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I can ask Rhialla to meet you two at a watering hole or you can find a mug on the way. She'll need to see that scumbag. She has a reputation, without threats or torture she gets the truth from folks. Cracktooth's is near the Garrison which houses our Jail...The garrison is the large stone building on the southwest corner of Tower and Main. Cracktooth's is south of there, Main Street to Bent Street. I will have her check either. If you decide your not the kind of men who wait patiently, leave a message with the barkeep.
Father Zantus sets out toward the Cathedral with a look of concern on his face. It's as out of place at the Swallowtail as the mention of Lamashtu.
Chris your Cleric can have a one time use item for the interrogation...
Zantus has made it obvious it is important to find the mans motives and if he is a willing servant of the foul being. He gives you a small butterfly made of parchment.
Ronald Cleyn will get a saving throw to avoid the effects. It is usually 10+level of the spell+your modifier in the appropriate ability. Your cleric would be 10+2+3=15. Since you can only cast level one spells I had to make an item for the occasion. You can expect the save DC to be 15 still, just not to get to use this again until level 3.
The Sheriff collects the man. He is not gentle as he hauls him in the direction of the Sandpoint Jail. Hemlock pauses and looks back, ready to field questions from the three men standing in the middle of the crowd. A narrow path clears making the throng horseshoe shaped.
Zantus steps closer to the Half-Orc and Tengu.
We meet again Thodak. Master Darkfeather, honor to tribe Anzu.
The Cleric dips in a perfect Tian bow.
That was ... odd. He will stand a true trial soon. The public hearing is enough for petty matters and squabbles, but this goes far beyond anything mundane. The Goddess he called on, Lamashtu, is a foul beast who earned her place in the pantheon through slaughter and vile experimentation. While powerful she is no true goddess. Desna weeps. If we find that man to be a willing thrall of such, he will be dealt with harshly. The rope or the flame...or both.
Father Zantus takes a moment to think. He looks to his feet and then back at Dirkenious and Thodak.
If the two of you could meet my Acolyte at the Jail, I would appreciate your time. The festival will continue, and you will be able to see the swallowtail release at dusk and the dedication. She will compel the man to be truthful. Your information could help her, Desna willing.
Lamashtu is a demon lord that has reached the level of power required for godhood. She is known as the mother of monsters and is blamed for disfigured and deformed babies as well as the origin of all monstrous humanoids.
That's out of character knowledge. If you want to know in character make a religion check or ask someone who knows a bit about religion.DC10
Chris can I assume the Cleric you are playing is being assigned to the new Cathedral? It would give you a reason to be in town. I will go on the premise that she knows Zantus by reputation and a single letter but is yet to meet him. He will relieve her of any duties in the church until the problems we will eventually have to face are resolved.
Basically after this s&~& with the gnoll meat Zantus will say...I must be going to meet the new Cleric assigned to Sandpoint and you can introduce from there...
If you see a different introduction let me know. She is yours for sure, I just want to get her in the game.
The mention of Lamashtu freezes everyone. Sheriff Hemlock's jaw drops. Onlookers stop quaffs mid tip and foam spills around the corner of their lips. A slow sucking sound rebounds off of the buildings, the sound of more than two score of people inhaling. Only one person is moving, Father Zantus.
The Father's hands come together, prayer-like, one fist grasping the other. His hands come up toward his chin but don't stop there. Instead, they continue upward, above and behind his head. The hands that had healed more than half of the onlookers decend in an arc and connect with the soft part at the base of Cleyn's skull. The merchant crumbles into a pile on the ground a few feet from where the tainted meat sat.
Without a hint of humor Zantus commands: Lock him up. He should not be allowed to communicate with anyone. We need to hang this man, but first a trial.
Sheriff Hemlock's hand darts out snatching Cleyn's wrist in a vice-like clamp. The merchant's move toward the meat Dirkenious discovered is cut short by the Sheriff's brawny tether.
Not so fast good merchant. Hemlock's voice is a growl.
