GM AbyssDancer's 'Ire of the Storm'

Game Master AbyssDancer

With a tearing sucking ‘pop’ Iradyiel, aided by CT and Francis pulling on each leg, wrenches himself free from inside the blob. His passage through the inside of the blob has left Iradyiel a mess; dripping with brown jelly-like ichor the barbarian makes for a sorry sight but remains pumped for combat. He barely even notices Aza poking him with a healing wand, and is oblivious to Pious on the other side of the blob flailing about with a curtain pole. Pious demonstrates more enthusiasm than effect with his make-do club, swinging a mighty two-handed overhead blow which misses the blob but demolishes a nearby chair.

The blob itself ignores the halfelf-sized hole in its midriff torn by Iradiel fighting his way free of its acid grip. It heaves itself up a clear 2 foot higher than the party, and attempts to crash down like a wave of sewage to slam and smother its second victim: Chest Thumper. This time it fails; the halforc brushes aside the tentacles and dodges back from the lunge when it comes.

Outside the house, only Aza and Francis notice the figure jogging towards them from the bushes – the others are focusing on what is in front of them. The figure appears to be a male elf, slightly built and with close fitting clothes of dark blue and light grey. A large book is chained to his belt, hung like a weapon in a scabbard.

Party status and map both updated. You’re up…

I missed an ooze! How embarrassing.

Falling uncharacteristically quiet Pious redoubles his efforts. Oblivious to new arrivals outside.

Power Attack: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (4) + 5 - 1 = 8
DAMAGE: 1d6 + 9 ⇒ (5) + 9 = 14

Wiping the ichor from his eyes, Iradyiel feels the healing touch, "Thanks Aza." He then swings his club at the nasty creature again.

attack: Club, two handed, rage, PA RA, AC -3
attack: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (10) + 9 = 19 for damage: 1d10 + 9 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 9 + 3 = 16

Aza nods and gives a scared grin in response, before snapping her fingers to create a small glow of guiding light, and touches it to Iradyiel's shoulder. "ضربة حقيقية." she mutters in draconic.

Aza casts Guidance on Iradyiel.

"Raah!" Chest Thumper barks in victory as the slime thing fails to connect with him. Pious' advice rings in his ears, though so he is not going to waste time trying to cut it with his axe. Instead, he tries to distract it, though that seems difficult with something that he can't determine how it senses, to leave an opening for Pious.

Aid Another Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

Francis still wants nothing to do with the big slimy thing and the furless ones seem to have it relatively under control now that they've hauled the one with the big stick out of it.

But now there is something coming at them from the other direction. So far there have been no furless and scaleless people who were still alive trying to kill them but he wasn't going to take too many chances.

He rushes toward the man running toward them, stopping close enough to charge him if he proves hostile (within 25'.) Then he rises up and bangs his fists on his chest while letting out a feral roar and revealing his razor sharp teeth. The chainmail he's wearing jingles along with the hollow thudding of fist on chest.

Intimidation: 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (2) - 2 = 0

Francis still wants nothing to do with the big slimy thing and the furless ones seem to have it relatively under control now that they've hauled the one with the big stick out of it.

But now there is something coming at them from the other direction. So far there have been no furless and scaleless people who were still alive trying to kill them but he wasn't going to take too many chances.

He rushes toward the man running toward them, stopping close enough to charge him if he proves hostile (within 25'.) Then he rises up and bangs his fists on his chest while letting out a feral roar and revealing his razor sharp teeth. The chainmail he's wearing jingles along with the hollow thudding of fist on chest.

Well that's aggravating. Apparently this place has no windows or other doors so I have to go all the way around.

The elf in blue and grey came around the corner to take a look inside. The corridors were far too cramped for his preferred tactics.

Double move again, around to the front.

Hey Vedic I think Francis came out to greet you.

OOps! Missed that, thanks.

The elf stopped short in front of the giant angry ape. "Call off your beast." he called to the house. "I will defend myself if it attacks."

Round 2 retcon:
Pious flails about with his curtain pole as a make-do club, swinging a mighty two-handed overhead blow which misses the blob but demolishes a nearby chair spatters gouts of brown goo across the room.

Round 3:
Continuing his frenzied assault on the blob, Pious lays about him with a divine-inspired fury. Standing ankle-deep in the scattered shreds of the creature’s substance, his curtain pole swings left and right trailing gloop in its wake. On the other side of the blob, Iradyiel swings his club with uncontrolled rage. Under their combined attack the ooze begins to lose its integrity, shrinking in size and vitality as it is scattered across the room and walls.

Caught between the two of them, working to parry the blobs attacks and make openings for Pious, Chest Thumper catches a face full of spattered brown goo just as he is ducking away from a lunge from the monster. Distracted he catches a full-on blow in the jaw Crit strike, 17 damage + 2 acid, leaves you on 1 HP remaining I think... rattling his teeth and slamming him back against the wall covered in a thick coating of brown-green filth across his face and one shoulder.

Behind them Aza monitors the fight and boosts Iradyiel with her divine guidance, before turning round startled as Francis turns and runs off to the south to confront the approaching elf. That was a terrible ‘Intimidate’ roll. What does a ‘0’ look like, or feel like for Vedic?

Round 4:
The blob is on the back foot (hmm – poor choice of idiom) so whoever is first to post a hit vs AC4 will finish it off. Once this is done, you’re out of combat so feel free to move on and respond to the fight, meet the elf, heal up, search the property, investigate the candle-wax sealed panel door, etc etc.

Feeling Aza's touch again, it seemed different somehow, Seamus sees the oozing monster retaliate against Pious, "Your beginning to look a little worse for wear, Master Shepard. We need to end this thing now." Then as the monster is distracted by Chest Thumper, Iradiel swings his club again at the center of the thing.

attack: Club, two handed, rage, PA RA, guidance and aid, AC -3
attack: 1d20 + 9 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 9 + 1 + 1 = 17 for damage: 1d10 + 9 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 9 + 3 = 18

As the monster splatters into small glops of goo, Iradiel releases the rage, nodding thanks to Chest Thumper and asking Pious. "Are you OK Master Shepard?"

Francis is definitely taking a rank in Intimidation next level.

Chest Thumper sees stars after the blob of goo nails him with a surprisingly solid piece of itself. It is fortunate that the wall is behind him to lean against or he might have fallen on his rump.

Fortunately, Iradyiel beats the last bit of coherency out of it before the thing can capitalize on it's success.

Still, he wants to head this pain off before it begins and as the bruise starts to form on his jaw he calls on the rejuvenating power of nature.

CLW: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (5) + 3 = 8

"Do I hear voices outside?" he asks, not quite trusting his senses but hearing something about a "beast."

He heads towards the ruckus on legs that grow a little less wobbly with every step.

When he sees Francis he actually laughs at his brother and just how not impressive he looks. He can't even define what it is that isn't frightening. The ape is, after all, a 500 pound, savage creature but he just looks...comical. Maybe it's the way his fur sticks out of his armor, making ruffs around his neck and arms.

He grows more serious as he sees the strange elf standing there with a crossbow in hand. Much like Francis, he assumes that danger is going to come from lizarfolk in the area, not elves, but he's not going to be too trusting.

"He won't attack unless you give him a reason to. Who are you? Why are you here?"

As the ooze collapses into a less-formed clump of jelly, Aza immediately brings the wand to Chest Thumper, gifting him a piece of its healing energy, before replacing the wand with its lighter counterpart and healing Iradyiel. With that task done, she moves to the wax sealed door and attempts to heave it open, a small amount of panic in her actions. "Is s-someone in there? Are y-you okay?"

Cure Moderate Wounds (CT): 2d8 + 3 ⇒ (3, 7) + 3 = 13

Cure Light Wounds (Iradyiel): 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

Strength to pull open the door: 1d20 ⇒ 11

"My name is Vedic. I am helping the woman who owns this place." the elf said, moving past the ape and looking into the house.

nodding to Aza as she touches him with the wand, "Thank you Aza."

As Aza heads to the door, and Chest Thumper speaks to the stranger. Iradyiel attempts to watch both situations to determine which may turn volatile.

He Smiles at Aza's effort and tells her, "give me a couple of seconds to recover my strength and I will help you." Iradiel begins to reach for his Kunai to pry the door open with.

Hearing the stranger, Vedic he calls out, "So the people who live here are safe?"

"I am fine Iradyiel, the Lord protects."

Pious gathers up an armful of soiled curtain and smears slime from his face, it is not immediately clear whether there is more or less grime on his face.

Grabbing a vial of tattooists ink from his pack Pious pours the contents away and fills it with some of the liquifying ooze. He is just about to turn his attention to the tallow sealed door when he hears Francis's mating cry and raised voices outside.

Drawing his sword and exiting the building he is confronted by a crossbow wielding elf.

"I know not of your part in this. But if you are friend, or foe who values your time on this plane, then relinquish your weapon. Damnation claims the unwary."

