GM Lorebane's page

He accepts the package from you and peers inside. "Ah, another donation of pearls from Falgor. My thanks." He takes a look at the pearls, and then at all of you, as if sizing you up. He notes the weapons you carry. "I know that Falgor couldn't have afforded large prize for a simple delivery, yet you found the time to lend a hand. You look like capable individuals, and, truth be told, the temple has enough pearls for the time being. What we are lacking is manpower, and what we have plenty of is problems. I have a task I've been meaning to see to, but simply don't have the time. If you would be willing to look into something for me, these pearls are yours." He holds out the box, and it is indeed filled with several flawed but lustrous pearls. They might not be suitable for a pearl-string necklace, but they would fetch a fair sum nonetheless.

One of the attendants directs you towards a priest near the back of the pavilion, a young man with a boyish face and long, curly red hair. Other priests seem to defer to him, despite his youth.

He offers a weary smile at your approach. "Welcome, wayfarers, to the chapel of Quell. I am Father Trafalgar, and am at your service. I don't believe I've seen you in our congregation before - what can Quell's bounty offer you today?"

Alright, up and running again. Still missing notes and a few conversions of NPCs that I thought were too lame, but that shouldn't be an issue unless you pick a fight with someone you REALLY shouldn't be fighting yet. Internet is out at the apartment, but will be cleaned up in the next few days, and I'll be checking in from the office or from cafes in the mean time, so if someone would like to step forward with those pearls, we can get back underway.

Sorry about the absence guys. My computer died a horrible death - not really sure how or why. I just got a new one today, but it's got none of my old stuff on it, so over the next couple of days I will be trying to recover whatever I can, and download what I can't. Needless to say, I currently have none of my rulebooks or the adventure installed on here. Should be back up and running by the weekend.

Where is everybody?

You continue through Tide, making your way to the Chapel of Quell. You are accosted by all manner of pushy salesmen and... unusual smells along the way, but as you near Silk, the squalor becomes less pronounced and the quality of the the buildings begins to improve. Muddy streets give way to wooden walkways, and as you step out of a crowd, a large coral dome rises before you like the shell of some immense crab. The top of the dome is rigid and vaguely reminiscent of a cresting wave. There is a walled area beneath the dome that must be the chapel-proper, but it also roofs an otherwise open pavilion in front where a modest crowd is gathered, intently listening to a young man in sea-blue robes as he wraps up a sermon. You cannot hear the service from here, but you see him produce a large conch shell, place it to his lips, and issue a long, low blast, indicating the end of the sermon. The crowd begins to clear out, most going back to their daily business, a few remaining behind to mingle on the pavilion or talk to some of the attending priests.

He removes a scrimshaw necklace from his outfit and places it into Diana's hands, and then slips into the crowd, moving back towards the outskirts.

You have obtained an Amulet of Natural Armor +1. I leave it to you guys to see who gets it.

Miiliauka stands and regains a bit of his composure, though he ignores the mud splattered on his habit. He seems impressed by your knowledge of the Tullita language.

The old man regards you all worriedly for a moment before briefly bowing his head in thanks. "Yes, yes. I am Miliauka. I am big shaman for Tullita. Guide for Tullita. Kiss is..." he pauses for a moment, sifting through his limited library of words in the Common tongue, trying to find the right ones. "Dajobas is god of Tullita, but not good god. Whale, Turtle, Dolphin," he gestures towards the sea. "They are good gods. Now gone. Few watchers left. Soon, Dajobas rise again. His chosen gives Kiss to others, make them serve Dajobas when tide is high. I help, but need special knife, and need this." He produces a small pouch from the many hanging at his belt. As soon as he opens it, a vile smell assaults your nostrils. It seems to contain some sort of powerful medicinal poultice.

Darenar seems pleased that you know his name. He accepts the coins and stuffs them into the pouch at his belt. "I guess this matter is all cleared up then, for now. We patrols the docks regular, so I'm sure you'll soon be returning to us the rest that you owe. In the mean time, get that old man out of here, and don't let me see him on these docks again, or not even an edict from Nuakuana will keep him from the gallows." He jerks his head and then he and his men turn around and resume their patrols, quickly swallowed by the crowd.

The old man looks at you sadly. "You not understand. Big man, he has Kiss of Dajobas. Have to help him. Have to help everyone before Dajobas returns. Otherwise..." he looks around at the citizens of the Port, trailing off.

