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Daeris can reach the top, but is stuck balancing on the ledge over shark infested waters...
Adrianna
Amris
Daeris
Kormil
Enemy 18
Dumoire
Convert?
Damage
Crewman
Damage
Crewman
Damage
DuMoire strikes another almost perfect blow, then steps back. His henchman attacks the skeleton, to no result... seeing a gap, the other crewmate runs in to help and stabs the skeleton ineffectually.
R1ish
Enemy
Daeris
Amris
Adrianna
Kormil
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Daeris swings in from the handrail, the chap didn't see it coming, clearly busy with the skeleton he's fighting on deck. He falls though, bloodied and dying.
Kyra climbs up to lend support.
Adrianna runs by, but draws some attacks!
Crewman
Attack
Damage
DuMoire
Attack
Damage
Adrianna is dropped!
Kormils skeleton arrives on deck!
Skel 1
Attack
Damage
Skel 2
Attack
Damage
The skeletons fail to harry the crew further
Enemy:
Crewman attacks the damaged Skeleton...
Attack
Damage
Dropping it.
DuMoire steps in and stabs at Adrianna...
Attack
Damage
Hitting her!
R2
Enemy [Acted]
Daeris
Amris
Adrianna {KO'd}
Kormil
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Daeris swears in Elvish as the foolish young girl crumpled to the deck and sneered at the man's cheap strike. She takes a step to the side, moving to place her standing comrades at DuMoire's back.
She huffed out through her nostrils, making a disgusted hiss from the rank smell of filthy human invading her nose. "So you are the mad dog who has bitten every hand that has fed him? Today you will be put down, dog." She said as she made a strike that was mostly bravado.
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Daeris isn't as lucky with DuMoire, finding him rather skilled and slippery!
Adrianna lies bleeding.
Kormil shouts, and another skeleton appears!
The skeletons throw down their swords and simply attack the crewman with their bony clawlike hands...they drag him to the deck and soon their chalk white is blood red.
Skel 1
Attack
Damage
Attack
Damage
Skel 2
Attack
Damage
Attack
Damage
Kyra steps in and heals Adrianna!
CLW
Enemy:
DuMoire thrusts at Daeris...!
Attack
Damage
But he is unlucky.
R3
Enemy [Acted]
Daeris
Kyra [Acted - see below!]
Adrianna
Kormil
Kyra casts again on Adrianna...
CLW
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Adrianna felt a bone-numbing cold wrap around her, and a pull towards a darkness like none she had ever experienced before. She was succumbing to it, was ready to embrace the darkness and cold, when a voice spoke into her mind; "It is not yet your time, child. You must return to your world and compete the quest I have given you..."
Opening her eyes, she sees the undead dragging another human down to join them, and she fears the voice was mistaken and she must surely be dead. But then Daeris' curse at missing DuMoire draws her attention and reassures her that she is, in fact, alive and must act to remain so. From the deck of the ship Adrianna kicks out at DuMoire's knees, connecting with the bone and buckling one of his legs!
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Kormil moves, if possible, to help he sommoned creatures fight, giving them some combat advantage.
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"because justice needs its due course. Not death. In his own country he will get a far worse fate than mere death"
-Posted with Wayfinder
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"Then you can exert your energy to haul him back to your authorities, for whatever purpose that will serve."
She was angry and confused by the move, but she remembered her oath not to harm another pathfinder, so she wiped the stinking blood from her blade and went on to locate the artifacts they came for.
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Searching the hold you come across two doors.
Fore, you find the door is heavily chained and reinforced from the outside, as though to keep something securely locked within. The reek of death and decay permeates the door, and listeningcarefully you hear the sounds of bobbing water and shifting furniture, as though the vessel has been holed, but you also hear groans and movement.
Waking DuMoire he first demands to be released, threatening and cursing, then asking, then pleading, then begging. He tells you that whatever is in that room is what is left of his crew 'suffering some disease'.
