RIZZENMAGNUS |
The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass leaving memories that become legend, then fade to myth, and are long forgot when that Age comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose from within a mountain range not yet explored. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning.
The wind howled and whirled, trapped within the valleys of these grand peaks and ranges, building in strength and size. Wind from further west, from the great Ocean beyond, adding water and strength. The wind, now heavy with clouds, blows hard upon the sheer surface, venting its fury upon the uncaring mountains. Rain and snow fall upon the faces of the mountains. All manner of creatures lay huddled within their shelters, avoiding the rath from above.
All save one. A lone figure stands upon a cliff, carved back wide enough for this lone figure to stand. the wind rain and snow whistle upon this figure, yet she does not move. Her hair streams out wide behind her, braids striaght back. A smile creases her face; she enjoys the harsh climate that is her home. Another of her kind, short yet powerfully built steps out onto the ledge with her. A large hand, powerful enough to crush rock, grasps her shoulder gently.
what will your mother say, child? the male asks in a soft voice
I should be out here naked, letting Frei bless me with her wrath so i may have a strong child, father the woman replies.
The father chuckles. Aye, that she would. A cough and groan escape his lips. No chance i could ask you who the father is, could i?
A heartbeat passes, there it is, the question of concern. Who is the father? does the child have a right to the throne, or shall it become a worker? Another heartbeat passes, and her dagger is out of its sheath and slicing for her fathers neck. Equally as fast is the father, his single hand squeezing harder upon her shoulder, causing her turn to stop suddenly. The blade, made of a material harder than steel, jerks into his sleeve instead of his neck. The knife cuts his robe and sinks into his arm, where multiple cuts slash his forearm.
Not today then. As you wish her father, King of Kings, nods and walks away from his daughter, leaving her to her own thoughts...
The wind, now lighter without the rain holding it down, flows up and over the mountains, and picks up speed heading east. From horizon to horizon it builds upon itself, and new clouds form within its embrace. Large angry clouds, bolts of lightning, peals of thunder hearld its approach. over the foot hills and out onto the great plains, where strange creatures, buffalo, roam in herds as vast as the plains are big. Over the wind flows, and through a large encampment of plainsmen. The people secure loose articles and duck into teepees, hoping the wind passes them without destroying the tribe.
But Denair is with them, for she favors this tribe and pushes the storm beyond her control. Over the plains that are barren of life save the humble praire dog, it howls and yawns to rage. And it sees it, a small fort with some tents and shantys built outside. Men and women of all races rush about the outside of the fort, performing business.
What was rain is now snow that falls upon the fort and surrounding territory. Fur traders and hunters walk about, ignoring the fall of the late spring snow shower, conducting last minute exhcanges to fill wares for their long journey to the west. Other new comers intermingle with these mountain men. Adventurers, scouts, and sissy reporters, all with an angle.
Bah. lot of people getting under foot. They best not disrupt my hunting areas says a man in the small bar where you have taken shelter. You havent the heart to inform the man that you are one of those people.
Spitting a black stain upon the floor, the man ducks out and moves on.
You have just arrived at the small fort of Independence Missouri. The staging point for your journey west. Here is where you will purchase your supplies for your trip west, along with making any arrangements for your journey.
James Hillwalker |
[bold] The weather is shifting, my friends. Might be a long trip ahead of us [/bold]
Quick question...are we provided with transportation/pack animals? I just want to know before we head out as it might impact my purchases.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Finnegan steps into the tavern, his thin arms wrapped around him for warmth. And I thought New York winters were bad he mumbles to himself. Oh well, nothing for it, I suppose...just hope Tammany Hall forgets my face by the time I get back... If I get back
Finnegan makes his way over to the half elf, his teeth chattering as he speaks, Why do you say that, Mr. Hillwalker? It is just snow. Only God knows why we are starting our expedition in the middle this foul weather. Wouldn't it be wisest to wait till spring?
does anyone want to pull our funds together to buy a keg of black powder and a mule to carry it? It will be cheaper than each of us purchasing one
Isabella Nigrelli |
Isabella enters the tavern as well and shakes out the folds of her long coat - and her long hair, prematurely streaked with grey and white.
"Whew! It's cold enough out there to freeze the heart of a politician!" she exclaims. "Provided the bastard hasn't sold it already."
The Italian Elf shakes her coat out some more, then folds it and hangs it over her arm and addresses Finnegan and James with a wide grin.
