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DM_MadGoat's Untitled Campaign

Game Master DM_MadGoat


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Thread devoted to OOC discussion, preliminary roleplaying, and the like!


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"That goat freaks me out."


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

Water and bread. Simple fare, but truly, Scoria didn't require much to eat. Just enough to sate her hunger without succumbing to malnutrition - it was a balancing act, surely, requiring the will to eat only when she needed to do so - sometimes she forgot to even do that.

She would always work for her meal, though - whether by practice in the mornings, a hour each and every day, running through the forms she had learned over decades, or by her craft, chiseling and smoothing and setting pieces of stone in their proper place. the Cathedral had some of her own work in it. It would more than likely outlast her. She found a great deal of comfort in that.

The marble skinned Oread glanced over at the handsome human and the cleric from the Cathedral, tilting her head to the side curiously. She'd heard something interesting, about a quarry - perhaps the one that produced the stone used in the latest building of Sandpoint? She nibbled slowly on her bread hunk, sipping water from her cup as she looked at the pair conversing, eyes like glittering gemstones observing their behavior from a distance.


Human Fighter (Brawler/Gladiator)/ 1
Digger Chandler wrote:
Digger laughs and toasts his friends. "So," he turns to the older fellow, "welcome to town. I've noticed you around, militia, keeping us safe, that bit. This silver fox here is Brevyre Silverkin, soon to be called Stonelayer. My fellow intellectual with half the charm is Doc, the one you'd rather be talking to is Tess, and I'm Digger. I must say, you do look familiar."

The "seasoned" warrior blinks, dumbstruck for a moment, then rubs his chin and nods, his face softening as if in understanding.

Hmm, you don't recognize me? Must be the beard--I've grown it out a bit. Or maybe you're too young? But no, surely your parents would've told you about me. I've GOT it!

He snaps his fingers, resulting in an oddly muffled sound due to his metal-blade-covered glove.

First time in Varisia? Welcome! Sandpoint isn't quite as striking as some of the other towns, but it's a nice place to hang your hat. If you do ever get a chance to make it to Magnimar or maybe over to Zincher's Arena in Riddleport, ask 'em about Grigore the Grim. Or you can save the coin and just ask me--I don't want to brag, but if you haven't heard about my fight with Jargen Razortooth or when I bested Heartless Rahj and his brother Taj, well, you really should. Of course, now I'm just a humble civil servant.

He bows slightly, then smiles as he looks at Brevyre.

Of course, in these parts, I haven't dealt with any extradimensional threats of Evil or Chaos, but we're in short supply of those around here. I do my part, though, breaking up the occasional drunken fight. So that should count for something, right?


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Of course. And he is far from new to Varisia, we both grew up here in Sandpoint."


Digger Chandler wrote:
"That goat freaks me out."

Rightly so, two-legs! The goat looks around with eyes that have once again faded to black. I shall leave with my dignity intact! he says, marching smartly out of the interdimensional room in which you find yourselves. He doesn't seem to notice the length of toilet paper stuck to his rear left hoof, rustling along as he walks out into the void and disappears.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

Digger's face lights up. "That's it! Grim Grigore and his cestus of gore! My friend, this round is on the house. I SAW that fight! If Shelyn painted a fight, 'twould be that one."

Digger elbows Brev. "She's looking at you! She wants to get mined!"


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

Humans. How quickly they could grow and erode in a matter of decades. It was never too apparent in her parent until his final years, but Scoria could see how age divided the three men at the table. the youthful faced man with a smile to brighten a room, the bulky and heavy muscled cleric - Brevin, unless she was mistaken. And a Varisian, obviously past his youth and heading towards old age - how would they all react to learn she was probably decades older than all of them?

The youngest was apparently the loudest as well - talking about mining. Perhaps that was his trade or profession - though, she couldn't think of any mine or quarry near Sandpoint that he could have worked for. Odd he spoke of such things.

She finished off her bread, washing it down slowly with sips of her water, the embedded shards of rose quartz crystals on her exposed arms, back and stomach glittering as she leaned back - only a simple halter top kept her modest. It wasn't as if she needed additional attire right now, after all. She wore her stonemason's smock only when she was working.


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"For the last time Digger, it's not happening, and that is the final word on the matter. Can we just enjoy our drinks in peace? Good heavens, you never let things go. Especially when we were younger."


