Finally it has come, a real chance to prove yourselves to your mentors back at the Grand Lodge.
It took some finagling, but you were able to convince the town elders to allow outsiders to undertake their Wintersrite. This town has supposedly kept up this tradition for almost two hundred years, quite a long time for humans, and whatever still sits in this Kassen's Crypt is sure to be worth chronicling.
You were told to arrive at the town square before the noon bells, and to travel light, but aside from that they've been fairly closemouthed.
You're here on time, or on time enough, but the square is empty except for your fellow Pathfinders.
The noon bells should toll on Tuesday, feel free to introduce your characters and/or chat amongst yourselves
Ilyaleh awaits the others in the town square, carefully wrapped in a cloak. Although their orders had required their presence by noon, she'd arrived some time earlier, unwilling to be the last to arrive. She'd also wanted to be able to observe those she would undoubtedly be working with. As she had no real awareness of how these kinds of people would interact, she'd already decided that she'd keep to herself, keep quiet, and stay out of the way. It was what she felt would be most appro--
Ara prodded her cheek with his nose, his fox's face clearly one of disapproval. The fox turned his face to the few people that had already gathered and back to her again.
It was obvious that he wanted her to go and introduce herself.
"We'll be speaking with them soon enough," the ifrit said, frowning slightly. "There's no need to rush it." Ara repeated the gesture, this time also lifting a paw to press against her chin. She scowled, eyebrows drawing together in a frown. She looked upon the others with some suspicion, but inhaled deeply before announcing herself - she didn't think her fox friend would let her get away with anything less.
"I am Ilyaleh of the Kajij family," she says, clearly uncomfortable. She opens her mouth to say more, but then freezes, closing it. The girl clearly doesn't know what else to say. When Ara prods her again, she continues. "This is Ara, my friend. He won't bite you unless you give him good reason to."
And with that she fell silent again, looking at the others. She didn't know if they, too, would announce themselves, but seeing as there was little time left, she didn't know what else they'd do - aside from waiting.
Anyways, she'd told Ara this was a bad idea.
The travel through rural Nirmathas has been an arduous one for Aviram, a Chelish scholar who's imposing physique belies his bookish nature. The main reason for this, is the fact that he insists on wearing his full plate armor at every waking moment. Granted, it is impressive, a relic of pre-civil war Cheliax, but its granduer isn't helpful when trekking overland.
Once in Kassen, he let's out a relieved sigh but gives the empty square a worried look.
"It is today we're supposed arrive, right?"
Upon seeing Ilyaleh, a relieved smile washes over his face.
"The Kajij family you say? I can't say that I've heard of you, but alas, I am woefully behind on my studies of the notable lineages of the Inner Sea region."
He extends a mailed hand in greeting.
"Pleased to meet you. I am Aviram Ocella, Esq.."
The ifrit stares at the hand for a moment, before extending her own to grip it squarely. She nodded at his greeting, and responded to his comment on her lineage - "Mine is not a common name," she pointed out. "And besides, my tribe is a small, quiet one. We do not like to get into trouble with those who are not so... accepting." Her tone makes it obvious that there'd been some kind of discrimination in the past, but her expression remains mostly unchanging. She's definitely uncomfortable, but through no fault of those around her.
She would've been happy to leave it at that, but Ara's prodded her cheek again. She held back a wince before taking a breath. "Esquire? Does that mean you're some sort of knight?"
Aviram gives Ilyaleh a somewhat sheepish look.
"Less than a knight, I'm afraid. The old families of Westcrown haven't exactly thrived under the rule of the Thrice-Damned House of Thrune, and the Ocellas aren't an exception. All that's left is a useless title and my great-great-grandfather's armor."
Ilyaleh turned this new information over in her head. He was speaking of a place she knew of but didn't really know about. Still, this person apparently held some sort of title and heirloom armor. That meant something, didn't it? He'd said it was useless, but he'd mentioned it all the same.
