Ruins of Pathfinder: The Quest for Arcadia (Inactive)

Game Master Robert Brookes

Dakún Rabbúhamash awoke from his light slumber in the earliest moments of dawn. He rubbed his bleary eyes and set about straightening the interior of his driftwood lean-to. A skilled engineer, the simple construction mocked his talents, but it served its purpose in keeping him and his belongings sheltered from the coastal wind. Another similar structure clutched the ground and rock nearby under which his Donkey rested. Zúzun had been his longest living traveling companions and he wasn’t going to let her go uncared for. Pulling himself from his bedroll, he pulled away the blankets and pressed his naked hand against the bare rock that the wooden structure leaned against. A deep intake of air was taken, before he allowed himself a slow release. He tried to sleep close to the earth of Arcadia and gain a feel for this land, to acclimate himself to it. Soon enough he ventured out onto the shore. There was more to do, but he wanted to take in the morning first. The smell of the Arcadian ocean in his nostrils and the moisture in the air were the first things the Sand Dwarf noticed about the day. A slow glance upward at the sky revealed a grey tapestry thick with slow moving clouds. The wind was strong and Dakún held a hand up to determine in which direction it blew.

It seemed the night had passed without trouble. When he past the crashing waves and out onto the vast black expanse of the Arcadian Ocean he could not help but realize how far he had come from his birthplace of Tar-Telúl. His exile had taken him far beyond the mountains and deserts of Garund. Though it might be a century in the future, Dakún Rabbúhamash would one day send word back to Tar-Telúl extending invitation to this new colony away from the wrath of the Fire-bleeder and the troubles besetting the world. Turning away from the ocean, Dakún looked beyond the crest of the shore to the hills and mountains to the West. That was where the future lay.

He touched the pommel of the Fire-forged Temple sword he wore belted at his waist. He had secured this along with the dark brown and khaki robes he wore for the day and the green facial scarf he currently wore down around his neck. Though it was a weapon, its significance held more import in both a ritualistic and spiritual sense. The blade had been passed down to him by his father Yav-Urak Rabbúhamash and his father had given him his blessing to take it with him into exile, cautioning his son to never to let it be far from reach. In addition, the weapon’s hollow pommel held the ankle-bone of his supposed ancestor Vul-Ballad. Though the ancestor spirit had been mostly quiet since Dakún set foot on Arcadian soil, he opened the pommel and said a prayer of respect over the bone, before returning it to its temporary resting place.

After some rigorous morning stretching and exercise, Dakún fed first his Donkey and then himself. Though he did not have much in the way of supplies, he tapped into his reserve of honey and rations to make hot porridge additionally flavored with shaved hazelnuts and a large cup of Kahve. He was still drinking his cup when he finished breaking his fast and tinkering with his pistol. It had taken a beating during the battle with the Kraken and he wanted to be sure that should he need to use it that it would not fail him. After that he cleaned himself and shaved his head and the stubble growing on his chin. Though it was not the way of the other non-Pahmet dwarves of the expedition, it was a tradition he for now maintained. His social caste did not permit the growing of a noble beard. There was a quiet serenity about Dakún Rabbúhamash as he prepared for the day. Each chore was made into a little ritual and carried out with a silent, peaceful diligence.

Though he was more than capable and willing to make a meal to break the night’s fast for the entire expedition of dwarves, he made no offers to do so at this time. It was not his place to assume that role for himself nor did he wish to confuse the social castes being established by the expedition. He’d already trespassed into the realm of the priesthood and today he would begin down the path of explorer and scout. Though he was part of the council that had been established with the death of the expedition leader, Dakún Rabbúhamash knew that he would never lead. How could he? He was but the exiled son of stonemasons.

-----------------------------
Engineering +6, Survival +7(+9)
Profession Chef +7

Jumping back in time slightly, now that I've finally finished writing this. This takes place the evening of the first day, after the various services and actions have been taken, probably just after dinner.

That first night, Rogath performs a Harrowing to see what hints to the future may be gleaned from it. He invites all of the others of their impromptu council, for (as he put it) "Any insights the cards may provide will be more than we have now."

When all who are coming are gathered, he begins: "I think the obvious question to ask tonight is 'What do we do now?' We are definitely in a tough situation, so we will begin with the suit of Keys, the suit of Troubles among other things." He takes the pile of nine cards and fans them out to let everyone choose. After everyone does so, he sets aside a card for each person who isn't present, explaining "It's hard to read for someone who isn't present, but I can try. They won't be able to say whether there is any truth to the insights their card may provide, however." Finally, he chooses one of the last two cards for himself. "It's also unusual to include yourself in a Harrowing, since it's hard to avoid applying your own interpretation to whatever the cards show. However, since we're all in this together, I may as well try."

As each card is revealed, he announces the perceived connection. Some are more tenuous than others, but it is his job to explain what they reveal, whether or not it seems clear at the time.

Angrin: 1d9 ⇒ 5
"The Demon's Lantern, the card of traps and tricks. I do not know what it may be referring to, but it seems appropriate that you will be the one to find it."

Dakún: 1d8 ⇒ 8
"The Rabbit Prince, the card of hand-to-hand combat and the chaos of battle. Beware melée, as anyone may fall."

Dr. Logem: 1d7 ⇒ 7
"The Peacock, card of time passing and beauty that fades if not preserved. It often represents a major change in attitudes, whether personal or societal. Perhaps you will have a significant role in shaping the social norms in our new home?" Yes, the image is that of a cockatrice. That's the "if not preserved" bit, I assume.

Dwunderbran: 1d6 ⇒ 1
"The Avalanche, the card of unreasoning disaster. Consider your actions well, lest you be the one to unthinkingly trigger the fall."

Maven: 1d5 ⇒ 5
"The Locksmith, the card of tools. The locksmith simply provides the tools, it is upon others to determine their use. Alternatively, it may represents a specific artifact that you will use to great effect."

Mineko: 1d4 ⇒ 4
"The Juggler, card of Fate, and those who meddle in the lives of others. If you do set yourself as the decider, consider well those whose lives will be affected by your decisions. Do not lose sight of the goal and fail them."

Quint: 1d3 ⇒ 3
"The Dance, card of delicate patterns which all must adhere to. I suspect this may refer to your organizational talents. Set the pattern for us well, master of the dance."

Rogath: 1d2 ⇒ 2
"The Crows, card of violent theft of that which is loved." He laces his fingers into his beaded beard as he stares at the bird-masked people on the card. "May Desna protect me from whatever it is, when it comes."

Taking the cards back, he shuffles them into the deck and begins to deal.

The Past (top to bottom): 1d54 ⇒ 131d53 ⇒ 451d52 ⇒ 52
The Present (bottom to top): 1d51 ⇒ 291d50 ⇒ 471d49 ⇒ 45
The Future (top to bottom): 1d48 ⇒ 481d47 ⇒ 121d46 ⇒ 29

Flipping the first column of cards over, Rogath reveals The Demon's Lantern, The Trumpet, and The Winged Serpent. "Representing a positive aspect of the past, The Demon's Lantern appears again. As I said before, it is a card of tricks and traps. But in this corner, it represents a guide who came to show the way. When I read the cards at Hraggir's funeral, this card appeared in the present. Now it's in the past. I believe it represents Vigar and his vision of this land. He may be gone, but his vision perseveres." Looking up at Angrin, he adds "As you drew this card earlier, it also represents you. Something you have done has made a significant positive impact on our situation. Gathering us together to sort out what to do is the first thing that comes to mind, but there may be more to it than just that."
Tapping the middle card, he says "The Trumpet is another card which appeared at the funeral. It represents power used in the cause of right. Then, I said it was an admonishment to prepare for confronting a dire situation, but to avoid recklessness that could snatch defeat from victory. Here it indicates that we've faced the situation, and come through it, for better or worse."
Pointing to the last card, he says "The Winged Serpent is a card of wisdom and knowledge. The couatl on it represents the convergence of the knowledge of when to take action and that of what action needs to be taken. Placed here, it indicates that we've missed an opportunity, or took advantage of one we shouldn't have."

Moving on to the column of the present, he turns over The Midwife on the bottom, The Uprising in the center of the spread, and The Tyrant on top. He considers this for a minute, then interprets: "The Midwife is an easy card to interpret here. It is another from the suit of wisdom, and much as a midwife eases a birth but doesn't produce the child herself, the card represents an enabling of creation rather than creation itself. It's an interesting card, as it represents the same thing no matter where it's placed, but with a different cast on it. Normally, the creation it enables is a happy event, but placed on the bottom row it indicates sorrow in what is being created. Appropriate for us, I think. No matter what we manage to accomplish here, it will be born in the sorrow of the Kraken's attack."
Pointing at the center card, he continues, "The Uprising is a card of overwhelming strength, beyond that which we can muster. While we were able to slay the Kraken in the end, we could not prevent it from destroying our ships. There may be other creatures of similar overwhelming force in this land, and we can't survive too many fights like that."
Frowning at the last card in the column, he finishes with a markedly shorter interpretation. "The last card is The Tyrant, representing a harmful ruler or other dark influence. Here, it indicates that one is being overthrown - could it refer to the death of the Kraken, somehow?" He looks up to see if anyone else has any insights to contribute on it.