Intimidation: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31

Vedic is faced by a filthy middle aged man in piecemeal armour, tattoos cover him head to toe. In his right hand he carries a beautifully crafted longsword that practically hums with static energy, charge runs up and down the blade casting strange shadows around the man. In his left hand he brandishes a curtain pole.

Welcome!

Aza inspects the panel door; it’s closed but unlocked and the sealing wax around the frame is not a problem. As she shoves it open, she hears a faint but clear trembling voice on the other side; [smaller]water… [/smaller]. Pushing her way inside, she sees a small closet stuffed with household goods: boxes, brooms, crates, and linens, a lampstand, a saddle. Looking at the back of the panel door, household tallow has been used to seal the doorframe against the ooze.

Laying across the floor is a man similar in complexion to Sheriff Adaela, wearing simple work clothes but clearly extremely weak. He’s pale but covered in red blotches; he looks close to death as he stares up at you with a confused look on his face. He whispers [smaller]"Misha…?" [/smaller].

Hearing the stranger, Vedic he calls out, "So the people who live here are safe?"

"One of them is." the elf answered. He looked into the house, and seeing that the giant ooze was defeated he gestured back the way he came.

"You can come out now." he said quietly. "It is safe." Using Message to call back to Misha.

"Are you the adventurers I have been hearing about? Killed a troll and saved a village?" he asked the group.

Francis was completely befuddled as he watched the newcomer brush past him. He directed a questioning hoot toward Chest Thumper.

The half-orc shrugged. "Because you're not scary," Chest Thumper told him.

Francis gabbled on a bit while the pair followed Vedic into the building.

"I don't know. Practice," the half-orc continued.

Seeing the man on the other side of the formerly sealed door, he rushes to his side to determine what ails him.

Heal Check: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (6) + 11 = 17

He grunts as he finds the man suffering from two different very common jungle maladies.

The first he cures by the simple expedient of giving him some water from his skin.

The second he treats with some bark, leaves, flowers and seeds he has gathered.

"Thirsty and sick. This should help.
You should be feeling better, soon," he says to the man.

Earlier
Iradiel nods to Pious, "Indeed he does, Master Shepard, indeed he does." He rolls his eyes as Pious moves out the door, toward the new person, looking at Aza as she opens the door revealing the sick guy, he asks. "Can't we all just play nice?"

now
Looking past Shepard and Francis, Iradyiel, nods his head at the new man, "That's us, were here to help people, can't you tell?"

He steps back as Chest Thumper comes through the door to inspect the man in the closet, turning to the new guy, "Vedic, right? You say you were sent by the woman, is that her husband? Is there anyone else we should be looking for?"

"I do not know. She will be able to tell you herself shortly." Vedic answered, glancing over his shoulder at the half-orc having a conversation with the ape. The corners of the elf's mouth twitched up.

My continuing refusal to put ranks in heal bites me again! I really have to fix that.

Aza nods to Chest thumper, a bit worried for the man as the half-orc treats him. "I'm glad w-we arrived in time," she mumbles under her breath. She looks behind her towards the elf that has just arrived on the porch, her gaze narrowed somewhat suspiciously. Still, she doubted she could be as intimidating as their resident holy man, so she focused on keeping the diseased man on the floor comfortable, not that she could offer much beyond a soothing, stuttering voice.

A few minutes afterwards, once it is evident that the fighting is over, a slenderly-built middle-aged human woman wearing a plain green woven dress approaches in the fading dusk from the dika plantation. Cautious at first, she is wary of the Papaya Knights but on seeing that her husband is still alive she rushes to his side. ”Thank you, oh thank you all so much, “ she says, ”I was so sure I had lost him” She turns to Vedic, ”Thank you so much for seeing me safely here – I never thought I’d see Jheri again...” In her arms her husband, visibly less disoriented after treatment from CT, sits up and joins in the thanks.

Together they tell their story. When the terrible near-hurricane hit the area only five days ago Jheri and Misha were alone at their home. They took shelter in their house sheltered in the windbreak of the plantation, and waited out the storm. Neither Jheri nor Misha suffered any injury, but the house suffered moderate damage to the thatched roof. Unbeknownst to them however, a large and vicious ochre jelly had been blown in from the marshes, and attacked the plantation house catching them by stealth the next morning as the couple were repairing the damage.

Misha had been on the roof when the jelly came in through the window, having first digested all the hens in the chicken coop through the wire. Alerted by his yells Misha watched in horror as Jheri retreated from the blob into the closet, yelling to her to run for help. She fled on foot, fearing the worst, later found Vedic on the road and willing to help.

Jheri it seems had the nous to seal up the panel doorframe with tallow wax, preventing the jelly from gaining entrance to the closet. Without water, food or sleep, though, and already suffering from a bout of red ache, his health was suffering, whilst all the while the jelly was waiting patiently outside.

The time is late, and although the main room of the house is damp, foul-smelling and jelly-spattered, Misha is keen to offer the party accommodation in rest of the house for the night. She directs those who are interested to a nearby rickety wooden shed which acts as a warm water bath-house, courtesy of a magical contraption Jheri’s father, a capable magician, constructed. She then quickly gets the kitchen stove relit, and won’t hear of anyone leaving before the morning and certainly not without taking food. She is delighted to find that the jelly failed to find the pantry, and begins to prepare a delicious meal from the haunches of cold meats and ripened dika fruits, whilst setting food out by the door for her missing pet cat, who she believes fled from the jelly but is still missing.

Whilst she prepares food, Jheri props himself up on a chair and asks the party about themselves, and what they are seeking. He has a good knowledge of the local area having lived here for many years, and whilst talking he directs Iradyiel towards two kegs of homebrew diku brandy ”Come lad, crack that open and take a draught – it’ll put hair on your chest ‘til you look like yon ape over there!” He chuckles a wheezy weak laugh, ”Seriously, drink up, it’s good stuff. Brewed right here on this farm from my father’s recipe.”

If and only if one or more of you are willing to tuck in to Jheri’s homebrew diku brandy, you will be able to quiz him about the local area, its peoples and places. What do you want to ask him about?

I’m assuming people are happy to rest at the farmhouse? Those people who were shipwrecked this morning and trekked beside the marshes all day are already tired and hungry.

Over to you. Actions, reactions, RP? Feel free to ask any questions of the couple. Also, where are you planning to head in the morning? I have reinstated the region map in my profile.

While the Jheri and Misha reconnected and offered hospitality, Vedic idly held a hand out towards the disgusting remains of the massive ooze. It began to dry up, congeal and turn to dust, which then dissipated into smoke. The process was slow. It might have been faster to clean it up by hand, but Vedic's arcane approach was certainly cleaner and less of a workout.

"I've been hearing about your group for a week now but no one seems to know what you are doing here besides helping people out." Vedic said. "What is your story?"

To Vedic
"I can't s-speak for the oth-thers," Aza starts shakily, having very eagerly watched Vedic prestidigitate the ooze remains away, "But as for myself-" she performs a small florish, and her cloak rustles with an invisible wind, "-I am just a simple m-m-mage, looking for a new home. And I suppose I might've f-found one in Pridon's Hearth.." She adjusts her hat, tipped slightly askew from the winds. "Where do you hail from?"

At Dinner
Aza, eager for a homecooked meal after their trials over the past few days, swiftly but politely devours any food placed before her. She gratefully partakes in the homebrew, although at an almost glacial pace, wanting to limit her alcohol consumption. In between more casual conversation, she inserts a question - "Have you noticed any l-lizardfolk activity around here? Recently, I mean?"

Then

As the others move past him to greet the newcomer and it becomes apparent that the elf bears them no immediate ill will, Pious lowers his sword.

"Well met then, and well met to your companion. May you find the Lord before you are lost."

Later

"Your cat is dead."

Pious does not beat around the bush, better that the plantation mistress knows. There is no hesitation from Pious when the brandy starts flowing.

"'Spread my word to the people, for who can follow the path they cannot see.' That is why I am here Vedic, to help people indeed. To save their very souls from ignorance and sin."

"Your cat is dead."

Aza, taking another small sip of the homebrew, immediately spits it out and enters into a fit of coughing.

Neither Francis nor Chest Thumper are ones to pass up a free meal, especially a hot one.

Before they dig in, Chest Thumper helps his brother take off his armor, a process that takes a great deal of jerking, twisting and pulling. It looks like a wrestling match that they're both losing, then, abruptly, Francis is free.

As usual, their table manners match and are far from pristine. They will also both partake of the dika brandy. Chest Thumper starts to slur. Francis lays on the floor and...giggles.

He nods sagely as Pious announces the fate of the cat.

"We all came on the same boat. The sheriff asked us to check a fort for her. Since then, we've just been trying to help people and get to the bottom of what's happening," he answers Vedic's question.

"Have you seen or heard about any activity to the northeast? At Quinn's first colony or the tar pits?" he asks Jheri.

