Megan Robertson's page

Vencarlo's salle des armes is in Old Korvosa, if you are thinking of going to call upon him.

The mark on Dillon's hand is what would you would expect to see if he had been branded... the sort of scar you'd see once he had healed fully.

Merian, it's possible that really powerful magic such as restoration or regeneration might remove it... or maybe laying the haunt to rest would do the trick?

Which way now, o intrepid ones?

The cure light wounds spell restores hit points and stops the pain, but the brand remains.

Yes, you have descriptions...

Trinia looks around the group, particularly at the tall, white-haired man.

"Perhaps it would be better if I accepted the Bishop's offer of sanctuary. I could not bear for any of you good people - or worse, your families - to suffer on my account. Surely even those who'd spread foul lies would hesitate to attack a major religion..."

Interesting... do carry on plotting :)

Everything is quiet again.

What do you want to do now?

Sinon scratches his head.

"I left for the river camp a week before you attacked it, since then I've been here... must be getting on for a month since I was at the fort."

Better roll some bones for the branding irons:

Intitiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7

A brand darts at Dillan... who does his best to dodge but although slow-starting, it propels itself with unerring accuracy!

Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (20) + 2 = 22

Damage: 2d6 + 1 ⇒ (3, 4) + 1 = 8 *ouch!*. I'll let you pick which part of your person is now decorated with a large 'H' :)

It then clatters to the floor, cold and inert once more.

Aargh. Got by the PostMonster :)

Trinia leans into Ashe's hand, looking up with wide green eyes.

"Thank you," she whispers, "I just knew that I could count on you to sort things out."

"Hmmm," muses the Bishop. "I am prepared to offer Miss Sabor sanctuary here, but in these uncertain times, although I hope none would desecrate the Cathedral by forcing their way in to her, I cannot be certain that they will not. She may be safer if she were to disappear from sight until her name is cleared officially. As I said, I shall send word to the authorities right away, and am ready to bear witness as needed."

She leans back and regards Varrel.

"As for you, my son, it would seem that times have been hard for you. If you ever wish counsel, my door is always open to you."

Dillan, please roll initiative as several of the brands animate, rising from the floor, their tips begining to glow with heat...

Sinon swigs his ale again.

"There was a passphrase to get in. Whoever's inside asks who's there, but the response was set - and changed regularly. When I first got there it was 'Who wants to know?' and when I left it was 'Just a passing frog' but they may well have changed it by now."

"Right," says the Bishop. "If you, Miss Sabor, would take the seat directly in front of me please, and the rest of you stand back and be as prayerful or at least respectful as you can manage..."

She stands up, and there's no mistaking the authority of her position, even if all the fancy robes are hanging on the tailor's dummy in the corner.

"I, Keppira Annabyl d'Bear, by right of authority duly conferred by the ordinances of the church, call on Pharasma's wisdom to discern truth from lies... Miss Sabor, did you kill the King?"

A pale golden glow surrounds Trinia, as she gulps visibly.

"No, Milady," she whispers.

"Do you know who did kill him?"

"No, Milady."

"Were you aware that anyone was attempting to kill him?"

"No, Milady."

"Do you know the guard who has accused you of this crime?"

"No, Milady." The glow shimmers slightly and darkens, growing more red.

"Think carefully, child. Did you know this guard?"

"Um... I think, maybe by sight. He hung around of an evening. Made excuses to be where his duty did not call him to be. Had, um... well, he tried making, er, improper suggestions..." The glow fades and steadies back to pale gold, as Trinia dissolves into sobs.

"So, there you have it," the Bishop says, seating herself again. "This young lady had no hand in the murder of the King. I shall send word to Palace and Guard, and offer her sanctuary here if she so wishes until they have acknowledged that the accusations are false."

She smiles.

"And I require no payment or donations for doing my civic duty, young elf. Where have you been, to have such a mercenary attitude?"

Ready to continue when you are...

Sinon is not in the least bit averse to continuing his discourse over a few mugs of ale.