The dragoon sergeant shakes his head and scowls a bit, growing visibly impatient. His mens' fingers begin to twitch near their weapons. "Shirking paperwork? I'd not be caught in such a dereliction of duty. However, I'm not a man without understanding. If you're a little shy the 50 crowns, I can front you the other 20 now, and we can come to some agreement as to how you will pay back the rest."

"This blade does not return to his hands, but I believe that if the old man, or someone close to him, were to pay, say, 50 crowns in damages, he'd be allowed to walk away from this."

This check is made at a -10, Diana, because they are hellbent on arresting him, but it's still enough to improve their attitude "indifferent" and then successfully request a favor.

The dragoon sergeant considers your words for a moment, brushing his mustache lightly with one index finger. A smile spreads across his face as he seems to get an idea. "Our work is to defend the citizens of Port Shaw from dangerous and unstable people, punish the guilty, and make sure that these savages know their place. He pulled a knife on us..." He looks back to the dragoon who picked up the skrimshaw dagger. "However, I suppose he is just a feeble old man, and not altogether there, AND we've got his weapon now. He may not be altogether there, but he'll still have to be punished so's he knows not to repeat his actions." The Tullita man is beginning to look afraid, and has stopped struggling for the moment. The sergeant "absently" pats the pouch at his belt, which jingles with the weight of coins. "Though I suppose some other form of restitution could be made, one that sees wronged parties made whole and that old coot never stepping onto the docks again."

The large dragoon's false smile quickly fades and he takes a step forward, looming over Jasper. One of his men produces a set of manacles. "He just tried to cut me, and before that he was tossin' about threats about monsters from the deep. We're taking him in."

Yeah, I'm excited about it too, and I think that the PbP format might be ideal for this, since I can leaf through my book and take my time to find which encounters might best serve you where. I can tell you from experience, it's a hella ton harder to run in real time.

The old man bowls over as Uriah barrels into him, the two of them tumbling to the ground, and his knife falls into the dirt. He begins struggling, trying to free himself as he continues to stare at the large dragoon. "You not understand! he implores, "Big man touched with Kiss! Must make him better!"

The dragoons are momentarily stunned, unsure of exactly who you are trying to assist, but after a moment, they lower their weapons, one of them snatches up the scrimshaw knife, and the large one steps forward. "Good assist, citizen, but we'll handle this. Got ourselves a dangerous Tullita here, we'll have to take him in for attempting to murder a Municipal Dragoon."

Leaving the Run Aground Tavern Behind you, you set out towards the Chapel of Quell, which rests on the northern border of Tide, just before you enter the Silk District. Before you are halfway there, though, you hear manic warnings being shouted in broken Common.

An old Tullita man stands atop a short stack of crates, preaching to passerby in a strained, rasping voice. "You foreigners anger sea! You murder the watchers with your harpoons! You skin them for your oil, but soon, all gone. None left! Without them, Dajobas rise again! His servants come from the deep to kill you! Dajobas kill you for crimes against the Old Ways. He tear you with teeth like swords. He spills your blood into sea. He grinds your bones beneath the moon!"

The outburst attracts the attention of not only several bystanders, but of a small patrol of dragoons led by a mountain of a man with a neatly trimmed black mustache. He points at the old man, shouting. "You there, off the crate or I'll take my hammer to ye!" To emphasize, he pats the rune-carved warhammer resting at his belt, probably the finest weapon you have seen a dragoon carrying since you arrived.

The old man's eyes take a moment to focus on the man, and then they grow as wide as saucers. He fumbles at his effects, producing an ornate scrimshaw knife and leaping from the crate. Immediately, the dragoons lay their hands on their weapons. "You bear the kiss of Dajobas!" the old Tullita says, worry tinging his voice. "I will save you!"

He lunges towards the large dragoon, who takes a swing at the old man with a meaty fist, but his target bobs out of the way, the feathers on his headdress swaying wildly as he dances about with his knife. The large man pulls out his hammer, his three companions draw their swords, and it seems that an old man is about to die.