I think I forgot to hit 'submit' or the boards ate my post, fortunatily I had it saved on a word document, sorry about the delay

’I don’t think our new friend is from the continent here, he clearly isn’t one of the local tribes.’ As the couple reacquaints, Iradyiel watches the wizard dry up the remains of the jelly. When he introduces himself and inquires about the team, Iradyiel politely waits for Aza to respond then he echo’s her question. ”Greetings, master Vedic, I also am interested in where you hail from. As for me I am from Almas, My parents are pathfinders. Lorainne Chadwick a librarian and Eldlen Madras a famous Pathfinder Explorerer he is from the Mwangi Expanse. I wanted to see where my father grew up, so here I am in the land of his birth, just trying to good while I’m here.”

As dinner is being served Iradyiel dutifully fetches the two kegs of homebrew diku brandy. He carefully taps the keg as he had seen done in the couple maybe one taverns he had been in. He pours himself a mugful then taking a drink, he puckers his face like he had just bitten into a lemon and squinting his watering eyes as swallows he squeaks out ”Smooth.”

Sitting down beside Aza, he occasionally sips the brandy as the farmer answers the parties’ questions. Eventually asking his own, ”You haven’t happen to see a halfling named Muhdzuzi have you?”

"Absalom, originally. The Arcanamirium. " Vedic answered. "I have not been there for many years though. Mostly, I am a sailor. I enjoy travel."

That evening:
Over the course of the evening, the party is able to dry out and relax in the small but homely Praet home. Misha’s food is simple but satisfying, if perhaps quite heavily spiced for some of the party’s palate. Jheri’s dika brandy is terribly more-ish; it’s a ferociously strong spirit but deceptively sweet and floral to taste, and quite quickly the first 2-litre keg is replaced by another as the house rocks to laugher at Francis’ boozy giggling.

After the ordeal he has been through Jheri is almost falling asleep from the start and soon after eating he retires to rest. Misha plays the genial host in his place, regaling the party with stories of her youth growing up in the slums of Sargaava, and her experience setting up the plantation with Jheri and his recently-deceased father. Hearing the party’s news of Fort Breakthrough and the lizardfolk raid she is surprised and horrified; there has never in her memory been a case of lizardfolk raiding the area before. ”There’s tribes of lizardfolk up north of here, I know; the Mireborn tribe they call themselves. They war with the boggart tribes up in the Jungle of Hungry Trees, but they’ve never come this far down south.” She chews her lip, thoughtfully; ”I know they used to go hunting along the northern coast of the peninsula, round by the old watchtower, and inter their dead in the tar pits. If they’re roaming this area you might find clues there. But it doesn’t sound like them to be so brazen, and certainly I’ve never heard of them having the power to summon weather as powerful as this…”

The tower and the tar pits are shown as locations C1 and B5 on the area map. Travelling one hex takes 8 hours to cross on foot due to the rough and rugged terrain, or 2 full days to explore fully, looking for hidden camps etc.

When asked by Iradyiel about about Muhdzuzi, Misha frowns. ”That sounds like a Cashill name, right enough. Those folk are go a-hunting through here often enough – sly and sneaky so you never notice them. They raid our dika-fruit sometimes, but the only time we’ve caught them was when three of the little folk gorged themselves on fermented fruit – drunk and insensible they were !” She smiles at the thought, then glances sideways at Chest Thumper’s slurred words and Francis curled up on the floor. ”Still they can be dangerous too. They bring down big prey for their size. Watch out if you’re headed towards their village.”

Neither Misha nor Jheri claim to have heard anything of the ‘First Colony’ which the drunken Artemis Quentin alluded to in the Stone Hall on the night of the storm.

Eventually the party retire to sleep; given the number of them and the state of the main room, it’s a crowded and noisy night, but cosy and warm nonetheless. Those who indulged heavily on Jheri’s dika brandy sleep deeply; those who didn’t, suffer Francis’ loud and drunken snoring…

Next morning:

Eggs and bacon anyone?

Those who indulged the night before will need a DC14 fortitude save to avoid a raging hangover. You were warning by the Sheriff about Jheri’s homebrew…

Where next?

While they're in relative safety and before he enjoys too much of the dika brandy, Chest Thumper holds out a hand towards Iradyiel's knobkerrie (how is it I've seen that word so many times and can't remember how to spell it?)club.

"I believe you asked me to work on your weapon?" he asks.

Assuming Iradyiel agrees, Chest Thumper will take the weapon and go out on the porch. He will sit on his heels, the club balanced across his knees and his hands on it lightly. He'll chant softly to himself, watching the jungle that is always close in this land, a reminder of nature's power and that man must use all his strength to hold it back if he hopes to tame it and bend it to his will.

That is what he is trying to do. He spends a few minutes filling in the gap that he left in his spells in the morning then an hour channeling the power of nature into the club, hardening it and balancing it.

When the task is done, he bows to the trees as though they are a group of nobles then rises and returns to the group.

To his chagrin, his absence has only allowed Francis to get further into his cups...or bowls, in this case.

He hands the club back to Iradyiel.

Hope you don't mind the minor retconning, GM. I'm casting Masterwork Transformation on Iradyiel's club. I left a slot open yesterday to do it but forgot and I didn't use any of my spells today at all.

It takes some time for Chest Thumper to convince Francis to go to bed and, in the end, he has to trick him into believing that there is no more brandy. The ape is incapable of crying but he whimpers and whines as though devastated by the loss.

"Come on you big baby," Chest Thumper grumbles to him, having had enough himself to be in no mood to deal with his pouting brother.

Chest Thumper Hangover Fort Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Francis Hangover Fort Save: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15

The half-orc wakes up remarkably well rested and without the least sign of having over-imbibed the night before. Other than being a bit harder to wake up than normal, his ape brother amazingly little sign of how much of the brandy he drank the night before.

They are both quite hungry, though and Francis is rooting around for food while Chest Thumper communes with the jungle to replenish his supernatural abilities.

Chest Thumper shoos him away when he returns. "People don't like when you go through their things," he says.

Francis grunts indignantly. "Because they were dead, but don't get any ideas, we only killed them because they were trying to kill us first," Chest Thumper counters.

"I say we push on and see if we can find the lost colony on our way to the tar pits. I don't like the possibility of invading someone's holy place but we know the lizard folk come to the tar pits. Given the unusual way they're acting, maybe something has gone wrong there," Chest Thumper says when the group starts their discussion of plans for the day.

While Aza wasn't the weakest of constitution, she could tell that most of the other Papaya Knights easily outmatched her when it came to heavy drinking - especially after she found herself incredibly tipsy after less than a mug of the strong alcohol. Her stutter becomes noticeably more pronounced, and she manages to spill more than a little of the brew onto her robes, but eagerly engages in the conversation all the same.

Hangover Fort Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Of course, the following morning she awoke and tensed in preperation for what she was sure would be a searing headache, but none came. The mage squinted her eyes open, waiting for her head to split or a wave of nausea, but the only remnent of the previous night's carousing was the stain on her robes. She sighed and mumbled something about not packing extra, before conjuring some water and attempting to rub out at least the scent of the dried alcohol, before giving up and just resolving to keep her dark funerary cloak tied close around her.

Her stomach softly rumbling, she sits to discuss the party's next move. "If n-nothing else, perhaps w-we can find a lizardfolk who is more willing to parley with us?" she asks, hopefully. "Although, I don't know if th-they'd want to talk with interlopers on holy ground..." Aza looks down, a bit dejected. "But we have to try."

Vedic took a small sip of the liquor, enough to appreciate it's strength and flavor, but he knew better than to imbibe. Magic took careful concentration. Drunken wizards were bad. Hungover wizards were worse.

Still, he had a great deal of fun during the evening. The antics of the drunken ape were extremely amusing to the elf. He payed careful attention to the discussion of the weather. "I suspected that these storms weren't natural. That's what I came here to investigate. The winds and rain are causing havoc with the local sea lanes. The ship I was supposed to transfer to refused to make landfall, so I'm stuck until things go back to normal."

fort: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
last night
with Chest thumper
Just before the settle down at the table, Iradyiel turns to Chest Thumper, ”Oh thank you Master Thumper, I had almost forgotten I had asked you to do it for me. Here is the club,” Iradyiel hands his friend the knobkerrie club his father had make him, ”Is there anything else you need from me?”

As the evening progresses, and Chest Thumper returns the club, Iradyiel takes it outside and swings it a couple of times. Going back inside, smiling broadly, ”Thanks Master Thumper, the balance is amazing, you did wonderfully! Look how it shines in the light! If there is anything I can help you with just let me know!”
Seriously CT thanks, GM I’ll subtract 150 gp. From Iradiel’s total wealth.

with Misha and Jheri
Iradyeil listens to both their hosts carefully, interjecting, ”I would like to see the old watchtower and the tar pits. We know the wild halflings can be dangerous, but we promised Muhdzuzi we would try and rescue his people along with ours.” Eventually Iradyiel, feeling a warm buzz due to the alcohol heads to bed.

in the morning
Waking in the morning with a very sour taste in his mouth, but other wise feeling good, Iradyiel nods toward the offer of bacon and eggs. ”Bacon and eggs would be wonderful, Mistress Misha.” He then smiles at Jheri, the brew was delicious but I don’t think it would be wise to drink and then travel. But thank you for sharing last night.”[/b]

As they eat, Iradyiel nods his head in agreement with Chest thumper. ”I think going to the ‘Lost Colony’ first is a good idea. We may learn why this has happened before or what were up against.””