He reaches down with his left hand, while his right hand keeps Cleyn close. The slight merchant executes a bow fit for court as Hemlock dips at the waist.
This meat looks rancid.
Hemlock turns fast on his heels and Cleyn follows. They are dance partners whether Ronald Cleyn wishes it so or not. The Sheriff performs for the crowd. Some stand in rapture as if the events are merely another facet of the gem of Swallowtail. Men and women of town look on the edge of gasping while others quaff mugs of ale like theater-goers.
The Sheriff marches at a brisk pace and Ronald follows, heeling like a hound. The sheriff hands the piece of meat to Father Zantus. The Cleric mutters a brief prayer. Moments later he nods to Hemlock.
Your defense merchant? Hemlock releases his grip on Cleyn without warning. Ronald's dignity flees with his balances as the forces of his weight are suddenly free to move his body. He nearly falls which brings a short gasping giggle from the crowd.
The expression of the merchant changes abruptly. His features sharpen and his words sting.
Hemlock thinks We see the true man...finally.
Cleyn spits his words, first at Hemlock and the two who started this altercation then toward the entire crowd.
I did it! I fed you rotten meat, gnoll no less. May it fester in your stomachs and may the Mother of Monsters rejoice. I hope you feel the squirming and kicking of a tiny monstrosity. Lamashtu will have your hearts to feed to her children!
The crowd and your emotions have made it hard to keep your senses. You notice nothing about the vendor that is helpful. Your ability to recognize a scoundrel is thrumming, however. The man in front of you has too many of the nervous ticks you've seen in other liars and cheats to be honest.
You get the distinct feeling that this man is not out for the good of anyone but himself. Why were you following him? Does that support the feeling?When he shifts his weight from foot to foot, you see a piece of the questionable meat on the ground. It is from either his grill or Thodak's taste.
The crowd starts to murmur again. The murmur grows to a growl, then a steady roar. Sheriff Hemlock steps away to share a few words with Father Zantus. The crowd is rapidly expanding as Hemlock returns from the pow-wow.
I've decided to take your statements here in public. Usually I'd go to the constabulary and sort this out. Sandpoint is too busy today to have her Sheriff wrapped up for the afternoon in the matters of merchants and men. If any party objects to the public forum, we can handle this unfortunate business tomorrow morning..
Ronald Cleyn moves to position himself on the side of waiting, but Hemlock continues.
If we do that, all of you will stay in our jail for the night. Last I saw there were about fifteen drunks in there. We have five cots so it could be a communal experience.
Cleyn's hope of delay fades like the light over junk beach. Seeing the hope flow from Cleyn's eyes, Hemlock stifles a smile. He nods at Thodak and Dirkenious.
Unless either of you object, today justice will be swift. Please state your name and your side of the story. The father has agreed to bear witness.
The merchant's sunken eyes dart about. He finds himself scrutinized by an audience. Authority walks with the newcomer. The men and women sink back, waiting for someone to make the next move.
I am Ronald of Magnimar good sir. I am a simple man who wishes nothing but jovial celebrations and a few gold pieces for my troubles. These men have made unfounded claims about my food.
Filthy lawmen, sanctioned criminals all of them. Hope he gets a crux.
DM Roll: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17
Legend of the hospitality of Sandpoint has reached far and wide. Safe to say all wish it to continue.
Perception and Sense Motive Checks from you two please
Some stern haggling earns the Obsidian Marketers 140pp to split up three ways. Add 463gp each.
The city has a decidedly different feel. Workmen and slaves toil in the sun, the merchants speak of the many mouths at home to feed, but something else is present. The feeling that the whole city is holding it's breath. The reverence or superstition, depending on who you ask, that the Pharasman's exhibit has sunken into the half-city. The citizens rest uneasy, even if most don't recognize the source of their discomfort.
The trip from the Sunburst market confirms this hunch. Even the lay-abouts seem unusually edgy. The necropolis seems welcoming when compared to the distracted unease that Wati had to offer. When the tombs are closed the city may return to its former complicated but familiar existence next to the ancient dead.
