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In Search of Heroes
Falcon’s Hollow is a place for survivors, not heroes. The weak leave -or die- while the strong struggle on, too burdened with their own yoke to worry about the man in the dirt beside him. Those that stay are survivor’s, not heroes. But now they find it’s not just the weak that are dying, and not just the frail that fall. A plague has come calling, and the town needs a few heroes if anyone is to survive at all.
Details:
Welcome to my first attempt at running a play-by-post game. Set in Darkmoon Vale in Northern Andoran, the game will use the Pathfinder ruleset and be based on Hollow’s Last Hope. It begins in Falcon’s Hollow; if it goes well, it will cascade into other similarly located Paizo modules. How closely it adheres to the published material will likely change depending on the material, my workload, and the elasticity of my imagination. If you have already played through the Falcon’s Hollow modules, please let me know when submitting a character.
As this is my first play-by-post, I am aiming small, using a Free RPG Day module for a first step, but have several others lined up to go from level 1 to level 6, though I am more interested in exploring the story than sticking to any particular leveling schedule.
Posting: As the GM I will post at least once a day (and probably more). I also expect players to post at least once a day. If you are going to use abilities that interrupt the action (i.e. the feat Step Up), be prepared to post even more often. There will of course be exceptions caused by real life, but I will not hesitate to let your character get “left behind” or “lost” and “found” later if necessary—what occurs in the meantime will vary depending on the player’s attitude and consideration for others. If you know you are going to be gone, just let us know.
Role playing: I enjoy play-by-post games for their expanded opportunities for role play. Characters can carry on long conversations on the side or between actions that would normally bog down a real life game. You have time to collect your thoughts and think up witty responses before “speaking.” Experience is nice, but a willingness to engage in banter is essential. Don’t worry; it’s easy to do this from the anonymity of play-by-post.
Roll playing: While I am no strategic genius, I do like combat to be worthwhile and some kind of challenge, and I do value the knowledge and experience of other players. That said, I hate long, drawn out arguments over rules so I don’t expect to indulge in those. I would much rather make a ruling for the current situation and move on, with discussion for future situations to be civil and off “camera”.
While developing your character, please focus on the full individual, and expect to play the same. I am not looking for a Fighter, or a Wizard, or a Rogue, but for fully fleshed out characters with history and hopes, fears and dreams of the future. Class, and by extension, other mechanics, should be considered secondary tools to support the character you want to play.
Leveling will be event based, rather than XP based, and the story will be more RP focused than combat oriented.
Please include:
Please include the following listed as spoilers in the thread. Add anything else you think might be pertinent and/or fun.
Backstory
Ideally, this tells me who you are, how you became who you are, how you came to be here, and why the heck you're sticking around in the face of a virulent plague. While you may or may not be from Falcon’s Hollow, you should have some reason to be in the area. You might be from anywhere in Golarion, but this is a backwater little place, where strangers stir suspicion just by breathing. The more distant your homeland, the more compelling your reason for staying should be.
Also, give me some idea of what you think you look like, and what others think you look like (if different). Some kind of family history is a bonus that I never turn down, though it should be kept to the last couple of generations.
Use a story format for the backstory but the following is fine in a spoilered list:
Race, Class, and any major abilities that you think defining to your character abilities. Full character stat blocks can wait until after the character list has been finalized, then entered into the alias profile “about” field.
Crunch Guidelines:
Full character information should use the following rules:
- Sources - Core Rule Book, APG only.
- Level - 1st
- Abilities- 20 point buy, no final ability below 8, please. None higher than 18.
- HP - Max at 1st, average +1 for levels thereafter
- Race - My personal preference for races for this game follow in order: human (half or whole), halfling, dwarven, gnome,elf. That said, an excellent backstory will trump a preferred race. No non-core races, please.
- Two traits (No more than one from the same category)(no rich parents)
- Alignment – Looking for Heroes; no evil aligned characters, and any true neutral should be looking for redemption.
- Barbarian
- Bard
- Cleric
- Druid
- Fighter
- Oracle
- Paladin
- Ranger
- Rogue
- Sorcerer
- Witch
- Wizard
Recruitment Details:
I’d like to take a week or so for role-playing during recruitment before choosing the characters for this outing. This should give plenty of time for people to get acquainted, run into old friends or find new ones and in general get settled. Please take this time to let me get a feel for your style and your character.