Hearing the word ‘Parley’ he swallows the mouthful of eggs and asks Aza, ”Since there seem to be two tribes of lizardfolk’s do you think it is possible that they are not working together?”

Hearing Vedic's comment about being 'stuck' Iradyiel smiles, "Maybe after being here a while you will like it and decide to stay!"

The Praet Plantation

The Papaya Knights tuck in to eggs and bacon in the morning seemingly unaffected by their exposure to Jheri’s homebrew the night before. Indeed their clear heads and sunny demeanour catch Misha and Jheri somewhat by surprise. In truth Misha rested only fitfully last night, worried that a 150 lbs armoured ape with a hangover would wreak more damage to the plantation than the recent hurricane.

It could be that once news reaches Pridon, surviving unharmed an encounter with Jheri’s dika brandy will rank in heroism alongside their defeat of the lizardfolk raiders or Graular the Forest Troll.

As they gather their kit after breakfast, Jheri and Misha approach them with sincere thanks. Jheri carries a small lockbox with him, and from inside brings out a leather-bound book, and a small pouch of clinking coins. ”We’re not rich folk, he starts, ”but we’d like you to take some small tokens of thanks from us for what you’ve done here. There’s this pouch, plus this belonged to my Father”, he holds out the book, ”and it’s no use to me. I’ve no aptitude for the arcane arts. Perhaps you can use the knowledge within in your search for the cause of the storms. Oh, and you’ll need provisions for the journey, too…” He hefts a 3 litre keg into Francis’ arms; ”It’s 6 year’s aged – good stuff. Make it last!”

The pouch contains coins and semi-precious gems to the value of 250 gold crowns. The leather-bound book contains a dozen pages of densely-scribbled text, glyphs and symbols, and detects as magical. The keg is yes you guessed – more dika brandy.

Searching for the Lost Colony I’m taking a collective decision to head northeast to search for Artemis Quinn’s ‘Lost Colony’, then maybe onward to the Tar Pits

Leaving the Praet’s home behind them, the party head northeast, skirting the lower ground and humid swamps to the southeast. The day is clear but windy –dark clouds scud past overhead at high speed, and far away to the north a dense black mass of storm clouds is visible, another offshoot of the huge and brooding storm still lurking out to sea on the westward horizon. Occasional thunder claps are heard through the morning. Today somewhere else is on the receiving end of a hurricane.

It takes most of the day to travel to the general area by the river where Artemis Quinn claimed the lost colony had been revealed by his ‘visions’. As you walk, Pious and Iradyiel relate again Artemis’ ‘performance’ for their benefit in the Stone Hall on the night of the great storm:

Sinking into a trance-like posture, perhaps more about performance than mystic power, Artemis proclaimed in a low voice ”I see… I see… long ago a village, refugees from the Sodden Lands, settling north of here. A pious group, searching for religious freedom and escape from persecution…I see that village abandoned, vine and jungle covering all…forgotten to time, yet a relic of their devotions remains… “ He lifted his head from his ‘trance’. ”That’s it – that’s all I have.” Sensing perhaps some scepticism from Pious or Iradyiel, he added; ”I have the location of the lost colony – 2 days’ travel north east of here, by a river. I speak the truth!”

***

The search for this this ‘Lost’ or ‘First’ Colony is likely to take some time – you have to assume you’re not going to stumble onto anything within a few hours. Can you tell me how you intend to search, and what you are looking for? What do you think is the best way to search and where are you looking? Specifically in what sort of terrain are you focusing your search (along the riverbanks? a hilltop? looking for stony structures in the lowland marshes?) Finally, how cautious are you being about the search - are you staying close, spreading out, or splitting up?

Taken together, what you decide will inform your chances of finding anything, and perhaps the chances of an encounter whilst you're searching…

Fort: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10 Ha!

Pious rises late and in a foul temper. He eats with his customary lack of table manners and, if anything, a more confrontational demeanor than usual. He dreads leaving the house but once the party leave he is happy to be on the road in the fresh air. He offers the plantationers a deep bow as they leave.

"Unto those in need offer succor, for in gifts thou shalt find me"

As the party make progress into the wilderness Pious' mind draws him back to his conversation with Artemis

"A pious group, searching for religious freedom" Religion is not freedom. For when God doth possess a heart we are his to command.

I'll bow to party opinion on search patterns

Vedic said his goodbyes to Misha and Jheri, accepting the book with appreciation.

"Is it alright if I join you?" Vedic asked as the group prepared to leave. "We seem to be working toward similar goals. I don't have many leads on what might be causing these storms, and your group seems to be headed into places where I might find information."

If no one else has use for the spellbook, I'll take it.

Neither Chest Thumper nor Francis have much use for money, at least they don't think they do, though they're both enjoying valuables. He does not push the coin purse away, though he doesn't take it personally. He also can gain nothing from the spellbook so he does not challenge Vedic's claim on it.

"Thank you for your hospitality. I'm sorry about your cat," Chest Thumper says as they part from the Praets.

He shrugs in response to Vedic. "The jungle is a free place. There would be little we could do to stop you from coming with us. We face great dangers so any assistance we get is welcome as well."

"Stop that," he says to Francis about an hour into the trail as the ape has been trying to figure out how to get into the cask he is carrying for a quarter of that time.

When they arrive at the area where they think the lost colony might be, Chest Thumper largely sticks to the river's edge. Given how trackless the jungle here is, anyone hoping to get any supplies from the outside world would have to build near the natural pathway provided by the river.

He looks for areas with heavy vines since that seems to have been an important part of Quinn's prophecy.

Because the jungle is notorious for reclaiming what has been taken from it by man and because he knows there isn't much chance that stone was used in construction, he particularly looks for pylons or other remains of docks that might be in the river as these would be the most likely to still be standing.

And because THIS jungle is notorious, particularly lately, for being filled with things that want to kill them, he will not suggest, and will argue against splitting up to search.

Anyone know any good divination spells that could help us out? Is there a Find Ruin spell somewhere?

Aza curiously picks up the magical book and examines it, unsure as to its properties - a simple spellbook, like her own, would not give off a magical aura, would it?

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Aza will examine the book, but will likely not fight to keep it.

While she had some reservations, a gift freely given was not something she would deny - if she were rewarding someone or thanking them, she wouldn't want them to protest too much, either. "Th-thank you so much for your hospitality," Aza bows slightly to their hosts, "It was a pleasure to meet with you, and I am sorry ab-bout your cat. You've helped us a great deal."

Towards Vedic, she smiles and nods. "I would be grateful for your assistance."

As the party arrives at their search location, Aza shies away from any mention of splitting up or even spreading too far apart. The jungle itself could probably kill her, getting her lost in its strange environs, let alone all of the natural and unnatural creatures that likely wandered these parts. She suggests, though she is not sure how useful this suggestion might be, that they search for non-animal activities, any sort of man-made ruins, and will keep up her magic detection throughout their search - just in case she can spot any stray auras.

By the late afternoon the Papaya Knights reach the river, well, a river, in the general area referred to by Artemis Quinn. Their attention is first drawn to the sound of rushing water and a violent run of white water rapids. It makes sense that anyone using the river for transport would site themselves downstream from this obstacle, so for the next four hours until night falls, the party roams the area. Sticking closely together they sweep the river bank following Chest Thumper’s wise thoughts on what they should be looking for, and indeed, what they need to avoid.

Aside from wet feet, tired legs, a near miss with a venomous snake Iradyiel almost sat on, and a single sighting of a large forest bear which watched their search for almost 15 minutes before returning to the jungle, the party found little for their efforts.

Little, but not nothing. Pious’ keen eyes caught sight of the rotting skeleton framework of an old abandoned kayak caught in the mud by the river, and Chest Thumper found several pot shards half a mile further along the river bed. Funny how a clay pot, so fragile whole, is almost indestructible when reduced to fragments. There was something here, once. But it’s been hidden, by time and by the jungle.

With the light failing, the party are forced to give up and camp for the night.

How and where are you sleeping? Are you camping out on the river bank or in the shelter of the jungle nearby? Are you seeking height on a nearby forested hillock, or visibility by the rapids? The biting insects are worse by the river, but each attracts different types of animal at night…

Let me know who’s taking watch, if anyone, and what you eat that night. Is anyone going off alone, hunting or foraging?

as they leave
Accepting the small gift from the Praets, Iradyiel nods politely, ”Thank you, we receive your token of appreciation in the spirit it is given.”

As they leave he smiles at Vedic and points toward the book. ”If you don’t want to keep the book Master Vedic I will carry it. Paper is always useful in the jungle. It’s much more comfortable that leaves.”

Now.
As Iradyiel picks up a piece of broken clay he shakes his head, ”I really was expecting something more that ceramics. You know, like a lost city, or a tower, or a mausoleum or hidden tunnels going deep in the ground.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he points to the high ground. ”Should we camp up there? That way we can see anything approaching, and possibly determine where were going tomorrow.”