"Now, the Stag Lord is an odd bloke, to say the least. He seems to draw weak men to him, those who are easily led... It is said that his father abused him as a child, yet he keeps his father - an old and ailing man - close by him. But the old man is terrified of his son. Never quite figured that out.

"When I was there, the three leader-types were Akiros Ismort, Auchs and Dovan from Nisroch. Akiros had a decent upringing and is a competent well-trained fighter... and a decidedly bad lot. Would you believe he was a Paladin of Erastil - got chucked out for raping someone's wife that he fancied, then murdering her and her husband when accused of the deed. He's pretty much the Stag Lord's deputy now although he's only been there a few months, much to Dovan's displeasure. Now Auchs is quite different. He's a thick brute, lives to inflict suffering on others. He arrived with Dovan from Daggermark, where he'd started a brawl in the centre of town. Dovan used to be the Stag Lord's chief lieutenant, a brooding dark fellow with lots of tattoos and a nasty, sadistic streak to him. He encourages the Stag Lord to drink... that's why I was in the river camp when you lot came, I'd been sent to collect the next shipment of liquor for him, those flasks of green stuff."

"As for the rest of the misfits that follow the Stag Lord, most are on roving patrols. He sends his lieutenants out periodically to check on them, and they are supposed to report back to the fort or to the river camp if they get any loot. Else they are left to fend for themselves."

Trinia reaches inside her tunic - revealing a glint of a chain shirt beneath - and pulls out a handful of potion bottles and a wand.

"These potions and this wand of daze monster are all the magical items I own," she says, passing them to Hytogg. "Please may I have them back eventually. The potions are cat's grace, jump and three of shield of faith, if you're interested, nothing untoward but they give me an edge when shingle running."

The Bishop - who has by now been served her milk and cookies - listens to Ashe closely.

"Interesting... so this is the young woman. Thank you for bringing her here, I expect we can give her a more fair hearing than she would receive at Court. Your thought about the remains of the guardsman are valid, although whether they will permit it I do not know. One can but try... In the meantime, Miss Sabor, will you be willing to remain here?"

Maybe I got the wrong end of the stick, I thought the bishop was a bloke... gender isn't something I find that important actually :) It doesn't make any difference to her capabilities or office, anyway! The AP doesn't mention the Bishop at all.

I haven't got around to doing the map yet... now you have quizzed Sinon, I'll add where he said the Stag Lord's fort is as well as the places you have discovered for yourselves.

I have also put a link to the spreadsheet in the 'Campaign Info' tab.

Dyfrig says that he'd never been to the stronghold, only the camp in which you found him, and wanders back to his vegetable patch.

Sinon, on the other hand, did spend time in the stronghold.

"Lessee... If you head directly south-west from here, you will eventually - after mebbe 50 miles or so - reach a lake, called Tuskwater. The stronghold is on this side of the lake, beside where the Thorn River opens into it. Most of the crew are out and about, the Stag Lord keeps about three of the leader-types and around six or seven ordinary fellas to do the heavy lifting.

"The place itself is squarish, with a pallisade around the outside and a single gate. It's maybe 15 feet high, and the ground outside has been cleared so as you can't creep up on it. Inside, there's a dirt yard and three watchtowers, and a ramshackle central tower that is the only stone structure there. It has 2 floors plus a cellar."

Unless you have a real passion for the finer points of Pharasma ceremonial, we'll fast-forward to the end of the service...

Once the ritual is complete and the last note has died away, you are ushered in to see the Bishop, who is divesting himself of the complex ceremonial vestments used for high festivals with the aid of a young man, who is draping the garments over a tailor's dummy in a corner of the Bishop's study.

He turns at your entry, annoyed at the disturbance... until he sees who it is.

"Ah, how pleasant to see you again. No daggers that turn into snakes I trust this time? Eternal peace be with you...". The last stole removed, he dons a plain rusty black gown and sits behind his desk. (Which conveniently bears a brass nameplate - 'Bishop Keppira d'Bear' - just in case you've forgotten his name!)

"Can I get you anything? Me, a glass of goat milk and some cookies go down a treat after a festal service." He gestures towards his attendant, who asks if he can fetch you any refreshments before bolting off to attend to the Bishop's needs.