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"Fiiiiiiiine," Digger says, exasperatedly. "I'm just saying, I gave you first dibs. No getting pissed if get a little stone shaped myself!" He catches the eye of the monk. "Fairest Stoneworker I have ever seen, come, join us!"


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

Scoria doesn't smile, her face as impassive as the stone she works. She looks at Digger, thinking for a moment, before getting up onto her feet - bare for the moment, as she walks over to look at the group. She doesn't say anything yet, simply taking a seat between the rogue and cleric, her cup of water still in hand as she takes another slow sip from it.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"Hello, miss. You were working on the cathedral, no? Well, my buddy Brev here is a big fan of the place, you could say. Ever hear how he saved the old one ...I mean, before this time. Anyway, I'm Digger, and I tend the bar here. Ale on the house? Perhaps a Dwarven stout? I really admire your craftsmanship. Real solid foundation, real great attention to detail, and I love the natural curvature. Where'd you learn your trade?"


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

The oread stares at Digger as he speaks, not a single twitch of muscle occurring in her features while she listens. When asked of her craft, she responds immediately, her voice surprisingly soft in tone, practically a whisper. "I apprenticed under Torik Boulderborn in Magnimar. That is where I learned my trade." The answer given, she takes another sip from her water cup, as if speaking so little parched her so.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"Well, a fine master he must have been. This one's way better than the old dump. I might even attend a service or two! Can I offer you something more than water, Miss ...Boulderborn?"


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Well the way the Cathedral has shaped out, it appears you learned well."


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

"My name is not Boulderborn," Scoria states to Digger, no malice in her voice. "It is Scoria." She turns her head to look at the silver-haired cleric, responding to him in kind. "I spent ten years under his tutelage. He taught me everything he knew about stonemasonry."


Human Fighter (Brawler/Gladiator)/ 1
Brevyre Silverkin wrote:
"Of course. And he is far from new to Varisia, we both grew up here in Sandpoint."

Woops! I didn't read everyone's backgrounds, I just jumped right in. Grigore has lived in Sandpoint for the last 3 years so if you all have grown up there, there's a good chance I already know you both. If I get accepted into the game, this part of the conversation would have to be modified, but for now I suspect this pre-game discussion is just to check out our RP-styles, so I'll just roll with it.

Digger Chandler wrote:

Digger's face lights up. "That's it! Grim Grigore and his cestus of gore! My friend, this round is on the house. I SAW that fight! If Shelyn painted a fight, 'twould be that one."

Grigore holds up his hand to examine his favorite weapon.

Cestus, huh? Is that what this is called? I just call it my "glove". You mean there's a word that means "glove with blades sewn onto it"? Isn't language amazing? As for the fight, which one? Heartless Rahj? That was...

The soldier squints, screwing his face up in concentration as he looks at the ceiling.

Twenty years ago, by my count. Your parents had no qualms with taking a child into the arena, huh? Good for them. Might as well teach a kid that people get hurt in this world sometimes--best learn how to fight when you're young.

When the monk joins them, Grigore waves and smiles genuinely in greeting. He steals a glance at her hands as she walks by, then looks at his gloved hand before lowering his arm to his side.

Seven Hells! I wonder how hard that one can punch...


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

Twenty years ago?" Brevyre asks the soldier. "Twenty years ago, I was just a newborn baby, and Digger here was not even born yet."

Well, I did join a profession where plenty of older folk would work in


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"Hm. Who was it I saw you fight, then? Mad Morris? No. Wait, he had ...he had that green beard. I remember being rather intrigued by it. But you grabbed him by it--"

C'mon, Brev, she's talking to you! Kind of! But the quiet ones are always the wild ones!


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

Scoria takes a moment to look over the glove the older Varisian wears, the worn leather and bladed knuckles, before returning to her glass, sipping it slowly and just absorbing the conversation going on around her. She is very still, shoulders square and seated in proper posture - if not for her very organic black hair, one might mistake her for a statue that had been adorned in monk's attire.

She speaks quietly, during a lull in the conversation. "Twenty years ago, I was still under my apprenticeship."


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Correct. That was his name actually, Greenbeard. Tried to break in to the old cathedral one night while I was on guard. Let's say he left with less teeth than he came in with. Digger can testify to the hardness of my punch. Remember that fight we had three years ago? What was that about anyways?"