The Marketers find themselves repeating the processes of climbing down the knotted rope into the netherworld that is Akhentepi's tomb. Several turns following familiar footsteps in the dust and the adventurers arrive at the stairway where they battled the sandling. The footprints end in a confused dance of dust. They overlap and slide together. Several feet forward, fresh dust lay nearly undisturbed.
The peddler is more concerned with removing the remaining food from the grill in front of him.
This greenskin and feather-face are friends. Just what I need, another freak on my case.
The claims of outlandish creatures should not be considered by normal humans.
The final pieces of evidence disappear into the coals as the newcomer finally breaches the last ring of gawkers.
A bald man with a booming voice steps into the altercation. The murmur of the crowd is sucked out of the air by his presence. His dark skin is mirrored in his dark expression. In a no-nonsense voice he asks:
What cause for an argument during our celebration?
The rest of the crowd has receded even farther, leaving the peddler, Thodak, and Dirkenious with Sheriff Hemlock. Father Zantus stands halfway between the two groups.
I've touched base with Ted. He has decided to wait to join a game because he is busy with school. I doubt Justin will be with us before tomorrow. Let's plan on making it for the three of us. Come in with second characters as you wish. I will play one if you guys would rather be responsible for a single PC.
Justin and Ted, are you guys playing? If I don't see characters or posts by Monday I am going to move forward. It is not a hard feeling thing, I just want to play. If it is anything to do with your comfort in this format please get with me and I will assist you. If you decide you want to play live only please let me know when. I just ask that I have answers; it isn't fair to the other guys to keep them waiting.
Levi and Chris, I will move forward Monday. If you wish to keep it between the three of us you can run two characters. It works better in text. Much less talking to one's self lol. Anyway, Chris claimed Cleric. I can make a caster or Levi you can. I have no problem playing the caster. Otherwise I can open recruitment. If you have players that are interested that's an option as well. Hit me up with the info.
We will continue effing around in Sandpoint until Monday. I will try to advance us toward the Blessing of the Cathedral by then. We should have our group in order before that ceremony.
The peddler locks eyes with Dirkenious.
You lice ridden bag of feathers! What I sell is of no concern of anyone not buying! Filthy thing! You've followed me? Probably to peck my eyes out while I sleep.
Grubby hands remove themselves from the peddler's robes and dart about securing valuables then discarding food. A crowd has started to form. Thodak, Dirkenious, and the peddler are ringed by two score of Sandpoint locals and festival goers. A figure presses through the outermost ring. He passes Zantus. A moments recognition passes between the two and the man presses on... Father Zantus falls into the hole created by the man's wake and moves toward the center of the crowd. Meanwhile, the peddler continues hastily attending to his business. Without intervention any evidence of wrongdoing will go into the glowing red coals under the steel grate of the cookfire before anyone besides the accused and accuser have formed an opinion.
There are three reputable places in Sandpoint, the Rusty Dragon, the White Deer over on Church Street, and Risa's Place.
He points north through the buildings on his right.
Undercliff Way is where Risa's is... fine cider. There's a few other options, Cracktooth's over by the theater. For seafood and a some local flare try the Hagfish. Lastly and leastly is the most god awful pit in all of Sandpoint, the Fatman's Feedbag . Watch yourself thereabouts...If you require a break from the festival, Savah's armory is close to Risa's and will be able to get you outfitted.
Are you staying in town after the swallowtail? I have questions that don't belong on a day like this. I find the Goddess has work for me, beyond the time afforded.
Zantus rounds the corner onto High Street. The crowd here is even thicker. His robes flutter behind him.
Fenlin's brow wrinkles into something resembling sun-dried fruit. His nose looks like a smooth ripe cherry. Somehow the two together only make the man's thinking face humorous. It falls short of ridiculous.
