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Saroune Anzoletta wrote:
Looks like we have two Eds in the game. I'm 25 and I'm the head brewer for a Michigan microbrewery. I've been GMing since I was a tween and made the move to Pathfinder when a friend showed me the beta version back in '09. I've also run Warhammer Fantasy, Shadowrun, and Legend of the Five Rings.
Don't forget to check your PMs. You should have a link to the game thread there.
Well, since we're doing introductions.
My name is Adam. I'm from Alabama and I work for a local IT shop that specializes in Managed Services (ie we make sure our clients computers are in good shape and do a lot of preventative maintenance.) I am on the Online services side of things, which is a fancy way of saying I deal with websites, email, firewalls, and networking stuff, but mainly websites at the moment.
I am 24 years old, and have been playing Pathfinder since 2011. Rise of the Runelords was what got me interested in both PBP and GMing. Out of the 30-some-odd aliases and characters I have played, or attempted to, my favorites are Gkirkhan, who was inspired by the Jagers from Girl Genius, and Raseri Whitescale, who's in one of Cory's RotRL games.
You guys have no idea how happy I was to bring this back.
Thirzin finds nothing but some goblin tracks and faint scorch marks. The air is warm, uncomfortably so. The heat is fading, though, and soon it's no hotter in the alley than the rest of Sandpoint.
The sounds of battle come from the southeast, along with that horribly catchy goblin war-song.
"What are you starin' at dwarf? Move it!" The Sheriff shouts as he hustles out of the square.
Those Moving on
Those staying with the Dryad
Between the ministrations of Helena and Rayla, the fey's wounds are bound and she seems to be less afraid.
"Cad atá tú tar éis? Na diabhal beag?"
What are you after? The little devils?
Everything smells of smoke, and blood. Around the square lie the bodies of at least two dozen goblins, and the few unfortunate townspeople that weren't lucky enough to get out of the way of the goblin's blades. The good cheer and joy from earlier are a distant memory. Everything moves slowly. Guardsmen can be seen attacking the few goblins that remain in the square as the last of the towns folk leave.
Ameiko stabs a goblin through the neck just a dozen yards away. Sheriff Hemlock smashes a pair to paste with a giant hammer that he wields with both hands. Lou Kasuri pummels another of the little gremlins into an eternal sleep while Father Zantus ushers a few people inside before rushing to where the party stands. He mutters a prayer that fills everyone with a warming light.
"I thank you for all that you've done to keep this town safe. It seems that the square is safe enough for now." He says to each of you.
With the last goblins dispatched, the guards, the sheriff, Ameiko, and Lou gather around.
"Damned goblins. How'd they get into town? There's supposed to be guards at every gate and patrolling the walls." Sheriff Hemlock grumbles.
"I don't know, but we need to--"
"Sheirff! The li'l bastards are at the East Gate. Toby an' Riska are holdin' it, but not fer long." Shouts a young guard running up from the south. interrupting the Father.
The massive Shoanti grits his teeth and lets loose a stream of curses under his breath.
"Zantus, help those in the church. I'll send any wounded to you." His eyes move to the party. "I have a bad feeling about this. Can you lot check on the north gate?"
Father Zantus finds you in the cathedral and speaks in quick, hushed tones. "Asuriel, there's a group of people out there that Belor wants to check on the North Gate. Go with them and help however you can." He looks to people huddled in the pews. "I fear we are all about to find out how much we can help very shortly." he mutters under his breath.
Pavanna and Horatio are down a round of their bardic performance each. Noro is down a round of rage. Everyone is now at full.
Perception DC 20:
Out of the corner of your eye, you spy two goblins hiding in an alley, who are then engulfed in a shadow that leaves nothing but ash.
The dryad looks at the cuts on her arms and shivers.
"Theas, ar feadh an chosáin. Go raibh beagnach dhá lá ó shin."
South, along the path. That was almost two days ago.
The fey woman looks to Bjorn, her eyes twin pools of fear.
"C-cén chaoi a mian sé a éileamh dom?"
How does he wish to claim me?
Most of the spells and potions that are rumored to use a dryad's blood are not the kind of things most goodly mages ever discuss out loud. There was an old tome you remember reading, however, that mentioned dryads marked their new trees with their blood when they sought one out to bond with. It might be possible to have the fey bond to something else, but it would likely require many, many nights of study and a library larger than most of the buildings in Hammenholdt.
"An' know that I don't take kindly ta men that would force themselves upon another. I agreed to guide you so we could find a missing lady, not so you can claim whomever tickles yer fancy." Wilhelm replies in a tone edged with ice.
Turning to the others he says, "Patch her up as best ye can. An' see if she can remember where tha damn goblins went."