Xander Brim puffs for a moment on the hookah as he holds you in his gaze, pondering. He rises up in his seat as he exhales, and, for a moment, through the smoke, the gleam in his eyes makes you forget about his threadbare robes and his few pieces of tarnished jewelry. Something, just for an instant, is different about his posture, about the way he carries himself. Resigned aloofness briefly changes to a practiced confidence, and a touch of admiration, as he hears your words. He nods, the smoke clears, and he is back to the worn-out mage you saw before you moments ago. He nods, though, and then responds. "You have manners, young lady - a precious possession that is difficult to come by in Port Shaw. Yes, if you have need of my services, you may often find me here, and my rates are fair. If we find occasion to work together, and you are as skilled as you are courteous, we may come to some sort of consistent working relationship. However, I believe you are falling behind your friends." He gestures to the others who are heading out of the door.

The barkeep hands you a package, promising you payment upon return, contingent on proof of delivery. Giving you directions to the Chapel, he goes back to wiping down glasses.

The old wizard looks up at Diana as you are on your way out, regarding the lot of you with calculating eyes as he takes a long draw on the hookah. "That depends," he responds in a deep, authoritative voice. "If you wish to to be regaled with tales of a heroic tragedy, I have no time for groupies, and you would be better served by Belok or the former Captain Montgomery. If you are looking to hire out my services, we may discuss price."

Oh, right, I suppose I should add that in an effort to avoid the wealth of higher level PCs completely shattering local economies, NPCs in my games deal in slightly higher wealth than in most published settings. This would be our equivalent of shelling out a few hundred dollars a week, something that should be within the means of a surviving, though not thriving, bar on the docks. Also, I meant to say "month," not "week." Sorry

The dwarf lowers his voice. "Aye, it's legal. It's just an attractive mark for gangs. I like to go pearl diving weekends. Brings in a bit of extra gold, and the temple uses the pearls in some of the rituals and services. I'd not call myself a saint, but I do what I can. Each month I try to donate a portion of what I collect from the ocean floor. It comes from Quell's bounty, after all, so I figure I out to give a bit back." He steps back and speak at his usual volume. "And as far as Bonegnaw goes, there's no official bounty on him, but I'm sure that the Dragoons would be grateful, especially if you can make a few friends in their ranks and suggest your services might be for sale first."

At the bar, Roland is reeling from alcohol - it's actually quite impressive that he's managed to get this drunk before noon. He reaches out to clap Uriah on the shoulder, but misses and simply swats the air next to him. "Careful, my friend. The dragoons may hopelessly corrupt, but they can make life in Port Shaw hell for anyone who ruffles them too much. Good to meet a kindred spirit though - I would hate to see you spit upon a dragoon's blade! If you ever find yourself in need of a drinking companion, you can find me here."

Back at the table, the dwarven proprietor is refilling mugs and cannot help but overhearing your conversation. "Actually, master dwarf, word on the street is that the dragoons would love to see Bonegnaw hanging from a gibbet. I'm sure they have a few dragon chasers in their ranks, but the stuff is highly illegal, and they've been trying to shut it down here. Bonegnaw is just cleverer than your average crook, I'd wager. Keeps his head down and goes through his lackies. I'd be careful of crossing him, where I you." He pauses momentarily, considering his own words. "Though you do look like a capable bunch, and none of you sound overly fond of the stuff. They say that the pedlars are most active at night, usually here in Tide - and the dragoons tend not to get involved in incidents that don't involve those they favor."

The dwarf turns and begins to walk back to the bar, but stops and fidgets for a moment as he stares at you, seeming to size you up a bit. "Look, you seem like a decent bunch. I have a package I need delivered to the Chapel of Quell, and it sounds like you're looking for work. Folks are getting desperate here in Tide, and my last courier found himself waylaid by the Salty Dogs gang. It ain't much, but if you want to make one run over there per week, I can spot ya 25 crown colloquial for any gold piece apiece. Might meet some people in the process that could open doors for other opportunities."/

Sorry about the absence. Been swamped the last two days

The former Dragoon pivots to face Uriah, nearly falling from his stool as he does so. He regains his composure - what little is left of it - and eagerly accepts the drink. He takes a long pull on it before indulging his new drinking partner, raising his voice so that he is easily heard by all in the room. "Framed!" he begins. "Framed for colluding with dealers of dragonsmoke! For filling the streets with the vile poison." He slumps again at his stool. "I'd just made Major, you know? I was moving up." He whirls back around, thrusting one shaking finger into Uriah's face as he slurs and shouts. "But no small of number of my former comrades are, to put it mildly, bloody bent! I thought I could change it, bring honor to the post and to the uniform, but I suppose that's naught but dreams, eh? Might as well be on the smoke myself for how deluded I was. That brute Darenar found a bit of the stuff in my lockbox, as well as a smuggler's manifest." He begins to grow hysterical. "As if I would have anything to do with Bonegnaw or any of those poison-pushers! What was Darenar doing in my effects anywyas? Eh? I ask you that! Like as not it was he who planted it."