"Much as it is a pleasure to see you, Deacon Phillida tells me that you have a delicate matter to discuss. How may I, or the Church, assist you?"

"All the priests are engaged in the festival service right now, but if you do not wish to join us in worship you may wait in an antechamber until the service is over and consult with one then. Is there anyone you have in mind - I shall let them know as soon as possible that they are needed - or will any priesthood holder do?" says the acolyte, stepping back to allow you to enter.

The porch is full of cloaks, exuding an air of dampness. Two young boys are sweeping up the last of the mud that's been tracked in by late arrivals.

On poison use, it might be said that doctoring someone's food or drink and taking them unawares is a bit dodgy, but putting it on blade or arrow certainly is not.

Samlor listens to what Lothar has to say.

"For myself, I believe in self-determination and hard work; each individual being responsible for himself and yet keeping an eye out for those who are struggling, for it is the duty of those who prosper to aid those who find difficulty. The self-serving have no place, however, for whilst each must stand by his own efforts, those efforts must not be to the detriment of others. Tnus in trading, I seek deals which are fair to all, and leave all parties satisfied with the result, with their coin or goods as appropriate. In taking on the care of young Seth it is the same, his good is paramount. I had hoped for someone who might grow into a valuable assistant and perhaps successor, but while - as I said before - he works hard and cheerfully at any task he is given, that essential spark of commerce is not there. I would not force him to remain in trade if that is not his true path..."

He paused for a sip of ale.

"I shall certainly keep my eyes and ears open in my travels, although I fear that there are many of the self-important 'nobles' who show nothing but distain for those who labour with hand and mind to make their place in the world... they don't tend to confide in what they'd term a 'mere trader' as they presume to impose on others."

The Cathedral is a welcome blaze of light, it appears that the place is full of worshippers, and as you approach choral music can be heard. A notice on the door proclaims a festival celebrating the lives of those who have passed on during the year and inviting everybody who has lost someone this last twelvemonth to come and join the throng.

A black-and-silver robed woman stands at the door.

"Welcome, friends... we have only just begun, do come in. Is there anyone in particular that you wish to remember with us today?"

Great scott! You are more organised than I am...

This stark room contains a low stone bench against the north wall and a ruined desk to the west that sits under three narrow, barred windows. An old brass brazier lies on its side to the south, surrounded by several rusty branding irons.

The drink served with dinner is mostly Sinon's ale, although Oleg has a couple of bottles of wine and Samlor's caravan brought some fresh oranges for those who prefer non-alcoholic beveridges. The moonradish mash is akin to mashed potatoes, done with cream and very tasty. Meat-eaters find it convenient to mop up the gravy as well :)

Durok himself seems aware of his changed state, and appears to be admiring as much as he can see... stretching out his legs in turn, and swishing his tail. His eyes too seem brighter and more wise as he gazes back at Gorguk.

Samlor has a quiet word with Lothar. Certainly while they are here, Seth may exercise with the magician for as long as he is not a nuisance, but if he shows promise, might Lothar be interested in taking him on as an apprentice? While a model of diligence, hard-working, cheerful and obedient, it is becoming clear to Samlor that the boy is not particularly interested in commerce, so if he would prefer another path and have a willing master, Samlor would feel that his duties to the boy's orphanage discharged...

Trinia looks somewhat startled and flustered as what is going on in Ashe's head penetrates her concern at her own situation. Which beflustered state has the expected effect on poor Ashe's composure...

The wall surrounding Grey and the looming cathedral soon come into sight.

Meanwhile, Una and Chatterbeak come through the streets by other routes towards the same place. (Not sure what Majenko's doing...?)

And at this point, a tremendous downpour begins. This has the useful effect of clearing the streets of all but the most dedicated rioters... heck, even the Hellknights are having second thoughts!.... but is none too pleasant for you on foot let along on the wing!

Merry Christmas to all... I'll bob in tomorrow after church.

Merry Christmas to all... I'll bob in tomorrow after church.

Oh, and I see no reason why using poison on an enemy is any more evil than sticking a sword into him, firing arrows at him or any other form of dealing out damage.