Is the book an actual spellbook?

Vedic looked appalled. "I sincerely hope you are joking."

The elf set up a rain canopy laid out his small bed roll. His blankets and sleeping mat were inside a long waterproof sack, which he climbed inside of and propped himself up against a tree to read the new book. His pack doubled as his pillow.

He pulled a small crystal sphere from an amulet around his neck and tossed it into the air. It spun to life with a faint blue glow and started buzzing around like a silent hummingbird, flitting about the camp seeming to inspect things.

"Keep watch." Vedic said.

The little floating orb changed colors briefly and rose about 40 feet into the air to slowly orbit the camp.

"I'm not quite done here yet, Iradyiel. I think we should search more in the morning. If anything, this just tells us we're in the right area. Now it's just a matter of finding the right place. I know time is of the essence but a few hours of exploring in the morning can't hurt," Chest Thumper says as the sun begins to set and the party starts thinking about a place to sleep for the night.

He nods in agreement to the half-elf's choice of campsites. As usual, his camp preparations are minimal with he and his ape brother doing little more than gathering a nest made of the larger leaves in the area. And, of course, the two of them wrestling the armor off the ape.

They eat out of the rations they've brought, neither of them particularly wanting to wander into the jungle to find food and Chest Thumper gives Francis one, ONE cup of brandy.

Also, as usual, Francis does not take a watch but will sleep through the night, unless awoken by something unusual. He does watch the little sphere curiously and swipes at it as it circles up into the sky.

"That's not yours, leave it alone," Chest Thumper chides him.

He'll take the midwatch as his eyes are the best adapted to the darkness.

Aza sighs with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "I agree, Iradyiel. Given what we've run into so far, though, I would ex-ex... assume that such a place would be filled to the brim with undead." She prepares her bedroll with care, searching for a comfy part of the ground to sit, and offers to take the first watch as she pulls out her spellbook and makes a few shaky, practically illegible notes in it, often quite a bit quieter in the evenings after Jit's departure.

However, Aza stares up at the glowing sphere with more than a little wonder as it floats into the air, then looks back down at Vedic. "W-wow, that's pretty... wh-what is it?" she asks softly.

random victim…: 1d5 ⇒ 1

Earlier...

During a rest break in the trek northeast, Aza and Vedic examine the leather-bound book. It is indeed an arcane caster’s record of his known spells plus various musings on certain specialist avenues of mystical study. The author was by your judgement an unremarkable mage and the musings themselves hold little of real interest. The spells however...

Later...

Leaving the rushing waters of the riverbank behind them the party head towards a small hillock, covered over with trees and thick jungle vines, but drier and less noisy. Iradyiel and Chest Thumper lead them along a deer trail up to find a rocky cleft sheltered from the rain and with a view down to the river below. Reconnoitering the immediate area, Pious even locates a small but crystal clear bubbling brook running down the rocks of the hillock – perfect for washing off the day’s grime.

Back in the cleft the Papaya Knights drop their packs and relax, and turn their thoughts to their rumbling stomachs – it’s been a long and tiring day. With a small fire holding back the dark, they eat, share stories, and fall to rest.

***

Much later, Aza gently shakes Chest Thumper awake for his watch. The rest of the group are asleep - someone is gently snoring (I’m not clear who that would be?). Chest Thumper takes a dozen steps into the foliage to answer a call of nature, and it is while he doing so, admiring the view through the trees to the river below, that it hits him.

It’s the noise that gives it away - a bubbling brook? Atop a small hillock 30’ above the river? That’s odd… Watched silently from far above by Vedic’s Ioun stone, he follows the sound of the water up the rocky slope in dim starlight filtered through the jungle foliage, and locates the source.

In a tree-lined grove, he finds a hardwood statue, inclined at an angle and heavily weathered, but recognisably of two merged humanoid figures. The water, sparklingly clear pure water, spills magically and unendingly from a leaf-shaped metal bowl clasped in their hands. Looking around him, the shapes of the grove fall into shape: a number of tumbled walls, a door’s rotted timbers overgrown with roots, the remains of some flagstones, a stone bench.

He hurries back to tell the others.

Chest Thumper wakens the rest of the group (except Francis, who is used to ignoring his voice while he sleeps and is snoring the night away) with a few relatively soft calls to consciousness. They are still deep in the jungle, after all. Shouting for people to wake up is a sure way to get the attention of things whose attention is much better avoided.

"I found something. I think I found the village. There is a fountain and some ruins," he tells them as they come awake.

"It's back that way but we should probably wait until morning before we explore it. Daylight will help us all search and a good night's sleep will help us when we run into trouble." He does not think "if" is an option. The area around Pridon' Hearth is a dangerous place and there is sure to be trouble here. That trouble likely is the cause of this colony being abandoned in the first place.

Despite his caution, he is obviously excited about his discovery.

earlier
"Kidding?" Iradyiel shrugs, "Maybe I would save the parts that had written stuff so we could sell it. But paper is much softer than those rough banana leaves."

He nods in aggreement with Chest Thumper, "Good thinking Master Thumper"

Getting his bunk ready Seamus watches Vedic release the crystal sphere, Iradyiel asks, 'What will that do?"

Now
Rubbing his eyes as he wakes up, Iradyiel listens carefully while Chest Thumper explains what he found. Yawning widely, "That's great Master Thumper. I'm glad you found the source of the water. It almost kept me awake. I think you right, going in the morning would be best."

He nods at the moon, "Please wake me up when it's time for my watch."

did we ever designate a watch order?"

Earlier

"My Familiar. It's name is Array." Vedic replied to Aza.

Now

Vedic came awake with one hand already gathering a glowing power that dropped the temperature near him by a few degrees. When it was clear there was no danger he listened to the discussion but had nothing to add in his groggy, irritated state so he went back to sleep.

sorry long day out of town
Action 2&3, turn 2
perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

Iradyiel, quietly helps where he can: holding the boats lines, or loading gear or assisting people aboard. Even willing to be the last aboard their own longboat.

Seeing the men on the deck, Iradyiel points out. "Those men are drunk, we shouldn't let them beat up Galio. They don't even look armed."

Action 1 turn 3, preamble

'Filthy wild elf? Is he referring to me? Pain? Really...I wonder if that bottle will count as a weapon in their court system here.'

Seeing the one brother hit Galio with an oar and the second brother brandish a broken bottle, Iradyiel frowns, as he draws out his knobkerrie club . "Belay that, the question is how badly do we want to hurt them to teach them a lesson."

Iradyiel looks around the longboat, then realizes what he said, and quickly adds, "I don't mean to kill them, but a few bruises will teach them to watch their drinks and their tongues."

just talking here, but I realize that drawing a weapon is a move action, so I will account for that when it is Iradiels turn.

Action 1, last turn:
In assisting with the unloading, Iradyiel kept one eye out for unusual or interesting items among the cargo. It is whilst he was passing some of the crates across the deck that he found several canvass-wrapped packages containing a score or more of assorted blades and bows. "I'll take them!" demanded one of the prospectors, giving the half elf a hard look which shut down any further questions. Together with their cargo, the six prospectors and Mr. Blackwell set off in a longboat, heading away from the Little Tiger Dock into the night-time gloom.

Action 1, this turn:
I will say that you have had time before the boat reached the dock to draw weapons or retrieve kit, if you so wish.

The question regards force is very important. If you do attack, I need to know with what; and whether it was lethal or non-lethal. Remember the attack mod for attacking non-lethally with a lethal weapon.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Naima climbed out of the boat and attacked the first thug. positioning in a way that makes flanking next turn easy... attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24 critical confirm: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15 damage, sneak attack: 2d6 ⇒ (3, 1) = 4 critical damage: 1d6 ⇒ 5

Naima I understand you don't care to write as much RP as the others, but I do need as a minimum for you to be more clear on the mechanical detail. I assume you were thrusting with the rapier, and are dealing lethal damage. I see no reason why your attack is a sneak attack - the drunk can see you and is 'in combat' at the start. Also, I need to know what square you are moving to.

Naima leapt onto the dock, and in a whirl of motion, ran the first drunk through the side with her rapier. Tears of pain coursed down his side, but he fought on.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Turn 1:
Bad Guys
Punctuating his words with stabs of his oar, the second drunk threatened the prone merchant "Go home! We don't need city folk taking our jobs!" Intimidate: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (17) + 4 = 21, crashing the wooden weapon down around him.

The second bad guy, still shaken from Pious' words and now reeling from Naima's attack, lashed out with his broken bottle: Attack with broken bottle: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19, Lethal damage, broken bottle: 1d4 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4. His thrust drew blood from a light gash on her arm.

Gallio
Shaken; 5' move backwards; total defense. "Help! Help! Call the guard!"

Nwext up:
Naima
Bad Guys
Gallio
> Everyone else

Pious moved to the edge of the boat and hauled himself onto the dockside

Accrobatics: 1d20 + 0 - 4 ⇒ (7) + 0 - 4 = 3

But he was slow and cumbersome in his makeshift armour. Finally he stood in the dock holy writings in one hand, sword in the other.

