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Female Chiss Soldier/Commando Wounds 18/18 Strain 13/13 Defense 0 SV 5 Cool GY Vigilance GG
Kara pulls her knife and starts cleaning under her nails. She doesn't really need it because of the gloves she wears with her armor, but...well...habits.
"I'll tell you a story old man," she begins, focused on her nails and not looking up, "maybe pass the time."
She sighs. "We were on Tanis, simple sector sweep, looking for a rebel base. We got the intel from a captured reb spy," she flicks a quick glance at Aniera, "and we were pretty confident we knew where to look. Of course Tanis had been overrun by the rakghoul plague, so we were wary. But, ImpSec told us that virus had run it's course decades earlier. he assured us there were no traces of the virus left on Tanis. Guaranteed it, even."
"So we conducted the sweep by the numbers: aerial recon followed by a ground recon. As usual, the flyboys were useless. Only this time I couldn't blame them, that jungles and those ruins could hide a starship. Turns out, they did. Hide a starship, that is. We found the Indomitable late on the second day of the op. Our team leader decided to make camp inside the wreck. 'More defensible', he said. Hard to argue with that, we had already had run-ins with the local fauna. They didn't exactly recognize humanities inherent superiority, if you know what I mean. Those nexu are fiercely territorial, and aren't afraid of anything. So we set up in a bay just inside the ship, and barricaded the doors to the jungle side. Sensor sweeps didn't reveal any lifeforms inside, so we just posted two sensor droids to check that side. Otherwise, standard operating procedure: two on watch, hour rotations, that sort of thing."
Kara pauses cleaning her nails, staring at the ground in front of her. "I was on watch, probably 0300, when the droids started beeping alarms like crazy. We barely had time to turn before they were on us. Rakghouls. Dozens of them. Fast as a nexu, and more agile. And they never made a sound, not when they were rushing us, not when they were hit, not when they tore a man's arm off... It was nightmarish. The blaster fire, the screams of the dying, and those damn rakghouls, silent as the grave."
"We fought for our lives. The rakghouls weren't looking for victims to add to their numbers, they were looking for food, and that ain't no way to go." Kara's voice becomes tense, grated. "The 3rd may be hard, but we never faced anything like that. In the end, it was Captain T'kellen that saved us. I was down, blaster empty, and had one of those things on me, trying tear my throat out. I managed to gut him," Kara holds her knife just so, "but he kept at me. Then there was this tremendous explosion, shredding that ghoul and knocking him clear. The blast deafened me, and I was dazed for what seemed like hours. When I finally could stand, bleeding from the ears and nose, I looked around. First thing I did was reload my carbine, but in that state, if there were any more of those things, I was easy meat."
"Apparently the Captain had detonated the breaching charges we brought. He killed himself, but that blast saved us...sort of. We were in bad shape. Of the twelve of us that went in the Idomitable that night only two of us lived. Me, and Kessler. I only survived because that rakghoul had me down behind some heavy shipping container. Otherwise, I'd be hamburger back there like the rest."
Kara pauses for a long while, still staring at the sand by her feet. "I called for a dustoff. Kessler needed a medic asap. They told us it would be 10 minutes, so I did what I could for him. I was bandaging the tears in his gut when he grabbed my arm. Scared the hell out of me because I thought he was unconscious. He dragged me down so I could hear him."
'Kill me.' He whispered, breathing hard.
'No damn way, Kessler.' I said. 'Medevac is due in ten mikes, we're getting outta here.'
"He gripped my arm harder, pulling me down almost against his face."
'Kill me, Savyn!' He croaked fiercely, 'You know what the rakghoul virus will do! You know! Kill me!'
"That hit me hard. I did know. We'd all had the briefings before we hit Tanis, but that damn IMPSEC..." Kara puts her knife away and grips her knees with both hands, but doesn't look up. "I pulled my arm loose from Kessler and stood up. Like some kind of machine I pulled my pistol, and pointed it at his head. He looked me in the eyes, then closed his slowly. Then I pulled the trigger."
Another long silence.