Searching his room, the party finds a small padlocked chest of wood and hardened leather. Inside, wrapped in moldering velvet, rest four tablets each crafted from a different material— copper, gold, lead, and black slate. The crudely fashioned tablets are incredibly ancient forgeries of the original tablets marking the royal seals of four of the Old Azlant’s noble houses. Regardless of their non-authenticity, their uncanny detail provides great insight into lost languages and historical data associated with the four houses.
You return to shore on the jolly boat, the Hydras Fang burning behind you.
Local agents from the Kortos Consortium express and interest in having a word with DuMoire, but find themselves in deep and heated debate with Chelish representatives. Seeing the matter will resolve one way or another you return to the Inn to get some rest. The next morning as you depart you notice the argument has been resolved one way or another, with DuMoire suspended in a Gibbet on the pier, never to threaten anyone again.
Everyone makes their way back to Absalom, via the overland route, to be congratulated by Dreng and any other Venture-Officers present. YOu are told that you are becoming fine Pathfinders and will go far in the Society.
Sorry mate, I thought it should have adjusted automatically - will get onto that.
Ahhh good point.
Anyhow, its Oct 31 in THIS country - so will be kicking off in about 18 hours :p
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The adventure begins in Silverhall, Brevoy. Silverhall is the fortified capitol of the Lebeda's family territory. The party has been sent here on a diplomatic mission on behalf of Lady Glorianna Morilla, they enjoy the hospitality of the audience hall until the arrival of their host...
***
A fire burns merrily in the large hearth of the audience chamber, casting warm light over the long wooden table and high-backed chairs. A pair of guards opens the engraved wooden doors, and a regal woman enters, her hair tied into a tight bun. The guards stay by her side as she scans the room and then takes a seat at the head of the table.
“You must be Lady Morilla’s Pathfinders. I am Dame Sarrona Lebeda, and I am well aware of your desire for the Horn of Aroden. I am sympathetic to the cause of the crusade, and am curious to learn whether the Horn’s magic can be returned; however, the horn has already been pledged to King Noleski Surtova as a fitting part of the dowry for my daughter’s hand in marriage, and such promises cannot be overturned lightly. Nonetheless, I am willing to find a replacement gift in exchange for one kindness on your part: bring my son back home".
“As of late, my son Lander has been neglecting his duties in favor of playing the part of an adventurer. His swordplay admittedly shows promise, but wielding a weapon is only one facet of being a proper lord. Worse, the style and legacy that he has become obsessed with is that of Baron Aldori, which many houses perceive as a sign that we are not as committed to a unified Brevoy as we may appear. The truancy of a second child may not seem much of a threat, but with his older sister spending her days in the capitol negotiating the web of Surtova politics, the increase of bandit activity and wolf attacks in our lands, and Lander neglecting his responsibilities within our holdings, I am concerned that he is as much a liability to our family as an asset. You are adventurous types yourselves, and understand the hazards and difficulties of the lifestyle. Perhaps you could find Lander and convince him that the way of the sword is not the life he romantically envisions?”
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Grimaldus looks at the woman like she has two heads and green skin..."The way of the sword is not a good lifestyle?" He could not understand why she would think that...He was living the way of the sword - it was all he had ever known. And Grim liked it!
But orders are orders, whether they make sense to the soldier or not, and so he just shakes his head slightly and resolves to do his best to encourage young Lander to quit adventuring. "Maybe an arrow in the knee..." he thinks to himself.
"As Pathfinders we are at your service. Do you know where young Lander is now - at least a place to start our search? And do you have some means by which we can convince him we are from you - a medallion or signet ring or some such?"
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"If there is one thing a dwarf can be, it is convincing. In fact, Tackle and I have been known to be quite persuasive....", the dwarf says nodding to the heavily scarred pitbull at his side. "The large fella does raise a good question. Being "adventurous types" I have no doubt your lad will have his own questions as to our legitimacy in bringing him in."