He spits on the already damp floor, slamming his mug onto the bartop and throwing his arms into the air. "No, my friend, there is no honor among the Dragoons, save for amongst Commander Perin's men, but he is only one captain, one ship. If he couldn't change things, I don't know why I ever thought I could. And here I am now," he sweeps his arms towards the tiny room. "Drunk, destitute, and sharing my woes with strangers, wash-outs, and gamblers."

The old bartender shakes his head. "You'll need a change of clothes, a bath, and a trip to the Kraken's Gullet if you want such far. I've got clams, fish, some stew, and a bit of day-old bread."

And for Diana, and anyone else curious about the old man in the corner...

I know a bit of Mandarin - enough to get by, but I've always been a poor student when it comes to learning new languages. As to liking it, it's got its good parts and bad parts. There days where you revel in the life here, and there are week-long periods where you're ready to put someone through a wall because of how disorganized everything is.

I'm going to assume everyone is stepping into the dockside tavern, then.

A faded sign proclaims the establishment you are entering to be the Run Aground Tavern, and if a tavern ever could run aground, you suppose this is what it would look like. It's a tiny cabin of a room, decorated with bits of flotsam and broken bits of ship collected from the surf. The floorboards are damp from a recent mopping, but no one would call them clean, and dim oil lanterns cast a dim light across the room, barely enough to assist the single clouded window. Two small tables sit against one wall, with another long one opposite them. At the moment, there are few occupants. One of the small tables is occupied by a few half-drunk sailors at a game of cards. A heavyset shirtless man is asleep on the floor next to them.

Slumped forward at the bar is a man deep in his cups. He wears the tattered blue jacket of a dragoon, but there are several rough patches where marks of rank have been removed, and the rest of his clothes are those of a citizen. Stubble covers his cheeks and an empty scabbard hangs at his side. He mumbles drunkenly at the bartender, a dwarf with a silver beard who nods with a sad smile as he wipes clean a chipped glass.

Off to the corner, at the edge of the long table, there sits an older man, dark-skinned and with his gray hair pulled into dozens of small braids, puffing absently on a hookah. He wears heavy robes that would have been exquisite when they were first made, but they are now worn and faded, though still cleaner than the garb of the rest of the clientele. He regards you for a moment with an intense gaze as you step into the pub before quickly dismissing you, continuing his efforts to fill the room with scented smoke.

I've been teaching English in Tianjin for about 4 years now. It's a large city a couple hours east of Beijing.

Well, I live in China, GMT + 8, so I can mostly post during, what for most of you, is probably mornings and evening (after 8 or 9). How late after that I can be active depends on whether I have classes or not. Wanted to put more up before I went to bed last night, but the Internet at the apartment was being pretty finicky. About to check out what's been happening while I've slept!

The old man smiles and bows his head slightly, holding his hands out to his side. "I think they'd be more likely to arrest you for botherin' them with such a trivial matter, but alright, missy, I can see I'm wastin' my time here." He buttons his jacket back up and resumes his trudge along the docks. Before he's moved a hundred feet away from you he's already flagged down another newcomer to Port Shaw and seems to be repeating the pitch.

The lot of you are left standing in a pool of mud and eggs next to a strung out Tullita man with one foot in the grave. Tide stretches out in either direction, and to the west lie the city's other districts. Bawd, with it's gambling dens and brothels, gangs of beggars and scoundrels, and all of the wonders and dangers of the city's less savory elements. Silk, where artisans and artists make their homes, and visitors can get a watered-down version of Tullita culture that shows them exactly what they want to see of the "noble savages." And Jade, up on a hill, so it's wealthy residents can literally look down on the rest of Port Shaw, at least when they find cause to stay within the city and not on their plantations out beyond the city limits.