It should work. I've watched other adventurers treat their assigned clerics like a slaver's noose. Remember to keep your insults covert and don't do anything to disrespect the dead. Even if the goodly Gribb has no intent of invoking the death Goddess' wrath, the observers must never know that...especially anyone in league with Ms. Hypaxes.
The bartender sets a fresh drink in front of Herbert and adds another in a smaller cup to the space before Isis. His hands had done it again.
And two more...
A nod toward two dark skinned brothers descending the stairs, then Fenlin is again pouring refreshments.
Dirkenious finds more than one set of eyes resting on his person. Only the young or those lacking any social graces hold the look when their inquiry becomes a two party system. Sandpoint is not without its own brand of decency. Several nods and even a g'day are sent his way. The feeling may not remain tomorrow or any other day of the year, but during the swallowtail festival the locals serve hospitality alongside the more common bounty.
Thodak and Dirk, nice work on formatting! Characters looks good. To the others get your characters up and running soon please. If you need some pointers hit me up with a private message or copy and paste from the existing people. When you click on an alias in the gameplay thread it should lead to the crunchy stuff on that character.
As for your entrance, the festivities provide plenty of improv opportunity. Make an activity or pick from one I described. You can try to interact with other players beforehand, but everyone will get together formally at the dedication ceremony at dusk. (Assuming two of you aren't brothers or some other case for a preexisting relationship.)
Walk with me.
Five years ago a fire took the last formal hall of worship this town called its own. The fire destroyed the Church, and according to the locals, the family within. I was not in Sandpoint yet. I had written Father Tobyn to seek service on his staff. He was nice, but rejected my request. He informed me that his adopted daughter Nualia would replace him in service to Desna when his skills waned or life faded.
The cheerful feeling the man gave off has fled. His eyes lock with yours.
Both died in the flames.
He lets out a long slow breath as if the feelings can be carried away by the wind. He smiles a mirthless smile, one that brings to mind lemons and lemonade.
Master half-orc, what is your name? I must know what to call the man who reminded me that those two and the others lost years ago deserve a small tribute during the dedication. Thank you for the perspective.
I have heard from enough people, but I haven't seen anything from anyone other than you four...If you speak to Joseph IRL ask them to get on board or get left at the station.
I'm sorry about the lack of posting. I figure now that the holiday is over we can get to playing in earnest. I will try to post daily. If anyone goes more than two days without updating I will assume that we move on and you will kind of fade into the background. During battles that can be an issue, as such I may take charge of absent PCs and will eject any repeat offenders. Let the games begin.
Justin have you decided on your race/class?
The sun greets your eyes, Thodak. Before they can fully adjust a group of children closes twenty feet in front of you. Two boys and a girl stand before you. The smaller boy stands bravely next to the girl. She is the oldest. The middle child peeks from between them. The girl seems curious and the youngster oozes false bravado. A count, which starts to register to Thodak's ears at six, continues from the eldest's pursed lips. Seven, eight, nine, ten...told ya the middle shouts before high-tailing it back up the street.
A man walks briskly into Thodak's view. His sight drifts to the retreating youngsters. A brief look of resignation crosses his face.
Lost my quarry, but I know where they roost. A word about manners tonight...
Hello. The man radiates calm and happy feelings. He offers his hand and continues...
Abstalar Zantus, pleased to meet you and offer you the best of our little place, Sandpoint. Please don't mind those three. Foundlings they are called here-abouts. Desna calls them orphans in other places. They've plenty of room for love, and maybe some for improvement too. I will remind them tonight. We provide a place for them, and soon an even nicer place with chance to advance if they hear the calling.
The Father's last brings the largest smile and a gesture to the cathedral.
I promise to keep quiet about this, but I worry that the good Priest here will make it seem that I have told the Pharasmans. The followers of the Lady of Graves view blasphemy against souls in waiting as unforgivable, even a simple keep like me knows that. If the exploration is done with anything other than academia and reverence it is abhorrent. The Scorched Hand has made several successful tours of Osirion, so they know it too. They are well regarded for their spending and hiring of locals for labor. That keeps me from making accusations to anyone in power. Wati is lawful by tradition not enforcement.
