) 1 (18) craft (poison making) 5 (13), disguise 1 (18)|Martial study (rapid counter)|Smite fey (2/day), unmaking magic

    16th|Cold Iron Warrior 6|
    +14/+9/+4
    |
    +7
    |
    +7
    |
    +10
    |concentration 1 (19), craft (poisonmaking) 5 (18), craft (written composition) 1 (19), disguise 1 (19)| |Dispel magic (2/day)

    17th|Cold Iron Warrior 7|
    +15/+10/+5
    |
    +7
    |
    +7
    |
    +10
    |concentration 1 (20), craft (poisonmaking) 2 (20), craft (written composition) 1 (20), disguise 1 (20), sense motive 1 (11)| |Cold iron strike

    18th|Cold Iron Warrior 8|
    +16/+11/+6/+1
    |
    +7
    |
    +7
    |
    +11
    | concentration 1 (21), craft (poisonmaking) 1 (21), craft (written composition) 1 (21), sense motive 5 (16)|Martial study (moment of alacrity)|Iron mind +4, mind over magic

    19th|Cold Iron Warrior 9|
    +17/+12/+7/+2
    |
    +8
    |
    +8
    |
    +11
    |concentration 1 (22), craft (poisonmaking) 1 (22), craft (written composition) 1 (22), know (nature) 3 (7), sense motive 2 (18)| |Dispel magic (3/day)

    20th|Cold Iron Warrior 10|
    +18/+13/+8/+3
    |
    +8
    |
    +8
    |
    +12
    |concentration 1 (23), disguise 2 (22), know (nature) 4 (11), sense motive 1 (19)| |Slippery mind, smite fey (3/day)[/table]


    Butcher
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    Sam enjoyed a position of some good renown in town. After all, everyone had to eat, whether they stayed for a day, a week, or if they were one of the locals. As a result, he got to know almost everyone straight away, if not firsthand then through gossip as people waited in line. There were certain privileges to being the town's only butcher.

    This was how he came to learn of an interloper in the city. While Glenbrook had its fair share of visitors, this was one rare instance where a traveler's reputation had preceded him. Loquart was a name that many knew, but there were curiously few who had met him firsthand. Tales of his bravery were regular fare in the tavern. There were many would-be bards who tried their hand at singing one of his ballads, some penned by his own hand.

    His triumph over the Northhollow nightshade was legendary. He had apparently moved it to tears with a song from his heart, like Orpheus of days long since past. Sam dimly recalled the tale of the Silverbow selkie but couldn't remember how it had ended. He did often wonder if Loquart found towns with just the right names or if they changed them afterwards. He supposed now he could simply ask.

    A snap from an impatient customer roused him from his reverie and he handed Josiah his meat. He muttered an apology and got a curt nod of the head in return. There would be time for his questions later, he thought, and got back to work.


    Baker
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    Josiah was many things, but he had never been accused of being a pleasant man. He was under no particular illusions that people spoke to him on a daily basis for any other reason than they needed their bread. By the sweat of his brow would they eat it, he often thought to himself as he toiled at his ovens.

    Effey asked him whether he had overheard anything at Sam's. He told her what he had learned and it seemed to please her greatly. While he had never shared the thirst for rumors some nursed, he couldn't say he didn't understand it. She asked him with that look if he could let her know if Loquart stopped by, and he said he didn't see why not.


    Undertaker
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    If Loquart was in town, business was sure to be good. Undertakers were supposed to be named Mort or Barry or something else clever and somber, but Winston could never cozy up to the stereotype of death warmed over. In his philosophy, it was a dirty job and someone had to do it, so why not enjoy it? He had heard tales of what some would regard as ill-repute, but to him meant work. There had been several casualties when Loquart crossed swords with the Vanderbilt vampire, but it wasn't as though it had been Loquart's fault.

    He had heard Effey saying Loquart would be by Josiah's later. Business was slow, so he could afford to wait. Perhaps he would make a memorable first impression and see if Loquart's next tale featured a cheerful undertaker in the background. Winston sat on the bench outside Josiah's and anticipated Loquart's arrival.