"I was sitting outside the Indomitable when the dustoff arrived ten minutes later. The bay burned behind me - I had set a few thermite bombs off to clean up the mess."
'I want a full report, Lieutenant! What the hell happened here?' The ImpSec officer shouted, in my face once I boarded the evac shuttle.
'Go screw yourself.' I replied, over the roar of the engines as we lifted off.
'What did you say, Lieutenant?' He yelled again, this time up in my face.
'I said...go screw yourself...sir.'
"His face got all red, and he grabbed my arm." 'I'll see you court-martialed for that, Lieutenant! I want to know what happened down there, and you'll tell me NOW!'
"I looked at him, down at his hand on me, and back in his face. Then I grabbed him by the collar and by the crotch, and heaved him out the open door of the shuttle. The pilot just looked at me, all blood and tatters, and said:
'I never liked that sonuvab@**# anyway.'
Lake, actually. Some of your time was spent in a boat, 'exploring for shoals and sandbars.
Talia, for mapping: the line of the lake runs to about the center of the hex, then it leaves C7 into B8. A river (Gudrin River) from the lake runs from the center of C7 into D7. C7 is a hills hex. Here is where we have some trouble: we have to add another map to the bottom of this one, starting with row 8 and going to row 10.
Bleeding from several wounds, Old Crackjaw continues tugging on Edric, jaws locked and trying drag Edric into deeper water, where he can drown the paladin and devour him away from the stinging gnats with him. His claws are locked down in the sand of the pool, straining to pull the man. Then two whips curl about the great turtle, one around his face, the other around his front left leg. Suddenly, the leg slips, and Old Crackjaw tumbles forward onto his face. The surprise of it causes him to loosen his hold on Edric, and the man falls backwards on his rear into the water, splashing those behind.
The beast surges forward in the water, trying bury Edric under its bulk and drive him into the sand.
AOOs for: Dregan, Gav, and bludbudlum (really Nara?) ;)
Bull Rush: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18 Before you ask, he's swimming, not standing up.
Edric manages to roll to his right, narrowly avoiding being crushed. But now he is on his side, in water over his head in his prone state.
ROUND 3: OJC went. Gav and Dregan are waist-deep in water with the turtle and Edric between them. The elemental is behind OJC. Vosil and Talia are now 5' from the turtle, knee-deep in water. Nara is on the shore, 10' form the melee. Edric is on his side (prone) in waist deep water with a thrashing melee around him. He is to the right of OCJ, sort of in the same hex. Gav and Talia are on that side as well.
Female Chiss Soldier/Commando Wounds 18/18 Strain 13/13 Defense 0 SV 5 Cool GY Vigilance GG
Kara laughs out loud at the old Sullustan. "Rights and weapons? You're joking right? You only have the rights the Empire gives you, old man, or those you make on your own in places like the Outer Rim here. Get into the Interior worlds, and you have no rights save what Imperial Law says you have." She shakes her head. "Rights and weapons..."
"The thing is," Kara says, standing up and pacing, "is that the only reason we're still alive, that the Alliance is still around, is the galaxy is a big place, and the Empire can't be everywhere. But if they want you bad enough, they'll get you. Make a name big enough for yourself, and they'll come for you. Trust me, I know what I'm talking about."
She stops pacing to look at Juviest. "And you know what? Your name and face will be splashed across a billion vids, and every one of those loyal citizens will whisper 'good riddance'."
"Even the Outer Rim won't hide you. ImpSec, informants, Imperial military, and if you're big and bad enough, the Emperor sends him..." Her voice trails off to a whisper. Kara's hands shake ever so slightly as she speaks. "I saw him once, years ago. Only a fleeting glimpse before my unit set out on an operation. Just the word he was coming set the brass in a panic. When he came down the gangway of his shuttle into the hangar, it was....I can't describe it..." She falters. "He...filled the room...just his being...you felt it..." Kara turns to Djebelle. "You know what I mean. But you don't. You've never felt anything that powerful...that...dark..."
"Why would you banish me to Elysium, mortal, when my home is Nirvana?" the agathion says acidly. "I find it hard to believe one who does not even have basic planar knowledge would be smart enough to summon me, let alone enslave me."