One Last Thing:
Like I’ve said, this will be my first time running a pbp, but I have high hopes for it and want it to be a fun, worthwhile experience for those that join. To that end, l want to point out a few things so no one is surprised or offended later:
- It will be a role play heavy campaign
- It begins in Falcon’s Hollow and most if not all of it will take place in Darkmoon Vale. This is a dark, unforgiving place. Puppies get kicked, children endangered, and dying isn’t necessarily the worst thing that can happen to someone.
- I will keep it between the navigational buoys as established by Paizo, but I won’t flinch from the darkest parts of the story; the light of a hero shines best in the blackest night.
This seems great.
I'll have a full RP post up this weekend.
Dotting for now.
dinging for interest.
Would love to play a N Air (Wind) Druid in this. I can write up some information later, but as a quick peek:
"Dorial is a mystery. She was born in Augustana and knew her mother and father very well. When she hit puberty, something happened within her and an urge took over that caused her to leave civilization. She spent the following years discovering the wilderness. In one of her expeditions into a nearby town, she heard of a plague that had sprung up in Falcon's Hollow. Afraid that it may spread into the wildlife, she set out to help put a stop to it and learn of it's source."
Dorial does not have any concerns or knowledge about her beauty. If it wasn't for her wildish hair and unkempt clothes she may actually be considered beautiful among the locals. Unfortunately, they all keep her at arms length but are still willing to deal with her. (Money is money)
As a little extra... Dorial is Human, but has a feint (not enough to affect gameplay) hint of air outsider in her lineage. This is what urged her to leave the city when she grew up.
A twitchy Gnome* quietly walks into the tavern and finds a seat at the bar. He orders a small neat whiskey and carefully counts out the change to the barkeep.
As he sips it he glances around the establishment as though haunted. Jumpy, he moves to a different seat where he can more easily watch the door. And then again.
Still, he has a broad friendly face which looks almost inviting. He seems to be waiting for someone, but no one comes.
I need to find a way to make some money and settle in. A past, that's what I need. That can only happen with time. Perhaps I should take up a craft? Is everyone looking at me?
He adjusts his wig.
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Music tumbles into the evening, fading to nothing like the coin from adventurer’s pockets within the The Sitting Duck. Perched on the edge of town near the palisade, few townsfolk are bothered by it, too tired and scared to be outside this late. No, the noise doesn’t come from locals, but from the wild ones, adventurers having one last night before heading out to find or steal a fortune, fresh loghoppers looking to blow off steam before buckling down for their next long draw in camp, or new folks that just don’t know any better.
Inside, a game of knivesies holds a group enthralled by the back wall, relief and regret mingling unapologetically in their laughter as both participants keep their fingers for another round. Closer to the door, groups of two and three and four mutter to each other beneath the din of a drunken half-orc assaulting a battered organ. He swears to anyone that will listen that he knows another tune, if he can just get this first one out of his head.
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Sample_Character_Name:
Sample slinks quietly into the Sitting Duck, keeping his back to the wall while yadayayaya...
sounds cool, how often do you wish for posts?
Trafalgar, male human witch
EDIT: Also, could a rakshasa teach someone to be a witch, or just hags and other witches?
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sounds cool, how often do you wish for posts?
Trafalgar, male human witch
EDIT: Also, could a rakshasa teach someone to be a witch, or just hags and other witches?
At least once a day. My understanding is that witches get their spells from their familiars and a connection to a "mysterious patron". I don't think it matters what that mysterious patron is, though.
Alright, sounds easy enough. I will have mine hopefully real soon, thank you for your time
Friend pointed me here, I'll be updating Nimeon for the setting and reposting a character entry later tonight or tomorrow morning.
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A twitchy Gnome* quietly walks into the tavern and finds a seat at the bar. He orders a small neat whiskey and carefully counts out the change to the barkeep.
As he sips it he glances around the establishment as though haunted. Jumpy, he moves to a different seat where he can more easily watch the door. And then again.
Still, he has a broad friendly face which looks almost inviting. He seems to be waiting for someone, but no one comes.