Double move to L8.

As far as spells go, he believes that his power comes from Aroden, that Aroden isn't dead at all. Whether this is truly the case or his spells come from iomedea (as Aroden's inheritor) or from some indefinable force of nature, or from more sinister gods; is up to us to deside as the campaign progresses I guess. I'm open to ideas.

Naima I understand you don't care to write as much RP as the others, but I do need as a minimum for you to be more clear on the mechanical detail. I assume you were thrusting with the rapier, and are dealing lethal damage. I see no reason why your attack is a sneak attack - the drunk can see you and is 'in combat' at the start. Also, I need to know what square you are moving to.

I'm unable to describe what square I'm moving to since I can't see a map. Am I missing a map link somewhere?

In terms of the sneak attack, I believed him to be flat footed because it was the start of combat. I understand your ruling, it's just different than I have seen.

In terms of the lack of roleplay, I'm just really struggling to get into this format. I feel like I'm roleplaying in response to a block of text, while normally I see what happens as roleplaying in response to posts by other people. I've been trying my best to push through this discomfort and give the format a chance, but I'm finding it difficult. I hope that this is just a temporary issue, and that you can be patient with me while I work on this.

edit: oh, there's the map. I was looking in your documents that advanced the story and in the campaign header. I'll know where to look from now on. The square you put me in is fine, especially if you're not considering the enemy flat footed.

Stop this! We don't want to have to hurt you! yelled Naima. "Go away and we won't chase you."

a quick question GM, is getting out of the boat a move action? Wanting to charge/bull-rush L7 through M8, but need to know if getting out is a move action.

Yes you'll need a move to get onto the dock, so can't bull rush or charge starting from the longboat. You could 'trip' from the boat though , since you are level with drunk one's feet. I would say this wouldn't trigger an AOO either, since he cant reach the boat with a bottle.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Guys, I'm actually going to have to pull out of this game. The format just isn't working for me. I hope you guys have a good time.

Action: 1, turn 3
Climbing out of the longboat, Iradyiel, tapping the head of his knobkerrie club into his palm as he moves closer to the oar-swinger, "You boys should listen to the lady and go home to sleep this off."

intimidate: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (9) - 1 = 8

move action: Get out of boat, Move action: to 'M7'

Action 1
Aza, still trying to combat the sickness in her stomach, decided to hang back in the boat - she wasn't any good in a straight-up fight, anyway. Still, she raised a shaking finger and pointed at one of the toughs, muttering in draconic.

"أنا ج- يمكن أن يشعر يو الخوف الخاص بك، و- كنت - الحق في ب- يكون أفر-فريد."

Chest Thumper would have used only his fists to deal with the drunk ruffians until they picked up weapons. Though neither of the men had anything that was forged to the purpose, the broken glass bottle could kill as thoroughly as a knife and the oar was a massive club. Gallio could easily meet his end on this dock.

So, the Half-Orc attempted to unleash his most powerful weapon.

Get 'em! he said, aiming a finger at the nearest drunkard.

Handle Animal: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5

But Francis had grown bored with the whole exchange and wandered out of the longboat. He moved to the end of the docks and sat on top of some crates, looking back at the boat that they'd come from as though now regretting getting off of it.

Chest Thumper gaped at him then began cursing in 4 different languages as he climbed out of the boat himself. He reached for the great axe strapped to his back but did not have the martial skill to draw it quickly.

I don't know how you want to handle failed Handle Animal checks. I went ahead and wrote what Francis might do in this situation but of course you can adjust it or make the decision entirely when he fails.

Oh, and Chest Thumper is moving to square N8.

I know your spectacular 1 would have been a fail anyway, but you should have a +4 to handle Francis due to the 'link' of him being an animal companion. (Unless that's swapped out for some archetype or other that I've missed. If so, apologies)

@Naima. I'm finding the format hard myself, but a good group is work working for. If you really want to go then I wish you well for my part. But, personnaly, I think this is worth persevering with.

Oops...thanks for pointing that out. This is the first time I'm playing a druid so I'm still getting used to the mechanics.

Jamba steps out of the boat P8. He hexes the man with the bottle, attempting to decrease his attack by 2 Evil Eye. "You don't wanna use dat bottle now do ya? Let' talk dis out before da law be arrivin'. Dat be no good for anyone. Besides...dat bottle no match for dese weapons no how."

DC 14 will save or -2 to attack for 7 rounds.

I for one am loving the format!!

The whole group bar Aza swarmed up from the longboat to confront the drunks. The air fizzled with magical energies and verbal threats directed at the two drunken thugs.

The drunk armed with the oar stared in undisguised horror at the woman sitting calmly in the longboat. He threw down his oar, turned, and ran screaming into the night.

The second drunk, already wounded in the side from Naima's rapier blow, further weakened by Jamba's hex, and now alone and facing a row of determined-looking armed enemies, crumpled. He fell to his knees, the broken bottle falling from his fist. "Mercy! Mercy! I'm nothing since I lost Ana and the boys! Nothing!" His face began coursing with tears.

To the north, onlookers emerge from the doorways of the street. Some are pointing at the fracas, and talking to three uniformed figures who are shouldering their way through the gathering crowd. Seeing this, Naima turns and sprints away in the direction of the wharf to which Mr Blackwell was headed, with her bloodied rapier still in hand.

You are now out of combat. I have updated the map. Please post freely, and after a while the guards will arrive. Once I feel we are done here, I will post a new recap and move us on.

Please let me have your thoughts on how we are getting on, in terms of pace, atmosphere, and the format. It's been a little staged so far, but I feel that's inevitable for setting the scene at the start of the module. I'm very happy with the level of RP and interaction so far.

On Naima's departure: I'm sorry she didn't find the experience what she was looking for. I'd be inclined not to recruit an immediate replacement: I think that the remaining 5 players are sufficiently well-rounded to deal with a module written for a party of 4. Do you agree? Is there anyone wants to tweak aspects of their PC to compensate for Naima's departure?

I agree 100% that we are good without adding. Tweaking crunches is a good idea if needed. I am loving the game. Good job, brother!

Chest Thumper was disgusted by the bottle wielding drunk who collapsed and began crying. He had little respect for someone who started trouble then fell apart when it went against them.

But he had little interest in either of them now that they were no longer threatening anyone. Instead, he went to talk to Francis.

It was hard to tell exactly what was being said as Chest Thumper kept his voice down and Francis only grunted, growled and hooted in return. But a few snippets could be heard.

...like to fight all the time, then when I want you to, off you go...just embarrassing...you should be sorry...

I have a bad habit of slipping tenses anyway, so I've been extra careful with the format here. It hasn't felt particularly staged to me, but then, I don't mind being railroaded.

I don't foresee any issues with proceeding with just the 5 of us. My only argument for pulling in another player is that I always want as many people to have fun as possible and I know there was a wait list. If I was on the wait list I would want at least the option of jumping in, but that would mean more work for you and it is a minor consideration.

action 1 turn 3 continued:
'yep, definitely drunk, fighting one moment, sobbing the next. I wonder who Ana and the boys are.' turning to the large orc with his monkey, he whispers as he moves past "Do not be too hard on him, a lot of that was the alcohol talking."

Iradyiel, tucks his warclub in his belt as he walks up to the man, offering him a hand up. "I may seem like a Wild Elf, but the name is Iradyiel. Let me give you a hand up, and you can tell us about Ana and the boys."

Iradyiel watches over the mans shoulder as Mr. Blackwell leaves. 'I guess Naima wanted to avoid the officials, I doubt we will see her again. I wonder why Mr. Blackwell is in such a hurry and if it had anything to do with the weapons that were hidden away in those crates.'

When I saw we had a designated trap person, in Naima, I went front line. Now we don't have someone to deal with traps, not that it's absolutely necessary. @ GM AD do we need a trap person? If we do is it ok if someone picks up the trait Trap Finder

as for the numbers, I assumed we started at six in case a couple dropped so we could be no fewer than four. (I prefer smaller groups because they generally tend to run faster.)

as for the format, I tend to type everything on a word document and then copy and paste, that way I don't loose anything half way through. So I have open: word, game thread, the character page, the map and the PFSRD for good measure. So what's one more page... Honestly I skip the recap part and go straight to the next action part...

FYI, I post mostly at night, then check the boards quickly in the morning and afternoon, then again in the evening before I go to work. (I live in EST, - 4 UTC) But Mondays are really ugly for me, because of meetings, So It may be later before I can post more.

Iradyiel, tucks his warclub in his belt as he walks up to the man, offering him a hand up. "I may seem like a Wild Elf, but the name is Iradyiel. Let me give you a hand up, and you can tell us about Ana and the boys."

When I saw we had a designated trap person, in Naima, I went front line. Now we don't have someone to deal with traps, not that it's absolutely necessary. @ GM AD do we need a trap person?

[ooc]as for the numbers, I assumed we started at six in case a couple dropped so we could be no fewer than four. (I prefer smaller groups because they generally tend to run faster.)