"Ah, but we're travelling for the sake of big money -- beg your pardon! For the sake of honour and eternal glory! There's no waiting with such lofty masters clamouring for us to be about our business, is there? Except, perhaps, for a tot of brandy before we get on with things. What ho, master barkeep! Have you any brandy for chilled travellers?"
James Hillwalker |
I agree a mule would be a good idea, i was looking at one last night. That way we can carry extra expendables, aka arrows, food and a barrel of water.
[bold] Yes barkeep, a mug of beer....might keep the shivers away [/bold]
James Hillwalker |
Oops, yeah. I was tired when I posted that.
Has anyone heard of any jobs heading west? Sitting waiting around in this place is starting to get to me.
perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (10) + 6 = 16 to listen in to other conversations for leads...
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Finnegan nods to the barkeep and smiles, Yes, I believe she has the right idea. Something to warm the bones please. then he let's his smile deepen to include a sense of neighborly trust, Tell me good man, what is your opinion of the hubbub here? The readers of The American would love to hear your story.
Gather information from barkeep 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
sounds good. A mule is 8gp. A keg of black powder is 20gp. If the three of us pool our resources it would be only 10 gp. Less if the other players join in.
To GM: are we counting ammo and rations?
Saul Becknell |
Also will chip in for mule and etc. I tried fitting one in my personal stuff, but the money just kept disappearing and I still feel like there's a million things I need. Might be good to get a variety of tools as well... axes, saws, hammers, etc. And food for the horses / mules. And items to trade with natives. Or am I overthinking everything as usual? Speaking of, does everyone plan to get a riding horse? Or should I invest in about a dozen more pairs of boots instead? :)
"Jobs? Traversing thousands of miles of practically unexplored wilderness isn't job enough for you?" Saul grins, having just come in. The Virginian tips his tri-cornered hat to Isabella. Ma'am.
William Duncan |
The door open and a human walks in. The man is wearing a wide brim hat and a buckskin jacket over a short coat. In the mans belt is a large knife hung across his waist and a tomahawk on his left hip. He caries a Brown Bess musket in his left hand as he moves to the bar and props it up next to him as he takes a seat.
"Whiskey."
The man removes his hat and lays it on the bar as he looks around at the other patrons.
James Hillwalker |
the packsaddle is better..holds more, but can't ride it. Also costs 5gp. I concur with the cold weather clothes. I also would add some arrows for myself to the list...never know where I can stock up again. I didn't have the luxury of rolling high enough gp to get a horse. Also, what about a cart? That way we can carry more. I can fix it too as I am a carpenter. I would maybe get enough feed the mule for a while, like oats and stuff.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
-We don't need a saddle, we can't ride the mule anyways since it's not on the mount list. I'm OK with the pack saddle. But I think everyone should buy their own ammo and cloths...I only mentioned gun powder because it is expensive and I am on the fence between a thematic firearm and the typical pathfinder crossbow. How many of us are taking advantage of the free firearm proficiency?
-I don't think a cart is a good idea. Remember, there aren't any trails yet. I think a mule or two is our best option. We also may want to buy food for the mules. It's 5c for one day of feed.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
no problem. I'm still getting use to the pbp etiquette. So it's probably my misunderstanding. The mules would carry everyone's personal gear except for weapons and armor probably. Maybe 1 mule for every 3 characters?
I'd like to buy a horse. But I would also like to have a firearm. Thinking about the dagger pistol (finesse-able, d4 dmg). But I can afford only one or the other. Crossbows don't say "Oregon trail" for me. You know what I mean?
To see if the barkeep is telling the whole story: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (10) + 5 = 15
RIZZENMAGNUS |
a man after me own heart a woman says stepping out from behind the mirrored partition.
stepping up, the lady, half-elf by the look of her face and ears, sets out a small shot glass in front of everyone. She draws a bottle filled with a brownish-red liquid in it and pours it into everyones glass.
Looking at the man at the end with a questioning tilt, upon seeing the nod, she strolls down and drops a bit of the liquid into his glass.
Thanks Margie. the man mutters, downing the liquid in one hit.
Bah. Bunch of nonsense this all is. People coming and going. Most moving on into the wild, some settling into this area. Used to be a nice stretch of land. No one around, but for the rare buffalo. Plenty of game and fishing too. Now, the old man waves his hand around in a broad gesture, leaving you to wonder if he means the tavern, or the village growing.
leave the bottle margie the man mutters. Margie shrugs her shoulders and leaves it before returning back down to your end to refill your glasses.
but that is all in the past. Now, all the game is further west. To far for this old man to travel to. the old man takes another hit.