    Mover-shaker
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    At long last, Loquart arrived. By the time he rode into town, there was a crowd awaiting his presence, as he'd grown accustomed to as of late. He hopped off his carriage and saw a man leaning on a pine box he must have spent ages arranging just so in order to appear relaxed but not so relaxed as to have his handiwork topple over.

    "Your size, I think? Never interred a celebrity before, but I'm sure you're like the rest," said the man who was presumably the undertaker.

    "How ever am I like the rest?" Loquart said with a deliberate indifference that had taken him months to master.

    "Go down easy."

    Loquart smiled, but didn't laugh.

    "What kind of freak are you here to fight?" grunted a large, clean man in a white apron. Crusted, red-brown handprints meandered across his chest and stomach. Either a butcher or Loquart's work was done already. He hoped for the former since the chase was half the fun.

    He tugged off his kid gloves and drummed his shell-pink fingernails on the hilt of his sword, subtly drawing the crowd's attention to the filigree on its scabbard.

    "Were I to tell you, would it not defeat the purpose entirely?" he said loud enough to be heard over the oohs and ahhs the crowd was making over his outfit. Nothing but the best for day one. An elaborate cursive G was emblazoned on his codpiece, a golden half-cape hanging lazily on his shoulder like some debonair specter of opulence.

    "Huh?" said the butcher. Loquart had not found his quarry.

    "Surely you remember the Dundas doppelgänger?" he said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

    His vacant expression answered Loquart more eloquently than he could ever hope to.

    "Had I tipped my hand earlier than had been my intention, he would never have been snared in my web in time. So suffice it to say that I am indeed here to catch some wrongdoer, the specifics of which are best left undisclosed for the time being."

    While he unspooled the metaphor, Loquart turned to the nearest female.

    "My good Madame, might I inquire as to where I might find accommodations for my stay here?"

    The woman in front of him blushed, as he'd expected her to, and pointed to a building down the street as she tried to choke out a few words and failed.

    "Thank you. Now, there will be plenty of time for me to answer your questions after my job has been done, and he's, I would be happy to sign whatever it is you wish me to later, sir," he directed this comment at a young man towards the back of the crowd looking hopeful and clutching a quill in his hand, "after I have concluded my business."


    Heartbreaker
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    Madame Sans-Merci was used to travelers staying at her inn, and used to discretion, but what the man in front of her was asking was a bit much even for her considerable talents.

    "I'm not sure how you expect me to cope with this, monsieur…" she reached for his name, pretending not to know who and what he was.

    "Loquart," he said, clearly unfamiliar with her mother tongue and trying (and failing) to pretend otherwise. "And I'm sure you'll find a way. After all, I'm sure you like to keep to yourself as well." He directed a glance downward and she dutifully feigned indignation.

    His gaze fell squarely on her lap. She was sitting down, as she always was due to the twist of fate that had not seen fit to gift her with legs like the other women in town. Since she could hardly walk down the street on what she was born with, she had to make do with a wheeled chair that some of her girls had fashioned for her.

    "What I mean is, I'm sure there are times you'd rather not be bothered. Whatever excuses you make for yourself, I'm sure they'll suffice for me as well," he said, not feeling at all as bad as he was supposed to after she had made her angry face.

    "Shall I tell them you're servicing a gentleman caller upstairs?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

    "What you tell them is immaterial. Despite what you and your ilk may believe, I kill monsters first and endure my worshippers afterwards, not the other way round."

    "I'm surprised to hear you speak so plainly. What makes you think I won't just pass this on to the rest of the town?"

    He smiled and she felt her grip around the arm of her chair growing tighter.

    "What indeed," he said, and with that went up the stairs to his room where he knew she could not follow.

    Just as she was debating delivering some choice words after him, there was a knock at the door. She rolled to answer it and found it was Sam the butcher delivering her groceries, as he did every week.

    "Have I missed anything else interesting in town today?" she said pleasantly enough to mask the anger boiling inside her breast.

    "Not much. There was an apothecary in the square earlier. Looked to be selling potions and the like, but no one seemed interested. We asked her to leave before Loquart got here and she did. Said she'd be back late tonight if you needed any diseases removed or the like. Should I go look for her?"