Regards Trapfinder: I'll volunteer that I picked this module as one with less dungeon crawling (for speed) so I'm happy to say there will be fewer traps than in others. I think you'll get better value as you are, but your call. Feel free to curse my cruelty if you get eviscerated by the first trap you encounter...

Regards numbers, thanks all for your input. I too would like to get one of the reserves involved given the work they put in, but I'm happy to stay at 5 characters for now. Maybe we recruit another when Iradyiel gets killed by trap#1 (see above).

Regards the drunk: I'll post more once some others have had the chance to post. Paizo's been up and down terribly all day...

Pious bustled past Iradyiel and pushed his proffered had aside, grabbing the drunk by the lapels he hauled him to his feet and gave him a gauntleted slap for good measure.

"And what would Ana and the boys think of you now? A murderous drunk? Repent. For your sins and your failings beg forgiveness, for your weakness and your stupidity beg forgiveness. The lord Aroden is the master of mankind, reach out you hand to Him and fear not, for He will cleanse you soul and together we will walk in His peace..."

Pious will continue to hold the man, berating and occasionally slapping him until the law arrives or someone steps in

Pious' physically-assertive style of preaching was not welcomed by the drunk. It did have the positive effect of stopping his tears, but these were instead replaced by a baleful glare of hatred as the man struggled in his grasp.

Meanwhile Gallio Menius pulled himself up to one knee, wiping the blood from his face and wincing in pain. "Thank you, thank you. My friends, I owe you. I knew that colonial life would likely be tough, but I hadn't expected it to manifest so soon..."

Chest Thumper and a rather downcast, embarrassed Francis returned from the end of the dock just as three figures push their way past Gallio's indentured servants to where the party are gathered. Two of the figures were dressed in functional black studded leather armour. One carried a hooded landern; both wielded sturdy wooden batons. The third, clearly the leader, was a tall raven-haired woman in her mid thirties wearing a crimson leather tunic with brass buttons down the front, and a well-made longsword strapped to her side.

"Release that man!" she called in a commanding voice, grasping the drunk with one hand and pushing Pious back from him. "Leave him be! What's going on here? By the Gods, as if I'm not stretched thin enough here without freshbloods making trouble as soon as they reach shore!" At this she looked down to see blood on her hand from the drunk's rapier wound, and anger flashed in her eyes "Who did this? You are not in the slums of Sargarva here!"

Chest Thumper wandered back into the press of people as the authorities showed up. They appeared to know their business and even seemed to have uniforms, of sorts. He'd been in enough small "civilized" settlements to know that was at least moderately impressive. All too often the police consisted of the leader of the community's head enforcer and a handful of his chosen goons.

They actually seemed reasonable, too. He'd also been in plenty of places where the local constabulary would have waded in with clubs swinging and sorted out the right and wrong later...if ever.

He saw no need not to be forthcoming.

This man and his friend attacked our friend Gallio, here. We came to his aid and one of the men ran off. This one didn't. He got hurt during the fight. The person who did it went that way.

He pointed in the direction that Naima ran.

Why are you stretched thin? he asked, curious about what troubles there might be in this place that was going to serve as his home for a time.

Pious bustled past Iradyiel and pushed his proffered had aside...

"And..."

Pious will continue to hold the man, berating and occasionally slapping him until the law arrives or someone steps in

'Pious' please don't interfere with others actions. Iradyiel began an action, you interrupted his action, which he should/would have responded with aggression. Then later you comment that you would continue until "someone steps in." Iradyiel would have stepped in immediately.

What's worse is it looks like your intentionally asking for player conflict. I do not believe PVP is appropriate and I do not enjoy it, but neither do I appreciate the blatant disregard. If you wanted to continue combat by pushing someone out of the way and then assaulting the NPC please slow your actions down so we can respond appropriately. Iradyiel response would have been to punch 'Pious' when he laid hands on him. Since the scene has continued, so will Iradyiel. But please keep this in mind.

On a side note: sorry if my attitude is wrong GM AB, and maybe it's just that the boards have been down, but I wanted to address it. Yeah and I'm missing the discussion thread a little, I hate the wall of text in the middle of a post, oh well :-)

'This priest must be insane' Iradyeil turns in unbelief as the madman interferes with his helping the man. As Iradyeil is about to put his hands on the priest the local officials interfere for him.

'that was a fairly lucid explanation, I wish I was that calm right now.' Nodding his head in agreement with the orc, Iradyiel walks over to the merchant and helps Gallio to his feet, looking the man over. "I'm glad your ok Gallio."

I stepped in earlier to try to defuse things, but here's my thoughts. We're here to play though the module, and that's only going to work if the PCs work together. That implies that they get along and that over the course of your short sea-journey together, you are becoming friends and are learning to trust each other. The moment we have PvP, that breaks down. Please, let's all post with that in mind.

The merchant chips in "Thank you Iradyiel. Officer, the halforc's words are true. My name is Gallio Menius, and these ruffians assaulted me without provocation. My friends here stepped in to scare them off. My servants can bear witness." He stands and dusts himself down. "You must be Sheriff Praet?"

The Sheriff regards the group cooly, and then turns to one of her men, and dispatches him in pursuit of Naima and the drunk who fled. "I am that. Sheriff of our proud town, and arse-kicker-in-chief for anyone who cares to make trouble, That", turning to the half orc, "Is why I and my dozen deputies are stretched thin."

"Theos," she cuffs the drunk round the ear, "You and your good-for-nothing brother will be spending the night behind bars. First thing tomorrow I'm dropping you off at the Watched Row. You can clear jungle for a week whilst thinking whether Ana would've wanted you to come to this."

Turning to the party, she casts a piercing stare across the group. "So what do I make of you, then? Only just arrived and fighting before you've left the dock. What brings you here, and what do you hope to find? Quick now, it's not too late to put you back on the Cutter."

Jamba watched as the group of adventurers he travelled with reacted to the encounter. Dese whiteys be mad in da head... He straightened up a bit as the sheriff addressed the group. "Jamba. I and I jus be returnin' home, hopin' ta get a job. Jamba don't be knowin' half dese crazy whiteys. Da lady who do dat..." He pointed to the rapier wound. "...be gone. Ran off dat direction." He pointed in the direction in which the rogue ran.

'I like this merchant.' Iradyiel nods to Gallio, "You are welcome my friend." Turning as merchant addresses the sheriff, he waits patiently as Gallio's story unfolds.

When the sheriff turn and her piercing stare lands on Iradyeil, the young half elf looks a little surprised placing his hands on his chest, and stammering repeats the question, thinking of an answer for the intimidating officer. "Uuuummmmm, we weren't looking for a fight, it just sprang on us." Looking to the others and then back to the Sheriff, "I'm Iradiel Madras, my parents are pathfinders and I'm trying to follow in their footsteps." He calms down and smiles a little. "My father is Eldlen Madras a famous Pathfinder who was born in the Mwangi Expanse, I just came to see where dad was from." His smile widens, "Oh, and to help if I can. Mom always said I should be willing to help if I can."

yeah, he's a little naïve.

"A-apologies," Aza muttered softly towards the suddenly arriving force of lawmen. It was unfortunate that they couldn't have shown up sooner. She waited patiently for others to finish their introductions, before straightening and stepping onto the dock from her sitting position on the boat.

"Y-you c-can call me Aza. We certainly didn't m-mean any trouble, just saw a man being ro-roughed up and w-wanted to help." She gave Praet a shallow bow and a smile - respectful, but not too modest. "I'm s-simply a bereft mage l-looking for work." Aza took a moment to admire Praet's uniform before continuing. "A-and, w-well, maybe study a th-thing or t-two while I'm out here. Expl-plore the jungle." ...Find a way to restore my skin and stability... she finished in her head, unconsciously touching her cheek where the incident had managed to scorch a somewhat visible burn.

“Hmm. A mage of sorts, albeit a damaged one. A half Wild-Elf, an apeman and his ape, a drug-soaked pirate if I’m any judge, and a priest. Well, before I got sidetracked by drunken brawls in the street, I had been coming to the docks to welcome the latest colonists to our town. We need builders, workers, and craftsmen. I’m not convinced you fit any of those roles - you look like trouble to me.”

She gave the Group’s various weapons an appraising look. “But maybe trouble I can use.” She rubbed her chin. “Look, I have something which you could help with. I need to discuss this with Count Narsus though. Meet me at the Stone Hall at noon tomorrow, and maybe I can offer you some work better suited to your talents than digging ditches or cleaning fish.”

Sheriff Praet wiped the rain from her brow, suddenly looking tired. “I suggest you folks get up the hill and settle in for the night. That storm out in the channel is building, it’ll be a blustery night. We’ve erected shacks out by the smithy for newcomers - they’re free to use. Or, if you have coin, you can stay at the Stone Hall, Pridon’s only inn. Your call.” She turned to trudge back up the dock “Tomorrow, noon. Don’t make me hunt you down...”

Turn 4 is up, as is a map of Pridon's Hearth, and a description of the town's key locations. Both these last two are on the campaign tab.