The man wags one grimy finger back and forth as he closes his jacket. "Now, now, I can't give ye a peak at the location of the treasure before we've come to an accord! If you want to see the map, all it's going to take is forty bits of gold. A mere pittance compared to what you stand to gain, even after I get my cut."

He looks to his left, then to his right, making sure no one is within earshot, and then leans in close and drops his voice to a whisper. "This here is the map to Garr Bloodbanes lost treasure. No one where he'd buried it before Bonedeuce sent him to the bottom of the sea, but you can bet your balls that it's worth a fortune! This map recently found its way to me, but I got no gold for a ship. You gents, on the other hand, seem to be people of means and skill, so, if you'll put down a forty pieces of gold now - a deposit, as it were - and cut me in for 10% of what ye find there, this map - and Bloodbane's fortune - can be yours!"

The strung out Tullita spends long moments staring into the distance, deaf to your inquiries about his eggs. His mouth opens as if to speak, but nothing comes out but a strand of drool. Suddenly, he starts at the voice coming from the air near him, and he whirls around, wide eyed. "Is it the voice of Dolphin, carried on the wind?" He seems entirely oblivious to the rest of you as drops to his knees and speaks to the sky, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Or is it Whale? But no, no. It is wise - it knows things, of... of eggs! It knows of eggs and chickens, it must be Grandfather Turle." He leans back on his haunches and then slumps down into the mud, caring not a bit for the egg yolks and mud further staining his already filthy clothes. "Grandfather Turtle," he asks wearily as he bows his head, "what must we do? Where have you gone? Where are your brothers? Where..." He trails off into soft, incomprehensible mumbling before letting out a long, anguished moan. His shoulders begin to roll as the moan becomes a series of heavy sobs, which in turn give way to a resigned, manic cackling.

"A shame, it is," comes a voice from behind you. There is a sailor standing there, greasy hair obscuring his face, a great ill-fitting coat concealing most his form. "Lot's of them Tullita turn to dragonsmoke. A puff here and there don't do no harm, I s'pose, but I guess once you got nothing left you just crawl into a bowl to forget about the world until you leave it for good." He frowns at the cackling wreck in the mud before you. "'Fraid this fella's not got much time left hiself. I reckon the grave would be a reckon rest for him. They say that that Tullita Elder, Nakuakaua, I think, has been trying to some witch doctor, Milliwhosis or some such, into the Lodge to help the locals. I don't guess the rest of the Elders will be having it, though. His eyes fall onto Ilorian and his unwashed garb - the clothing of a man recently ashore. You see a gleam in his eyes. "But hey, could I interest you fellas in a map?" He pulls back one side of his coat, revealing a roll of parchment stuffed into an inside pocket.

Gameplay thread is up, and I will be heading to bed soon (I live at GMT + 8) and will check back in first thing in the morning. I figure we should have some action happening by then.

And I think the answer to your question, Diana, depends entirely on how cool or lame of an animal you would choose for your familar.

The sun rides high in the sky, its heat sending ripples through the air and painting the wave with glimmering light. To say the morning is hot would be an understatement.

The Tide district of Port Shaw, more commonly called simply "Tide," is where ships make weigh their ancors. Cargo is loaded and unload, and many passengers disembark, whether to wind loose for a night before returning to their vessel or to start a new life in the Razor. Others board ships for distant ports, and a few don't care where they're going, as long as it's away from here. Beyond that, Tide's roads are filled with inns, taverns, brothels, and anything else that sells services a sailor might need for the night, and no small number of merchants have set up shop here. Perhaps they sell wares of special concern to those coming and going, or maybe the hustle and bustle of Tide sends a great number of patrons their way than they would see in Bawd or Silk.

Whatever they may be, today you find yourself with reasons to be in Tide. All along the docks, fishmongers cry their catch, competing for patrons as they might for their last breath. Many distinguish themselves from the general din by mastering lilting calls, melodies, or clever rhymes. Casks of whale oil roll down gangplanks to the waiting arms of muscled laborers. Riding on broad backs, they find their way to any of numerous ships chandlers. Within the chandlers all manner of goods are for sale: oil and baleen, whaling and fishing supplies, rations of dried meat, casks of water, crates of oranges, the latest fashions from far off Akados, the finest black powder weapons from the smithies of the Stone Heart Mountains, and freshly carved ice from the Face of the Frozen God, used to cool a bottle of rare sylvan wine on this blistering summer day.