I need to find a way to make some money and settle in. A past, that's what I need. That can only happen with time. Perhaps I should take up a craft? Is everyone looking at me?
He adjusts his wig.
"You might try the table over there," someone whispers in Othoe's ear, though who it was or where they might be is hard to determine amongst the many patrons wandering around.
"it has a view of the door without feelin' quite so...exposed. "
Kast pauses at the top of the hill overlooking Falcon's Hollow, his eyes looking for a reason not to enter town.
Damn, my leg hurts. Irori, grant me the strength to continue. Kast rubs is left leg while he scans the trees and town.
One might think that Kast's anger and disappointment would have quelled some since he left Lastwall a failure, but Kast was still pretty angry: both at himself for failing and at the defenders of Lastwall for not seeing anything worthwhile in him.
I can too be a soldier! I can TOO!
Kast rubs his face in impotent rage.
I could have defended against the orcs! I could have been a soldier!
Kast rests on his longspear for a while longer before heading into the town, mostly using his longspear as a crutch.
They better need a teacher here. Apparently, it's all I'm good for and my coins are almost gone and I need work.
** spoiler omitted **
Othoe jumps nearly out of his skin, and eyes the proffered table suspiciously.
I suppose I must learn to trust and a bodiless voice is as good a place as any to put my sanity for the moment.
Othoe moves to a new table, one with a fine view of the door. On his way to the table he stops again at the bar to freshen his drink and, if possible, order a meal.
I need to eat, it's been a while. I don't think I've had anything to eat since lunch.
Othoe settles in more comfortably in the new location.
"Thank you for the suggestion." he says to no one in particular. Inwardly he grins widely...
Dorial stands outside the Drunken Morkoth Inn as she looks upon the large crowd that has gathered.
What on earth could all these people be doing here? Don't they know that it's dangerous to cram that many into a building at once?! She sighs, her shoulders sagging slightly. Alas, I must eat and this seems to be the only place open at this hour.
Dorial squeezes through the crowd as she makes her way inside and to the bar.
"Excuse me. Can I get some food and a drink?" She glances around the room and notices a small table, with an even smaller patron with a clear view of the door. "I will be at that table," she says pointing at the 'gnome'.
It looks like this fella is as nervous about being inside as I am.
Dorial makes her way to the table with the 'gnome', her eyes constantly darting around the room. Surprisingly, she is able to make her way to the table without bumping into a single patron.. A skill not too difficult being only 5'2".
"Um, hello. Do you mind if I sit here? I don't like being inside and this table has the best view of outdoors."
A tall man enters the bar, his leather armor stained from travel and an unstrung bow sticking out of a quiver on his back. His hair is short along the left side and braided on the right, the ear that protrudes from his head clearly elven, though the 3 days of scruff on his face speaks to his mixed heritage.
"Barkeep, an ale if you please. Apple flavored if you have such."
The man is clearly weary from the road and there is a stray branch sticking out of his hair.
Now why in Erastil's name would he do that? Odd. Hope he doesn't cause any trouble, those gnolls were almost the death of me.
::crutch, limp, step::
::crutch, limp, step::
::crutch, limp, step::
Kast limps down the road to Falcon's Hollow, happy to finally be at his destination.
*This* is the place? Not much of a town. Sandpoint was twice the size. Kast thinks as he surveys his potential new home.
Murmuring thanks to the helpful lumberjack, Kast begins to look for The Sitting Duck, the local inn.
I'll sleep for a day, then eat for another day, then I'll find work. By Irori, my leg hurts.
Born to a comfortable trading family in Almas, Elandor Nark showed promise as a disciple and a talented architect for the church of Abadar (God of cities, wealth and merchants). However, his curiosity about an ancient legendary city powered by the labor of undead drew the scorn of his teachers and he lost them a commission on the design of a large sepulture for a wealthy merchant. Neglected by his previous mentors, the bright young architect has decided to venture out to increase his knowledge and test his new found devotion to a an unnamed god referenced in some old scrolls held by the church of Abadar. The religious symbol he wears around his neck shows a city carried by three skeletons with the motto.
“To Serve Through Death As We Are Unable To In Life.”