Moving on to the future column, always the hardest to interpret, he shows The Waxworks, The Dance again, and The Mute Hag. "The Waxworks is a card of physical weakness. The mind might be willing, but the body can't act. But here, it indicates the reverse - it indicates that there will be a flurry of activity which will benefit us greatly."
Tapping the next card, he looks to Quint as he says, "The Dance, another card returning from the Choosing. Placed here, it simply predicts that a framework of rules will emerge, neither for good nor ill. Probably accurate, but not very informative."
With a sigh, he indicates the last card. "Finally, we have The Mute Hag. Like the Midwife, she is a card of knowledge, but hers is the knowledge of dark and poisonous secrets. Secrets which can break the strongest bonds of loyalty. She bodes ill for us."

The morning broke over the rocky shore to the sound of sea birds cawing in the distance. The ground felt hard below Mineko’s back and though her servants had been able to find a bedroll and furs she had slept fitfully. Every time she closed her eyes she could still see the slamming of tentacles against the wooden hulls, hear the death cries of her people around her in the ocean. It was terrifying and surreal. With a gasp the young empress opened her eyes and sat up. The makeshift tent was warmer than expected, thanks Motomi who had surprisingly make a fire just outside of the ramshackle structure. Seated next to her was Koki, who sat cross legged with his longsword across his knees while he stared into a finger-length bit of jade that had been carved with tiny dwarves symbols for protection.

From outside of the tent came rustlings. As the curtain opened, ancient Tokuzo stepped in. He had managed to find some cheese and cured pork and must have in the early morning hours prepared a meal for his majesty. Laying the tray at her feet, the wizened dwarf cook steeped away. My apologizes empress he whispered, the fair here is poor compared to what you are used to. Nodding, she looked for Kaori, yet she was nowhere to be found. Frowning, she sighed. This one understands, and we also understand that hardship must be endured by all. Did you find enough food for all of us? She asked quietly. At the dwarfs nod, she smiled. That is well, Koki She stated, at which the dwarf guardsman’s eyes opened and looked towards Mineko. Today, this one wants you to take a count of the remaining survivors. This one wishes to know how many of our people survived. Rising Koki moved towards the door. Wait, eat first, and then work. Each of you need your strength. Wordlessly the guardsman nodded before heading out to find food.[/b] Rising, for once Mineko was glad of her short stature, for the tent was very small. Closing her eyes, she put out her hands before her. Pao-Lung and Yamatsumi, this one gives you thanks for your deliverance from the seas and asks you to bless this food. Clapping her hands together, Mineko nodded and gave a small smile. It was going to be a long day.

"Ahh I didn't realize any had survived." he observes. He still had to compile all his notes from the previous day and the report from the other dwarves of what had been brought in. He found the work fulfilling, but it wasn't something he was used to and had taken the afternoon off after the numbers began to swim on the pages in front of him. "Any left?" he asks as he takes the proffered perch.

"Yes, we definitely need to know more about the area; this wind proves that if nothing else. We'll need to find somewhere to construct some more permanent shelter once the wreckage from the ships stops washing up; I suspect the mountains to the west will be our likely goal."

He shakes his head at Logem's question. "We'll have to discuss it once everyone's up."

Morning finds Dwunderbran no more amiable than any other time in the dwarf's misbegotten life. Stumbling out of his tent—a poorly secured lean-to covered in a tattered tarp—he is not yet fully awake as he rises to greet the affront of chill winds and choppy tides. A pair of passersby attempt to hustle past, lest they draw his ire, meeting with mixed results as he attempts to hail them from his half-asleep, half-awake stupor. "'EY then! Tha' boat it be... leavin'. Aye, aye... ggmmmrnn... if'n we leave'n time fer tha boat. Eh?" He seems lost as the wind plays havoc on his unkempt beard, braids and tangled masses of knots, matted strands, and frayed ends waving horizontally past his head.

A large hand is drawn across his brow as he finally gathers bearings then begins scouring the crust from his eyes and what drool can be dislodged from the beard hair covering his right cheek. The realization of where he is manifests fully, and he begins his morning ritual with practiced familiarity. Some of the most disgusting hacking, snorting, and hocking noises ever heard permeate the beach around his chosen roost for several moments before he's able to coax the gob of phlegm from his insides. Spitting it carelessly into the breeze, the grotesque mass nearly rebounds into his face, though he manages to barely sidestep it. Next, he trumpets streams of snot from either nostril before trotting down to the crashing waves to wipe his face off with the salty sea water. On his way to stooping for the water, a peal of thunderous flatulence erupts from his rear, which itself produces a series of self satisfied chuckles and inaudible praises from Dwunderbran.

He is later seen roaming the landing site checking on the various guards, assuring the shifts are being well manned and not abandoned for the comfort of sleep or other pursuits. Some of the younger lads appear to have reneged on their initial offers, likely not fully appreciating the boredom and drudgery that went with the task, though it was to be expected. Eventually, satisfied that the endeavor is well looked after, he sees a couple of friendly faces sharing words and—by the smell of it—coffee.

Plopping down unceremoniously nearby to Quint and Logem, Dwunderbran coughs-grumbles out what might be a greeting or good morning, though no one can tell for certain. Abandoning any semblance of formality, etiquette, or worthwhile introduction, he immediately begins rambling on as if the trio had been conversing for a good while already. "An' tha' tent o' mine ain't fit fer tha ass wipin' ah'll nae doubt be a'givin' 'er later, aye? Cannae stay 'ere much longer'n ah will nae stay 'ere much longer, nay. When'n ye be reckonin' we sniff 'er out further inland, savvy?" Dwunderbran's eyes list slowly towards the monument erected the prior evening. It seems far more foreboding than it had seemed fitting the night before, under the sky threatening black and grey and the roar of the tide in tumult. "This stretch o' sand an' pebble be a poor omen, it be. Somethin' a'wrong with'n it. Best ta be movin' on soon enough, soon enough, aye."

Rogath wakes up the next morning, from a dream where he was flying among the stars, only to realize upon getting closer that each star is really an eye. And each eye is held in the mouth of a withered old hag. And each hag was staring directly at him from her empty eye sockets, silently screaming something he knew he didn't want to hear, but was on the verge of understanding anyway as a flock of crows descended on him to pluck out his eyeballs and stuff them in his mouth... And then he woke up. Gasping for breath. Listening in fear for the sound of wings. Sitting up and huddling into his bedroll, as a stray feather from someone's salvaged pillow floats down to the floor from his face.

A nightmare. It was just a nightmare. He holds his star-marked hand closely to his chest as he gets his breathing back under control, a prayer for divine protection running through his mind. Desna, protect me. Shield me from the dangers of the road. Guide me safely through whatever trouble the Hag portends. Bless me with your luck, that I may experience each day with wonder anew. As he slowly untangles himself from his bedroll and performs his morning rituals, he manages to calm himself somewhat, and with a deep breath he prepares to emerge from his dark tent into the bright light of morning.

Stepping out into the sunlight, he pauses to take in the rather stunning view of the low-hanging sun reflecting off the seemingly endless waters to the east. Sensitive eyes watering from the light, he can't look long, but the beautiful sight burns away the last tatters of his nightmare and restores some measure of peace to his soul.

A few minutes later, Rogath is walking down the beach, eying any flotsam which looks interesting and occasionally pushing it further up the beach if it looks like it might be useful. Suddenly, he spots a familiar shape out of the corner of his eye. Turning to look, he sees a starknife, embedded in the top of a crate. "My blade!" he exclaims as he runs down to retrieve it. I thought the Kraken had claimed it for the depths! As he takes the familiar grip in hand, he notices the label on the crate it's embedded in: "Barley". Hey, now that will be useful! He drags the crate further ashore, then goes to look for someone to share the news with, a prayer of thanks on his lips.

As the morning hours pass, the survivors of the shipwreck congregate around the bonfire at the center of the camp. A discussion regarding a long-term plan is begun, and while inroads are made no concrete outline for the future can yet be agreed upon. What is certain after that meeting are two things; Firstly, that the general attitudes of the survivors has improved and spirits are up. With the bodies of the dead laid to rest and a semblance of much-needed order restored, the settlers now have the ability to focus themselves on more pressing tasks. While some disagreements and friction are still present, there is no sign of the in-fighting and hopelessness of previous days. Secondly, that exploration of the local environment is an absolute must. This proves to be the more difficult notion to tackle.

After much deliberation and conference with the returned scouts, a plan of investigation of the immediate surroundings is made. An away team of four dwarves will set out for the foothills to the west to see what lies beyond the beach, while a larger rotating team of dwarves will make forays to and from the camp, exploring the miles of shoreline around the camp and the plains beyond.