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"Well it's no wonder your work is so fine, then, Scoria. I take it your race is rather long-lived?"


Human Fighter (Brawler/Gladiator)/ 1
Digger Chandler wrote:

"Hm. Who was it I saw you fight, then? Mad Morris? No. Wait, he had ...he had that green beard. I remember being rather intrigued by it. But you grabbed him by it--"

C'mon, Brev, she's talking to you! Kind of! But the quiet ones are always the wild ones!

Yes! You know, that one attached blades to his beard? Look, look, Grigore says, lifting his head and moving his shirt aside. A long scar is visible along the side of his neck, dangerously close to his jugular.

He got me good first, before I grabbed his beard and fed it to him. That was a good one, wasn't it? You know I had Morris' wife after that fight? She comes up to me afterward, her husband being carted off and me being bandaged up, and says: "Thanks--I never liked beards." So naturally I...enjoyed her company that night. Between you and me, that lady was FAR scarier than her crazy husband. Never wanted to see her again, I can tell you, so I started growing this.

He gestures to the unkempt beard on his chin before laughing and taking another drink.

Say, Digger--you seem like a lad who needs a challenge. Ever been to the Hagfish here in town? They have a drink that you need to try...


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"I believe that was the time I convinced you that traveling fortune teller had put a curse on you. Or was it when I convinced you I had actually found magic ale in a cave?" Digger laughs but rubs his arm. "He does indeed punch pretty hard. When the slowpoke can actually catch you!" Digger jumps out of reach, just in case.


Human Fighter (Brawler/Gladiator)/ 1
Scoria the Stalwart wrote:

Scoria takes a moment to look over the glove the older Varisian wears, the worn leather and bladed knuckles, before returning to her glass, sipping it slowly and just absorbing the conversation going on around her. She is very still, shoulders square and seated in proper posture - if not for her very organic black hair, one might mistake her for a statue that had been adorned in monk's attire.

She speaks quietly, during a lull in the conversation. "Twenty years ago, I was still under my apprenticeship."

Grigore nods in assent, then says solemnly.

Excellence and experience both come with time. I thought I knew everything when I was two and twenty. If some wizard made that young pup show up here now I'd whip some sense into him, and hopefully he'd be smart enough to listen. Probably not, though, but again those things come with time. He trails off at the end, thinking about some lost memory.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"You'd ask a bartender to give money to the competition?" Digger balks.


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"From what I can recall, we were both interested in Katrine, the Vinder girl. Her dad never liked either of us, but we still fought over her anyways. Although you might also be right about both of those too."


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"Katrine Vinder! By the Holy Mug! How did I forget her? What a heap of trouble she caused! Mostly worth it ..."


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Mostly? If I recall, I put quite a beating on you. You were just lucky I was no good with a sword back then or you might not be here reminiscing about now. It was worth it for me though. We had a single date, and it did not end well, but never the less, we had a date"


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

"I am long lived, I suppose - I have seen the passing of seven decades in my lifetime." Scoria responds quietly, finishing the water in her glass, before excusing herself, getting another cup to bring back to the table. Water was one of those resources one should partake in whenever they had a chance, being as abundant as it was necessary for life. She listened further to Brevyre and Digger speaking of the past, making note of it all but not offering any sort of opinion. It was not her place to interject into such a conversation.

There was also the fact that she had no idea why anyone would beat up someone because the same person interested them. She had met many interesting people in her lifetime, that didn't mean she had to pick a fight with anyone else who thought they were interesting too. Figuring it was just a 'human thing', she let the question go unasked.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"'Didn't end well'? Hahahahahahahahaha! Listen, you people have to hear this. So Brev was on this date here, this huge big deal date he nearly broke his best pal's nose to get, right? OK. So, you can imagine him, right? Nervous kid version of him? OK, so ..." Digger launches into the "Brev and Vinder Date Disaster," an all-time favorite as far as his stories about Brev went.

There's no reason for a rock lady, a hardass, an old pit fighter, and a hot witch to be here at his bar. No reason but chaos. Digger decided to play a chance.


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"......And at the very end, I was shaken to the bone, after that Hawk stole my boot. Combined with the Goblin Brawl and the Sneaking out of the Mayors basement, she told me she wouldn't go out with me again. I did not leave my house for a week I was so devastated. Every time we see each other we simply pass by, awkwardly avoiding eye contact if possible."