    Madame Sans-Merci shook her head. "No, thank you. I'll be off to bed soon. I was just asking. It isn't every day we get a celebrity visiting." She flicked her eyes behind her towards the staircase and saw a look of childlike awe fill Sam's face that made her very annoyed.

    She bid him good night and wheeled herself into her room. Once she was quite sure her girls and patrons were down for the night, she began to gather her thoughts.

    Loquart was dangerous. There was no question of that. The only thing she remained unsure of was whether it was too soon to strike. While she was sure that some of his adventures were exaggerated, she felt it imprudent to dismiss all of it as fabrication. While he may not sleep only one hour a night after training for years with githzerai monks, she was certain he was the type to sleep with an iron knife under his pillow. An apothecary may be just what she needed.

    Madame Sans-Merci drew the blanket off her legs, the air feeling cold on them since they were so infrequently uncovered. She opened the trunk at the foot of her bed and reached for a cloak that brushed the floor, keeping her covered. She tugged a hood over her face and grabbed a pouch of money, stuffing a wad of cotton into it so she didn't jingle as she walked, a little unsteady on her feet. It had been a while since she needed to venture out of her manor.

    Mercifully, she didn't see anyone from town on her way into the square. That would have complicated things. The only person's blood she wanted on her hands for now was Loquart's. The apothecary was sitting at the helm of a creaky old carriage. The large, elaborate letters snaked across its sides extolling the virtues of her wares had grown faded with the passage of time. Little flakes of paint fell from the cart an drifted through the night sky with every gust of wind. Madame Sans-Merci drew her cloak tightly around herself. The last thing she needed was to expose herself to this hedge witch.

    She knocked on the cart when it became clear its driver was asleep.

    "Eh? Oh, a customer! What can I do for you, dear?" said the apothecary who, if the side of her cart could be believed, was called Old Lace. Madame Sans-Merci wasn't used to being called "dear" and bristled a little at the woman's words.

    "I require poison," she said in as deep a voice she could affect without straining herself.

    "Oh, got lots of that. What did you have in mind?"

    "Something strong and hard to detect."

    Old Lace bustled in the back of her cart, muttering to herself.

    "Here we are!" she chirped. She sat back on the bench at the front of the cart and proffered a clear vial. Madame Sans-Merci paid the asked price and appraised it dubiously.

    "How much will I need to get the job done?" she asked, giving it a little shake. It hardly looked dangerous, but, she had to remind herself, this wasn't always a guarantee something was safe.

    "Depends what you're using it on."

    Madame Sans-Merci narrowed her eyes. "Rats."

    "How big are they?"

    "Man-sized rats."

    "Ah." Old Lace rubbed at her warty chin. "The bottle should do then. Just put it in his cup. Or whatever you lay your traps with," she said with a wink.

    Madame Sans-Merci turned to begin her trek back, limping uphill to her house.

    "Oh, you're the woman who lives up there then?" Old Lace called out after her.

    Madame Sans-Merci looked at the footprints she had left leading from her manor to the cart. Would this woman make things complicated? She reached as calmly as she could for the knife she'd worn up her sleeve.

    "Have a safe journey," Old Lace said and gave a tug at her horse's reins. With that, she was off. Be thankful for small mercies, Madame Sans-Merci thought to herself as she took her hand off her dagger.

    She got home in relative short order and was able to get to her room without any troublesome questions by her girls. She didn't dare sleep tonight, in case Loquart had designs of his own. She locked the door to her bedroom. Not that it would stop him, but should he pick the lock, she would be able to hear him in time. With some difficulty, she sat at the edge of her bed, her legs aching with effort.

    The night passed uneventfully for her. When she heard the rooster crow outside her window to herald the new dawn breaking, she went to the kitchen to help her girls prepare Loquart's breakfast. She made her own surreptitious addition to his cup without detection and waited in the kitchen for the girl's scream to let her know her work was done.

    She came flying into the kitchen and said, as Madame Sans-Merci expected her to, that Loquart was dead. Madame Sans-Merci told her to go to her room and lock the door, and that everything would be taken care of.