The agathion raises itself to it's full 7' height. It's piercing green eyes look down its long nose at you with some contempt. "I am listening, best be quick."
1 Abadius 4708
The new year dawns cold and bright. You all are groggy from the long night, but no ghosts from the past raised themselves to torment you. Only the spirits of the bottle, and those are easily chased away by a hearty breakfast from the Levertons.
Soon enough you are off on your way back to Concord. The next two days are cold, even bitterly so at times, but uneventful. You are getting used to this route, having traveled it so many times. A road connecting the two - Concord and Oleg's - would certainly make things easier. Not to mention connecting the Rostland road to Fairhaven.
3 Abadius 4708
Concord is socked in with snow. Rare lake-effect, but heavy and deep. The streets are clear - but only barely. The warm environs of the castle welcome you. A bright fire burns in the hearth in the Privy Chambers. Asha, Darrick, and Kesten wait to hear the results of the trip.
LOL! Don't put a nameplate on Edric's door back at Concord, he changes positions faster than the plate can be engraved!
There is a long silence after Gavriil's proposal. Too long. Edging into uncomfortable. Oleg shuffles his feet, while Svetlana furtively looks at him now and again. The longer the silence, the more you realize the news won't be good...
"Ummm..." Oleg murmurs.
Svetlana rescues him. "What my husband is trying to say," she starts softly, looking at the ring on her finger, "is that we must respectfully decline." She looks up, and her face is strained with regret and guilt. It's not that we don't appreciate the offer...we do! But we came out here to be away from the hustle of the city, the drama and gossip, the...I don't know." She folds her hands in her lap, clasping and unclasping them. "We've had this discussion already, he and I. 'What would we do if things changed', and all. We decided it would be better for us to stay here."
She looks up at you. "Thank you. Thank you all sooo much. The offer means more to us than you know. But we are simple folk, and we want to keep it that way." She stands up and rushes into the kitchen, tears in her eyes.
Oleg watches her go. He stares at the kitchen door for few moments before turning back to the table. "I know what yer thinkin'." He says calmly. "But that wasn't my doing. Svetlana is the one who wants to stay here. Me, I would take it, but it's 'our' decision, not 'my' decision, you know?" This is an Oleg you've never seen. Calm. Pensive. His voice becomes distant, as if recalling old memories. "She's sick of it, you know? Sick of the rules and decorum. Even funnier that she insisted Lady Talia not serve us, citing 'doing things proper' and all. She doesn't believe in those rules and societal norms. 'Too restrictive' for a young girl who wants to marry a simple shopkeeper." He trails off.
'Didn't you know?" He stands up and heads for the kitchen. Just before he reaches the door, he turns back. "Svetlana was a Lebeda. Second cousin, I think to Master Darrick, although he doesn't know. Disowned she was, for following her heart." And with that he goes to find his wife.
@Naralesh: Oleg's eyes widen as the elf produces the ring. "I thought for certain we'd a-lost that," he murmurs, eyes tearing, "I thank ye kindly, master elf. Svetlana will be so happy!" He wipes the near-formed tears from his eyes and then the gruff Oleg is back. "Better go show her.." he grumbles and hurries inside.
@Talia: Nat bows low as Talia approaches. "Why Noleski is fine, Milady. As fine a draft horse as could be wished! That is...when Gwen weren't out a-ridin' him!" He blushes. "Aye, milady. Gwen and I were to have a young 'un...soon if I be any judge!" He smiles gratefully at Talia as she takes her leave, bowing again. Nat doesn't do horses anymore - too much farm work!
As you all sit down around the table, Oleg sweeps in, hand held high. "They found it! Svetlana, they found it!" he cries, more animated than you have ever seen him. Noticing you watching, he quickly returns to his 'normal' self. He turns his back so you can't see him as Svetlana sweeps up.