THat there man is Clarence Johns. He used to own all this land around this area. What was it, a half day journey in the cardinal directions, he owned it. Until the big sale. Well, Old clarence was afraid that his land would be confiscated with the Purchase. Funny thing about it is that when the weather cleared enough for him to leave to protest, the purchase had been done and Gentlemen Lewis and Clark were sailing into this area with their crews. They spent several days in the area talking to CLarence, and then they left. Well, a few years ago, some men from the US government came, and purchased the land where the Fort sits now. Of course, others have come along and purchased as well. she raises her voice to be easily heard across the village. I dont see why he is all melancholy, being the richest guy west of the mississippi and all that. she finishes with a huff at him.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Finnegan sips the drink and shutters. A smile forms on his lips. My, I feel warmer already
After a moment, he shakes off the effect of the brown liquid and nods in understanding to the old man's plight. The newsman looks to Clarence with an expression of mild confusion mixed with genuine concern. Tell me, sir, how was it that you and yours came by the land in the first place? Was it not first owned by the Kagonesti?
Finding out additional information from Clarence -
Gather Info: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Seeing how Clarence reacts to the use of the elves' proper name -
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19
RIZZENMAGNUS |
the old man chuckles.
Kagonistic tribes? out here? FA! Boy, i hope you did get yourself a map of this region. No Kagonisti found west of the Mississippi, with the rare exception he nods to the bar wench, who blushes at the mentioning.
Nah, out west here they have those mysterious Dark Elfs! Black with pale eyes, shocking white hair. Some of them are friendly, some are not. No, they avoid us outsiders. The Kagonisti they shoot on site, but us, well, they tolerate us. See, we can either bring them some sort of profit, or we are their offerings to their heathen deity, goes by the name of Sloth or some such thing.
taking a pull from the bottle, the man continues.
as for how i got it. hehe, that was easy. You see, i had a bad cold that day, so my voice was all deep and husky, and i coughed all the time. When i first approached their encampment, i coughed loudly. This startled them. So i used it. while i was talking i coughed, and wiggled, and sighed. I had them so scared that i was some creature possessed by a devil that they fled. so i walked out as far as i could that first day, ran into them, coughed and gyrated some more. those that could see me fled as well. i then went west, did the same, south and east. by the time i got back, it was just me and my land.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Well...that's impressive. Now that sounds like a plan worth having! Finnegan states with disbelief, trying not to let his jaw drop. Why then, if your rich and, I presume, well liked in this town, do you seem to disapprove of your current predicament, if you don't mind me asking? As far as I can tell, everything went to your favor
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Sorry for all the questions. This is the last one, I promise
Anatoly Dashkov |
On the heels of Finnegan's question, the door opens once more to allow a cloaked figure to enter amid a gust of cold and swirling flakes. The newcomer stands nearly seven feet tall and is easily the largest person in the room. Removing his cloak and hat to dry on the hooks by the door, the green skin and prominent canines reveal him to be a full blooded Orc; a very uncommon sight in the New World.
Squinting against the brightness of the light, Anatoly nods to the few people in the room he has met and heads for an empty table.
RIZZENMAGNUS |
The old man, upon hearing this last question, scowls darkly at Finnegan.
Because id rather be left alone. he howls in anger, and to add to his anger, he flings the bottle at finnegan...
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21 oh sure, waste a high roll...sheesh
1d3 ⇒ 2
...and crashes into finnegan's chest.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Finnegan is unconscious...just kidding...8 HP left
Now that was completely uncalled for Finnegan mutters to himself annoyed and waving his hands to dry himself off. He gathers his hopefully not-brandy-stained notes. Knowing full well that he is the Yankee outsider inside the tavern, Finnegan cautiously looks around the room to see how his fellow companions react.
TAVERN BRAWL!?!?!
And on that note, Initiative, if needed: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
RIZZENMAGNUS |
i dont do initiative. the way i run it, which works rather well, is that when battle is initiated, the pcs have 24 hours to act, starting at noon CST. Since there is no initiative, then pcs can post in any order. The round is considered done when i do my posting at noon CST the next day. I try to do a novellesque description of the round and intermingle the NPC actions and rolls within it. After i post, PCs have another day to post their actions. PCs that dont post anything are considered to have gone into the "total defense" stance.