Not long before mid-morning an expeditionary force consisting of Rogath Silvertard, Angrin Thronebearer, Dakún Rabbúhamash and Dwunderbran Vulgarbeard gather up their personal effects and traveling equipment and set out for the western horizon. Their journey will take two days -- fair conditions considered -- but will hopefully bring the settlers closer to discovering more about their location.

Meanwhile, the first of the local explorers pack up provisions for the day and fan out up and down the shore, and across the rolling plainsland beyond the beach camp. Watching the others leave, Mineko knows that her task is ensuring the safety and happiness of the settlers. People that, should popular favor sway her way, could one day become her subjects.

Though it's not looking like much of a kingdom at the moment.
 
 
 
 
 
     << Expedition Team: Western Hills | Early Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >> 
 
 
 
 
 
It will take a full day of travel on foot for the expeditionary force to reach the western hills. Travel across the windswept plains makes for easy hiking and exposure to the abundant wildlife that Arcadia offers. Small birds similar to grackels flit from the branches of leafless scrub bushes, darting into tall windblown wildgrass for insects.

Once the beach camp is out of sight, the landscape takes a noticable turn towards rockier and more uneven footing. By mid-day large swaths of exposed granite covered with lichen dot the countryside. The weather also takes a positive turn come mid-day, with the skies opening up and rays of sunlight casting through the once oppressive cloud cover. Dappled with sunlight as it is, Arcadia's rolling hills and lush fields look picturesque, even if Angrin has to squint to make it all out through the "damnable glare."
 
 
 
     << The Beach Camp | Early Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
When the weather clears up and the sun comes out, the dwarves at the beach camp begin taking to the water, retrieving more of the debris from the ship that has washed ashore. The day's salvage operation seems to be going well, with many crates containing useful and water-proofed goods being hauled up off of the shore as well as workable timber, rope and glasswares. Spirits are high, and the presence of Mineko visiting the salvage groups during their work further bolsters their morale.
 
 
 
 
 
     << Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >> 
 
 
 
 
 

Up on a rocky hill overlooking the rolling countryside at the beginning of the foothills their scouts had spotted, the western expedition team has already discovered something unusual. Angrin had spotted it at a distance, a heap of oddly shaped stones surrounded by scrub grass. When the team made it to the hill, they found signs of man-made stonework; ancient millstones spotted with green lichen that have laid out in the elements for centuries. These old pieces of hand-worked granite are the first signs of civilization in Arcadia they have come across, and shows sign of agricultural advancement.

There's a possibility of it being remnants of Ulfen explorers, but little other. No Andoran or Chelish colonies existed in Arcadia in a time distant enough to have made these stones so worn looking. The only other possibility is an advanced indigenous population. They were right to bring Rogath along, as this find is a significant discovery for any archaeologist.
 
 
 
 
 
     << Beach Camp | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >> 
 
 
 
 
 
Screams are the first sign that something is wrong. Maven can hear the shouting coming from up the beach long before it reaches the camp, and by the time she hustles out to the sign of the distress, she can see a half dozen dwarves running up the shore, one carrying another on their back, blood soaking through the piggy-backed dwarf's clothing.

The shouting is incoherent at first, something about wild animals along the coast. It takes a few minutes for the explorers to calm down once they've made it back to camp and brought the injured dwarf to Maven's makeshift clinic tent. Here, the injury doesn't look as serious as it had before; It's a gash across the dwarf's forehead, and that superficial head wound bled profusely down his face and neck, soaking through his shirt and jacket thouroughly. It's quite a lot of blood, but nothing a few sutures or a cure spell can't solve.

While Maven is tending to the injured explorer, Mineko is briefed on what happened by the others. The explorers spotted an unusual cluster of rocks covered with barnacles where some flotsam from the shipwreck had been lodged. On investigating, the explorers found a nest of large seemingly softshell crabs about the size of a dinner platter.

Initially planning to harvest the large crabs for dinner, they discovered that these enormous crabs were but the spawn of a rock-shelled crab the size of a dwarf that scuttled out from its camouflage in the rocks and attacked. All it took was one quick pincer-blow to the head to send one of the explorers collapsing to the ground. They grabbed their wounded comrade and fled as fast as they could. They crab seemed territorial, but not overly aggressive once they left proximity of the spawning ground.

That might warrant some investigation.
 
 
 
 
 
 

_____________

     << Expedition Team: Western Hills | Early Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

With the upturn in weather offering a reprieve from the melancholy and depression they had left behind on the landing site, Dwunderbran's mood finds itself taking an upswing as well. This proves to be unfortunate for those forced to bear the burden of the dwarf's company, as this means being subjected to raucously rendered version of old Druman sailor songs for much of the foray into uncharted lands. When the thrill of singing wanes, it seems to be replaced by what can barely be given the honor of being called whistling. More air than shrill escaping his pursed lips, the sound is more annoying than his previous melodies. The one redeeming quality of the entire ordeal seems to be that Dwunderbran is in high spirits, which means no encroaching threat of unwarranted violence or insult.

     << Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

The worked stone seems oddly out of place to Dwunderbran, though his interest in their history or the implications of their presence at all seem entirely lost on him. He occupies his time following the discovery canvasing the area surrounding the hill before ascending the skyward protrusion to take in the view the vantage affords. He inhales deeply through his nostrils, finding an apparent favor in the smell of this new land. Being surrounded by nothing but ships, sea, and dwarves for so long, the prospect of land—foreign or not—sprawling out in all directions holds more relief than he would have assumed possible. Having little inkling as to what the ancient millstones mean, he simply offers a half-hearted, "Wha' ye be makin' o' this then, laddies?" to the expedition team. "Ye be figurin' somethin' be livin' 'ere afore what be comin' from eastern tides?" Dwunderbran occupies the interim between question and answers setting one of the stones upright and kicking it down the hill with a nudge of his plated boot; clearly the maddened dwarf's own equally maddened litmus to determine... something. Perhaps. Or maybe he just wanted to see how far it would make it before coming to a rest.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Early Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Angrin grimaces as the weather becomes uncomfortably bright. Torag's teeth, the bloody surface was bright as the trapsmith imagined Hell would be! Nevertheless... This was about as far from Hell as could be on Golarion. It was... beautiful. That was something he'd never thought he would think, but as Angrin gazes about the rocky aboveground terrain of the dwarves' new home, he smiles. What an elflike thought. Bloody Hell.

He speaks quietly. "Lovely place, this. Shame so many had t' die before seein' it. Mayhap they'll be watchin' us as we go about our exploration. Be workin' with us, ye know?" Then, his contemplative state is broken (well, shattered, more like) by Dwunderbran suddenly bursting out in song. "Ach! What the... Oh. Dwunderbran, ye've got t' quiet down!" He hisses, eyes narrowing as he glances around rapidly, though he sees no threats. "Bloody Hell, man, ye'd think ye weren't in potentially lethal territory." As he speaks, Angrin berates himself for letting himself be distracted by the beauty of the environment. The same thing'd nearly killed him in the ruins of Torakkal back in the Darklands beneath the Five Kings Mountains, once. He'd been too busy admiring the architecture to notice the nasties coming up behind him. Almost.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Upon ascending the hill, Angrin's continued irritation with Dwunderbran and the sun melts swiftly, replaced by a fascinated interest. "Worked stone! Ruined, but worked nonetheless. What manner o' being d'ye think did this?" He asks the others, already examining the millstones closely. His eyes light up as he runs his fingers along the edges of the grindstones. How old were these? In the Darklands, stone like this could last ages, but if yesterday's storm was any indication, the things on the surface were much less permanent.

When Dwunderbran kicks one of the millstones, though, Angrin's irritation returns. "Ach! What're ye doin', man? These could be somethin' that'll tell us o' the people who once lived here! Are ye mad?" He stands upright, not nearly as menacing as the other dwarf, but clearly annoyed. "Dwunderbran, we need t' be careful! What if one o' those things covered a nest o' nasties that have a fondness fer poisonin' their prey? Just..." He sighs, giving up his anger and trying to be reasonable once again. "Be a bit more mindful, aye? Please?" The trapsmith requests in a quieter voice.

__________________
Angrin's trying to determine how well-crafted they are, as well as what might have created them. He's also got Trap Sense, so I don't think I need to scan the area for traps, but I'll throw down a Perception roll to see if he notices anything unusual about the millstones.
Knowledge (Engineering): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (7) + 7 = 14
Took a -1 penalty for being dazzled on that perception roll.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Early Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Though he had not been officially assigned the role, Dakún quickly took on the burden of leading the small expedition force toward the Western Hills the scouts had previous spotted. He was dressed reasonably, in heavy layers of robes consisting of simple brown and khaki hues. Around his neck was his green facial scarf, though he tucked it beneath the brown collar of his outer robe so to blend in with the leafless scrub, yellow and browned grass of the plains. The clouds had parted to give way to wind and sun. Though the sun provided good illumination to the beautiful environment that now traversed, it seemed to hinder both Angrin and Rogath. Neither dwarf seemed to have much tolerance for the glorious rays of the sun. While Dakún Rabbúhamash was all too familiar with the dangers of that blazing sky set sphere, the Arcadian sun was a mere shadow compared to the sun that hovered over Katapesh and Osirion.