    Once she heard the door shut and lock, she rose from the bed, feeling surer of herself with every step she took. She walked carefully up the stairs until she came to Loquart's room. She drew it open carefully and saw Loquart slumped on his desk, his face in a plate of scrambled eggs.

    Unfortunately, it meant his blood was spoiled. She would hardly drink the poison herself. No matter. The blood of heroes was the same as in any man's veins. It was no big loss. She stood behind him and put her hands under his arms. Though she may have pretended otherwise, it was a trivial matter for her to lift Loquart's corpse.

    She grunted a little and braced herself on the floor, her knees shaking a little as she pulled him from his chair. She was caught off guard when his head snapped back and he head butted her in the nose.

    "Surprise!" Loquart shouted. Madame Sans-Merci's ears rang as she tried to steady herself. Loquart pulled himself free from her grasp and hopped to his feet. He looked none the worse for the wear, though his cup was empty.

    "How?" she snarled, no longer bothering to hide her teeth as she spoke, their points glistening in dawn's early light.

    "How indeed," Loquart said with a wink, "dear." His voice changed to become the one of the old apothecary from the night before.

    He lunged forward and swept at the ground with his leg, knocking Madame Sans-Merci's cloven hooves from beneath her. She pounced forward and clawed at Loquart's face, trying to grab for his neck.

    He had drawn his sword by now, a blood red diamond glistening in its hilt, and carelessly batted her hands away.

    "It was a simple enough matter to determine there was something amiss. Those handprints on that man-ape of a butcher's smock were far too fine to belong to him. So it must have been someone else. Someone he wouldn't mind spilling his blood for willingly." She smelled the tang of magic in the air as he spoke and dodged at his sword strokes even as they became more rapid, darting around his side as he buried his blade in the desk.

    "I thought at first that a vampire was the culprit. A reclusive woman in the house on top of a hill, occupying a position of power if not of prestige over the men in the town. But I can see now that I was wrong." He tried to yank it from the wood and made little progress.

    She braced herself against the floor and kicked him backwards, causing him to release his grip on the handle. She wrapped her hands around it and screamed as it burned her skin, releasing a puff of foul-smelling white smoke.

    "I name you as a glaistig of the fair folk, and I have come here to kill you." He made no move towards his sword, his hands balled into fists.

    She narrowed her eyes towards him and dropped her glamour, having no further use for it. Her moonbeam white hair shone blindingly bright in the sunlight, her eyes deep and full with the energy of Sam's blood. She spoke, her voice thick and syrupy sweet with magic.

    "If you've deduced that I'm feeding on these mortals willingly, what's the harm in it? Why not just leave me be?" she sang, her words unspooling and weaving an invisible web in the witch hunter's mind.

    Loquart clawed at the air, shredding the fibers of magic as soon as she had spun them.

    "Hasn't it ever occurred to you that I don't do this because I care about the welfare of your cattle?"

    Her words having no power, she threw down a fog, but Loquart dispersed it with a gesture of his hand.

    "Why then?" she snarled.

    "The same reason you prey on them in the first place. Their love, their praise, their adulation. Why do you think I bother with this oafish disguise?"

    Loquart talked too much. She grabbed onto his shoulders and kneed him in the groin hard enough to dent his codpiece. Her eyes widened when Loquart didn't fall to the ground writhing in pain.

    "You're-"

    "Of course. No one would bother repeating the tale of Gillian de Raisx. It would be a minor curiosity, not a tale to last the ages. And besides, any monster a woman could kill couldn't possibly be a credible threat in the eyes of the audience. That's why I wear this mask. In order to gain the cattle's respect, you need to become one of them in whatever way you can, no matter how distasteful it may be. That's what your kind will never understand. It's why I can always sniff you out."

    Loquart's eyes flicked down to Madame Sans-Merci's neck, the small shimmer of gold catching the light.

    "And that's how you've been able to stray so far from your river," Loquart said with a note of dull interest. "Well then, it appears my work here is done."