"A title is a title," Ilyaleh said, frowning slightly. "And armor is armor - both will provide you with something, will they not? The armor will defend you and the title... entitles you to something?" That last bit she said was drawn out, almost as though she wasn't entirely sure of what she was saying. She lifted a hand to her shoulder, stopping Ara's nose before he could prod her again before stroking him his fur.
She hadn't thought her simple announcement - and question - would engage in a conversation, but it appeared she'd somehow started one. Although Ara couldn't really speak, per se, she could practically feel the satisfaction rolling off of his small body.
"What is less than a knight?" she asked. "I am not familiar with this word - esquire." Well, he seemed friendly enough.
The young elf enters into the room, his long hair is tied back in a braid and his eyes take everything and everyone one. His armor is yellow and black and you notice, right above his belly button a symbol, more than a regular tattoo of 3 daggers pointing in, the symbol of the Savored Sting. He carries a whip and a longsword at his side and smiles at his new companions, bowing before the gentlemen and kissing the hand of the women Caelhal Lantherian, devotee of the Savored Sting. he says proudly.
Aviram mulls over Ilyaleh's questions.
"The armor is indeed useful. Very useful, as it turns out. The title, however, is merely a courtesy. An echo of past glory, but it does place me slightly above a 'mere' gentleman in the hierarchical structure of Chelish society."
He gives the newcomer an assessing look, his armored fingers brushing against the sword and sun engraved on the inner side of his shield. He returns Caelhal's bow, though, albeit more stiffly.
"Ah, more agents. I was told there'd be six of us, so we're halfway there."
Tell me warrior, since I'm not so accustomed, being from Kyonin, to such heavily armored folk, what do you wear underneath it all? he asks with a grin
A man comes rushing in the room. He looks a little winded. He stands up straight to catch his breath and introduces himself.
Sorry I'm a bit late...I was getting my new armor fitted...had to get the sides taken in a bit...I'm not half giant after all. I am Miklos Therinor, from Taldor. I am here for a mission as are the rest of you, I imagine. My skills are mostly used on the battlefield, but I am not useless away from it. His martial readiness is evident by his new armor and a wickedly curved falcata, a favoured weapon of Taldan swordsmen and women. His long hair is braided in an elaborate ponytail, with a tie made of the his homeland's colours, matching those of his blade's tassle and his sash. He looks around at the collected agents.
Well, we seem to have a variety of backgrounds and abilities here...this should go well.
At the first new arrival, Ilyaleh nodded approvingly - until he approached to take her hand. She allowed it, feeling a bit uncomfortable with the whole thing, but did her best to keep from showing it too much.
"Greetings Caelhal Lantherian, devotee of the Savored Sting," she said, withdrawing her hand once he'd, um, greeted it. "I am Ilyaleh of the Kajij family." Gesturing to her friend, she announced him as well. "This is Ara and he will not bite you so long as you do not give him cause to." Gesturing to the man she'd just met, she included him. "And this is Aviram Ocella, Esq..."
Once that was done, she considered Aviram's explanation. "So you must have some level of influence in... Cheliax? Perhaps not a great one," she allowed, "But an influence all the same." Ilyaleh nodded thoughtfully, absorbing the information. It seemed the first person she was to meet was no common man. "Thank you for the explanation."
When the elf noted himself as being from Kyonin... Well, Ilyaleh wasn't actually sure of where that was. She knew of Cheliax, Taldor, Varisia - some of the larger places - but since her parents had settled them well away from other folk, she'd learned little of the geography that made up their world. Or the politics, really, for that matter.
Still, she was sure Aviram wore clothes beneath his armor. Else, it'd be too hot in the day's noon sun, would it not? Still, she was not the person who dressed him in the morning and so would not speak on his behalf.
When the second human made his presence known in the square, Ilyaleh nodded at him in greeting as he caught his breath.