Ostensibly to ensure the safety of such wares, Municipal Dragoons from Fort Stormshield patrol the docks in number. Fishmongers and workers quickly move aside to let the blue-coated soldiers pass. While a greased palm can coax them to look the other way, they tolerate no disrespect and are known to punish offenders with extreme prejudice. The wide berth given to them by local merchants lends credence to their reputation. If rumors are true, the Commandant can hang miscreants on a whim.

Nevertheless, amongst the disorder, three men in patchwork rags strut like beggar-kings through a maze of cabbage-laden crates left to rot in the sun. Dirt and blood cling to the three, who appear to the novice eye as little more than footpads, but a sharper glance reveals black-handled daggers sheathed at their waists and the flash of fine boiled leather beneath their tattered shrouds of stitched muslin. A rat the size of a mastiff slinks along the shaded crate-tops nearby, scampering behind the men like a child struggling to keep up with its family.

And they are not even on the lowest rung of society in Tide, for not ten yards away from them a dark-skinned Tulita man stands like a statue shadowed by lopsided crates of clay flasks stacked carelessly on a pallet. Between his feet lie a clutch of broken eggs, the yolk running down into the mud below, and pooling around his bare feet like thick urine. His eyes, clouded by some potent narcotic, stare inland towards his ancestral home, where foreign-owned plantations roll towards the mountains. Tear begin to roll down his face and wet his tunic, probably giving the garment the first washing it has seen in weeks.

And out behind him, beyond the cresting waves, the green-blue Razor Sea extends to the horizon. The faint outlines of many mysterious isles lies barely visible, ghostly hints of dreams or nightmares. Who does not wonder over what treasures or terrors await on those faded brushstrokes of grey and brown at the edge of the sea's vast canvas? The ocean lies unsettlingly still. A thick blanket of warm air hangs above the shimmering surface of the Razor. It is the unmistakable calm before a great storm.

Alright guys, putting the gameplay post up in a minute here. Since we have one character, I believe (Ilorian) who is coming into the Razor from elsewhere as the game begins, we'll be starting in the Tide District, on the docks. There is presumably reason for anyone to be there, and a lot tends to happen there. As no one has said anything yet, we are going to assume that you are all currently strangers.

Please keep in mind that this adventure path is far more open ended than most published game. There are few rails here, and the story unfolding for you guys counts on PC action. The earliest parts of the game may seem largely inconsequential, but if something interests you, act on it. The more interest you show, the more you will get of the same flavor, and you will pull yourself towards certain story arcs. Without further ado, ask any questions and make any comments here, and I will get started on the gameplay thread.

A heads up guys, recruitment will be closed in about 12 hours, and I will make my decision shortly afterwards. A few really good applicants, but some of you are still all crunch and no flavor. If you want to maximize your chances of getting a spot, please provide some sort of history or current sketch of your character.

Well, it looks like we have several applicants, but some haven't put up characters yet. That being said, I'm pretty eager to get this thang started, so I'll close recruiting in 48 hours and post my decisions within 12 hours after that. Hopefully we can get rolling by friday or saturday.

I would prefer it if no one bought a sea-worthy vessels at the outside. Something you can use to travel along the coast, like a canoe or raft, would be fine, but a big part of the game assumes the characters don't have at-will access to the islands near the coast early one.

DudeMan, can you please put up a character sheet?

Also, a lot of the posted characters seem to have ability scores alternatively a little over or well-beyond what is possible with a 20 point buy. Can you please double-check those if you've posted a character

You do not have access to a ship when the campaign starts, though if you play your cards right you can get access to one fairly early. That access will be unreliable, though, until you actual scrape together enough to own your own ship, which won't be until the second half of the campaign. Basically, the campaign starts out on land and on the shore, and becomes more naval at it progresses.

Arknight, taking a Drawback would be fine. In fact any traits from ultimate campaign are fair game, if you have the book.

Also, I forgot to mention in my house rules that I have slightly relaxed alignment restrictions on a few classes and PrCs in the Core Rulebook. Monks can be any lawful or neutral alignment (including chaotic neutral), and those aiming for the assassin PrC just has to be non-good.

Traits: Two per character. They CAN come from the freebooter's guide, but since it costs, y'know, money, I can't expect everyone to have it, so they don't HAVE to come from it.