Dryad recoils when Bjorn strikes the ground between her and Helena, she tries her best to protect herself and a soft melodic voice can be heard between her whimpers of fear.
"Cén fáth go bhfuil an mór mheabhair amháin ag dom? Cad a rinne mé?"
Why is the large one mad at me? What did I do?
Wilhelm glares at Bjorn with an intensity so fierce, it is a wonder that the large man is not needled through by the guard's gaze.
"Ciallaíonn an leathcheann a éilíonn tú mar chuid."
The idiot means to claim you as his.
The Dryad looks around, confused, but follows Helena's guiding hand.
"Bhí deamhain beag sin iontas orm. Hacked siad ag dom le lanna agus d'fhág nuair a shíl siad go raibh mé marbh."
There were little demons (Goblins) that surprised me. They hacked at me with blades and left when they thought I was dead.
Wilhelm's eyes turn to flint at the Dryad's words.
"Damned beasts." he mutters as he fishes out bandages from the pouch at his hip.
Björn Arinbjörnson wrote:
Eh, don't worry about it. I'm more into the roleplaying than the rolling, if you catch my drift.
I dunno how well Skane would take the joke, and if I did use it, I'd need to wait until everyone had forgotten that post. So if it does turn up, it'll be down the road.
I must admit that while I know the reference, I never really played the Final Fantasy games.
And excellent, I'll be taking notes. >:D
Nope, not as long as you tell me what it is or provide a translation.
The dryad cringes and curls tighter around herself when the party approaches. Wilhelm stands there dumbfounded as he spots the fey.
Helena's spell closes some of the wounds but she is still injured and afraid.
"C-cé go bhfuil tú?"
"W-who are you?"
"Blasted northmen, coulda told us what set them on this merry chase." Wilhelm mutters as he follows the to men, jogging to keep up with their strides.
Less than thirty yards away, Bjorn and Skane come upon a small knot of pines that tower into the sky. Within they find a strange woman with hair that looks like pine needles and skin that has the appearance of the polished pine wood. Her clothing is in tatters and her body is covered in cuts and gashes that weep an amber liquid that looks like sap.
Know(nature) DC 18:
The strange woman is a dryad. A kindly fey that protects woodlands and forests.
Heal DC 15:
She's just about dead. 0-2 HP She'll survive, probably, but binding her wounds would likely go a long way to helping.
It's hard to tell, but the goblin tracks are definitely not older than those of the patrol.
Wilhelm lets out a low growl as he stands up.
"Goblins, miss, are horrid little creatures. They live only to kill, maim, and destroy. What troubles me is goblins haven't been seen in these woods since I was a lad."
His eyes move along the trees. His gaze like flint.
"Be careful. There are vile things afoot if those little monsters have come back to these woods."
Well, it seems the two brothers did indeed drink the Dragon dry. Both Skane and Bjorn are sickened for the next four hours.
Sir Corwin looks at Helena with dark eyes.
"Miss, I have spent many nights awake with worry. I hope that you can find out what's going on, and I thank you for what you are doing. I am truly in your debt."
Wilhelm returns Helena's smile with one of his own before turning to Kylar.
"First 'twas the caravans and travelers, then when we sent patrols out to see what was going they came back empty-handed, or not at all. I knew many of those that went missing on those patrols, but if what I fear has happened has come to pass, all we'll find is bones."
Turning to the others, he calls out.
"If ye got everythin', then let's get movin'. The days already short enough without dawdlin' here."
Wilhelm leads the group out of the town walls and towards the forest. About 500 yards away, he takes a faint trail that leads to the east of the main road. The clear skies darken as you approach, as if the forest itself was looming over you with barely restrained malice.
Under the boughs and limbs that blot out the sun a gloomy silence smothers the place. The chill in the air seeps into the skin and goosebumps come unbidden.
Survival Wilhelm: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28
Wilhelm kneels and looks at the tracks, his bow in hand. A frown wrinkles his face and he mutters under his breath.
"That can't be right."
Survival DC 4:
The tracks of the patrol are easy enough to spot, despite being at least two days old. Five sets of heavy boots left prints deep in the ground.
Survival DC 14:
These tracks, however are much harder to spot. They look like they were made by children, if the children had sharp claws on their toes. What ever they are, there appears to be a dozen of them.
If you made the Survival DC 14 check. Know(nature) DC 5:
These are goblin tracks.
Perception DC 20:
You hear what sounds like a woman crying up ahead.
"I'm afraid beyond the promised gold that is almost all I can offer. The town guard was short-handed even with our numbers. Now it is more so."
Sir Corwin Stands and looks at each in turn before continuing.