"Found what, Oleg? What is that...oh...OH!" She bursts into tears as he slips it on her finger. She holds her hand up, turning it this way and that, to admire the lost ring. Tears streaming down her face, she moves up to hug Talia, but remembering her station she stops herself. She curtsys, all smiles and tears. She goes back to Oleg, and hugs him for what seems like an eternity. He tries to hide his smile, but the gruff man is not good at faking it.
When Talia mentions dinner, the Levertons interject. "Nonsense." Oleg rumbles. "I won't have it." Svetlana says flatly. "Who heard of such a thing? A Viscountess serving? Lady Talia, you may be the Viscountess of Fairhaven, but Concord is a long way from here. This is our castle," she grins, "and while we may be an outpost on the borders of the wilds, we WILL do things properly!" And she will brook no dissent on the matter, busying herself in the kitchen and essentially ignoring anything except 'official' requests regarding food and drink.
Oleg merely shrugs and begins setting for a large group. He too, will hear none of it.
Ahhh, the pains of rulership. While the point was taken Talia, these simple folk can't imagine for a second being served by you - even out here. It's simply not how things are done. Remember - you are from Brevoyan nobility, so it isn't a stretch to see you as Viscountess. The feudal system is just a part of life. The fact that you all have made any effort at all to treat them like real people is a BIG DEAL to the Levertons. Keep in mind though, that not everyone will see that as an asset. For some, it will be seen as a weakness...Oooooo...foreshadowing!
Gavriil watches in silence as Kaalib emerged from the cave and told them how it was going to be. How many had they lost along this journey into the Stolen Lands? Maybe that was the true reason they were called the Stolen Lands. They weren't lands that were stolen from one king or another, but lands that stole something from the people in them. They took friends and family from those who inhabit them.
This. RP level = master class. This is why I love this game and this group.
Kaalib's voice cuts through the discussion like a knife. Stangely silent through this whole ordeal, when he finally speaks, it is with authority. The small dragon-accountant isn't looking at you, he's staring straight ahead at the cave entrance.
"This is my responsibility." He turns his body only slightly, but his eyes never leave the entrance. "Thank you for your concern for me and my wishes, but this has always been the way it has to be. I must go and face Chief Sootscale."
He holds up a small claw to stop your protest. "They will never accept you. That is not our way. For a kobold, the strong lead, and the weak follow...or perish. I had hoped that I could make them see...make them understand..." His head drops with a sigh. "But now I see that if I wish to save them, I must assume the chieftainship. And to do that, I must kill the Chief."
There is a long pause. The chill evening breeze blows softly over the long grass on the knoll where you stand. Kaalib sighs again.
"Do not follow me. Do not attempt to help. You will only make things worse, and many of my people will be slain in the chaos that will follow." He takes a few steps forward, then stops and turns, a sardonic smile on his face.
"I understand Magna now," he says softly, "I see her pain. Did not Asha say 'you can take the woman out of Brevoy, but you can't take the Brevoy out of the woman'? The same goes for dwarves...and kobolds." And with that he strides purposefully toward the cave, disappearing in the darkness of the entrance.
It seems an eternity, standing on top of the rise waiting for your friend to return. There is no sound, save the rustle of the grass, and stamp of an impatient horse. Then a small figure emerges; first one, then two, then six or more kobolds. They gather at the entrance, but if they see you, they do not give any indication. They watch the cave entrance, waiting. The whole group is packed and carrying gear as if for a long journey. Soon, another figure appears. It is Kaalib, carrying a large sack.
He winces as he presents the bag to Talia. "Don't." He says, to anyone coming to help him, although he is obviously in pain. "They must not see that I am hurt, or they will try their hand at taking me down. They are not strong, and I'd be forced to kill them." He smiles weakly. "I will be fine. Here. This is for you. I have kept enough for us. We will be leaving the Greenbelt. I hope to get another start for us, although it may take a generation or so to change their...our...ways." He looks at each of you in turn. "Thank you my friends. Farewell." Kallib turns and waves his arm. The kobolds that remain move off in a line north, fading into the night.