The terrain was easy to traverse and for all its beauty, for Dakún agreed whole-heartedly with Angrin’s accessment, he remained wary, looking for constant signs of habitation or danger. After less than an hour into the trek, it became abundantly clear that his efforts at stealth were useless. While Angrin moved with the creeping stealth of a bugbear, his other two companions rattled with each step they took. What was worse was that Dwunderbran did not even try to maintain quiet, slipping from one sour note to the next in a racket he proclaimed songs. His whistling was no better, sounding to Dakún like a colony of hissing beetles. The Pahmet tried to keep his composure and calm, but more than once he looked over his shoulder to glower at the black sheep of the Vulgarbeard clan. Eventually Dakún gave voice to his opinion shortly after Angrin did the same.

“Dwunderbran Vulgarbeard cease singing and whistling. Y’ur eff’rts will turn the very land against us.” There was a hint of a joke in his words, but he spoke it with a deadpan that obfuscated the mirth to those not looking for the humor in his words. He then added, “If we can m’ve with stealth, that would be fav’rable.”. Having already paused to chide the fearsome Kraken killer, the Pahmet crouched down and examined the ground and the grass that grew from it. He searched for the tracks of animals, for traces of water, and for the possibility of edible roots, plants, or tubers. It was clear also that the jade colored eyes of the bronze skinned dwarf were drawn to the small purplish winged birds that flitted about. More to himself than anyone else in particular, the sand dwarf whispered. “We should call them Morkanat.” It was a rough variation that basically meant purple winged bird, which served as well as anything else to describe the little birds in Dakún’s opinion.

The hills and the exposed granite slabs were unquestionably beautiful in Dakún’s eyes and more than once he found himself examining the rock with a stonemason’s eye. This land seemed promising, with what he hoped was an abundance of good rock to work. He continued the taking point without being asked to do so, using his knowledge of the wilderness to try to keep the small group on the right track as well as alert them to any potential dangers. From Dakún’s perspective his companions had little real skill when it came to surviving and making their way in the great untamed wilderness. They seemed more fitted for traveled roads, open sea lanes, or the black maze-like depths of the vaults beneath the surface. Still he did his best and made a mental note to cover their trail up on the return journey.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Dakún Rabbúhamash was immediately interested in the worked stonework and after examining the area for any threats he turned his gaze upon the ancient millstones. The green lichen and other signs of the elements upon them indicated that these stones had been abandoned for at least a century, if not more. It was a clue that could not be ignored. Who had created them and what had become of them? It seemed likely that they either died out or migrated from this region otherwise why would they just leave the millstones here?

Anger flared when Dwunderbran Vulgarbeard lifted one of the ancient mill-stones and rolled it carelessly down a hill. Not only did it expose him to potential dangers, like a lingering curse or a nest of creatures beneath, but it also put the stone at risk of damage as well as leave evidence of their passing. He did not voice his opinion this time. Instead he let the anger in his eyes show. They should have left him at camp and taken the alchemist or the pathfinder instead. The four foot one dwarf glared at Dwunderbran for a full thirty seconds before he turned away with the shake of his head. Re-focusing his attention on the mill-stones and the surrounding area, Dakún searched for any evidence of a language marked on the mill-stones or any other sign of past habitation or additional ruins.

“It is clear we are not the first people to settle these hills. Whether the makers o’ these mill-stones still reside in the area is unclear. We must be on guard.” He looked to his companions for some sense of agreement. A worried look traveled from Angrin and Rogath to settle on Dwunderbran Vularbeard. Prolonged company with the foul smelling dwarf had not served to endear him to Dakún.

Dakún Rabbúhamash will have been using his survival (+9) the whole time – looking for tracks, sources of water, signs of habitation, and types of animals. He has a survival kit and a map-makers kit and while neither of them are masterwork, I imagine he is drawing a simple map and taking notes of wildlife, plant life and the like with a charcoal or lead pencil. When at the Mill-stones, he will use survival and perception to see if any other clues are in the area (footprints, trails, additional ruins) as well as studying the millstone’s themselves with knowledge engineering and craft stonemason.

Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (15) + 9 = 24 <-- On the road
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27 <-- At the site of the Mill-stones
Knowledge Engineering: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
Stonemason: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18

<< Beach Camp | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
Thirteen shovels, four mules, two donkeys and three bags of tea leaves. Tokuzo trailed off reading from a hastily penned list from behind his copper rimmed spectacles. Nodding slowly, Mineko Yamauchi sighed. The stores were holding for now and the survivors had managed to salvage even more from along the shore line, but eventually the cast away casts and barrels would run out and then the expedition would well and truly be on their own. This one thanks you. Mineko stated, nodding at her Itamae who had as of late become more of a personal accountant. What of our surviving people?

Pushing the spectacles up against his nose the wizened old dwarf resembled for a moment more of an owl rather than a dwarf. The glasses magnified his eyes, making them look large and predatory. Twenty three my empress, I have a list. Azuko, Ashara, Besutubo… The dwarf began rambling off names and professions with the careful meticulousness that he might put into a grand meal.

Hanging her head low, Mineko sighed. Twenty three of our people, plus this one’s retinue and myself, I weep for our loss. She stated quietly and lowly. This only reinforces this one’s decision, we must stand together or we will all fall. Shaking her head again, she heard a cry as looking to her right along the shoreline she saw a half a dozen dwarves running up along the shore carrying one on their back. The dwarf was covered in blood. They were headed towards the tent that had served as their informal infirmary.

Raising his head slowly, Komainu-Kun gazed out at the dwarves, his great stone eyes never blinking. Rising the Empress placed her hand on the creatures brow. Koki, gather a several of the remaining guards and post a picket at the encampment. Kaori, gather Quint, and the Doctor and ask them to meet me at Maven’s tent. Something seems to be amiss.
 
 
 
<< Beach Infirmary | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
A huge crab! The bloodied dwarf retold as Maven set to work her talents on him. We didn’t see it at first, just some little ones that we thought would be good for a pot. But this one was the size of a dwarf and blended in with the rocks. It nearly killed me! Watching with a keen eye, Mineko saw the final suture threaded into place. He would have a fine scar one day, but more importantly he was still alive and could contribute to the survival of the group. You did well bringing back word to us of a potential threat. Mineko stated nodding respectfully at the dwarf. Glancing at the others as they arrived, Mineko gestured to Tharon, the wounded dwarf. Quint, Maven, Doctor, Tharon and some of the other gathered just had an encounter with a giant crab down the shoreline from us. They reported that the creature did not follow, but it had been nestled within cluster of rocks that had sheltered some of our remaining supplies. In the absence of the others it falls on us to deal with the creature, but we need to know more. I propose try to relocate the beast and then decide how best to act.

heal: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16 PFFT. no healin' for the NPC's, apparently.
The gash was little more than a flesh wound, but quite the bloody one at that. No amount of bandaging or stitching seemed to completely stop the blood flow, though a wet cloth seemed to slow the bleeding enough for clean sutures. Well, ye won't be keelin' over in the next hour or so, but damned if that ain't the stubbornest gash I've ever seen. Keep those bandages on, keep em dry and mind the seepage. If ye start leakin' red, get those bandages changed; if not by me, then by whoever's handy. If ye start leakin' any OTHER color, ye hunt me down come hell or high water."

As she secured the last layer of bandages and tied the knot behind her kinsman's head, she found the time to remind him with a smile, "Oh, and no headbuttin' anythin' for a few mornin's now."

Her expression turned distant, however, at the thought of all the ways their find could play out. It behooved them to recover whatever supplies lay trapped, but throwing away Dwarves for it was unacceptable. It could lead to a great food source, but they also risked wiping out the nest or stirring up something worse.

It HAS been quite a stretch since I've tasted good crab, though...

Maven glanced back to her tent, unable to see with her eyes, but knowing in her mind exactly where Drowbreaker was leaning. She pictured the weapon falling in a wide arc, crashing chunks of crabshell everywhere, and absentmindedly licked her lips once as she imagined the tender meat underneath, turned over a spit, flavored with freshly squeezed lemon...

Wait...we probly don't have any lemons... Maven's expression sank slightly, but immediately brightened again. Maybe there's some in those supplies!

Turned heads would note the sudden disappearance of the cleric at the mention of 'relocating' the giant crab, replaced a moment later by the same, her massive hammer slung over her shoulder and a hungry smirk on her face.

"Relocatin's it's a good plan, long as it's to an open fire. Give me fifteen minutes to prepare and I can help bring this feast down. Once we've got our giant meal, we can easily have someone recover the cargo."

If we agree on this course of action, Maven will spend 15 min preparing divine favor and shield of faith in her two open spell slots.