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

"As for when I got my chance ...a gentlemen never discusses such matters in such esteemed company." He motions to ask "Another round?"


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Yes, that is certainly not to be spoken of. Even worse than mine."


Human Fighter (Brawler/Gladiator)/ 1
Digger Chandler wrote:
"You'd ask a bartender to give money to the competition?" Digger balks.

Grigore smiles at the youth's reaction.

Son, you give the 'Fish too much credit to call it competition for the Dragon. And I was gonna buy, but if you'd rather stay here I won't complain. I respect your loyalty.

The soldier listens with interest, laughing at the exploits of the two friendly rivals.


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"As much as I enjoy this tavern, it is true. If you are buying another round, I'll gladly drink up."


Male Elf Archivist 1; HP 8/8; AC 16/12/14; F+0 R+4 W+1; Init +2; Per. +5

A tall elf in a rather ridiculous get-up enters the bar, wide-eyed, and begins to walk up to the bar itself as his gaze flits from anything to everything, taking in as much as possible. He approaches the bar after a few zigs and zags and leans in on a folded parasol.

"Friends! A drink, perhaps? For a weary traveller? A meal and a story? A spectacle and a...oh my, what is THIS fine specimen?" He leans in over Scoria as though he'd never heard the term 'personal space,' taking an inquisitive look before noticing the gems studding her skin. He takes her hand and begins to look very closely at the gems. "Such beauty all around, and these GEMS! Are they naturally occuring? They must be worth, oh, more than a commoner could afford, certainly! I believe you may be an Oread, yes, unless I completely miss my mark? I've read of such before, but not had the distinct pleasure meeting one. Erynion, me. Yes. That is, I'm sorry, I am Erynion Orvir, traveler and seeker of wonders. Let me apologize, that was all dreadfully rude of me. A drink, perhaps, for you as well? And a curiosity, if you'd like?" He finally notices the rest of the group sitting around and adds sheepishly, "And, of course, drinks for your friends? Are you all here for the festival?"


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

Digger's smile freezes as his eyes dart to Brev and Grig. Whuuuuuuut is that guy talking aboutttttttt? Woooop, that belladonna is taking hooolllllld.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

He nonetheless begins pouring a round of his most expensive Dwarven double casked ale aged in Andoran whiskey barrels.


Male Elf Archivist 1; HP 8/8; AC 16/12/14; F+0 R+4 W+1; Init +2; Per. +5

"My thanks, good sir. Oh, this is a fine brew indeed! Excellent choice, and a curious combination of flavors here that I wouldn't have missed. It reminds me a bit of an Ulfen eisbock I had once, up north, especially in how thick it is, though the eisbock was far sweeter. Now then, a curiosity, as promised?" He begins to rummage through his pack and shortly pulls out a small vial full of a thick, bright yellow paste. "Have any of you been to Katapesh? This ink can be seen ornamenting the most special of the dancers, but it is rare even there, but rather difficult to acquir. It is a chemical concoction that, when applied to the skin of a living creature of sufficient temperature..." He dips a quill into the ink and traces a miniscule amount on to the back of his left hand in two thin, parallel lines. The lines soon begin to spark, which causes Erynion to wince, and then they begin to give off a faint glow. "...the ink then will give off light for a time. Have you ever seen such a thing? It is favored by the ifrits, another curious offshoot similar to our friend the oread here, but with a fiery nature. Truly, Golarion is full of wonders."


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

Scoria had been more or less taken aback by the sudden appearance of the elf, reaching out and grabbing her hands without permission - a minor inconvenience, really. Nothing to be upset about. Though apparently he could chatter on faster and longer than the young Digger. She had to take a few moments to absorb what he was saying, waiting until he had paused to get in her own words.

"I am an Oread, yes. These gems aren't naturally occurring, they are simple decorations. They did not cost much, either - mostly I have found them over the years." By the time she had said that, he was already off about Katapesh and ifrit and ink. How fleeting. And to compare her to ifrit - it would be as if comparing elves to dwarves, by both of their longevity.

She looked as he drew some of the ink on the back of his hand, face impassive but inwardly concerned for the pained expression he wore. Obviously, it was not meant for his race's flesh. Quite foolish of him to demonstrate it so unprovoked.