There is a silence as you contemplate the situation before you. The weight of rule hangs heavy on your shoulders: who knew that the decisions to be made could be so difficult. Much easier to write sardonic plays in the theater, or go drinking and carousing at the local taverns! Even harvest season on the farm seems to be a walk in the park compared to this.
Still, the responsibility is yours. You have taken on this mantle, and there are hundreds of people counting on you.
That thought alone draws your plight into stark relief:
It's not just about you anymore.
Female Chiss Soldier/Commando Wounds 18/18 Strain 13/13 Defense 0 SV 5 Cool GY Vigilance GG
Kara, sitting in the gunner's seat, grinds her teeth. '...doesn't ANYONE have have ANY comms discipline? would a 'copy' or an 'over' kill anyone around here?...'
Old habits die hard, but some were just so ingrained in her that she couldn't let them go...
Couldn't help myself.
Edric halts at Talia's words, turning to her with a quizzical look on his face. He takes a step forward to peek around the corner to his left, and catches a hint of movement from the rocks on his right!
Twisting desperately in the narrow tunnel to get his shield in front of him, the armed figure in front of him is...himself. Cautiously, he reaches out with his warhammer. He is stopped by the same unseen wall that bounced the coin. His image wavers as he touches it...a mirror! Two of them in fact, angled just so, to catch the reflections of something down the hall and make it appear as if it stood in the corner with the rocks. With a grin, he turns back to the others and shrugs.
Female Chiss Soldier/Commando Wounds 18/18 Strain 13/13 Defense 0 SV 5 Cool GY Vigilance GG
'...wait...what? Tonitran jerky???'
Kara's ears perk up at the mention of the Tonitran jerky. One of the things every soldier knew was a good jerky, and Tonitran was the best. Once in a while someone would get some, usually on the sly, and shared it with the rest of the unit. It was one of the rare moments of joy when you were in theater on an Op.
She ambles over and grabs a packet of the jerky. She pulls her knife from its sheathe on her shoulder and slices the top off of the vac-sealed bag. The smile on her face is as broad as her ears as she moves back over to her bunk while pulling a long piece of the jerky and tearing off a piece in her teeth. Kara stretches out, feet up on her helmet, eyes closed and savoring the stuff.
It's a long time before anyone can get anything out of her....
When I was an infantryman in the Army, a good jerky was as good as gold. I can relate to this situation.
The 'Talia in front' thing is cracking me up. Funny thing is, I didn't add that 3rd pit especially for her. I was waiting for one of you Dexy-types to do that jump...
I once ran a Dark Heresy Campaign where one player made an Imperial Scholar. The guy had no combat skills but played him with his little laspistol in the front line, blasting away. I forget the character's name but we called him Conan the Librarian. He died climbing out a window of a Hive Spire, two miles up from the planet's surface...
This reminds me of Conan the Librarian, for some reason. ;)
I don't post specific Initiatives once I roll for the order, makes things go too slow. I use post order for the most part. There's advantages and disadvantages to both ways of doing it.
Will save: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (2) + 8 = 10
The Lonely King tilts his head back, clawing at his empty eyes sockets as the Glitterdust spell blinds him. GRVMTAR slams the blinded king, cracking bone. Vosil's whip entwines his legs as he staggers, and drops him prone just as Dregan's arrows fly by!
Edric lashes out, dealing a significant hit on him. While Magna's axe sends splinters on the prone form!
The skeleton lashes out with a bony claw, rage consuming him! All to no effect, as he cannot overcome being prone and blind.
"NOOOoooo..." He howls in frustration as he can't shake the effects of Naralesh's spell.
ROUND THREE: you are up. Lonely King: AC 17/9/13 hp 21/85; Glitterdust for the win! Elementals (flank), Magna (flank), Edric (flank), Vosil, Talia in range to srike. Dregan add +4 to AC for him being prone.
"Arigato, Tomaru-san." Amieko says with a slight bow of the head and a smile. Never one for the formalities of her father and his Tien heritage, that is all the busy woman will give you at this time.