@ Lessah: First world summoner should be alright. A medium sized dragon will certainly turn some heads, but this is a city where minotaurs are sought after as laborers and wizards roam the streets at night trying to be batman. You won't get grief for it just on account of it being weird (expect many establishments to make it wait outside, though, and the municipal dragoons might try to shake you down because they're unbelievably corrupt and it's an easy excuse). And yes, the rules for Weapon Finesse do apply to natural weapons. And unarmed strikes. And touch attacks.

And yes, a half-elf half-Tullita is fine. They've got elves in Port Shaw, after all.

If you do not have the Freebooter's guide, then yes, I would suggest coming in from elsewhere. We can have a mix of locals and outsiders, but if you're local, make sure your character has an excuse to go to the docks now and again. That's where the adventure will open, and I want to try to bring the party together ASAP.

Also, on the topic of outsiders, given the vaguely defined nature of the setting, if you want to "import" a god from Golarion or even another setting, it should be okay - just be aware that they won't come up at all in play. I know that the deities of the Razor Coast aren't exactly numerous.

@Radavel: That should be fine. Be interested to see how you fit it into the setting. Obviously, being 5th level, you would already have your blackblade, though I reserve the right to do twisted things if it's ego take over. >:D

@Geraint: Yeah! I'd love to get at least one Tullita in the party. There will definitely be opportunities to use an aquatic companion - far moresoe than in most other campaigns. That being said, there will be many times where it wouldn't be feasible or even possible to have a purely aquatic creature tag along. I don't have the right sourcebooks in front of me now to see what all the options are, but an amphibious companion might be ideal. The alligator has a special, if dark place in the Tullita's history.

Well gentlemen, I know that given my poor track record of sustaining campaigns on these forums probably means my name as a GM is worth roughly mud right now, but what the hell. It's that time of year when I have enough free time and enough unsated Pathfinder cravings that I start up a recruitment thread and pray that there are enough players willing to give me a fifth(?) chance, or enough that are just desperate enough to apply.

In all seriousness, though, I'm really hankering for some Razor Coast, and I've been taking my tabletops a bit more seriously lately. I've just started running an RL Razor Coast campaign, but I've got two problems.
1) I'm out of this area in about 6 months, and I'm worried we might not get to finish it. I'm rushing it and would love a chance to see the whole thing played through naturally.
2) I want to see how another group moves through the game. Replay value ftw, right?

Anyways, this here is the recruitment thread for such a game. I'm looking for 5-6 players, and recruitment will be open for 3 days to 1 week, depending on how many applicants we get (I usually see these fill up fast these days) I'll let everyone know 24 hours in advance when recruitment is closing, though.

So, character creation guidelines....

20 point buy with two traits. All classes from the Core Rulebook are allowed, as are all classes from the APG and the Gunslinger. No ninjas or samurai, please. Classes from the Advanced Classes Guide Playtest are fair game, but you . Clerics and Inquisitors MUwill have to update your character when the actual thing comes outST follow a deity.

PCs begin at 5th level and with 10,500gp to spend on gear. No single item can be worth more than 4,000gp

Allowed sourcebooks are the Core Rulebook, the Advanced Player's Guide, Advanced Races Guide (for feats, archtypes, and alternative race traits only), Ultimate Magic, Ultimate Combat, and the Freebooter's Guide (the player companion to Razor Coast)

I have a few house rules, which I am putting up in Campaign Info, along with essential info for the setting (human ethnicities, gods, altered prices on firearms)

I'd like to get players that can commit to one post per day. Combat will NOT use maps, since I'm in china and can't access most of the popular sites and apps for mapping, so be prepared for some visualization. I will roll initiatives for people when combat breaks out, and if your turn is up and you go more than 16 hours without posting, I will probably co-opt your character for that round in what I deem to be the most effective or realistic way I can.

I'd like to see some cool backstories for characters (you should decide whether you are native to razor coast - see campaign info for help on this) or if you're coming in from elsewhere in the world (in which case most of your backstory will stay in the past, but we get to do some pretty fun exposition). If you want to add in a paragraph or two of in-game text to give me an idea of how you act in game, that's awesome, but please DO NOT clutter the thread by roleplaying amongst yourselves. I feel it creates an unnecessarily competitive atmosphere that quickly degenerates into exclusive cliques.

