Motteditor's Kingmaker campaign (Inactive)
Game Master motteditor

"Nah, lass, it's just a discussion," Rupert says. He grins awkwardly, trying to soothe over any unpleasantness of the conversation. He spends an hour or so pacing the grounds of the fort in thought, then goes to bed early, happy to have a set of walls around him.

"If you say so, Rupert, it must be so", Treshiell says then shifts her gaze on Kersten and Orin. Thaal slithers up on her shoulder next to her ear. The witch fixes her attention on the leader of the sirens. "Why are you known, Kersten?"

"Relax, my friend. That particular bandit has been put paid to and she danced a nice little jig on the end of a rope to boot. No the ring was stolen from the thieves by the mites, which was in turn taken from them by the Sootscales during one of their raids. When next we leave we will swing by their caverns and strongly request that it be returned.

Agnar stops just before he's out the door and turns, looking abashed.

"Oh...well why didn't someone say so afore I made a fool of myself? We'll still get the ring back, in any event, even if I have to buy it off those scaly runts."

Kesten coughs at Treshiell's comment. "Well, I am the scion of a very famous family back home in Brevoy, and of course have led my contingent here in the Swordlords' service to help guard this outpost."

Stevic gives a rare smile at Agnar and Orin's exchange. "Didn't embarrass yourself. Flaming sounded like a proper woodsman for a bloody change, 'stead of one of them crow-bitten nobles from up north. Glad you found out where the ring is, but I'm not going to be sotting happy until that it's back on Taerine's finger!"

"I can curse with the best of them, but in my travels as a priest I met with a lot of families that had younglings. Makes you watch your tongue as a matter of course. The loss of the ring got my dander up. Marriage is a sacred thing and should not be trifled with. Now someone pass me another ale so I can shut my mouth."

"So your fame derives from your family and guarding this outpost? Is that what make us remember your name?" Treshiell responds to Kersten. "Given what you said, i would have thought it was something more."

I must have missed something, how do we know that the kobolds have the ring? What did we find that indicates that the mites stole the ring from the bandits and the kobolds stole it from the mites?

One of the bandits from Kessle's camp had said that the mites had stolen a bag of loot from them and the tally sheet that Edrukk had deciphered in the mite chieftain's cave had mentioned some coins, a shiny ring, and magic dust as have been taken by the kobolds (the "them" I'm assuming).

"Nobility -- like beauty -- is a powerful thing, lass," Kesten replies with a wink. "Why do you think I've always found it so easy to remember you?"

Also, seems like the conversation is wrapping up, so let me know when you're ready to ride out and where you want to go.

A low growl escapes from Orin's throat at Kesten's flattery as his hand involuntarily clenches around a nonexistent sword hilt. Visibly forcing himself to relax he extends his hand to Kesten "Yes, you never know what the future may hold."

I'm ready to head out. I think the plan was to ride east to the edge of our charter, then head south along the perimeter to the bottom edge, then head west back to the kobold's caverns and return to the fort with Taerine's ring.

Sounds like a plan.

Agnar spends the rest of the evening tending to his equipment, oiling and re-stringing his new bow.

Leaving the fort early in the morning in early Gozran, you head east and travel for several hours, past Bokken's home, into unexplored territory. The day of mapping the plains passes uneventfully, as does the following evening.

Let me know if you want to stop at the hermit's hut and we can retcon that in.

Continuing east, you ride unmolested, exploring and mapping another dozen miles of plains with no problem.

Turning south at the edge of the area you were chartered to explore, you finally find something in the plains -- an ancient marble dome about 100 paces wide, statues of ancient-looking warriors next to the rain-stained columns.

Stolen Lands map

Actually Orin did want to stop at Bokkens
Orin will pull up outside the hermit's hut and call out "Bokken are you here?" Once the hermit appears Orin will dismount and pull an oil soaked leather bag from his saddlebags. Handing the package to Bokken Orin will ask "We removed this from a large spider we killed just south of here and I was wondering if you could make anything from this?" He will open the bag to show Bokken the venom sac we removed after our fight with the giant trapdoor spider.
Trying to wrap up some loose ends we've kind of left dangling.

Bokken again greets you cheerily, though he doesn't seem if he remembers you at all.

"Hmm? Hello? You seem familiar. Bandits, right? I remember! But don't worry. Compared to my little brother, none of you seem that bad. But remember I can defend myself if you try anything!"