"I am grateful to all of you. We will have some supplies ready for you at dawn. If you do not have any other questions, you may return to the inns and rest for tomorrow. I will come get you at first light."
The knight starts in surprise at Rayla's question, he sighs and looks at a place on the floor about six inches from her feet.
"She is indeed. She's like a little sister to me." The man shakes his head and returns his gaze to the others.
"I cannot ask you to go out tonight. The hour is late and I am sure you would appreciate a night's rest before heading." Sir Corwin's eyes grow dark as he continues. "Besides, if this time is like the others, it may not matter how soon you head out."
The guards lead you to a stout wooden building that looks like it was a fort at some point. Inside the signs of old battles make the timbers and the stink of sweat, leather, and metal overwhelms everything else as the group walks in. They are escorted to a large hall that has only a single woman in it waiting patiently. The guards leave and a few moments later, a man clad in well-maintained scale mail walks in. He is taller than most, almost six and a half feet. His dark hair hangs in greasy strands and bags hang under his eyes.
"My apologies for the late hour. I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but things have grown desperate here. I promise five score of crowns to each of you if you accept the task I have for you. You have made it through the Blackwoods, and that means you have skill or luck with you. You will need it if you accept."
His eyes lock with each of the six before him, cold as hardened steel and unflinching despite the man's obvious fatigue. He nods to himself before continuing.
"What I am about to tell you does not leave this room. The roads into and out of Hammenholdt are dangerous, and I fear they will become more so if people begin to panic and flee. If you choose to not accept this, then I can only wish you luck and pray that Iomedae watches over you as you continue your travels."
He pauses, his shoulders slumping before continuing on.
"About a year ago, traders and travelers began disappearing on the roads around Hammenholdt. The occasional caravan and lone traveler has gone missing before, but not like this. These vanished, no blood, no wreckage, no bodies. The town sent patrols out, but they either came back with nothing, or not at all. A few couriers had managed to avoid whatever it was that kept getting the others. They brought word of what was happening and two months ago, Count Vinelander sent me with a score of men of my choosing to investigate and help defend the town. We have found nothing despite constant vigilance on our part."
The man sighs, something deep within him seeming to darken as he stares off into the distance.
"Or that was the case until today. A patrol lead by one of my best fighters, a Lady Gweniver has not come back and I fear the worst. Your task is to go out and search for what happened to them. They were covering a game trail to the west of the main road, and unfortunately that's all we have. Knowing this, do you accept?"
The Snow Dragon:
"That's why we're here, Miss. We don't expect traveler's to know their way wherever they go." answers the man, who must be the leader of the group.
"As for Sir Corwin's character, he is a brave and loyal knight in the service of Count Vinlander. He was sent here to give aid to the town, and is now offering coin, good coin, to any who come with us to meet with him."
"You could say that it's pressing, yes," he says, "As for Sir Corwin, he is a knight under Count Vinelander, and a brave and loyal man. The Count sent him here to help Hammenholdt get to the bottom of... something." He finishes, picking his words carefully.
Gawain shakes his head when asked how much was owed, "Payment can wait. I'll make sure your things are taken care of while you're gone."
"Not as such. I am simply a man-at-arms. If you'll follow me, miss." answers the man with a chuckle at Rayla's question. He leads to a study looking building with golden light pouring out of its narrow windows. Inside, the smell of sweat, metal and leather overpowers everything else. The escort leads to a feast hall, one that had seen a battle or two from the look of the timbers in the ceiling and the walls.
"Please wait here. We're hoping a group from the Snow Dragon's Den shows up. Sir Corwin will meet with you once the others return."
Something, the same something that lead you here, pulls at the edge of your mind. For a brief instant, a vision of a noble dressed more like a hunter than a noble and a knight in shining scale appears before you. You can't hear anything more than muffled murmurs, but you know for a fact that this is Count Vinelander sending Sir Corwin to Hammenholdt. As the vision ends, the something is pleased that you have already decided to go with these men.
The Snow Dragon:
"I apologize for being terse, but Sir Corwin wishes to speak with you. I assure you all that it is a matter of dire importance and that any who answer his call will be rewarded." Says the man, despite the lack of information he gives, it seems that he is indeed sincere.
"I am afraid not miss. We are here to escort you to Sir Corwin. He wishes to speak with you at once on an urgent matter." Says the leader of the troop earnestly.
As all of you settle in for the night, enjoying conversations with both keepers and guests, or sizing up potential company for the night, a few men, wearing fine armor and leathers, burst in. At both the Hobbit and the Snow Dragon, they ask only one question.
"Who of you came in this day?"
And this is why I wasn't worried about which in you stayed at. ;)