<< Beach Camp | Mid Morning | Overcast, Very Windy, Cool | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Quint spends the morning after breakfasting with Logem going over his notes from the previous day and the reports from the various other people. Deciphering some of their handwriting is probably the worst chore, most of the hands seeming more uses to wielding tools and weapons than pen and ink. The task goes well however, and he is rewarded for the hours of work with several neat, orderly sheets with the status of the camp as of the previous evening. He notes the absence of the exploration teams which he made sure to collate before they left and once the ink is dry rolls them all up and sticks them in a document tube for safe keeping.

<< Beach Camp | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

He is just making a note on the progress of the sleds, shaking the muscled carpenter's hand to seal the agreement to slide a small keg of fine stout his way when he hears the screams. He looks at the carpenter with a frown, quickly excusing himself to find out the cause of the commotion. He is met on the way to the infirmary my Mineko's messenger and simply continues on his way.

"Ahh, well. That shouldn't be too much of a problem... Hmm a crab? I'm not sure how well my spells will work on a crustacean." He glances around to see if Logem has arrived yet; he was the naturalist after all.

"I think Maven has the right of it; we could all do with some fresh meat. I shall get my bow."

_______________
Gain Influence (Knowledge (local)): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

<< Beach Camp, Somewhere in Arcadia | Mid-morning | Overcast, Very Windy, Cool | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

As the expedition prepares to set out, Rogath gathers the other three members for a moment of prayer. Invoking, in order, Desna to protect travelers, Torrúg (with a nod to Dakún) to watch over them, and Gozreh to grant them good weather, the cleric concludes: "And above all, may we return safely to camp with new knowledge of our surroundings." This activates Caravan Bond, if it comes up.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Early Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Although Rogath's eyes were just as unaccustomed to the sun as his fellow deep-dweller, he had many years of practice in squinting through the glare, a wide-brimmed traveling hat to keep the direct sun off his head, and the sheer wonder of the new vistas unfolding before them as they travelled where no dwarf had gone before to sustain him. Even Dwunderbran's "music" doesn't dampen his good mood.

Having no useful knowledge of true wilderness, but always eager to learn, he approaches Dakún along the way. "Ye seem to know your way around the land better than the rest of us. Can ye point out some things I can keep a watch for?" With a wry grin at his own limited experience, he continues, "I can't say as I've ever traveled an area as remote as this before. Wonders of nature I can spot, but useful nature can pass right under my feet without a notice."

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

As with Angrin and Dakún, Rogath was intrigued by the discovery of the stones. "Civilization! Or at least intelligent creatures. Or at least, the remnants thereof. I wonder what happened to the carvers?" He nods to the sand dwarf's warning. "Aye, the stones may have been left out here to be forgotten, but that doesn't mean that the people who left them here aren't still in the area. Still, this seems like a very odd place to just toss something when it isn't useful. It's not like there's anything here. Why not over there? Or at the base of that other hill?" The fortuneteller seems to be having a problem with the concept of "middle of nowhere". "Maybe they were used close to here? We should look around. There may be the rest of the mill nearby."

Not that there's much in the way of distinguishing marks, but he does sift through his mental notes to see if they match any particular style of carving he's heard of.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 - 1 ⇒ (5) + 5 - 1 = 9 +2 with stonecutting bonus, if applicable
Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15 +2 if it relates to dwarves or their enemies

After Logem's post I will advance the beach team onwards towards CRAB BATTLE

Angrin frowns slightly, eyes narrowing further, though this time, not agains the sun. "These things're 150 years old, easy. Not o' any use in their original purpose, anymore, either." He looks around briefly in a vain attempt to determine whether or not they were dragged by cart or by beast of burden, before remembering what he had just thought not twenty seconds earlier - things, such as tracks didn't last as long on the surface as in the Darklands. "Righ', someone make sure t' ask the archeologist 'bout any news o' civilization that may o' lived here an' made these..." The trapsmith strokes the stone wheels contemplatively, eyes glittering gleefully, contemplating their potential uses in a variety of traps - counterweights, something to drop, and much, much more. "An' maybe I shoul' incorporate 'em into some traps." He grins broadly, then stands to his full height. "If we don' have any other business here... I suggest we go on, aye?"

________________
Craft (Traps): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11
To determine how practical the idea of using them in traps is - also, if it is practical, I suggest perhaps a discount on traps approved by our GM?

<< Beach Camp, Somewhere in Arcadia | Mid-morning | Overcast, Very Windy, Cool | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

"Doctor Logem! DOCTOR!" Dr. Logem, currently working on mixing ingredients for various medicines, looks up, brows furrowed, and wonders who's yelling his name at this time of day, and why they can't simply wait until they're closer before addressing him instead of yelling like some sort of baffoon.

His inquiry is quickly answered when one of his nurses, Edem, comes running up to his tent and workstation, out of breath and wheezing from the exertion. "Doctor.. do-.. Mineko.. crabs.." She seems nearly ready to pass out, as the rather obese dwarf doesn't look the type to be running and yelling at the same time, let alone for the distance she likely ran.

Putting down his mortar and pestle, Dr. Logem turns to the woman with a bit of a smirk on his face and shaking his head. "See, this is why I made you go for walks daily back in Highhelm. Breath woman, breath - just like I taught you to do for each of your seven children. If you're here to tell me something about the Empress having an issue with crabs, I don't care - she isn't getting any help from me with it. Not that I'm surprised she would have such an issue, either.."

Taking a deep, deep breath and attempting to catch it at the same time, Edem is finally able to get out what she was trying to say. "No not that kind of crab problem, sir - giant crabs down on the beach. Apparently someone was injured over it. They want your opinion on the matter."

"What are they, daft? I'm a doctor of people, not animals. Though.. crab does sound nice right about now.."

Twenty minutes later..

Gear on and having quickly mixed himself up some extracts, Dr. Logem meets up with the others, who seem to be currently discussing what to do with their hard-shelled neighbors.

"So I hear someone has a problem with crabs, eh?" Dr. Logem grins as he looks Mineko's way, implying something more crude than the actual issue at hand. "Was it just one giant crab then? Best we kill the bugger and harvest it - its meat will taste delicous after what we've been eating, and we can possibly use its shell for some kind of crude weaponry or armor. For its young, we should leave them relatively intact - let 'em grow and breed, so we can harvest them again at a later time. So where was it?"

________________________

Knowledge(Nature): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13
Prepared Extracts of Cure Light Wounds and Shield, while also having a +Strength Mutagen ready. He'll drink the Shield Extract and the Mutagen right before we engage.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Earlier that day when Rogath had approached him with friendly words, even after he had used the Pahmet pronunciation of Torag, Dakún had proved to be reticent to provide the advice he sought and generally taciturn. Without words he gestured to the startling variety of different plant life so different from both his homeland and the lands of the Five King Mountains. He made sure to point out the wintergreen tasting flat serrated-leaf shrub to Rogath, before pushing ahead to the front of the group. He had hoped that Rogath would not interpret his silence as insult.

After making his initial statements about the stones, the sand dwarf grew quiet and his sandaled feet carried him up one of the small hills. There Dakún spent some time searching the horizon with his eyes in silence. After he was satisfied that they were indeed alone, he ventured back down to the rest of the group and shared his thoughts.

“Brethren, these hills are filled with granite o’ a most excellent quality f’r building. There are no trails here or any other sign o’ intelligent habitati’n. I do not think this area has been visited in at least a decade. Given the weight and size of the stones, the settlement these came fr’m cannot be far away. Whether it still stands or is in ruins I cannot say. Whoever created these knew how to use iron or steel.” Though he was currently wearing the green facial scarf over all but his eyes, his words were not muffled. He then looked to Angrin and offered a nod of his head.

“I had a similar idea of using the stones as the base for wagon wheels. They may prove too damaged or heavy however. We should m’ve on.”

When they prepared to leave again, Dakún discreetly approached Rogath and with a lowered voice spoke to the fortune speaker. “Teacher Rogath, my apologies f’r not answering you earlier. There is much I do not know about this land. I am trying to learn it like you. My advice is to absorb everything, but make note of h’w it all fits t’gether. Take f’r example the Morkanat…” He pointed to one of the small birds that flitted about in the dried grasses. “Do they have predat’rs and if so what? What do they themselves prey up’n? Are they nervous at our approach? If not perhaps they have seen creatures similar to us before and did not view them as a threat. About an hour ago I saw a rapt’r in the sky that looked very much like a hawk. It circled and flew West. That is one creature that might prey on the Morkanat. It also indicates that beyond these hills we may encounter dense forests before we reach the distant mountains. “

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

At first taken slightly aback by the other dwarf's silence, Rogath nevertheless pays close attention to the things being pointed out, and spends some time observing them.