I dont pull back punches, nor lessen damage to help the PCs out. I throw everything i have in the encounter at the PCs, and will make the NPCs act according to how i feel that they would in the situation. My goal is to make you go "oh crap" when you see a battle start, cuz you may just die.
I also reward those who embelish upon their characters actions. typing in "my PC walks up and swings at the Bar keep" and then a dice is rolled, sure its ok, but come on, you have time to give a good description of what is going on. perhaps an internal monologe of how your pc doesnt want to kill the bar keep, or how they see their companions in action, or whatever? Perhaps you describe how your pc squints when lining up the shot, or the splinter you get when you press your cheek into the buttstock. If you impresse me to the point where i say "WOW", i may just gift you a level advance. My usual gift is a free reroll usable any time.
William Duncan |
Bill steps away from the bar and slowly hooks his thumbs into his belt next to the large knives on his hips as he watches the old man and the half elf Margie. The man smiles as he speaks but his eyes do not glint with mirth.
"Hey now. That ain't no way to act towards someone that's just asken ya a question. I mean shoot, he didn't mean no harm, he's just curious. Can't help himself with all that written he does.
I'm sure you didn't mean no harm either, so let's just simmer down and go back to bein friends before we do somethin we all regret in the mornin."
Saul Becknell |
I dont pull back punches, nor lessen damage to help the PCs out. I throw everything i have in the encounter at the PCs, and will make the NPCs act according to how i feel that they would in the situation. My goal is to make you go "oh crap" when you see a battle start, cuz you may just die.
I can attest the veracity of this. lol
Isabella Nigrelli |
Isabella eyes the altercation, but shrugs it off in favour of directing her attention at the Half-Elf barlady.
James Hillwalker |
perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23
[b] Sorry my friend here poked a sore spot, friend. Here is one on me....[/bold] as I hand him the drink I ordered from the bartender.
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Finnegan casually puts his hand in his lap, his finger resting on the hilt of his knife in case of trouble.
I'm taking advantage of the "you already know each other" clause
Finnega looks to the orc in the corner and gives a friendly wave with his other hand, saying "Hello Antoly. Glad to see you here. Are you ready to make news?"
My I forgot how big orcs are -Finnegan laughs to himself- Sometimes the best offense is being so obnoxious that no one wants to deal with you. Well, let's just see what they do now that they know that the largest guy in the room is on my side
Finnegan Breckenridge |
Finnegan just shrugs "Just doing my job, friend. Sometimes getting the full story requires asking questions that may challenge the recipient." And, then he says loud enough for the old man to hear I'm sure the folks in New York would be thrilled with his story of a man who outwitted the elves so easily. Why, he could become a local hero and be a household name for generations to come! I can see the headline now - "WISE CLERANCE OUTSMARTS THE ELVES -- A TRUE STORY OF HOW ONE SETTLER WON HIS LAND WITHOUT BLOODSHED"
Bluff to raise the old man's ego to the point where he calms down and answers my original question
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
RIZZENMAGNUS |
the old man stands up and begins to stalk towards Finnegan, a look of menace and hatred upon his face.
Standing nearly a full head shorter than finnegan, he jabs his finger hard into Finns chest.
You print anything about me, anything, and i will gut you and let you roam the plains for the wolves to feed upon.
Turning a glaring eye upon the rest of the group, a wild look etches itself upon his face. Huffing and puffing, he turns and stomps out the front doors and into the spring snow storm.
Well, twas a frightful sight that was. margie says out loud.
last time someone riled him up, they did walk roam the plains with their guts in their hands, looking for the wolves.
will there be anything else? id like to close up shop and check on Clarence before he gets to wound up. margie asks
congrats to everyone for not taking the bait :)
Isabella Nigrelli |
Won't she answer my questions...? ^^;
"Eh, the man should drink less or else drink enough so he falls asleep, rather than get ornery," Isabella says, shrugging. "Old bag of misery and bones isn't worth the bother."
RIZZENMAGNUS |
sorry isabella
Margie, after speaking to Isabella in a singsong language, spits on the ground.
there's a good inn inside the fort's walls. you pay a little more, but its secure. Otherwise most men setup a tent anywhere and sleep.
is there anything else you guys wanted to do in the city? do you have all of the supplies that you think you will need?
Isabella Nigrelli |
"I'm not doing that," Isabella says. "Some trapper might take it into his head to crawl into my tent and try to share my blanket. I'm not having that!"