"What? Spider? Yeeessss, very interesting. Very much. Of course I could make something out of it. Some poison, most likely, though maybe an anti-venom. Which would you like? I can make it quite reasonable. Just remind me which you said you wanted again?"

At the trading post
"We have met nobility", Treshiell replies with hint of darkness hiding somewhere within her hazy and calm voice. "We were not impressed." The witches attention returns to the fire, her interest in Kersten and the conflict lost.

At Bokken
Treshiell remains seated on her horse, playing with a spider moving up and down her arm.

At the structure
Treshiell dismounts and approaches one of the statues. "Who were they?" she asks absently as she runs her hands over the carved stone. Her eyes flicker as she scans the area for signs of magic. Cast Detect magic

Anyone who knows history?

At Bokken's
"Make what you can of each and we will talk price after we return with your fangberries."

At the dome
Orin let's out a low whistle "Impressive. What do you think it is? A shrine? A mausoleum?" he asks, turning to Agnar.

"Not sure...must be old, to be sitting out here in the middle of nowhere like this. Let's get a closer look."

Orin will dismount and lead Windswift to the building proper.

Agnar will also dismount. When we're close enough, he'll take a look around the building and the general area for any clues as to the purpose of this place, anything of interest, and if there are any occupants.

Knowledge(religion) check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22; Perception check: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23; Survival check: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (6) + 7 = 13

Treshiell, you do not detect any magic.

Agnar, you think the dome is some sort of memorial, though you're not sure to what or whom. It doesn't look as if anyone other than the four of you has been near it anytime recently.

You can also see what looks as if there's some sort of writing at the top of a small obelisk in the center of the dome, though you can't make out the words from where you are.

Let me know if any of you go inside ... he writes ominously.

OK, I'll bite

Dropping the reins of his horse, Orin will approach the monument and step inside, walking up to the interior obelisk to get a better look.

Agnar will move in behind Orin. "Might be a memorial to the fallen of some war, from the looks of these dour fellows," he says, looking at the warrior statues as they pass inside.

Orin has time to take a partial action before I adjudicate the next event.

"Agnar, do you hear that? The sound of women weeping, it's almost too much to bear." With that Orin will attempt to exit the dome, with his hands clasped over his ears, and shake his head to try to clear it.

The crying seems to disappear as Orin flees the dome, though Agnar begins to hear it, feeling himself filling with sadness. It's enough to make him want to weep uncontrollably, though he's able to keep himself together.

Agnar Will: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (15) + 7 = 22

Note we're in combat rounds, so you all have one full action to do whatever.

If it's not to late Treshiell would have followed inside as well.

Treshiell watches Orin as the ranger covers his ears and runs out of the dome. Turning back to the dome she raises her voice and calls out with a unwavering clear tone. "Is there someone here?"

This is where my metagame sense wakes up and curses me for not forgetting to do another spell craft check on the haunted glass...

"Unquiet spirits lurk here," Agnar says, grasping his holy symbol. "This place is not for you, restless ones. In Erastil's name, quit your weeping and begone!"

Channel Energy for damage: 2d6 ⇒ (5, 4) = 9; If the weeping continues, Agnar will take a move action to exit the dome.

Retconned to have Treshell in the dome now:

Also in the memorial, Treshiell is filled with utter sadness, and begins weeping, falling prone.

Before anyone else can do anything further, Agnar channels divine energy into the area, quieting the voices and stilling the sadness ... for now.

HauntING glass!

Knowledge(religion) check to try and comprehend what just happened: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

"They're gone, for now. Is everyone all right?"

You believe it's a haunt, echoing some sort of long-ago suffering, but you're not sure at the moment of any other details.

"What's happened?" Rupert calls from outside the dome, poking his head inside curiously and then growing more somber when he notices something isn't quite right. "You all look like yeh' just saw a ghost!" he says.

"Treshiell!" Orin yells, before dashing back into the dome and picking up the fallen Witch in his arms. Carrying her back out of the dome he lays her gently on the ground, cradling her head on his lap
Heal check: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
Looking up at Agnar he asks "What in the Nine Hells was that?"

"Not so much saw as heard, Rup." Agnar moves out to Orin's side, in case he's needed.

"The place is haunted. Not a true ghost...more like a memory. Something terrible happened here that's left an imprint, an echo. It's gone for now. They're too strong to just wipe away, but they've been silenced for the moment."