Elandor is a bright young idealist, who spends long hours sketching in his note pads. He has formal training, but hasn’t been out much. From comfortable origins he enjoys the finer things in life, but he is also passionate about his faith and wants to prove himself. He has heard rumors about a fallen civilization located around Falcon’s Hallow and hopes that he might find labor pool there to start his new endeavors…
Cleric lvl 1 (Nobility/Death)
Lawful Neutral
St 10 Dex 8 Con 10 Int 16 Wis 17 Cha 14
HP 8
Do you mind? You have a twinge in your hair. The young man pulls out the twig, and winks at the half elf. There seems to be a few seats near that big nosed gnome. Turns his back and heads for the empty seats. As he clumsily makes his way to the table, it’s not hard to notice his mace and armor are totally un-scuffed and shinny. Sorry… excuse me… that doesn’t stain…sorry..
Nimeon gently puts his hand up to block the stranger from touching him.
"I apologize, but the twig is probably there for a reason, and the world is quite dangerous enough without letting strangers touch me. Let us sit and become friends first before I allow such familiarity."
Nimeon smiles apologetically at the man.
"As you say, there is room at the table by the halfling but it would be..."
Seeing the young man wander away already, he turns back to his ale.
An odd symbol around his neck. I detect no evil on him, perhaps he is too young to be tainted by it?
Dorial starts shaking slightly as more individuals near the table. It's quite obvious that she feels uncomfortable here.
I wish I could eat so I could leave this place already. Where is that bartender?!
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Orthoe and Dorial:
A young girl with a tray nearly larger than she is manages to make her way through the crowd, side stepping as the half-orc at the organ lurches to his feet, she spins half way around, weaving between two men near the bar to reach the table tucked near the door. Two bowls of stew shudder and slide, but refuse to spill as she sets them down in front of the Orthoe and his even more skittish tablemate.
"My apologies s... " Whatever she thought to say is cut off as a she stifles a cough. It is a moment before she can continue. "sir. Your stew is ready."
Turning her attention to Dorial, she flashes a weak smile and places a bowl in front of her as well. "and yours too, Miss. Enjoy your time in The Sitting Duck." sketching a quick bob in respect.
Hi all,
Here is Lamtheer's
Lamtheer believed until he was 16 years old that his Elf father, Astiel "Falconwhite", had fled into the wilds after making his mother Anadra pregnant, leaving her one of the many victims of the wrongly-named "Fair People".
Lamtheer's mother was a potent and learned Druid, and she taught him many things about the Wild and the animals, many useful and dangerous things that he could remember later to aid her in getting revenge on Lamtheer's father for abandoning her and their son.
Lamtheer learned to track humans and Elves as well as animals, and he was taught how to use a bow by the ranger companion of her mother, a grim man who beated Lamtheer up when he thought the young boy did not make sufficient progress quickly enough.
Life was hard in this druidic circle, but Lamtheer didn't know anything else, and at least he had his mother at his side.
On the eve of his sixteenth birthday, the druidic circle was preparing a ceremony which would have christened Lamtheer "Squire of The Hunt", a title bestowed upon one who could track, kill and skin the enemies of the druids.
But luckily for Lamtheer, the Eagle Knights of Andoran chose to attack just on this night, and they managed to defeat and rout the evil members of the Mossblood Circle of Darkmoon Vale .
Leading the attack was a woman in shining armor, a paladin of Iomedae named Elsbeth Fairkin.
Elsbeth burst in tears when she saw Lamtheer; she then took him in her arms and called him son !
She explained to Lamtheer that she was his true mother, and that Anadra, her lifelong cruel enemy, had abducted the boy when he was an infant, to hurt Elsbeth and ruin her life with anguish.
Lamtheer's father, though he had now left Elsbeth's side, was a good Elf, who had helped his human wife in the hunt for their son during all these years. Anadra, who had been spurned by Astiel many years ago, had long planned to have the Elf murdered by his own son.
Elsbeth and her Eagle Knights friends convinced Lamtheer that this time he was told the truth. That night, the young Half-Elf learned also, though it was never their intent to teach him so, that the world was a sometimes very unfair place inhabited by lying fiends, and that you couldn't trust anyone without having reflected at length upon their hidden motives.