When he straightened out and introduced himself, she accepted his greeting, noting that this human was from Taldor. She was feeling a bit done in with all of the talking, but Ara prodded her in the cheek - again, the insufferable creature - and so she commenced with another verbal introduction.
"I am Ilyaleh of the Kajij family," she said, "And this fox is Ara. He will not bite you without reason." Gesturing towards the other human, she said, "This is Aviram Ocella, Esq. He is from Cheliax." Gesturing now to the elf, she added, "And this is Caelhal Lantherian, devotee of the Savored Sting. He is from Kyonin."
Having satisfied Ara's need for introductions and her own curiosity about the first human - and the accidental conversation she'd caused - the ifrit fell silent.
Ara is laying across Ilyaleh's shoulders. c:
Caelhal, I assume since you are a priest you are able to use wands? I have one that yiu can use...feel free to use it as you see fit....I trust your judgement. Miklos says as he grabs a wand from his belt. you might as well take it...i cant use it
Ara happily partakes in the food and offering of friendship - his own behavior is far less cautious than Ilyaleh's. He licks Caelhal's hand in thanks once he's had his nibbles and then, should Caelhal be receptive, transitions from Ilyaleh's shoulders to his, scampering along the elf's arm.
From there, he gives a fox's laugh before settling in.
Ilyaleh frowns, but nods, telling Caelhal, "Ara says thank you - he is pleased to have found a friend so ready to feed him."
Noting the transfer of the wand, she adds, "And I suppose I should be happy to have found someone to heal us should the situation call for it." There's a slight smile at the end of the statement to reduce any negativity that the words themselves might call forth.
The true meaning of Caelhal's quip flies over Aviram's head, but he answers the question dutifully nonetheless.
"No battle harness is complete without a gambeson, so that's what we wear."
Miklos' arrival brings a smile to Aviram's face.
"A practitioner of the Rondelero fighting school? How fascinating! Remind me to compare martial treatises when we've concluded or mission here."
I am an elf, we are friends with animals, especially those not tainted by Treerazer's influence as he pets the fox.
Interesting Aviram Ocella, perhaps you will have to have a fashion show in order to show off the assests of gambeson and to show its...versatility" he says with a friendly smile. Perhaps Miklos could aid in the demonstration as Cheliax and Taldor vye for martial combat rights? his green eyes glitter.
The nagaji saunters into the quiet town square towards the group which must obviously be her fellow Pathfinders. "Hello, new friends," she hisses. "I am called Krstani and I am pleased to be joining you on this Wintersrite. It's a rare honor to participate from what I have heard."
Her bronze dragonic heritage is evident in Krstani's visage. Her scales shimmer, casting off flashes of blue and green and of course bronze in the sunlight.
She greets each of the others warmly in turn and scratches the fox behind its ears.
As Ara enjoys the affection he is due, the bells atop the Temple of Erastil begin to toll their midday song, echoing throughout the quiet town of Kassen. As the peals begin to fade, the first of the townsfolk make their way into the square, dressed in black, as if attending a funeral. They slowly fill the square, moving quietly across the cold, hard ground, their eyes downcast and mournful. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let Mayor Uptal through. He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies.
Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal stops and calls out to the assembled townsfolk. Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen
himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are the heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?
The elf leaves the inn as the bells toll. As he listens to the story he responds Caelhal Lantherian, follower of the Savored Sting stands here ready to take the challenge
A 6 feet tall pale man, with some wild red hair and beard, comes from the crowd, joining the group of adventurers.
His body is well toned, and he carries a greataxe and a bec de corbin, both quite massive weapons who don't allow the use of a shield. His armor is a kind of strong leather.
As he comes closer, you notice he's quite young, not having seen eighteen summer yet. 17 years old
Sorry, I've been praying into the temple, and the hours passed by. My name is Erhun Gabarris. I've been told to join your group to the Crypt.
His tone is humble and respectful, but he seems genuinely surprised at the appearance of some of the most exotic companions, and don't know how to react.