Damn. I am getting paranoid. That little whiff couldn't blow out a candle and she's got me drinking in the afternoon.
His hand goes to the drink Herbert bought. He keeps talking.
Two days ago I was approached by a "representative" of some people calling themselves The Scorched Hand. They are in town to participate in the tomb exploring. I was asked to facilitate a swap for certain sites. These explorers were interested in artifacts of Nethys from the early periods. I declined. They sent a message. I found my cat dead with a gold scarab coin over each eye. When the Miss put two pieces of gold on the counter....well I, well....forgive my rudeness good kind sir.
The ruddy color has crept higher on Fenlin's face. He doesn't lower his voice as Isis and Gribb approach.
Hypaxes was the name of the leader. Charming; she assured me we would only be magically incapacitating the others so the Scorched Hand could search their sites. While worshipers of Nethys aren't my idea of a good time, they're a far site less frightening than the Pharasmans...begging pardon Cleric.
The name Hypaxes is familiar to you but it slips your mind where it comes from. Suddenly it hits you...Hypaxes is the name of an Osirionologist you've read about. Velriana Hypaxes,Taldan by heritage and as preoccupied by magic as any noted Osirionologist.
Your aid to Herbert is cut short by the breakthrough in memory. Herbert will take Gribb's words to heart but gain no advantage from yours.
Ameiko smiles again.
Forgive their revelry; these people have a lot to celebrate. Five years ago the old cathedral and a good man burned. The towns-people have since lived without a spiritual center. They've endured and even scraped together labor and taxes to pay for a new cathedral. Today we dedicate the place. Normally we'd celebrate the harvest and the Gods' bounties, today we'll do all that and try to set an old wound healing. We call it the Swallowtail Festival. Be merry grim one. It is tradition to buy a stranger an ale, so the first one's on me!
The Tian woman retreats toward the bar. She fields several orders on the fly then ducks behind the bar proper and takes up station in front of an over sized barrel. Another woman, young and local by her looks, serves your drink with a smile and moves on to the next table.
Outside of The Rusty Dragon the festivities are in full swing. Several tents ring the courtyard of the new cathedral. The smells and sounds of celebration fill the air. An assortment of meats and too many vegetables to name, all from the bounty of local fields and farms, cook over pits of glowing hardwood coals. Challenges and contests take place between townsfolk and visitors.
Old rivals become instant backers when an outsider challenges a Sandpoint native. Adults join children in sack races and hide and go seek. The strongest citizens toss logs end over end and lift baskets of stones above their heads.
A rope is stretched above a pit filled with the slop from the cook-pits and tavern. A young women crosses successfully, then an obviously drunk man falls from the perch into the rotten vegetables and mud.
Come try it stranger!
Challenges fly at anyone who gawks for too long. The festivities are in good fun and the winners will buy very few drinks on this night.
A Tian woman bustles over to Thodak's table. She is dressed in clothing that marks her a cut above the commoners and unsuccessful merchants. She is fit and exotically beautiful. Her grace in the crowded tavern lends to her allure.
I am Ameiko. This is my place. Please make yourself comfortable at the Rusty Dragon. Dinner will be served after the dedication. Until then it is ale and a cold platter. Can I get you either?
Her accent is present but not overpowering. She is animated when she gestures. A full welcoming smile greets Thodak. His heritage is a non-issue or she is great at hiding her distaste.
I think Levi is playing a Kenku swordmaster (rogue). Perhaps Ted and Levi can get some backstory overlap. I also don't mind some conflict. Putting knives in backs is too much, but a little conflict drives the story. Glad to have you two aboard. I will get a message to the others. Any idea if Justin or Joseph are in? It sounded like they were. Please feel free to mingle in Sandpoint. Once everyone is on board we'll hit the action button.
Tedd I will be content with the playtest rules for now but we may need to make changes. When advanced class guide ships the printed rules will be gospel. BTW that class looks like a blast, I can't wait to learn the ins and outs!