Even though they don't know the newcomers, the crowd is only slightly less enthusiastic about Kellen, Thordak, and Aurora. "Friends of thems is friends of ours..." is a common comment. Soon enough, you are seated at the main table while the crowd plies you for tales of your doings while you've been away. Ameiko brings out her best: spiced curry salmon, honey-baked red potatoes, and drink...lots of drink.
Assuming you share your adventures...
The crowd is 'all in' with you as you regale them. 'Oohs' in disbelief at the depredations of Aldern Foxglove, shudder with the description of the Manor, and sit in rapt silence during the battle of the Clocktower. Several hours in, and if anything more people have come in to the Dragon to hear. The crowd laughs at stories of the gnomes in Whistledown, gasp in shock at the horrors of the Graul homestead, and weep as Myriana leaves Whitewillow forever. When the tale finally ends, nearly everyone in town seems to be here: Sheriff Hemlock, Father Zantus, Mayor Deverin, even Shalelu - seated in the corner with her boots up on the table - gives you a nod and a smile.
Then everyone goes silent as Ameiko moves to the front of the main room, her lyre in hand. "By your leave..." she begins, although everyone knows that when Ameiko plays at the Rusty Dragon, she needs no permission..."I will sing you a lay: The Rise of the Runelords."
Local legend holds that Ameiko uses some magical means to enhance her music, and you find it hard to refute as you are carried off by her song. Even though you are the heroes of the lay, it's as if you are hearing the story for the first time. From that first day in Sandpoint to the fall of Barl Breakbones, Ameiko weaves an epic saga of the rise and fall of heroes. Enthralled, you come to only to realize her final stanzas leave the saga open, because she knows - as you do - that this tale is far from over...
'So where doth the future lie,
'To our heroes we must turn at need,
Event Roll: 1d100 ⇒ 12
The stars are cold and bright in the night skies at the end of the month. For four nights, a glorious meteor shower tears across the skies over Concord. This is seen as a sign from heaven, and Morale soars in the County.
+1 for all Stability rolls until the next event phase.
It's a busy lunch crowd at the Dragon when you finally stable the horses and head in. The heavy oaken door swings wide, letting fresh air and light into the main room. The crowd blinks in the light, trying to make out the newcomers in the glare. Then the door swings closed and the first patrons recognize you.
"It's them! They're back!"
The crowd surges to you, vigorous thumps on the back and hearty cries of welcome all around. After all you've been through, this is a welcome change. Clearly the heroes of Sandpoint have returned.
Over the din, this woman sidles up to you, making her way with ease through the crowd. "Over here. Take my best table, nothing but the best for the returning conquerors, eh?" She motions to a large round table in front of the fireplace. With a wink and a coy smile, she disappears back toward the kitchen.
Never underestimate the need for a meathead with an axe. Many players tend towards obscure builds of archetypes they've always wanted to play. The meathead is becoming a rare character these days.
That said, you can have quite a bit of fun with that type. I present to you Thordak Ironheart, dwarf barbarian; from one of my games:
As the ghost fades and the bear takes his leave, Thordak can be seen rubbing his watery, red eyes with his sleeve. "Blasted allergies. I can't go anywhere."
Thordak looks curiously upon Lym as she talks about traveling through 'Shadow'. "Now, lass, this 'Shadow' business, it's not gonna leave us stuck in the Plane of Shadow, is it?" Just after he lets out that last bit, he looks around at the others confidently, a proud expression upon him. "Bet you lot didn't know I knew about the Plane of Shadow, did ya? Huh? Huh? I thought not. Oh I know, I know ALL about the Plane of Shadow I do. Well... maybe not know all about it; it's possible I've heard all about it. Okay, okay, it's possible I may have overheard all about it, okay?" He looks to them all a long moment before, "Or maybe I just heard it in passing BUT THE FACT REMAINS:" he states adamantly, a finger in the air as he looks back to Lym, "Are we gonna get stuck in the Plane of Shadow? Because I just don't want to, lass! I don't know what ta do there!" he exclaims with a shrug. "I've never been! Can ya breathe? Can ya eat? Can ya... breathe?" he asks with near panic in his voice.
No way Gav is gonna top me on drinking songs, so...