Nagaji and Ifrit
Boldness. Good, you will need boldness to succeed. We have come together as a community to aid you today.
He hands each of you a backpack containing sundry supplies and gives you a firm handshake and a bit of a wink, Do try to have some fun out there too. Winter's depressing enough as it is.
Mayor Uptal turns again to the onlookers, I present to you the brave3 heroes who will follow in Kassen's footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifice shall not be forgotten. Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have kindled this lantern with the eternal fire.
Who of you will bear it?
50 feet of hempen rope for Miklos, a box containing tinder and three tindertwigs for Erhun, a labeled potion of cure light wounds for Caelhal, three torches for Krstani, a grappling hook for Aviram, and a small bottle of local brandy for Ilyaleh.
Ilyaleh doesn't bother speaking here. She doesn't feel any need to. Instead, as Ara transitions to her shoulders, she simply steps forward with the others, accepting a pack alongside them.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 15
Ilyaleh turned her head slightly at the information, clueing Ara in. Her friend often had a better grasp of things.
It isn't until they're well enough away that she asks, "Did anyone else catch that last bit about the tomb preparations?" Any idea what that might be about?
Krstani parades around and answers as directed by the Mayor, frustrated at the lack of information from him.
perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21
Krstani turns quickly towards whoever said that. "Pardon me, what was that? What preparations are needed? As you may have seen, the Mayor did not tell us much at all."
diplomacy (gather info): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
sense motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Perhaps they decorated the way for us...or maybe a big celebration for our return...yes, that must be it...if you're making cake I like a nice custard filling... Miklos muses as he jokes with the townsfolk.
Would aiding another in diplomacy or using his own skill, which as a Calistirian and who has done his obedience for the day might be an impressive roll, be the best course of action right now?
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Ilyaleh makes a mental note of the woman's reaction. Interesting - perhaps Miklos has the right idea...? Still, Ilyaleh shrugged. The job they'd been given was clear - Ara's warmth along her shoulders encouraged her and she decided that this particular matter wasn't currently of any importance.
Rather, as they began - again - their departure, she considered what was in the pack she'd been given. She took inventory of what she had - Trail rations, a tent, a blanket, water... is that brandy? A fairly solid pack of a week's worth of adventuring, especially in the cold. She could appreciate any help against that. It wasn't exactly her favorite environment to be in. And then, her hands touched something... papery? Hold! Is this a map? She draws out her piece to examine it and asks aloud, "I appear to have a piece of map... Do we each have the same segment or are they a puzzle?"
I wouldn't worry about it too much, Caelhal
The map pieces are indeed different fragments of a whole, but it's relatively simple to figure out their order.
After assembling the map fragments you are able to set off on your journey. The Crypt is about 40 miles south of the town, so you expect you should be able to arrive by the end of tomorrow.
The road itself isn't particularly well maintained, but for quite a while it seems to at least be safe.
But after a couple of hours the path turns spooky, winding through the raking claws of the trees. It's autumn, and leaves blanket the ground, making stealth nearly impossible amidst all the underfoot-crunching.
The animals have gone very quiet as well.
Maybe it's just that you're scaring them off?
Suddenly a trio of snarling humanoids leaps up from behind a fallen log that lies across the path. All greenish skin and fearsome tusks, they bellow vulgar challenges as they begin to charge!
Caelhal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 2 = 3
Miklos: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Krstani: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13
Erhun: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
Aviram: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15
Green Meanies: 1d20 ⇒ 12
I run block initiative, so if your name is in bold, go ahead and post.
Miklos darts forward and readies to engage the enemy.
movong to within 10ft...im on my lhone and cant move token. setting up a parry/riposte if attacked
parry: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17
riposte: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 141d8 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 2
Erhun wasn't really paying attention at the mayor's speech, and collect his pack, wondering why he got some tindertwigs and what use they could be.