The gameplay thread is up and running.
Here is a thread that my wife and I play. I will be using the same style for everything. I will be a bit more meticulous with movement. The standard system will be letters across the top and numbers down the side. A 4x4 map would have A,B,C,D across the top left to right and 1,2,3,4 down the side top to bottom. Movement would look like:
That takes the guess work out of AoO and traps triggered by movement. I also made it standard to post a picture once a round during combat. I will try to stick to that a bit more tightly.
The character stats should look like the one's in the above game. I also can use pictures of everyone for their combat tokens. Please link to one in this thread and I will make it you during fights.
Sunday, 21 Rova, 4714
The town of Sandpoint is a sleepy affair. Today's excitement is out of place for the Varisian village. The bustle of the day, and for weeks leading up to the festivities, marks the opening of a great cathedral. Five years ago a fire claimed the building that houses Sandpoint's faith. The fire also claimed the life of the man in charge of the old cathedral, Ezakien Tobyn.
The town has pulled together in the past half decade. They've hosted weddings and funerals in makeshift shelters. They've sacrificed and labored. Today marks the day of dedication. The shape that is the new cathedral can make the transition and truly become part of Sandpoint. The Autumn Equinox is today. Father Zanthus, the clergyman behind the new cathedral and Mayor Deveros, Sandpoint's only real politician, will dedicate the temple tonight at the height of the celebration.
Until that time visitors and locals are encouraged to celebrate, shop, mingle, and take advantage of anything the small town has to offer.
Hey everyone! This is the discussion thread. It lets us keep the gameplay thread clean and free of off topic stuff and rules discussion. Please introduce yourselves in here. I will get a post up before tonight in the gameplay section so we can start character introductions and getting to know Sandpoint.
I ask that we stick to the hardcover Paizo products and RotR anniversary guide. Sticking with those makes it so I can track with herolab and not have any holes.
I can easily input your character and send you pdf's and BBCodes for the interface here. It will make life easier for everyone. Google drive is another decent option for sharing things. So please introduce yourself and if you wish share any ideas about your characters. I will see everyone with their gameface on very soon!
A large man with a slow cadence stretches his words into next week.
I can carry that upstairs little Miss.
He gestures to the antiquities The Marketers are currently hauling.
A short woman with a wooden tablet covered in parchment in her hands materializes from behind the larger porter. Her lobeless ears mark her as half-elven.
The majordomo bows and smiles.
When you turn Fenlin is at the other end of the bar working his plump fingers and a towel into a glass. The glass was clean long ago but he continues to polish it and focus his attention away from the gnome.
I won't do anything illegal Miss. I already explained that to the other one. Nope.
You notice a trembling in Fenlin's hand.
The bartender pivots. With honed grace a small vessel and an amber bottle materialize in his hands. The liquid nearly leaps into the cup, then double-times it into Fenlin's mouth.
The timber of his voice is steadier. His words are the same.
Surely this is a deposit on your next purchases Miss. This is enough gold to make some do things that others avoid. I am one who avoids. Please relay this message to Ms. Hypaxes. I must have been unclear in my earlier conversation.
While his speech flowed, Fenlin's hands worked their magic again. The cup sits full of spirits. He alleviates that problem. The twitch threatens to return to his arm.
The barkeep speaks up the instant the coin hits his hand. He looks to a woman sitting at the bar.
Get the major-domo and two porters to complete this order. Then return with a light platter.
A barmaid, who is slightly past her prime,smiles and sets about the business of making her customer happy. The barkeep offers a recently polished hand to Isis.
Fenlin is my name young Ms. Please use it anytime you require anything.
The drinks set in front of the four companions are familiar to everyone. They are similar to the fruity beverage Gribb ordered their first night together. Cool and refreshing, the beverage removes what feels like an inch of tomb dust from everyone's parched throats.
Moments later the barmaid returns carrying a large platter set with fruit, thinly sliced meats, and day old bread sliced extra thin.
A genuine smile accompanies the food.