Turn 004 - Sheriff Praet

Questions, actions?

Hey ChestThumper - what's Francis' initiative and perception modifiers?

Action 1
Aza gingerly hefted her coin purse, feeling the low weight of the coins inside. a whole gold per night? It was like highway robbery. She could spend a month at a tavern for a single gold back in Taldor. Supply and demand, she supposed. With her stomach still rolling and fighting against her, she nodded to her travelling companions. "I believe th-that I am g-going to turn in f-for the night. Th-the sea and I d-did not g-get along well." She smiled, and began to move toward the shacks behind the smithy, leaning on her quarterstaff to avoid slipping in the mud.

Action 2
The oracle awoke early, though later than she would have liked - her sickness was gone, but it had still caused her to sleep a bit more than she was used to. Her morning routine was rushed, as she poured through her makeshift spellbook, remembering what spells she could call upon for the day. If today was anything like yesterday, she might need them sooner than she thought.

She wasn't quite sure what to do with herself before noon. For the last few months she had been journeying, and left little time for her to pause. With little direction, she simply settled on striking up conversations with various townsfolk as she took a leisurely walk about town, leaning on her staff.

Aza would like to gather information - looking for any juicy rumors around the town.
Diplomacy - the stutter doesn't help, evidently: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10

Sorry...looks like I didn't list them out seperately - Initiative - +3. Perception - +1

Chest Thumper's face clouded just as darkly as the sky at the Sheriff's threat and threat it was to him. Though he had been happy to offer his help to what seemed to be a reasonable official of the law, the comment about potentially having to hunt them down if they did not voluntarily arrive made him see her as much less reasonable. He wasn't entirely pleased by her analysis of his companions, either, though she was spot on about him.

He made no comment, though and just nodded to Francis to direct him along in his wake. He had neither the coin nor the inclination to spare for an inn and made his way toward the smithy and its shacks.

The two of them found one that was empty and settled down within to wait for the rising sun. It might not have been the most comfortable or secure location but to people who were used to sleeping under leaves, it was pretty nice.

Aza, if you wanted to visit any of the locations within the town walls I'll judge that you do have time to pop in, on your way back from walking the town.

ChestThumper, what are you choosing do in the morning?

Turn 4, action 1
’Not the reception I expected, but I am still spending my first night in the land of my fathers childhood… stone or wood… I have two gold pieces to my name, spending one on stone seems frivolous, guess I’m sleeping in the wood shacks behind the smithy… may as well turn in, tomorrow will be a busy day.’ Iradyiel shifts his rucksack on his back, lifting his face to the light rain so it can run down his face and long hair, he smiles to himself as they climb the hill. Turning off to go to the shacks behind the smithy, he nods to Aza, saying nothing. But holding the door open for Aza, Chest Thumper and his monkey as they enter. he would hold the door open for anyone else that went this way also :-)

Attempting to be discreet, Iradyiel watches where the others pick their hammocks; then finds one reasonably nearby. ’I don’t want to be obtrusive, but I don’t want anything to happen to one of my friends.’ Getting ready to climb into the hammock, Iradyiel nods to his new friends.

turn 4 action 2
’What a beautiful morning.’ Rolling out of his hammock Iradyiel is happy to see the rain gone and the sun shining. Wanting to stay near his new friends he approaches Aza and ask, ”Did you sleep well, when I was a boy I would pretend I was on safari, sleeping in a hammock with a blanket draped over it, pretending it was a mosquito net.” He looked back at the wooden shack then off into the distance and smiling. ”Not what I expected my first night would be like. Not a bad night’s sleep but not what I expected.” He quickly looked down and then at Aza again. ”I have no Idea what to do, do you mind if I walk with you till the noontime meeting?”

assuming aza doesn’t tell him no, he will aid another on the gather information check
gather info: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (11) - 1 = 10

@ the group: If we are speaking to each other in a wall of text, do we want to mark it so the person sees it, I'll confess, sometimes I skim and may miss something.

For instance in my last paragraph Iradyiel speaks to Aza, but it would be easily missed.

Turn Four, Action One

Jamba followed Iradyiel to the shacks. He seemed like a relatively kind gentleman. Jamba watched at the half-elf held the door open. He followed the other inside. "Thank ya...Da name be Jamba." He held out his hand to the barbarian.

Turn Four, Action Two

Jamba woke up and spent time communing with his sea serpent, Bobo. After picking his spells, he headed to Heri’s Conservatorium to see if there was anything or anyone of interest. Walking through the streets, he whistled and nodded at those he met.

retcon
Iradyiel smiles, reaching out and taking the mans hand, 'Nice to meet you Jamba! I've seen you on the boat but we havn't spoken yet." He looks at the ground momentarily then back up, following the Mwangi into the shack. "I'm usually not the talker, I like to listen more! I grew up in Almas where my mother was a librarian, but my father was from the expanse." Nodding to the mans tattoos, he asks "What tribe are you from?"

"Jamba be Bonuwatti. I an' I grew up in a fishing village near da coast." He pulled out and lit a joint. He took a drag and then handed it to the man. "Dat sum craziness earlier no doubt. Crazies pullin da swords an' cuttin' folks. Why ya here in da expanse?

'Bonuwatti, that sounds familiar... oh, oh my.' Iradyiel, distracted by trying to remember the Bonuwatti tribe, doesn't realize what Jamba is doing until he is pressing the smoking rolling paper into his hand. 'I guess it won't hurt, I don't want to offend.'

Taking the 'cigarette' he looks at both the smoking end and the end offered to him. Shrugging his shoulders, he places it to his lips and attempts to inhale deeply.

Aaaarrrrgggghhhhaaaaa, rrggghhhaaa, uuhhhmm, uuuhhhmmm His eyes begin to water, his throat burn, he pulls the smoking think away from his lips and makes a face similar to the first time he tasted rotted lemons.

Attempting to smile he hands the doobie back to Jamba, "I've never tried that before, is it supposed to do that?"

edit, I forgot to answer the question:
"My father is from the expanse, he told me all these wonderful stories, so I wanted to see it for myself."

GM AD has Iradiel ever heard of Bonuwatti?
knowledge: Geography: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

Chest Thumper did not participate in the conversation during the night, nor did Francis, though the latter seemed to be paying more attention than the former.

As the group gathered to leave the next morning they both grunted and hooted in amusement at Iradyiel's reaction to Jamba's herb. Not everything that grows in the jungle is meant for everyone, Chest Thumper commented as he and Francis leave the shack.

Good day, he said, seemingly not the least bothered by the already growing heat.

He and his ape brother wandered out of the village and toward the jungle. He sought out some of these Fever Trees, curious about them. Having been raised by apes and orcs, he had little regard for other people's property (or belief that anyone could own trees) so he would wander into Narsus Forest if he had time. He kept an eye on the sun, though and would be at Stone Hall by the time the sun was midway through the sky.

Knowledge (Nature) check on Fever Trees: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Iradyiel your roll for Kn Geography was unsuccessful - the Bonuwatti tribe must be a small and reclusive tribe if they are unknown even to Pathfinderwiki...

LOL, that's a pretty small tribe for a 'natural 20' not to help any :-)

I like the way the Ekujae interacted with the idea I had for his father. Oh well the price to pay to be the son of a famous pathfinder.

Yeah, I'm trying to play him young, shy and a little naive.

having been from a larger city like Almas would he realize that they act that way because he's a 'wild elf' or would he think it's just because they are a small hick town?

Pious, you're up!

Bonuwat

The Bonuwat are seafarers, and as such are often the group most encountered by the outside world. The Mwangi found in ports such as Bloodcove or the Shackles tend to be Bonuwat. They are excellent fishermen and sailors. They worship a janiform of Gozreh and Desna which they call Shimye-Magalla. Bonuwat are of average height, with wide mouths and swarthy or dusky skin. Their hair is often straight and they favour colourful, exotic clothing such as vests and baggy pantaloons.

Aahh. I stand corrected.

-Posted with Wayfinder

Turn 004: Action 1
As Pious moved into the wooden shack he nodded his thanks to Iradyiel at the door.

'The man who lays in splendor, his flesh doth rot' This will do nicely

As he inspected the hammocks his eyes lit on the half-orc savage, something about the man...

'The person who did it went that way.' Was it not writen that 'when villany choses its path, that is the path of villany.' The lady with the rapier had indeed gone 'that' way

As he stared at the roof, waiting for sleep to take him, the writings of Aroden streamed through his mind.

From the mouths of savages, the words of divine truth

Turn 004: Action 2

By the time Pious had taken his morning prayers (A process mainly consisting of him mumbling holy words and getting no clear guidance...) Everyone had left the shack that had housed the group the night before. Pious stepped out into the glaring sunlight and was surprised to see Chest Thumper, Francis and Aza not that far away chatting with a man Pious did not recognise.

'When you are unsure of your direction; look, and you will find me.'

Pious spent the morning wandering the town, never too far from the half-orc, more often than not close enough to hear him speak...

Besides the Countinghouse of Abadar are there any obviously religious buildings in the town?