Got a piece of map too here.I guess we all have
Know Nature, untrained: 1d20 ⇒ 2
Great axe: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
2H Dmg: 1d12 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Unknow creatures attack them. It's enough for Erhun to rush to the fight, even if his large axe only destroy a few branches from the nearest tree.
Arrrr... I'll get you! How do you dare attacking us, and so close from the village! Scouts, maybe, for a larger attack? It's my duty to make sure you never report what you might have seen.
Side note: on a stroke of bad luck, my internet is down at home since the last two days, and my mobile phone died yesterday.I hope things will be better for the week end.
"An ambush! Cut them down before they can pull any devious tricks on on us!"
With a display of mental strength, Avariam forces himself forward at a inhuman pace, closing the distance with the armbushers in no time.
Using 1 point of mental focus to increase my speed to 50 ft for 1 minute as swift action, then moving and attacking.
Attack: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
Crit?: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Extra Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
knowledge (nature) untrained: 1d20 - 3 ⇒ (13) - 3 = 10
"Orcs! Oh no!" Krstani scurries forward and lobs a ball of acid at the red one.
acid splash, ranged touch: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
acid damage: 1d3 ⇒ 3
Aviram's foe is rocked back, blood pouring from a grievous wound, though Erhun and Krstani are foiled by the orcs' cover.
Greataxe: 1d12 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7
Green vs. Erhun: 1d20 + 5 - 4 ⇒ (2) + 5 - 4 = 3
Greataxe: 1d12 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Blue vs. Aviram: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Greataxe: 1d12 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
The orcs boil around the log swinging brutal axes at the warriors who have taken the fight to them.
Erhun is able to fend off the wild swings of his opponents, but Aviram seems to miss a parry and takes a greataxe straight to the chest.
Bold may go
Aviram gasps at the expected pain, but looks on in disbelief as he remains unharmed.
"Their tricks are more devious than I thought. They're illusions!"
He then takes another swing at the "orcs" and steps behind their line.
Attack v blue: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (9) + 4 = 13
Damage: 1d8 + 3 ⇒ (2) + 3 = 5
1d20 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 2 + 4 = 14
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19
1d20 + 2 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 4 = 13
1d20 + 4 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 + 4 = 18
Miklos darts forward and nearly decapitates one of the orcs, which slumps to the ground, unmoving, as Aviram trades blocks and parries with his wounded foe.
Bold may go
Orcs Red's dead, Blue -8
Knowledge(Nature): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8
Ilyaleh bared her teeth with obvious disdain, even as Ara tensed on her shoulders. Orcs were rarely willing to have a peaceful settlement of disputes and while she'd not actually met many - if any - she certainly didn't want to run afoul of them.
"See if there are any others waiting for us," Ilyaleh instructed Ara. The sudden lack of weight told her that her fox friend agreed with her. Aviram had called out they were illusions - she wasn't entirely sure what was going on but she doubted she'd be able to do much back here, so she stepped forward, moving so that she could clearly the enemy.
Unable to attack just yet without impeding her allies, she instead tried to discern which of the orcs were illusions and which weren't.
Perception: 1d20 ⇒ 13
Spellcraft: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22 Wasn't quite sure which was more appropriate.
If successful, she calls out which are false and which are real to her allies.
Illusion? So there's no risk? Let's take it as a practise fight...
Attack, PA: 1d20 + 4 - 1 ⇒ (15) + 4 - 1 = 18
Dmg: 1d12 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 4 + 2 = 7
Question: Power attack (PA) and two handed weapons: two handed weapons get their STR damage bonus multiplied by 1*5 (rounded up or down?). Does the PA damage bonus get multiplied too, from +2 to 2*1.5=+3?
Know Arcana: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
When using Power Attack you do get a +3 for every -1 you take to hit when fighting with a two handed weapon, though that's only because it's specified in the feat, not because it's a general rule with damage bonuses.
Re: rounding up/down: You always round down in Pathfinder unless otherwise specified.