"Then we need to figure out a way to cleanse this place once and for all. We can't weary travelers stopping to rest here only to fall victim to whatever haunts this place. That, or tear it down brick by brick."

"Maybe somebody out here will know a thing or two about this place; we could ask Bokken, or Stevic, or even the Sootscales - see if we can figger anythin' else out about this place."

With the voices quieted for now Orin will reenter the building, going up to the obelisk all the while looking all over for clues as to the edifice's purpose.
Perception check: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

The obelisk has an inscription -- in faded Taldane -- that reads:

"The Eight Legion of the Fifth Taldan Army of Exploration -- was last seen in this place. They may be lost but they shall never be forgotten.

-- Rhodesius Ancillus, 2011 AR"

"Treshiell? Are you well, girl? Can you stand?"

After Orin reads the inscription on the obelisk:

"Well, it's certainly old. I'm afraid I'm not much of a historian. Daunting though, to think that our small band is exploring a land where an entire legion was lost."

"Any idea on how to shut this thing down?" Orin asks, looking to Agnar "Do you think we need to find this "lost legion" or some remnant of it?"

Treshiell's tears soon dry out leaving streaks on her face where the dirt has run. She gets to her feet holding Thaal in a firm grip and strokes his head gently with her thumb. The viper is in turn tightly wrapped around the whitch's arm. "They where so sad", Treshiell says and looks to the obelisk with absent green eyes.

Been busy over easter so i've been unable to post. Somewhat similar situation this week, so if you get into a fight or something similar, just DMPC Treshiell. Don't hold up the action by waiting for me. Should be back to normal next monday.

I'd like to take the next opportunity to take 10 (10 + 9 = 19) on the haunting glass, in hopes of identifying it.)

"This things are tricky to deal with. You might have the right of it, Orin, but without knowing more about this legion or who built this monument, we're shooting in the dark."

Noting Treshiell is up and about, Agnar begins walking the outside perimeter of the building.

"No way to really shut it up...I hate to say it, but the best we can hope to do right now, as far as I know, would be to put up a sign warning folk away from it, not that there's a lot of folk 'round here to warn."

"Well, ah' didn't bring a pen," Rupert says, looking around for sign-making material. "Ah' suppose we could write a message in blood - that might deter folks even more than some ominous warning!"

"You've got a flair for the dramatic, Rup, but it would catch the eye better than my idea. I was just thinking of carving 'Danger' into a split log."

"If we can't figure out a way to put these spirits to rest somehow I think we need to consider tearing this monument down. People will just ignore a sign or it might fall down or get blown away."

Treshiell is still unable to figure out what the mirror does, though she remains fascinated by it.

Let me know what you decide to do/when you're ready to move on. You don't see many tracks in the heavy underbrush or anything else that indicates the area gets a lot of traffic at the moment, though that could certainly change if something caused a spike in population in the Stolen Lands.

"For now, let's just make a note on the map. I don't think the lot of us will be able to push it over. Perhaps we'll find some information later that will allow me to banish the spirits in this place. If not, we'd best start saving up for a dwarven demolition crew. This monument has been standing here for centuries."

Assuming you'll make some sort of sign up, though you can continue to debate exactly how you want to do that...

Moving south, you explore for a couple days when you find an old lightning-struck oak tree, looking eerily like a claw reaching for the clouds, atop a low hill -- the only tree in a 2-mile radius.

Taking a closer look, Agnar notices a section of earth there has been disturbed.

"Well, this lonely old soul's seen some hard times. Hello, looks like someone's been doing some digging here..." Agnar will move to the disturbed section of earth and see if there's anything beneath the loose soil.

It takes about 10 minutes of digging, but you find a heavy leather cloak wrapped around a nice dagger, a wand, a silver ring and a water-damaged book.

"Looks like someone's cache...a wizard, perhaps." He sets his spade aside and shows the collection to the party. "Treshiell, do we have anything enchanted amongst this collection?"

The witch whispers briefly with Thaal, who slithers down his arm and flicks his tongue at the wand. "Thaal says the wand is magic," Treshiell intones in her usual way. "It lets you breathe flame from your hands. Perhaps that is what happened to this tree" she says, before turning her attention to a branch on the ground.

1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21
Wand of burning hands, CL 2nd, 4 charges