Merry Christmas to all... I'll bob in tomorrow after church.

The youth says his name is Seth, and that he is an orphan who has been entrusted to Samlor as an apprentice. He will, of course, ask his master's permission to study with Lothar... but would really like to do so. He scampers off.

Calinder, Samlor can provide you with parchment aplenty, but has no ink beyond common black... not really the calibre needed for magical work. He will attempt to get some next time he sees a suitable outlet, or even a magician who may have some to spare.

Rhasadilara, Oleg is content to put the traps in store, to sell on to any trappers who may require them. "Most trappers hereabouts know how to use them properly," he says, "And if I hear that any does not, his business is no longer welcome here now that some measure of law is being applied to the land."

Gorguk, Samlor is happy with what you say, and will bring Father Ralu or another priest if possible.

That night, Svetland and Dyfrig produce a mighty feast. Roast pigmeat, moonradish mash, baked potatoes and carrots with an onion gravy, followed by berry pies and a cake.

All is quiet, although it seems that the wind is getting up a bit outside.

The door does not appear to be locked... hoever Dillon's keen senses detect a lingering odour of burning meat.

"Thank you," says Dion, looking a bit surprised. "I'm sure some of the youngsters hereabouts will welcome some pies and pastries... and whenever you wish to come and 'run with us, you will be welcome. Nice bird. Is he yours?"

Merry Christmas to all at Paizo from RPG Resource!

Hmmmm....

DM begins to ponder the possibilities... :)

Sorry, been running around like a scalded earwig. I've revised the map a bit to make it clearer - does this answer your questions?

Where now, dear hearts?

A youngster, horse-boy in Samlor's caravan, has also crept out and watches wide-eyed as Lothar practices.

"Wow," he says when you are done. "How long did it take to learn that? Would you teach me? Please..."

Gorguk, Samlor is content to bear your letters. No charge for the Swordlord one, and if you will pay 1sp he will guarantee to place Father Ralu's letter in the priest's very hands. He'd also like your assurance that should the Stolen Lands be opened to settlement, the Guardians would take a favourable view of his application to become official mail-carrier!

Rhasadilara, Sunset looks straight at you... and winks! You've never, ever seen a horse do that before.

Trinia listens wide-eyed to Ashe's story.

"That would make a wonderful painting..." she breathes.

"And in the meantime, if it would set your mind to rest as to my complete innocence, I am willing to attend on the priests and submit to their ritual."

DM says: Nice tale, Ashe!

The interviews are both in January, everyone is shutting down for Christmas now. Thank you all for the good wishes (and don't worry, I'll continue to DM you!), I trust in the Heavenly Father that when the right job comes along I'll get hired :)

(Calinder knows what I mean...)

Samlor Hil-Sampt has contacts all over Golarion, so if a shinobi shozoku is to be had, he'll be able to track one down.

What do you have in mind for Durok, Gorguk? A more intelligent gleam to his eye, perhaps? Improved build? As you say, his stats won't change until later, but he may show signs of improvement as you work with him.

The rooftop race ends in a dead heat. Dion is impressed with Una's skills.

Meanwhile, the young Hellknight attempts some freerunning of his own out of Trinia's apartment window... and realises (briefly) that a suit of plate is not ideal attire. Briefly, because he soon impacts the ground, from three stories up, with a resounding *SPLAT!* and, none of the assembled crowd being too keen on wasting healing on a Hellknight, he is soon on parade before his Maker.

The Korvosan Guards, realising that they are not cut out for successful careers as freerunners, content themselves with arresting everyone present instead.

And the bunch of you in the Heights are free to go on their way unmolested. Where do you all want to go?

Lothar, your order is here and complete - Samlor Hil-Sampt seeks you out personally to hand over the items. (And thanks for the list - saved me the trouble of going back pages and pages to find out what you wanted!)

Gorguk, you are able to lurk and listen... except then Oleg spots you and calls you over to join in the conversation!

Samlor does bear a letter from the Swordlords, who thank you for your efforts so far in claiming and pacifying this area for them, and authorising you to continue in your efforts. They are pretty vague about just what you may do, and gloss over any justification for their own claims in the matter!