After that night, Lamtheer stayed 4 years with his new mother, learning of the good and decent human society for the first time truly. Religion was a soothing influence for him, though he never took to praying Iomedae.
But Lamtheer was ill at ease among his fellow humans : he still felt a hunter and a killer in his mind, in his sinews and in his bones. And he wasn't a man like the others anyway : he had pointed ears and strange eyes. Sometimes he couldn't help but feel like a mongrel.
Lamtheer tried to go back into the wilds, he tried to lose himself in nature, but ironically his human side once awakened would not let him partake of the peace of the beasts.
So Lamtheer drifted between the Wild and the City, making few friends though craving for company.
When he learned that Falcon's Hollow was infested with a plague a strange determination fell upon him: he would go there and help the people out, and by doing so would be redeemed for his own faults and the evil of his adoptive mother. And perhaps he would feel at long last that he belonged.
Besides, Anadra was still alive and plotting madness somewhere. Could it be possible that she had something to do with this strange epidemic ?
And
LAMTHEER CR 1/2
Male Half-Elf Ranger (Guide, Skirmisher) 1
NG Medium Humanoid (Elf, Human)
Init +6; Senses Low-Light Vision; Perception +10
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DEFENSE
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AC 17, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+3 armor, +4 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+1)
Fort +3, Ref +6, Will +1
Immune sleep; Resist Elven Immunities
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OFFENSE
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Spd 30 ft.
Melee Dagger +3 (1d4+2/19-20/x2) or
Longsword +3 (1d8+2/19-20/x2)
Ranged Longbow +5 (1d8/20/x3)
Special Attacks Ranger's Focus +2 (1/day)
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STATISTICS
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Str 14, Dex 18, Con 13, Int 10, Wis 13, Cha 9
Base Atk +1; CMB +3; CMD 17
Feats Point Blank Shot, Skill Focus: Perception (Adaptability)
Traits Elven Reflexes, Suspicious
Skills Acrobatics +3, Climb +1, Escape Artist +3, Fly +3, Handle Animal +3, Knowledge (Nature) +4, Perception +10, Ride +3, Sense Motive +6, Stealth +7, Survival +5, Swim +1
Languages Common, Elven
SQ Elf Blood, Track +1, Wild Empathy +0 (Ex)
Combat Gear Arrows (20), Dagger, Longbow, Longsword, Studded Leather
Other Gear Backpack (5 items - 8 lbs) [Bedroll, Potion of Cure Light Wounds, 1 Trail ration, Torch (2)] Pouch, belt (1 item @ 0 lbs) [Flint and steel], Waterskin
Wealth 1 gp
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SPECIAL ABILITIES
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Elf Blood You are counted as both elves and humans for any effect relating to race.
Elven Immunities +2 save bonus vs Enchantments.
Elven Immunities - Sleep You are immune to Sleep effects.
Low-Light Vision See twice as far as a human in low light, distinguishing color and detail.
Point Blank Shot +1 to attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at up to 30 feet.
Ranger's Focus +2 (1/day) (Ex) +2 to hit and damage focused target.
Track +1 +1 to survival checks to track.
Wild Empathy +0 (Ex) Improve the attitude of an animal, as if using Diplomacy.
A little bit more is coming later.
Note:
Lamtheer is a character I made for a shot at another PbP which would have began in Darkmoon Vale (but he wasn't selected) ; I think he could do well in this here adventure :-).
"Um, hello. Do you mind if I sit here? I don't like being inside and this table has the best view of outdoors."
Be calm, she's not from Chelliax, they have no subtlety. Just relax...
"Please, I'd be honored if you'd join me."
Othoe brushes some dust off the table in front of her chair and makes a friendly gesture of greeting.
Now what?
"Er, so you prefer the outdoors? What brings you here then? It's quite crowded."
Remember crowds are good as are companions. They're searching for a lone Halfling, not a Gnome with friends.
The inn's door swings open.
And stays open.
After a few seconds, a woodsman in worn studded leather armor makes a cautious entrance. That's a quite young half-elf, muscular and lithe at the same time, with striking green hair the colour of moss.
Taking his time, he studies the throng of people gathered inside the inn, lingering a moment on the other half-Elf on the far side of the room and on the two men engaged in their game of knivesies.