Later, when Dakún brings it back up, it is the fortune teller's turn to be silent, as he considers the instruction. After a few moments of thought, he says "You may be trying to learn the land, but you are much more knowledgeable about how to do so than I am. I knew that seagulls could tell you about land you couldn't see, so I suppose it makes sense that seeing other birds in the sky would tell one about their preferred lands, but I'd never have made that connection myself." Shading his eyes by putting his whole hand over them and splitting his fingers to look through, he looks up at the sky. "Admittedly, I don't spend much time looking up during the day. The stars are much more beautiful, and less painful to look at. I will look forward to this dense forest, if we manage to reach it before we turn back."

Motioning over to the wheel, he changes the subject. "Do you think we should we look for the settlement these may have come from? We can circle the area for a while, see if we find anything that would show us where it was. If Luck is kind to us, we'll find it quickly, and it would tell us far more than these old stones can. Especially if it's still there."

Dakún himself was uncertain whether or not he looked forward to gazing upon the dense forest. While he knew from an academic level that forests were the favored terrain of raptors, he had only encountered those that had found a niche in deserts and mountains or were kept as prized hunting companions to the wealthy in Katapesh or Alkenstar. Dakún Rabbúhamash had never seen a dense forest with his own eyes.

"Finding out more about the society that created these mill-stones should be a high priority. If they still dwell here we will need to report back to the expediti'n and discuss making contact. If they no longer dwell in the area, we should investigate why that is so."The Pahmet spoke matter of factly. He remained stolid in his outward expression and this was only further aided by the green facial scarf he was now wearing. There was no true curiosity about the mill-stone civilization, no desire to learn more about them. The information was only needed for the safety of the expedition. Nothing more and nothing less.

<< Expedition Team: Western Hills | Late Afternoon | Sunny, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Finding himself a bored perch atop one of the gargantuan stone wheels, Dwunderbran begins peering out along the horizon in all directions. The scenery really is breathtaking, though he would never give such a thought voice for fear of damaging his rough-and-tumble countenance. Still, even as boring as he found the commentating on their odd locale, Dwunderbran finds the idea of finding an abandoned village of particular interest. Eventually, he resolves to speak up and offer his no doubt invaluable pair of coppers to the pot.

"Ah cannae fathom a mill what's meant fer millin' evaporatin' intae tha sky, ye grab me? If'n ah be'n recallin' a'rightly, tha scouts what went a'scoutin' spied a river about, aye? It be to tha south, savvy?" Gesturing wide with his left arm while leaning on the palm of his right hand in the direction of what he believes to be southerly, Dwunderbran nods to himself with self satisfied conviction. Given the wind they had experienced this morning, and being this close to the sea, it was just as likely as not that the mill in question found propulsion from the wind, though Dwunderbran assumes that any settlements would have found a river far more to their advantage than windswept hills. In fact, it was a suggestion the crazed dwarf had insisted on himself during the de facto council meeting back at the beach.

"Ah say we be findin' a river an right quick, aye? An' ah cannae be fathomin' stone tumblers a'big as these be gettin' 'ere wiff nary a tell o' trail. Be findin' some ruts an' ye be findin' some trail."

 
   << Rocky Shore, Somewhere in Arcadia | Late Afternoon | Overcast, Very Windy, Cool | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
 
 
An hour out from the camp, where the rocky hills and cliffs push closer to the shore and turn the beach into a narrow strip of sand and loose stones, one of the settlers who had encountered the crab-beast in his expedition -- Holgun Threadbeard -- leads Mineko, Doctor Logem, Quint and Maven out to the scene of the attack.

Walking down the beach, the strong breeze is blocked by the high cliffs to the group's left as they walk. Some sparse wooden wreckage from the ships has washed up here, tangled in torn netting; nothing salvageable. Holgun motions towards a cluster of boulders that have fallen from the cliff to create tidepools in the sand. There, among the dark rocks is a reddish brown mass dotted with barnacles and draped with seaweed that blends in well to the surroundings.

"There," Holgun points out, "that's the beast." Sure enough, the reddish brown rock wobbles slightly and shifts in a way that stationary stones are not wont to do. The dwarves didn't exaggerate, either. The beast lairs amid the tidepools with a family of smaller, scuttling crabs all gathered in and around the rocks.

It's also as large as a dwarf, claws the size of shields, pincers as long as swords.

______
While combat hasn't explicitly started, you are on the edge of the crab's vision and moving closer will give it a chance to make perception checks to spot you. The rocks and water are difficult terrain and as such cost 2 squares of movement to move through and prevent charging. The cliffs to the south are a climb DC 15 to ascend due to abundant footholds and a gentle angle, but generally slick surface.
 
You have time to prepare before engaging the crab, but once you decide to move in towards it I will begin making Perception checks. If it fails the first perception check, we will move to the surprise round.
 
Map: Beach Map

Also, Mineko, if you still can't access gdoc maps let me know and I'll upload a static image map.

Rough terrain eh? Lets let it come to us then, shall we? I say pelt it with ranged attacks until it reaches us, then finish it off. No need to get harmed over something we don't have to, aye?

As for preparations, I'm going to drink my mutagen, increasing my Srength to 20, AC to 17 (+2 Natural Armor), but decreasing my intelligence to 15. Then I'm going to drink my Extract of Shield, further increasing my AC to 21 - I'm also going to stand relatively in the front, in case it does reach us. Lastly, I'm going to give my Familiar a flask of Acid that it will drop on the creature's head as an opening shot - I'll have a flask in one hand as well, while one of my obsidian daggers will be in my other hand.

With Splash Weapon Mastery, my splash weapons count as me having far shot - so only -1 to attack per 10 feet of distance after the first 10 feet instead of -2.

 
 
<< Expedition Team: Western River | Early Evening | Clear Skies, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
 
 
 
The ruts that Dwunderbran spoke of were never found, but his suggestion of looking for a river was a worthwhile one. The scouts had indicated a river cut along the southern edge of their local area, and meeting up with the river was on the way towards the west. Heading southwest for a few hours as the sun begins to set behind the western mountains and dusk crosses the land, the sound of running water and an unnatural silhouette on the horizon validates the crude dwarf's suppositions.

Approaching in the dim twilight, the expedition team spots a ruined structure as ancient looking as the mill-stones they had found earlier in the day. A two-story riverstone building of fine workmanship looks to have barely weathered the passage of time. The wooden roof with scaled shingles is mostly gone, leaving only stumps of wooden framework and a few lingering wooden shingles. The building resembles the skeletal carcass of a dead beast now, with stone walls crumbling and overgrown with vegetation.

Nestled against the riverbank, the building looks like it may have at one time been a farm. The remnants of an ancient water wheel lay broken off of the building and toppled partly into the river, shingle mushrooms and lichen clinging to the dark underside. The entire southwestern corner of the building has collapsed down into the river, flooding it with old stones. Whether the floor remains or if there was a cellar is hard to tell from the outside, as four foot tall grass grows up inside of the building.

Fireflies zip and dart through the tall grass surrounding the old building, partly obscuring an ancient well covered with a rotting wooden cap. Timber scaffolding for a bucket winch is in pieces around the well, the bucket likely somewhere in the tall grass as well.

But in spite of all of this, the most notable landmark is a freestanding, seven foot tall monolith carved in an irregular shape by hand and patterned with nearly faded pictographs of fish, water, and a bearded man with a shield. Around the base of the old monolith, colorful wildflowers bloom.

Whoever lived here has been gone for a long time.
 
 
 
 
 
_____________
Having come upon the source of the mill stones I imagine you're all going to want to search the area. Below are tiers of Perception checks that reveal different secrets tucked away in the ruins of the old building. You are not pressed for time and may take a 20 on this Perception check as desired.

Dakún was pleased when Dwunderbran actually provided something they could work off of. He knew the importance of flowing water. It only made sense that whoever had used these mill-stones had settled near a river.

What they eventually found in the dim gloom of twilight was the overgrown remains of what could have been a farm. The place had clearly not been dwelled in for at least half a century, likely longer. Still it was best to remain cautious. Raising his hand up, he silently tried to signal the other members of his expedition to come to a stop.

His eyes studied the terrain, the vegetation, and the flicking light show put on by the native fire bugs. There didn't appear to be any traps and with a nod of approval from Angrin, he ventured closer to the ruined structure. It's size and shape seemed to be built for creatures of human stature. Nothing in its style mimicked what he saw in Alkenstar, Osirion, or Katapesh. If anything it matched descriptions of the simple farmsteads of northern Avistan.

He examined the waterwheel first and took a particular interest in the lichen and fungi growing in the damp shade of the rotting wood. The mushrooms could prove to be edible or medicinal. These mushrooms had been the original reason he sought out the waterwheel, but as he trod into the shallow water he caught the ever so faint gleam of metal as one of the last rays of the sun struck. Reaching into a layer river silt, the Pahmet pulled free an ancient sword of cold iron. Though not of dwarven worksmanship, when it had been new it was clearly a masterwork weapon. He held it awkwardly, due to the rot that had infested its wooden handle, but it could be fixed. Dakún could do it himself if he had the time. Running his fingers along the length of the blade he felt the runes etched into the weapon. They were in the dwarven script, but had no meaning he could make out. It seemed like gibberish or worse, Orcish. He handed the weapon off to his companions.