    "No, don't-"

    With another lazy wave of the hand, Loquart tore the magic of Madame Sans-Merci's acorn asunder, and she began to gasp for breath. She wrapped her hands around Loquart's neck and sunk her teeth into his flesh, her tongue brushing against where his adam's apple should have lain, but she had no strength in her jaws as blackness crept in around her field of vision. Loquart made no motion to stop her, hugging her limp form to her chest.

    "Goodbye, Glenbrook glaistig," said Loquart, or whoever she was. "While I can't promise you'll be missed, I can at least guarantee that you'll be remembered."

    She supposed, as Loquart's blood trickled down her throat, the last she would ever taste, that if she had to die, at least it was in the arms of a kindred spirit.


    Maneuvers
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    1: moment perfect mind (diamond) , douse the flames (raven), steel wind (iron)
    2: steely strike (iron)
    3: wall of blades (iron)
    4: nothing (replace steely strike mountain hammer)
    5: IHS (iron)
    15: sudden counter (diamond)
    18: moment of alacrity (diamond)

    stances
    1: punishing stance
    4: leading the charge

    Suggested play tips
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    5
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    At this point, Gillian is an iron heart focused warblade with some somewhat unorthodox choices regarding her skills in order to qualify for cold iron warrior. Education supplies knowledge, and city slicker provides a wealth of other fun skills. this is a time of prereqs being met with a somewhat unusual emphasis on craft.

    Zhentarim spy, the twist that makes this build unique, has its definitive class features dependent on craft which, in its infinite wisdom, it did not see fit to grant as a class skill, so it's important that Gillian put ranks in it now.

    Written composition, a very fun craft skill in races of stone, will enable her to write epics about Loquart's adventures and disseminate them to the gullible masses in order to grow his fame and repute, and make quite a tidy sum of money, as well. The skill can be applied to a variety of different media (poems, songs, etc) so play around a little and build your identity however seems fitting. Your imagination's the limit.

    Power attack's here because of reasons. All melee characters need it and you do too. It'll be a real windfall later on.

    Warblade helpfully aids Gillian in paying the feat tax for cold iron warrior with iron will. It's a prereq feat and getting it early is nice since your saves can use a little shoring up at this point. Your high wis (especially for a warblade) also helps, as does moment of perfect mind in case you are caught off guard. Gillian keeps concentration maxed, and it's easy as pie to have a sky-high concentration check as opposed to a sky-high save.

    Pummel your enemies into the ground and enjoy the defensive powers your maneuvers offer you. douse the flames lets you stop enemy aoos, steel wind helps against multiple foes, steely strike helps to-hit early on until it can be swapped for mountain hammer to avoid DR, wall of blades lets you sub your AC for an attack roll as an immediate (pretty awesome at all levels, especially low ones) and iron heart surge is a counter to just about anything you can imagine (though if you don't want your dm to cry himself to sleep at night, don't get too nuts about it.)


    10
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    Congrats, you're in the SI! It took blood, sweat, tears, and a handful of cc ranks in bluff (which is unreasonably difficult to get as a class skill short of apprenticeship) but you managed to get in. You also managed to get into… zhentarim spy?

    Your eyes do not deceive you, and yes, it sort of is the betamax to spymaster's VHS. The reason you should care is that it's two levels shorter (allowing you to complete it and the SI), gives its bonuses faster, has a scaling bonus to its bluff/disguise/gather info checks, and has no cap on how many cover IDs you can employ.

    You've got a ridiculous amount of skill points to bandy about for your spy levels, so enjoy it. UMD will be of assistance to you since cold iron warrior's spell list (especially at the beginning) is kind of puny. Beefing up with other social/utility spells from lists like the assassin, hexblade, and blackguard can help you build your versatility.

    Now the question you're probably more interested in:

    What exactly is the point of zhentarim spy?

    If you're to be fighting fey, you need to be prepared for their magic and spell-like abilities. If your plan is to get close to them in an attempt to pierce through their disguises and reveal them for what they truly are, you have to make sure that they don't expose you first.