The interview is for January, and another invitation came by e-mail yesterday whilst I was out... one of dearly beloved's clients lost all connectivity, and as he's in the distribution business this set him in a bit of a panic. So I took him over there (he doesn't drive) & we sorted it out. Paid for Christmas dinner! But kept me from coming online.

The caravan master is a lean, balding human dressed in serviceable dun clothing with a large knife at his belt. He spots Rhasadilara, and waves in a friendly manner but does not pause in his progress towards Oleg's.

Behind him, there are half-a-dozen mounted men, 20 pack mules and two stout wagons. As you can imagine, the compound is pretty busy (and noisy!) once that lot is inside.

Oleg comes out to greet them, and soon introductions are made. The caravan master is called Samlor Hil-Sampt... and yes, he does have some items for you...

sorry - completely lost track as Burton & South Derbyshire College just rang to ask me to a job interview!!!

One Guardsman tugs at his sergeant's sleeve and points up at Una.

Dion and Una treat anyone looking up to a masterly display of the art of freerunning. Indeed, there are some cries from below, and a brief glance downwards shows all but one of the Korvosan Guard looking up. The holdout is the sergeant, who wants them to keep moving instead of staring at the local sport.

The rest of you head off down Shakhan's alleyway, which does indeed reek in an eyewatering way. (Mediaeval dye works made extensive use of such as ammonia, a common source being urine...) Unsurprisingly, apart from a couple of folks with a cart of material to be dyed and another fellow with a big barrel, the contents of which you really, really do not wish to investigate, you see nobody, and the Heights soon come into view.

Chatterbeak can see that the Hellknights have trashed Trinia's rooms, and are peering out over the rooftops. An urchin calls out that there's a good race going on, a fresh girl is giving Dion a run for his money. The youngest Hellknight is climbing out the window gingerly, he looks scared.

Majenko can see all of the above, as he's flying a bit higher. He can also see the mob, which is standing outside the front of the tenement building, and who are trying to get inside in the wake of the Hellknights. The other residents are objecting, and a brawl seems imminent.

The passageway continues around, looks like it links up around the chamber designated S7, with a couple of doors on the opposite side.

Oleg listens to your requests, Gorguk.

"Might you be interested in setting up a forge here?" he enquires. "With your group working at taming the area, I expect we will have more people through - whatever I may think of the peace and quiet! - so it would make sense to attract crafters of all sorts. Sinon seems settled now, intending to establish a permanent brew-house, and a smithy would be useful as well."

Then his attention is caught by something in the distance, behind you.

"Ah. Horsemen and wagons... that must be the caravan. Hopefully they will have the things that you and your friends ordered previously. I must warn Svetlana that there will be extra mouths to feed. Perhaps your Dyfrig can be prevailed upon to help..."

It is a handaxe.

I'd been meaning to say, "Go level up" when people started saying they'd be off a bit doing Christmas stuff... something to amuse those who wanted to do something gaming-related :)

(Never quite understood why gamers vanish at Christmas, there you are with a time-consuming hobby and we all get time off at the same time... and don't put it to use playing! Still, even church has announced its just the Sacrament and some carol-singing next week, not the full 3-hour session. So even they want to go home and hole up.)

Er, yes it does - think I clipped it a bit close, sorry.

Shakhan, you recall a twisting passageway that leads more or less directly in the direction of the Heights. As it goes by a dyeworks, it is not very popular with the locals... even they find it a bit smelly!

Ashe, Trinia is clinging quite tightly to your hand.

Una, Dion looks somewhat taken aback.

"You need not take that tone, I asked you if you'd care to race. If you have your own objectives in doing so, that's fine by me." He takes off in the direction you indicated.

Dion's checks: Climb 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (11) + 10 = 21, Acrobatics 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (7) + 23 = 30

If you are following, could you make Climb and Acrobatics checks too, please.

Ah, got it. Thought I'd looked in the right places in my copy but somehow managed to miss it!

Yes, you may take it.

Meanwhile, go enjoy your gaudy freerunner... put him in especially for you :)