He closes the door behind him and advances slowly towards the counter, taking care to take his longbow and longsword out of the way, so as not to inadvertently touch the other patrons.
Standing in front of the counter, he reaches in his backpack and pulls out a (dead) rabbit.
"Hello, barkeep" he says in a husky voice, unusual in such a young fellow, "is it possible to pay a ale with this ?"
"I am... thirsty."
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Nimeon
The wizened barkeep doesn't even look your way as he answers, "We have walnut, and darkleaf, what's yer..." breaking off mid sentence, he barks to the entertainment, "Get back to those keys, Eli, or you'll be sleeping at your mum's place tonight! Fleur, get him another drink."
Turning back to the tall, twig infested man in front of him, he continues as if he never stopped, " ...poison?"
Elandor Nark
A few of the men in the knivesies game laugh and shove "Eli" back to his organ. He does manage to catch himself before stumbling over you, but a face full of gaseous ale breath spreads full force in front of you, smelling of nothing so much as rotten walnuts and putrid mushrooms. "s'cuse me, gotta s...song to sing. Yer gonna l...love it."
"My apologies s... " Whatever she thought to say is cut off as a she stifles a cough. It is a moment before she can continue. "sir. Your stew is ready."
Turning her attention to Dorial, she flashes a weak smile and places a bowl in front of her as well. "and yours too, Miss. Enjoy your time in The Sitting Duck." sketching a quick bob in respect.
"Ahh, our meals have arrived. Thanks to you young miss."
Othoe tips her a copper for steering the soup so finely through the crowd with nary a drop. He looks about for some bread to soak up the juices, shrugs, and digs in all the same. The heavily salted meat catches him by surprise at first, but he quickly grows accustomed to it and eats heartily.
"This is not half bad. I had, quite honestly, expected worse in such an establishment. I should really learn to cook though - considering how many meals I'll eat in my lifetime I should try to enjoy each one don't you think?"
He looks his companion over carefully. I wonder what she does for a living?
Dorial returns a small smile to the barmaid as she begins devouring her food. She turns her attention to the gnome, "I've come here to rid this place of the plague. I can't let reach the local wildlife, but I'm starting to second guess coming in here." She ducks as an elbow narrowly misses her head.
I hate this place. But at least the food is good.
"What brings you here? You seem awfully jumpy. Oh, and your wig is crooked."
"What brings you here? You seem awfully jumpy. Oh, and your wig is crooked."
Damn! These Andorans are more perceptive then the Chellish peoples.
Othoe fixes his wig again wishing he had a mirror to check himself.
"Sorry. er, I'm looking for a fresh start. My old life was, well, old and I'm looking for something more promising both for my health and wealth."
Change the subject!
"So you think you can cure the plague? That would make a lot of folks around here quite happy I'm sure - and make you quite popular. You might be surrounded by crowds like this all the time if you were to succeed at such a mission! That is a quite honorable goal though."
I wonder... I bet they'd pay a lot for the cure as well. The popularity issue is risky though. Maybe I can throw my lot in with her as a servant or other 'invisible' ally. But can she really cure the plague or is that just bluster and good will?
"Oh, I think you misunderstand. I'm not curing it for the people here, nor do I care what they think. I do not want it spreading from here into my region and will do what is necessary to ensure that." She slows her eating and nibbles on some bread.
"Crowds I do not overly mind, but it is too cramped in here and I cannot see the sky."
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Lamtheer
Having completed his transaction with the patron in front of you, Brahm the barkeep lifts the dead rabbit from his bar, wipes underneath it, then sets it down again.
"Aye, a drink for it? I can do that." He spits in his hand and holds it out to you, one wild haired brow quirking sharply upward as he awaits your agreement. "Walnut or Darkleaf?"
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Kast Phaer
The Sitting Duck isn't hard to find, sitting as it is near the gate, sticking out like a wart on the Palisade. If a man were blind, the noise that swells every so often could still lead him in, but the road is easy enough to follow, though a little treacherous for the less than nimble.
There are better places to stay in town, but they are for better folk. The Sitting Duck is for strangers, especially those that lack connections in town and that is where the lumberjack suggested you head.