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Greetings Elf. Welcome to Sandpoint. We will be here for the festival, but most of us reside here in Sandpoint."


Male Elf Archivist 1; HP 8/8; AC 16/12/14; F+0 R+4 W+1; Init +2; Per. +5

"Oh, fascinating, fascinating! Locals! Do tell me of the festival then, I want to hear about it all! Although surely I'm here to experience it myself. That's what I came here for, you know, that and this wondrous cathedral I've been hearing so much about."


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Ahh friend, it is a truly wondrous Cathedral! As of the festival, there has not been one since the original was built some forty years ago. Maybe if you ask on of the older members of our small village they can tell you about it. And the Cathedral, well it is truly marvelous! The stonework was fantastically done, and you should see it in the sunlight, it is a thing of beauty. Although it is not open to the general public yet, I have special access from my position as guard."


Male Undine Cleric 1

A entirely average size man walks in, when the average stopping at size. His clothes are a calamity of colours, including his deep blue skin.
He leaves his rapier on and drops his bag and shield (looks like a barrel lid with straps) near the door.

"Well this looks to be a lively group. Ahoy to you all, i do hope they have better than grog here, i could do for a drink. And do tell me what is this festival i hear of?"


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"Welcome friend. We have much better drinks than grog here, have an ale on me, it's some of the best I have ever had. The festival you hear of is the Swallowtail Festival, the ceremony to dedicate the new Cathedral that was recently finished." The man extends a hand to the Undine, and orders him a drink.


Human Fighter (Brawler/Gladiator)/ 1

Grigore watches with cautious interest as the elf saunters in.

If that one has been to the fighting pits then I'm an elf, too. Best introduce myself.

The soldier walks forward and speaks with more courtesy and less warmth than with the others, as if expecting the elf to somehow cause trouble.

Welcome to Sandpoint, best kept secret in all of Varisia. I'm Grigore, citizen of Sandpoint these last three years.

He extends his hand in greeting, then warily watches the man present his trinkets. When the elf's skin glows with the design, Grigore snaps to attention, his mind racing with thoughts of the magic ink.

Imagine my enemies' fear as i charge them, magic tattoo burning in a glowing mask of death.

Is...is that permanent?


Female Oread Monk of the Sacred Mountain 4 (AC: 16 (20) [T: 15 F: 14] HP: 38/38 Fort: +7 Ref: +7 Will +8 Perc: +10 Init: +2)

The oread looked at the newcomer curiously. His skin marked him as an unusual sort, though to what heritage he owed it towards, she was unsure. She had traveled for decades all over the Inner Sea with her Master (May he perfect himself in the next life) and yet the number of other oreads she had encountered she could count on a single hand - and all elemental races, on both hands.

It was starting to get crowded, and louder, and certainly not peaceful as the ale was passed around the table. Scoria placed her hand over her water cup to keep any alcohol from spilling into it - it was against her way to imbibe alcohol unless tradition demanded it from her. Even then, she only drank enough to appease her host, never to get drunk.

"No thank you. I prefer water," She spoke quietly and politely when ale was offered to her, sipping slowly from her cup. "The catherdral is interesting, to be sure. I was one of the sawyers and fixer masons for the project," She told them. When met with inquisition, she elaborated. "My responsibility as a fixer mason was fixing the worked pieces of stone into their proper place, with lime mortar to set them together. As a sawyer, I cut the quarry stone brought for the project into cubes to be reshaped by the bankers. The bankers take the cubes and turn them into the arches and other shapes that are required for the building's design. I would like to be a carver, though - sculpture is appealing to me."

She took a much longer sip of water after speaking so much - odd. That was probably the most she'd spoken to someone in a few weeks, after getting into a discussion with one of her dwarven coworkers - well, she had considered it a discussion, despite the dwarf's insistence on shouting at the top of his lungs that she'd caused him to crack one of the stone blocks. Entirely untrue, that.


M Human (multi-ethnic) Rogue Charlatan 6

Guy talks more than me. Give it a rest, buddy. That paint, though ...applied to the right place at the right time ...damn, that could be hot as hell.

Digger pours another overly expensive stout for the newcomer. "What brings you to down, sailor?"


Male Human (Varisian) Cleric of Iomedae 1

"A sailor? You must have some epic tales of high seas adventures to share."

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