The dwarves sing along with Gavrill, belting out the words everyone knows to the classic 'Miss Andoran Pie'. Then they begin with a well-known tavern song of their own:
'What do you do with a drunken miner, what do you do with a drunken miner, what do you with a drunken miner deep down in mine shaft...'
'Put 'im in the mine cart with 'is bottle, put 'im in the mine cart with 'is bottle, put 'im in the mine cart with 'is bottle, deep down in the mine shaft...'
'Shove 'im down the track 'til he heaves over, shove 'im down the track 'til he heaves over, shove 'im down the track 'til he heaves over, deep down in the mine shaft...'
The drinking and singing goes on until the wee hours, and the sun comes up way too early. And bright. Way too bright. But the dwarves are busy working, and are none-too friendly in their hungover state, so you set out for Concord having done good work.
He then begins to play the only tavern song he could remember in his addled state that contained dwarves, "And they were singing: Byyyyye Bye Miss Androan Piiiie! Drove my wagon from the dragon and the dragon flew high! Them good'ole dwarves were drinkin' whiskey and rye! Sayyyyin'.... uhh... somethin' somethin' Gav's a good guy! Somthin' somethin' Gav's a good guy!"
Are you friggin' kidding me?? Awesome!
Thinking on it, if we roll round by round, this will take forever. So here we go.
The mugs begin to flow, as fast as you can down them. With every finished mug, Barod and Gaerd clash their silver family tankards together with a ring.
Fort save DC10: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (16) + 9 = 25 +1 S
And now Edric
Somewhere around the sixth full tankard, Gaerd reaches out to smash his mug into his brothers and misses! His momentum carries him straight on to the dirt floor of the tent, face first under the table. It only takes a second to find him, but by then deep snores are vibrating the benches you're sitting on.
"Well I'll be a orc's uncle!" Barod exclaims. "Never did thought ye could do it, lad. But then Gaerd's always been a bit of a lightweight! A deal's a deal, lad. Ye can count on the Brighthammers as part of Fairhaven!"
He leans in to Gavriil to whisper. "make sure ye keep the ale flowin' laddie. keeps me lads workin'!"
Was just waiting for Nara.
The Brighthammer brothers go through two ales each while they listen to first Gavriil, then Naralesh, talk.
"Tell ye what, lad." Barod says to Gavriil. "Let's do this the right way. If'n one of you can beat me brother in a drinking contest, we'll agree ta be citizens in Fairhaven. Win...we're in. Lose and we go about our business without you."
He takes a deep draft and smiles as he lowers his mug. He looks at Gaerd, reaching out to clash his silver mug with that of his sibling.
This will be a straightforward series of Fort saves with an increasing DC per round. First one to pass 5 saves wins, or first one to fail 3 loses. Feel free to discuss before you accept, and float out any ideas that you may want to try to tip the scales in your favor. Obvious spellcasting would be seen in a dim light.
Dwarves. Gotta love 'em.
EDIT: Looking through some backgrounds, I could be convinced to give Edric an additional +2 to his Fort for resistance to imbibed toxins - just this one contest.
"Indeed." Darrick says, agreeing with Asha. " No sooner did we get established as a government to do 'something different', we went right to Brevic politics when a situation presented itself."
"Not a proud moment." He sighs deeply. "I don't know Vosil or his history. I can only assume that his reaction was from a bad experience with politicians. I - we - would ask that we are treated with the same respect and dignity that you would treat each other. We will do the same. And as Asha said, there is no way to completely take the Brevoy out of us. We will speak our minds based on that. We only ask for a fair and equal voice in the Council."
Series of posts coming up, wait for it...
Asha and Kesten look to Darrick. The man looks at Talia for brief second, then rests his elbows on the table, hands clasped.
"Ah. That. As I am sure you are aware, Milady, there were - words - spoken in the Council chamber. Under normal circumstances, I could not let such words go without response - defense of my honor and all that." He takes a quick look at Vosil.
"But I came here to get away from such foolishness. I came to Concord to be something else, something more, than a Brevic politician."