"Oh, I think you misunderstand. I'm not curing it for the people here, nor do I care what they think. I do not want it spreading from here into my region and will do what is necessary to ensure that." She slows her eating and nibbles on some bread.
"Crowds I do not overly mind, but it is too cramped in here and I cannot see the sky."
"I see. That's interesting. So what if you could just contain the village, let everyone die, and then burn it to the ground? Would that work for you?"
I wonder just how far she's willing to take it. Does she have any compassion at all? I don't think I want to hang around another crazed person without morals. I saw too much of that at home. Maybe she's just crazy when she cannot see the sky?
"I'm not judging, just curious as to where you draw the line. I don't know any of these people - in fact I've talked to you more than any other in this town."
Othoe idly casts Prestidigitation to clean up after eating. He spends a little time polishing his nails as well as he continues the discussion.
I bet I could use Prestidigitation to flavor my meals. You idiot! I can't believe I didn't think of that before. Sigh, and my mentor said I was so smart... Fool.
Dorial chokes on a piece of bread, "Burn the village to the ground!? Do I look like some kind of nut job to you?" She holds her breath for a few seconds while she calms down.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap." She wipes are hands off on her tunic, "While I do not care what this village thinks of me, I will not just set fire to it. I will seek out what is causing the plague, put a stop to it then try and cure these people so that it does not spread any further."
Though burning the village down may have to be a last resort, but I shouldn't think of that right now.
may-be this is how that plague has been spreading drunken Orc breath... Well that put a damper on the good mood... Elandor sits down across from the gnome uninvited pulls out his sketch pad and begins immortalizing this glorious point in his career with pastels. Perception
Sketch
"Darkleaf if you please, and thank you."
Nimeon slides some money on the counter, with extra to insure his service continues for the night. Sipping the brew he appreciates the flavor while making his way after the would be gardener.
Interesting conversation. Would that they could stop the plague.
"My parents felt as you did about the plague. My father worked tirelessly to make the forest safer, both for people and wildlife. It did not end well. I suggest you make a lot of friends if you hope to succeed."
The tall woodsman ducks his head after he finishes speaking.
"I am called Nimeon, a servant of Erastil and, I hope one day, a worthy successor to my father's legacy."
Looks up from his note pad. Well my artistic ability is improving... I guess I ll need to find some work untill things look better... You two look more out of place here than even I do. Are you an exotic shaman from these parts? How do you hope to cure this plague? What do you know of this plague?... But pardon me where are my manners... my name Elandor and hail from the capital gets up to shake hands, but ends up spilling his beer. oups!
what I have heard from the towns folk about the plague sine I arrived earlier is...
Diplomacy
Looks up from his note pad. Well my artistic ability is improving... I guess I ll need to find some work untill things look better... You two look more out of place here than even I do. Are you an exotic shaman from these parts? How do you hope to cure this plague? What do you know of this plague?... But pardon me where are my manners... my name Elandor and hail from the capital gets up to shake hands, but ends up spilling his beer. oups!
Othoe looks at the new visitor nervously.
He just sits aggressively. Might be Chellish, that's more the style.
"We were just discussing isolating the village and burning it to the ground to contain the contagen."
Othoe smiles weakly.
"You'll undoubtedly be pleased to hear we decided to try and cure it instead. My name's Othoe, and this is, er, well..."
Othoe trails off realizing he cannot introduce his 'companion' when he does not know her name.
How could I be so foolish! Clearly my cover is blown! That's twice today I've been the fool, clearly I must pay more attention on the here and now and stop worrying about my hunters.
"So what are you drawing?"
you, pretty nice if you don t mind me saying so, you have very halfling like features. Here you can keep it for your grand kids
Dorial squirms as she starts to feel closed in. "Oh, sorry. My name is Dorial, and I am a druid of the vale."
Can any more people possibly squeeze in here?!
She turns to Elandor, "I do not know many details about the plague, which is partly why I am here. However, I plan on spending some time tonight and tomorrow investigating."
Lamtheer
Having completed his transaction with the patron in front of you, Brahm the barkeep lifts the dead rabbit from his bar, wipes underneath it, then sets it down again.