"What do you make o' this?" Dakún asked the group in hushed words. "Orcish or some unkn'wn script?

He dipped his hands back into the water and cupping them raised some to his lips. He sipped the water and then dipped his hands in an took another drink. The water was safe and could prove a valuable commodity in this new land. His eyes followed the river, trying to determine where it flowed from. He guessed that it flowed out into the Ocean.

Next he found the well cap and pulled it slowly aside. With his dwarven vision the darkness at the bottom of the well proved no hinderance to him and he beheld the three skeletal bodies clustered together. In grim silence he replaced the well cap. How did they get down there? The obvious answer was someone put them down there. He paused as he stood near to the entrance of the well. His focused on his innate connection to the spirit world, focusing his senses to peer beyond the veil of death, before he let his senses focus on the living breathing world once more.

"Three skeletal corpses in the well." He said in a whisper to his companions before he continued his careful investigation of the area.

Walking over to the Monolith, he could not place the style at first, but then he thought back to one of the picture books he had read in Osirion. One tale described the fearsome northern warriors who sailed South and took service beneath the pharoahs as bodyguards. The sword and shield was their common represenation of the Lord of Iron and War. He pointed this out to his companions and indicated that all signs seemed to point to this being an Ulfen or proto-Ulfen settlement.

When he eventually explored the interior of the ruined farmhouse with his companions, he pointed out locations where fox and rabbit might have made burrows and told his companions not to disturb them. Aiding the exploration of the other three dwarves, pulled away some of the dilapidated floorboards and tossed them aside. When the dust cleared, all could clearly behold a masterwork heavy steel shield laying within the heart of the cellar. Etched upon its surface was the sigil of a fish on a wave pattern with five jagged peaks of mountains near the top of the shield. (Knowledge [local] can reveal more about the sigil).

"Whoever lived here did not aband'n this place. They perished here. Such valuables would not have been f'rsaken. Nor would three bodies be buried in a well." He said as he stared down at the shield.

-----------------------------------
Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (18) + 9 = 27
Survival: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (17) + 9 = 26
Knowledge Religion: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26
Knowledge Engineering: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Survival check is to determine if any large animals, particularly predators might be using this area as a lair. Also to see whether the river is plentiful with fish or other ediable creatures and whether it is safe to drink.
Knowledge religion to determine whether any of the symbols on the monolith have spiritual or religious signifigance.
Knowledge engineering to determine who built the settlement. Is it built for dwarf sized individuals, does it look in the style of men, etc.

Wow. Look at those rolls! PS - Per Rob the sword can be read with a linguistics 25 check or if you have Skald.

Robert, any chance my survival check and tell me whether the mushrooms are ediable or useful for some other purpose? Also, do I have an idea of where the river is flowing from and where it is flowing to?

The mushrooms are edible. They're very bitter, but edible. The river is flowing out to the ocean and its direction of origin disappears to the southwestern horizon.

Angrin nods calmly when Dwunderbran suggests finding the mill from which the stones came, then once more when they set off, as he keeps an eye keen for any threats or potential traps - just because there hadn't been any sign of other life that was sentient yet, didn't mean that there wasn't anything there. He knew that better than anyone.

The trapsmith blinks in the dusky light as the group reaches the ruins of what might once have been a farm. He peers about with a quiet sort of curiosity, a small frown on his face. There had once been people who lived here... What did they do? Farming was something more than a little alien to the deep dwarf. Well, in the sense that the surfacers did it, at least. He himself had, much like his father, negotiated with mushroom farmers to get access to some of the brewing materials back in the Deep.

So lost is he in his memories, that Angrin does not notice much of anything out of the ordinary as the dwarves go about their search of the farm and simply wanders around towards the monolith, examining it with mild curiosity. There had been such things in the Darklands. Well, similar things, such as the secret name-runes of the ancient clans. Angrin grins faintly at the memory of seeking his own family's name, though the merriment passes rapidly when he recalls that he was the last of his family. "Bah." He scowls, turning away as Rogath asks his question.

Hastily making his way over to the sand dwarf, Angrin narrows his eyes as he examines the blade. "Nah. Tha's no language I know. Sure as Torag's teeth it isn't Orc. 'sides, d'ye think the Orcs coul' forge such a blade? Nah. It innt Orc." He sighs, examining it closely, then shakes his head again. "Nah. Maybe we shoul' bring it back t' camp, see if anyone can figure it out there?" Somewhat annoyed at his own inability to be helpful, Angrin stumps off grumpily.

A few minutes later, and the sand dwarf had done it again! Angrin sighs quietly, trying to prevent himself from becoming too annoyed with his kinsman, then walks towards the well. He frowns down at it, shaking his head. "Ach. Damned bad way t' die..." He murmurs, then speaks up. "Poor bastards. We shoul' get 'em out, give 'em a proper sort o' service, least 'til we find out more 'bout 'em. Besides, they're taintin' the water down there, methinks." He shrugs slightly, then stops. Someone would have to go down the well to fetch the bones up... The image of bony claws striking at an armored dwarf flashes before Angrin's eyes, and he shivers, stumbling back a few steps. "Er... We shoul' secure the area first, though." He adds, quickly going back to searching the area.

Finally, when Dakún reveals the symbols of the Ulfen's representation of a god of some color or another (the surfacers' god of war or something - like Angradd, only not nearly as good). "Wow, Dakún, yer doin' amazin', me friend!" Angrin utters with a grin, then adds. "Perhaps the writing on the blade's the... what'd'ye call it, Ulfen? Perhaps it's the Ulfen's language." His mood lifting again, he walks into the farmhouse, tapping his feet on the floor. Wait, wood? Who'd use something like wood for something so important as a floor? Angrin frowns, then shrugs. Well... whatever. Not important right now. Angrin returns to his quiet explorations, finding nothing terribly of note.

______________
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11 With all the usual bonuses/penalties. I hope I'm not presuming too much when I assume that it's no longer brightly lit outside.
Linguistics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
Bleh. Those sucked. Oh well, at least no one's in danger - yet. I'll also leave his reaction to the shield off until someone else determines that they found it - Angrin certainly didn't, not with those rolls. xD

You're right, Angrin. As it is dusk it is no longer brightly lit! :)

<< Rocky Shore, Somewhere in Arcadia | Late Afternoon | Overcast, Very Windy, Cool | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Standing on the rock strewn beach, Mineko gazed along the shoreline that was littered with pieces of flotsam and jetsam. Now that the settler had pointed out the crab she was able to see it clearly. Massive with huge pinchers and a red lichen encrusted carapace the beast was easily the size of a dwarf. Desite the Empresses reservations about the doctor, the suggestion had been a good one. Getting to the creature would prove dangerous. Mineko had some experience scaling the scrabble of rocks thanks in large part to her people living along the side of a mountain face but she wasn’t sure if the others might be so adaptable. Right now the most important part was eliminating a threat to the settlers. Fresh food would also be appreciated, though the young woman doubted that all would be able to share in the feat provided for by fresh crab meat. One thing at a time. Mineko thought. Next to her Komainu-Kun stood steadfastly, as unmoving as the stone visage that he represented. Lightly, the woman stroked the stone surface of the beasts curling gold and white veined marble curls. Closing her eyes, Mineko breathed out a prayer to her ancestors, she called upon the wellspring that had been passed from each Emperor and Empress. Summoning forth a golden shimmering shield, she inlayed it across herself and by dint of her connection her guardian. Ethereal runes in a mix of Dwarven and Tian appeared around the pair before subsiding into their skin, only leaving a hint of the spells power behind. Very well Doctor. I believe this plan is for the best and created the smallest amount of risk to all involved. Let us make preparations for dealing with the beast at range.

_________________________
SA: Cast mage armor on Komainu-Kun, new AC is 20/16/18

The walk down the beach is uneventful, though something about Doctor Logem makes Maven uncomfortable. Not the same uncomfortable she felt when surrounded by people; a less nerve-wracking, more disquieting kind of uncomfortable. In his random snippets of conversation, he tended to regard living things as just that: things. It almost seemed that Dwarf and tree alike were naught but more things to study.

In contrast, she found herself well able to keep her mind off the good doctor by studying Komainu instead. the living, flowing marble muscles still awed her, and the veins of living metal that traced his skin reminded her of molten gold. The engineer in her began to wonder what fueled him or sustained him

As the hour comes to a close and the lair of the beast is revealed, Maven eyes the shifting cluster of rocks with suspicion, searching for all the dangerous bits...and the best spot to strike with thunderous force.

Torag's blood, those pincers though...coulda taken a Dwarf's head off with those. Guess me kinsman was luckier than he seemed...thankfully the Father's got somethin just for this sort o' thing...

Setting Drowbreaker upright in the sand headfirst, Maven spends a few moments in prayer to Torag, sending a pulse of barely visible light outward from her form. she then lifts her hammer, holding it just below the head with her left hand, and tracing invisible, unreadable runes along the surface. the sigils glow brightly, then fade. Satisfied at her readiness, Maven hoists the weapon, and takes a deep breath, settling into a swinging stance.