As far as BASIC campaign info goes, this is a swashbuckling campaign of high fantasy set in what's basically Polynesia with colonialist and Carribean flavor. It's also highly sandboxy. There are several plots you may follow, and you definitely won't be able to take advantage of all of them, so react to what interests you, and dismiss what doesn't. Do it early. It gives me an idea of which arcs and NPCs to include later in the game. Because the campaign is highly site-based (you are coming into Port Shaw and spend basically the whole campaign there) pretty much everyone you meet is going to be recurring unless you or someone else kills them, so if you take an interest in the people that populate the Razor Coast, there will be consequences, some good, some bad.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I've been kind of busy last week and suddenly had a whole bunch of s*%* pile up on my plate. I must confess not all of it was work-related, but in my defense, little mountain villages don't have wifi. I just got back from a three-day trip, and hopefully I'll have something up tomorrow or the next day.

Alright, I've tenuously connected our two threads at the top of the page. You will find a link there to the gameplay thread, and a similar link in the gameplay thread directing you back here.

Alright, gameplay thread is up, and can be located here. There were some muckups on my part in getting things together, so it's not connected in the right campaign right now, but we'll see about getting that resolved later. For now, hike on over and introduce yourself to the lovely people of Ravengro!

The sun hangs languorously over the town of Ravengro as you enter the tiny village. It is early in the afternoon, but between the dense sheet of clouds gathered in the sky and the aches of travel tingling in your limbs, it feels far later. You have reached your destination at last, but your business is far from concluded, for you have been beckoned by the death of an old associate, the late Professor Petros Lorrimor, who is supposed to be interred in under an hour.

As you pick your way towards Lorrimor's former residence, you endure suspicious gazes from the locals. They eye you with a practiced skepticism typical of these small, insular communities, and their scrutinizing glares do little to make you feel welcome here. Fortunately, Ravengro is not a large settlement, and a scant few minutes sees you standing before a modest two-story home with black curtains drawn in all of the windows. The front door stands open for mourners of the dead, or for those who wish to offer their condolences to the living.

Stepping inside, you are greeted by the musty smell of paper and the sight of a veritable library lining the walls, even in the receiving room. There is a large table set out, and upon it rests a closed black casket. Only a small number of come to pay their respects, but in the small room, it seems like a crowd. There is a paunchy, middle-aged man with a severe look about him. His garb leads you to assume that he is of the town's nobility, or at least its upper echelons. Nearby is tall gentleman in understated finery, with a pronounced widow's peak and a hawkish appearance. A man in a worn tweed coat holds a hat somberly to his chest, his drooping mustache mourning along with him. There is a pasty-faced woman standing in the corner, her austere demeanor giving her a look at least twenty years beyond her age. Finally, a young woman sits next to the coffin itself. Her eyes red and puffy, and she is dressed conservatively in a dark funeral dress. She is clearly not at her best, though even in her grief she presents a poised demeanor, standing to greet you as you enter.

"Good afternoon, and thank you for attending. I am Kendra, daughter of... of Petros Lorrimor. I cannot express deeply enough my gratitude for your presence. It is good to know that my father has..." She turns away briefly and wipes her eyes with a soggy handkerchief before continuing. "That he still had friends in the world." She takes a moment to look you each over in turn, observing your traveling clothes. "I know you must be weary, and I promise you that later there will be time to rest, but I'm afraid we haven't the time right now - Father Grimburrow is waiting for us in the Restlands, and..." She gestures to the casket on the table. "I can hardly carry this there myself." She attempts chuckle at her forced joke, but it comes out a quickly stifled sob. "I hope that you will act as pallbearers? There really isn't time to change, but I can provide you with a few dark cloaks that would be... acceptable attire. I swear, I will provide you a proper welcome to Ravengro when all this business is behind us."

Alright, so we've got everyone together. I know I've been scarce these last couple of days - I'm busiest during the first half of the week. If everyone is ready, though, we should have the IC thread up and running tomorrow evening (well, my evening).

Seems that neither our witch still hasn't checked in. I'll send him a PM, but if we don't here from him by tomorrow, I'll likely select someone else from the recruitment thread so we can get things rolling by Wednesday.

Assuming we don't hear from him, does anyone have any preferences for who we take for the sixth guy?