"Aye, a drink for it? I can do that." He spits in his hand and holds it out to you, one wild haired brow quirking sharply upward as he awaits your agreement. "Walnut or Darkleaf?"
"Darkleaf" Lamtheer says with a little smile as he clasps the proferred hand.
"I am called Lamtheer" he adds.
After Brahm has served him a mug, he takes it and looks once again in the direction of the half-elf. Lamtheer notices the table he's seated is getting a little crowded now - though there is still an empty stool.
He takes his mug and makes his way to the table with the two humans - one man and one woman -, the half-elf and the gnome.
He arrives just in time to hear: "My name is Dorial, and I am a druid of the vale."
At that, he stops in his tracks, tenses and looks at Dorial with an uncanny intensity.
He does look a little odd, standing unmoving near the table like that, his hazel-nut eyes fixed on the woman like some feral boy.
As soon as someone looks in his direction tough, he shakes himself and leans on the wall, taking a sip at his mug and trying to look casual.
The door opens, and a thin, hunched figure enters noiselessly, weaving through the crowd and making his way towards the bar. His fingers twitch involuntarily at the sight of a couple of unguarded purses, but he thinks better of yielding to the impulse. Discipline, lad - discipline! That's what they taught you in the Order of the Rack, and once Lictor Melancthon's given you a lesson in obedience, you don't forget it in a hurry... He leans on the bar and grins at the barman.
"Don't look at me like that - I'm not here on business. Give us a Darkleaf, and mind that it isn't half froth, like it is normally! I can pay for it with money I've earned, too. How's that for you?"
He throws back his hood, revealing an unappealing combination of short-cropped black hair, watery grey eyes and a long-nosed face covered with smallpox scars. He looks over at the game of knivesies in progress at the back, rubbing his chin in a contemplative manner.
Spotting the empty stool and changing his mind, Chrystosm walks over to the table it stands at, peering over at the individuals sitting there. He checks to see if the barman's paying attention, decides he isn't, then speaks, with a marked Chelish accent
"Your pardon, gentlefolk, but did someone happen to mention 'plague'?" He produces a couple of bottles filled with brightly coloured liquid. "It so happens that I have the very thing - Dr. Falteroll's own famous specific against mephitics, ha ha, and yours for only one gold piece per bottle! I am a charitable man, after all, and have no wish to take advantage of folk in such desperate straits. Any takers?"
Dorial looks up at the man standing oddly against the wall.
She sighs at him and turns back to her conversation.
Does he really think he's fooling anyone?
Sense motive
If you have a cure for this plague you should bring it to the towns authorities at once,
I trundle toward the settlement, calling a Y'hear me? to the dark-blind folk with their pools of lantern light.
It is not difficult to find the traveller's inn, I am weary but take second to straighten my back before pushing open the door and stepping into the bright-smoke of the taproom.
Taking in the folk, I enter and approach the bar; my voice is low but not gruff: Have y' lodgings? If so, I've coin for both room and board while I'm here.
Sarek is here to find his cousin. He was forced out of the community because of business dealings but it eventually became clear that his name had been falsley defamed. His cousin's father is old, so Sarek took up the duty to find him and has tracked him this far... If you want to provide a name or other information about this cousin that would suit the adventure then that will be great, otherwise I'll make him up myself. Until you give me the nod I'll just settle in at the bar.
I hope my profile isn't confusing: the plain answers are what Sarek might say, the light blue are his thoughts at the same time. I have tried to portray a bit of the 'otherness' of dwarves and make him feel 'dwarven' without resorting to cliches. I know you didn't put dwarves high on your list but I've had this character bumping about in my head for a while and think he could suit this game.
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what I have heard from the towns folk about the plague sine I arrived earlier is...
Diplomacy 1d20+6
...not a lot, in all actuality. Some call it the slacking of lazy workers, making more of a cold than they ought. Others, though, swear it'll be the death of 'em, if it weren't for Laurel and her teas and tinctures.
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Chrystosm
Brahm glowers, but your money's good, so a mug of the fermented brew is soon in your hand.
"Just see that you keep it that way, or your stay'll be over real quick." He knows your type and now he figures, you know he knows. With a nod, he heads off, taking the rabbit from the previous customer with him. The busy barman doesn't get very far, however, and has never been known for his poor hearing.