The dwarf stands intent on hearing the ladies answer. Having much experience in the mines and caverns clearing out nest of dark things luring in those recesses had prepared him well for combat, but had done little for his diplomatic side, especially among people less stout and forthright than his own. Paired with his peculiar choice of firearm and the slightly singed and blackened left side of his face due to said firearm's use did nothing to increase his charisma!
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Kishara read over her letter for the second time and frowned. Pandering to nobility was not her favorite pastime, but a mission was a mission. She gathered her gear and hefted the heavy pack and headed out to join the party and travel to Brevoy.
When she arrived, bent under the weight of her pack, she caught sight of a massive shadow that covered the length of a pier. It was so long and wide with the sun low in the sky, that she glanced up hurriedly, half expecting to find some huge beast swooping down on her. But quickly worry turned to joy on her face as she spotted the 7 foot tall warrior who belonged to the huge shadow. She grinned wide and called out,
"What in the Nine Hells is that ahead that near blots out the sun? It's a Roc! A dirigible! No, it's der Übermensch!"
The petite half-elf drops her pack and plants her foot against a pylon and boosts herself up to hug Grimaldus around his neck, her feet dangling well off the ground. Then she gets a whiff of him and drops back down. "Phew, Grim... You've smelled better. Where have you been hiding yourself? In a cistern?"
Kishara herself smells a bit like burnt hair and leather, and when you look closer, you see her braid and vest do indeed look slightly singed.
_______________________________________________________________________
"Begging your pardon, my Lady, but considering we do this for a living... Are we the best choice for convincing someone to turn from it? I could tell the lad tales that could curl his hair, but they might just serve to fuel his desire for adventure. Frankly, the most persuasive reason to turn from this life is something that must be experienced for oneself; nearly losing one's own life! But this is your son you speak of, surely you must not want to see him come to harm, no?" Kishara considered the woman, trying to discern just how far she wanted them to go here.
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"As Pathfinders we are at your service. Do you know where young Lander is now - at least a place to start our search?
“Lander has taken to associating with a blacksmith named Marek Bogdan. Marek is a retired soldier and a practitioner of the Aldori style, and Lander says he’s a fine instructor, but my son spends too many hours at the Three Tongs smithy practicing his swordplay when he should be overseeing our cottars and building alliances. He was headed to the Three Tongs when last I saw him, two days ago.”
And do you have some means by which we can convince him we are from you - a medallion or signet ring or some such?"
"Of course. You may wear the finery of our household, it will mark you as ours. Likewise I shall furnish you a letter with our seal"
"The large fella does raise a good question. Being "adventurous types" I have no doubt your lad will have his own questions as to our legitimacy in bringing him in."/"Begging your pardon, my Lady, but considering we do this for a living... Are we the best choice for convincing someone to turn from it?
"My son is a proud and headstrong individual. Each time one of the household retrieves him, he becomes increasingly resistant to persuasion. I am hoping that he might be more willing to listen to capable strangers.”
Kishara is confident that the stern matriarch simply wants what (she feels) is best for her son, and that he return to carry out his duty - there is no malice, only the frustrations of a mother dealing with a wayward son.
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Grim looks over to Kish, raising an eyebrow in question. Although almost twice her size, the human seems to almost defer to the half-elf. Not because of some strict rank, nor is this a superior/inferior relationship. No, Grim knows this woman and trusts her with his life.
"Then it's off to the smithy. I'll accept your letter, but finery doesn't fit the armor...thanks anyways! C'mon, folks - let's go 'convince' the lad to come home and be responsible."
Once they are on their way, and separated from listening ears, Grim asks the others, "So what do we do if Lander is truly happy living like us? Isn't forcing him to live a life he did not choose a form of slavery? Ahhh - I am putting the camp before the battle...Let's see what the lad has to say for himself..."
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"Duty to ones's place and people is a dwarven ideal in the most high. I have no doubt that we will be able to make the boy understand this and his role in the kingdom."
"Grimaldus, duty to one's family and people is a simple fact of life. Selfish ambitions are not to be indulged in world such as this. While I applaud his seeking of knowledge, it must be tempered by responsibility. I am sure a knight such as yourself must understand this."