    Your mundane disguise check (along with bluff) is through the roof for your cover IDs, at level 10 being an 18 for disguise (along with 2 from synergy and if you're clever, +5 for minor details only in your non-unlikely cover identity making for an outstanding 25) which is fairly difficult to overcome at this level especially with second impression giving you another chance if you screw up (usable 1/day, unlike most other skill tricks) but that's often all you need, and assume quirk denies familiar viewers a bonus against you.

    poison making from earlier is still as useful a method of making money as ever as per complete adventurer page 97, and is notable for only requiring 1/6 the base gp in raw materials rather than 1/3, letting you rake in the dough more quickly. zhentarim spy teaches you proper safety techniques and you cn no longer poison yourself by mistake.

    remember that disguise checks explicitly trump effects like true seeing, which you'll start seeing around this level from fey that are spell casters (many are) or from normal enemies you want to get the drop on as well. your check is so high that it's unlikely they'll have anything to really fall back on, especially since the group who can cast true seeing doesn't have much overlap with the one that has spot as a class skill.

    sneak around, sniff out the enemy with detect fey, enjoy your bonus against enchantment from iron mind, and enjoy using disguises to hide in plain sight, and strike when the time is right


    15 (sweet spot)
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    Oh yeah, this is the stuff. You've got deep cover now which means that divination effects can no longer penetrate your amazing spy training at all. People trying to surveil you only learn what you want them to know about your cover identity. All at level 12.

    Stormguard warrior is also up and running. it's a tactical feat (which I love) and gives you some nice options.

    channel the storm: when enemies provoke AoOs from you and you don't take them, you gain +4 atk/dmg against them next turn per AoO ignored (they stack)

    combat rhythm: make melee touch attacks for no damage against your enemies and gain a cumulative +5 to hit per melee touch attack that hits applied to your damage in the next round

    fight the horde isn't that useful since you don't have combat expertise (and won't fight defensively that much) but the other two work well with your existing abilities.

    you aren't structured around AoOs, and there isn't a real cap to this. while it's not that common for an enemy to provoke more than one AoO in a round, it's definitely possible, and this gives you the option in case you're saving an AoO for later (such as saving it for sudden counter)

    sudden counter works really well in tandem with this, because you can use sudden counter to attack while still letting your "real" AoO pass to power channel the storm.

    combat rhythm is pretty cool overall but works best when fighting a single high AC foe like a dinosaur or golem. you can bonk him with your highest iterative, and when you're looking at your second with despair, instead of whiffing, you can do something productive with it to bide your time, since enemies with high AC normally have awful touch ACs.

    your funky mind over magic and unmaking magic abilities are online, giving you more ways to say "nope!" to your adversaries. when you can't iron heart surge it away, dispel magic as a sla or using one of your spell slots will help do the job as well.


    20
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    All good things must come to an end and that includes cold iron warrior. moment of alacrity's up, letting you go first in initiative by adding 20 to your current score and applying it from the next round to the end of the combat. this can let you do all kinds of things with your cold iron warrior abilities, dispelling, unmaking, and mind over magicking all over the place. when you've used up your mind over magic uses per day, don't forget about the humble moment of perfect mind, a similar effect. you've been putting points in concentration ever since for a reason. will's the most important save, and it doesn't hurt to take some extra steps to protect it.

    you keep up ranks in your crafts, disguise and bluff. just because divination can't foil your deep cover doesn't mean a spot can't. keep those ranks up in case someone tries to sneak a guidance of the avatar or a pair of keen eye lenses past you. you'll be ready for them.


    sources
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    tome of battle: warblade, iron heart aura, storm guard warrior, martial study
    srd: power attack, deceitful
    races of destiny: city slicker
    player's guide to faerun: zhentarim spy, education
    complete adventurer: poison making rules
    races of stone: craft (written composition)
    Last edited by Kuulvheysoon; 2013-07-22 at 09:37 AM.

    Avatar by Iron Penguin.

    The Power of the Orient: A Wu Jen Handbook

    Quote Originally Posted by Paul S. Kemp
    Frankly, I think the designers and novelists did great work in the post-Spellplague Realms. But, in the end, this wasn’t a new setting. It was the Realms, the Realms 100 years later, and therein lay the problem.