"Alright then, if we're gonna do this, guess we should do it 'fore all this preparin's gone ta waste. If somebody can wake that meal up and get 'im scuttlin' towards us, I'll make sure he gets a shattered shell fer the trouble."

casting shield of faith to go up to 18 AC, and using two forgemaster runes to enhance Drowbreaker's HP by 4 and hardness by 3 for 2 minutes. Not in the mood to see a crab snap the haft today.

"I suspect I will not be able to do much to harm or hinder this creature. My abilities are not well suited to dealing with beasts and vermin." Quint advises as they reach the beach and sight the crab. "Nevertheless I should be able to provide some aid, and draw it's attention at the least." he adds as he readies his bow, testing that the string was still good. He steps up beside Komainu-kun, pauses to test the breeze, and releases an arrow.

____________________
Move to M20 drawing bow. Activate Archaeologist's Luck with a Swift action. Fire shortbow at Crab (60' range, no penalty)

Shortbow: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 2 + 1 = 11
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

<< Expedition Team: Western River | Early Evening | Clear Skies, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
 
With the sound of crashing waves at their right and the last rays of sunlight stretching over the horizon to their left, the dwarven settlers stare down their first true threat since making landfall. Quint draws back an arrow from his bow and fires, the short arrow moving in a clean arc through the air, tip winding down as it sails towards the crabs' rocky carapace.

With arrow strikes home with a clatter and bounces harmlessly off of the crab beast's chitinous armor. Popping up on six legs in an alerted state, the crab scuttles around and easily spies the dwarves gathered down the beach. It raises both huge claws in the air and snaps them together in click-clacking threat.
 
 
 
 
      << Encounter: Rock LobsterCrab | Round I | Encounter Map: The Rocky Beach >>
 
 
 
 
 
___________

INITIATIVE
Quint ⇒ 21
Logem ⇒ 20
Giant Crab ⇒ 17
Koimanu-kun ⇒ 15
Mineko ⇒ 14
Maven ⇒ 2

Logem and Quint, you're up! Everyone else please wait until after Logem, Quint and the Crab have gone to take your turns.

I'm going to assume my familiar acts on my turn, for ease of play, aye?

Yeah that'd be simplest, unless its dramatically faster and could give you an edge in the future, then we can roll separate.

First initiative roll of the campaign and its a 2. Alright dice, I see how we're gonna play it...

Yeah that'd be simplest, unless its dramatically faster and could give you an edge in the future, then we can roll separate.

The only edge it could give me is when I drop two alchemical items on their heads at once.. I can't see that being particularly amazing unless the first alchemical item is oil and the second is a flask of alchemist's fire. :P

Will have my post up soon

Quint looks pleased that he actually hit the creature. Of course it bounced of it's shell but at least he didn't make a complete fool of himself. He draws back for another shot while the creature rallies itself, releasing it in a smooth motion. The shot looks better than the last, but the dwarf doesn't waste time waiting for it to land, turning instead and hurrying back behind the front line. Only then does he look to see if the arrow found it's mark.

____________________
Beginning Position: M20
Standard Action: Fire Bow
To Hit: 1d20 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 2 + 1 = 16
Damage: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Move Action: Retreat to K22
Ending Position: K22

Scoffing that Quint went before him, as Dr. Logem was hoping to make the first shot with his familiar, Dr. Logem moves forward, next to the annoying creature that is Mineko's guardian, and readies against the giant crab's approach, flask of acid in one hand, obsidian dagger in the other.

Meanwhile, he whistles to his familiar, currently resting on Dr. Logem's shoulder with a flask of acid grasped in one claw, and the creature flaps upwards and towards the crab - nearing the creature, and using its momentum to help its throw, Tusen half-throws and half-drops the flask at the crab, its aim precise, even thirty-feet away.

______________________

Dr. Logem's Actions
Starting Location: L22
Move Action: Move to M20
Standard Action: Ready vs Approach (If Crab approaches within 20 ft)
Free Action: Direct Familiar through speech
Ending Location: M20

Familiar's Actions
Starting Location: L22 (On Master's shoulder)
Move Action: Fly to L14, 10 ft up
Standard Action: 'Throw' Flask of Acid (-4 due to range)
Touch Attack: 1d20 + 7 - 4 ⇒ (15) + 7 - 4 = 18
Damage if Hit: 1d6 ⇒ 3 (Acid Damage)
Ending Location: L14, 10 ft Up

<< Expedition Team: Western River | Early Evening | Clear Skies, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Rogath closely watches Dakún as the small squad of dwarves approach the ruined buildings and pauses when signaled. Clearly this place was abandoned, but why? I hope that it is not because of the secrets that the Mute Hag warned against, he thinks, as he gazes out across the deserted fields. Once the all clear is given and they move forward, he voices this thought more succinctly: "A lone farm in the middle of the wilderness. Where did they come from? Where did they go? And what made them leave?"

As the explorers spread out, his attention is caught by the large monolith, towering almost twice his height above the ground, and covered by the remains of strange pictures. It's clearly of significance, but why, and to whom? The questions keep piling up, with no answers in sight.

Then Dakún pulls a rune-covered sword from the mud, which pulls Rogath's attention away from the inscrutable monolith. Taking it as it's passed around, his brow furrows. "This looks familiar. I've seen the runes used this way before. But where..." He tries sounding out the gibberish, trying different intonations and ways of enunciating, before shaking his head. "I know I've heard that language before, whatever it is. Let me think about it, and if I'm lucky, something will jog my memory."

Moving to the well, he gazes down at the remains. "I guess that answers where they went. Or at least where some of them went. I wonder what killed them? If someone lowers me down there, I can try to find out. Not that there's much left to examine. I doubt they all decided to drown themselves, so there may be marks of some sort left behind. Lets finish looking around while we have light, though."

Continuing on into the farmhouse, one of the last rays of sun catches his eye as it glints off something under the floorboards. "Ouch!" he exclaims, clapping a hand over his eye briefly, before shaking it off and moving out of the reflected light to peer under the floor. As Dakún and the others look up from the burrows, he points down and says, "There's something under there - do you think we can get some of these boards up without disturbing the animals?"

With some effort, the four manage to break off enough pieces of the floor to reach the well-crafted but tarnished shield. He nods to Dakún's thoughts. "Aye, that must be them in the well. But who killed them? Were they trespassing on someone's land? Or was it some monster wandering through?"

---------------

Perception (Taking 20): 20 + 5 = 25 Sorry to steal borrow the shield find from you, Dakún, but I figured it could use more elaboration.
Knowledge (local) (untrained) on the monolith: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8
Linguistics on the sword: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26 Rob, jog Rogath's memory a bit?
Knowledge (local) (untrained) on the shield: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (9) + 2 = 11

-----------

If no one posts any objections to sending Rogath down to examine the bodies, he will make a Heal check to see how they died.
Heal: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24
If absolutely necessary, Rogath can pray for restore corpse and decompose corpse tomorrow, so as to examine the corpse as it was when it died, but he would very much prefer to not do that to the dead.

 
 
 
     << Expedition Team: Western River | Early Evening | Clear Skies, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>
 
 
 
 
 
Chitinous shell bubbling with acid and an arrow lidged in a chink in its armored hide, the gigantic crab scuttles out from its rock formation with a keening shriek and a froth of bubbles at its mouthparth. The hug crab looks around at where the splash from the acid has dissolved the soft shells of its children, then turns to look back at the intruders.

With a snap-clack of its claws, the crab ambles through the tide pools, huge pointy legs digging into the sand and overturning rocks as it moves. When it finally hits the sand it begins speedily scuttling sideways across the sand, all six legs rapidly moving it towards the dwarves.

__________

Crab; Double Move: Ending location K17
 
Everyone else may now take their turn!

<< Expedition Team: Western River | Early Evening | Clear Skies, Cool, Very Windy | Wealday, Arodus 6th, 4714 AR >>

Dwunderbran nods stoically in response to Rogath's proposal. He fishes around in his belongings and quickly produces a length of rope. Tying one immense loop around his own girth, he offers the remaining end to the Desnan dwarf to secure himself. "Ah be sure ah can be holdin' ye fer's long as'n ye be needin' holdin', boy-o. If'n it be tha same ta ye, ah'd prefer if'n they be removed from yon well, aye? It be nay fit fer a restin' place, ye grab me?"

As Rogath descends the shaft, Dwunderbran braces one leg against the rim of the well and the other firmly on the earth. The thickly corded muscles in his wrist remain as taut as the rope securing Rogath as he shuffles and dangles further in to gain a better glimpse of the skeletons below. He remains ready to yank the other dwarf up in a moment's notice, wary of vermin or other pests that might be lairing within the remains of what are likely long dead Ulfen. "If'n ye be findin' somethin' what's scarier 'an ah be, best'n ye be leavin' in a hurry, aye!?"