He leans back in his chair. "Foolish hope, maybe. But I thought that a quick exit to let cooler heads prevail was in order."
"In my desire to let things cool down, I made a rash decision. For that I apologize."
Magna stops as Kaalib calls her, but does not turn around. When he finishes, she mounts her horse and rides out of Concord.
The light behind the doorway casts the approaching figure in silhouette; but you can tell he is tall, wiry and has a smooth gate. As he crosses over threshold, his simple brown garb: boots, trousers, and vest mark him as common man. But his grin is anything but. With a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his eye, he looks up.
"Hullo Talia. Nice digs."
The Scoundrel of the Greenbelt has returned.
The sage Encarta has documented many cases of barrows and cairns dotted throughout the River Kingdoms. Petty kinglets, barbarian conquerors, and countless others have lived and died in this region, leaving their mark in forgotten tombs.
A certain mark along the first flagstone you can see tells you a bit more: there is a legend of a place called The Lonely Barrow. It is the final resting place of an ancient barbarian warlord. His name is lost to history, but legend holds that he was laid to rest along with his loyal guardsmen. As is all too common, the greedy brother who succeeded him coveted the warlord's magic weapon, and kept it for himself. Angered at this blasphemy and the desecration of his remains, the warlord’s spirit rose as an undead menace not long after. He sought out the treacherous brother, and although the stolen weapon became broken in the fight that followed, the undead warlord succeeded in killing the brother and returned to this cairn with his reclaimed weapon; he has stood eternal guard over his tomb ever since.
There is a note scribbled in the margin of the Chronicle:
'...could be anything in there...'
"NO!" Magna retorts to Talia, a bit too sharply.
"No. Milady." She says, correcting herself. "You don't understand. The Forge Father teaches us to stand up and face our enemy. To protect our people in a straightforward way. I...have deviated."
The dwarf paladin drops her hands to her belt, gripping the haft of her axe. Her knuckles turn white with frustration. "But I am not working to change things for the betterment of the people. I am working to change them for myself."
"I have desired to rule for myself. I have compromised with one of my people's greatest enemies. I have wished violence on my own people because of the desire for power! I have...loved..." She speaks this last softly, with a sidelong glance at Edric. "In a word...I am...soft." She whispers. "Not the steel edge of the axe forged on the anvil of Torag."
There is a long silence.
"I will go north. Join the next band of crusaders bound for Mendev. They use the Sellen as a route to join Queen Galfrey's armies there. I need to re-forge my very soul, and I will go to the greatest such forge on Golarion."
"I am going to the Worldwound."
From the doors to the Council chamber, Magna's voice breaks into your discussion.
"I..." she begins, her voice as unsure and wavering as you have ever heard her, "I..I have to leave" she stammers, her eyes downcast.
"I'm afraid I have been tested. And found wanting. My faith, my race, everything I thought I was." She looks up, and it is obvious she has been crying. "For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to bring the word of Torag and the might of his hammer to the unjust. I've known that my part in life was to forge the bonds of community that he teaches." She looks down again.
"I do not think I am worthy."
The great worg flashes by, taking hits as he charges. But his days of hunting the Kamelands are ended by Tali's precise strike, and his furred bulk tumbles to a halt just short of where Dregan stands. The last worgs let out a terrified yelp, and and dash off into the night.
Combat over, Vosil's great rug acquired. Hex (D6?) explored.
I suppose neither Naralesh nor I fully understands nobles yet. Talia, this is your stage.
Indeed, nobility is a very odd thing. Think of an ultra-exclusive club, that you have no way joining unless by birth. You and your club are better than everyone, save those in the club with a better lineage. But you ALL are better than everyone else. And you fight tooth and nail to protect that. AND that's ingrained from birth.
Even your NPCs will have a hard time giving that up. They need a new club - and that's you all.
YES! You want to know where I was going? This. This. THIS! Crisis arises, leaders say: 'Hey let's talk. Everyone (not in the Council) sit down and shut up (sorta) until we figure it out.' Excellent! Most astonishing wonderful! (my inner hobbit) You're going to need this in the future. I've read the books, trust me.