DM Barcas - Skull & Shackles: Freedom of the Sea (Inactive)

Game Master Isaac Duplechain

Barcas - where do I need to be to attack a tentacle? Do I have to be adjacent to the makaru?

You can only attack a tentacle directly if it is busy grappling someone. So you would need to be adjacent to John.

Got it, will work on a post soon.

Makaru Battle, Round 3, Initiative 12
HP 5/22 | AC:17 F:15 T:13 | Saves F:+3 R:+8 W:+3

MA: tumble to T4 (leaving two threatened squares)
SA: attack with dagger

Acrobatics vs CMD 24: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (10) + 10 = 20 Fail
Acrobatics vs CMD 24: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24 Succeed
AoO for failed Acro roll: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16 Miss. Phew!
Dagger attack, flanking: 1d20 + 7 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 7 + 2 = 22 Hit!
Dagger damage (sneak attack): 1d3 + 2d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + (6, 2) + 1 = 12

Doran is startled at first when the makaru releases him, and badly wounded enough that he considers fleeing for his life, but he knows his friends are depending on him. He grits his teeth and splashes through the water, hoping to get close to the monstrous beast and strike it while his crewmates have it distracted.

The water and his wounds combine to make him clumsy at first, and a massive tentacle swings at his head, but he ducks just in time to avoid it. A surge of adrenaline helps him to find his feet, and he nimbly dives into the shallows by the creature’s side, coming out of the water with a knife in each hand. His surge through the water brings him to his feet and he focuses on the thing’s rubbery hide. He strikes fiercely where one of the tentacles joins the body, figuring it must be a vulnerable spot, cutting deep into its flesh.

Barcas – if it’s possible to strike at a tentacle here, where I’m adjacent to the makaru, I’d like to. If not, just call it an attack on the thing’s body.

Resistance Is Futile | Round 3 Initiative 9
24/24 hp (24/24 nonlethal) AC 12 T 11 FF 11 CMD 14 | F +4 R +3 W +3
Move Action: Run to M12 (diagonal to I12 then across to M12)
Standard Action: Move action to reload the light crossbow

Vrunyar knows his companions are in precarious positions, especially those held by the writing tentacles of this beast from the depths of the ocean. Where else could it be from except some watery hell? He runs through the water to get into a better position for an axe attack, hoping he can get one more bolt fired before bringing out his battleaxe. Plus I’ll be close by if Thorn, Wyn, or John needs an extract, he thinks.

"The tentacle," Aaron calls out, at the same time reloading his crossbow and taking aim at the creature's tentacle holding John. "Cut it off, quickly!"

"Release the man, hurt the beast," he mutters softly, almost absentmindedly, to himself as he lets loose another bolt, the small projectile flying unerringly and embedding itself deep into the creature's flesh, right where the tentacle meets the main body, and inflicting a deep wound through skin and muscle and nerve. "Two birds with one stone and all that..."

Resistance Is Futile | Round 3, Initiative 8A

Hit Points 14/28
AC 18/FF 14/T 14, CMD 18
Fort +6/Ref +6/Will +2; +2 vs. disease, divination and mind-affecting effects
Effects: Freebooter's Bane (+1 on attack and damage rolls)

Move Action: Load light crossbow.
Standard Action: Shoot at the tentacle holding John.

Ranged attack (light crossbow): 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 2 + 1 - 2 = 12

Using 1 Hero Point to reroll.

Ranged attack (light crossbow): 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 2 + 1 - 2 = 27 [Critical Threat]
Damage (piercing): 1d8 + 2 + 1 - 5 ⇒ (8) + 2 + 1 - 5 = 6
Ranged attack (light crossbow): 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 1 - 2 ⇒ (19) + 6 + 2 + 1 - 2 = 26 [Critical Hit Confirmation Roll]
Damage (piercing): 1d8 + 2 + 1 - 5 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 1 - 5 = 5

Woohoo! :-)

By the way, I do not usually use up Hero Points that quickly, but with John at 2 hit points and Doran at 5, methinks I should make each round count.

The DR only applies once, so that crossbow shot destroyed the tentacle with 16 damage. The makaru takes 2d8 ⇒ (1, 4) = 5 damage and John is no longer grappled.

The crossbow bolt slams into the makaru, apparently hitting some sensitive spot. The tentacle that grasps John begins to flail wildly and quickly goes limp. Blood and ichor ooze from the wound as John frees himself from the suddenly-still tentacle.

Makaru: hp 47/84; AC 19/10T/17; CMD 24 (can’t be tripped); +8F/+5R/+9W; DR 5/slashing, vulnerable to electricity

Vrunyar is about to yell out to John that he has an healing extract for him, when he thinks that might be a mistake. We really need a phrase in combat so the enemy won’t understand what we’re saying when it comes to healing.

Great shot Aaron!

Resistance Is Futile | Round 3, Initiative 8B
HP 25/25 | AC:17 T:15 F:12 | CMD 22 | Save F:+6 R:+4 W:+0

Raging round 5 of 6, add +4 to Strength

MA:Pick up elven curve sword
FA:Five foot step into Q-8
SA:Attack Makaru with Elven Curve Blade + FBB

ECB vs Makaru AC 19: 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 7 + 1 = 10

Thorn feels the grip loosen from around his body slightly as he fell back into the water along with the tentacle. John had severed the tentacle from the Makaru's body providing Thorn the ability to free himself. Thorn roared with anger as he threw his arms outward to uncoil the tentacle from around his body with sheer force. The rage still filled to the brim and at the tipping point causes Thorn to act in haste before recalculating the scenario. "Damn you Makaru, I will kill you! Thorn drops to a knee to grab his sword from beneath the water's surface. Gripping the sword firmly with both hands, Thorn forces himself up to a stand and steps closer to the Makaru ready to strike. Thorn having the sword raised high above his head and ready to deliver justice when suddenly a jolt of pain tightens in his abdominal muscles. The muscles begin cramping and locking up on him causing Thorn to release his two handed grip of the sword. The sword blade begins to fall crashing back into the water to his right side. Thorn is able to maintain hold of his weapon with his right hand but just barley as he doubles over in pain. Thorn quickly returns to one knee to allow the pain to pass.

Resistance Is Futile | Round 3, Initiative 7
HP: 20/20| AC: 12 F 11 T 11 | CMD 13 | Save: F:+5 R:+2 W:+4
Shaken Condition: Attack rolls, Saves, Skill and Ability checks all at -2
MA: 5 step to L7
SA: Jolt against Makaru

'Bit of Luck' on Ollivor - Ollivor's next d20 roll, roll twice and take better result

He backs up away from Crimson, "Electricity? Thanks Quinn, but if you could just keep our friend here off me maybe I can close up and do something about it."

While hating to waste the bit of luck, Ollivor can't close on the thing without getting seized by a tentacle or clobbered by Cog, so after his move he flings a jolt spell at the monster hoping it hits.

Ranged Touch with Shaken and Freebooter's bane counted in 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Second roll to hit, take which is better 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (18) + 1 = 19

Dmg, Freebooter's bane and bloodline bonus included : 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4
Not sure how much extra dmg vulnerability will make that

Thanks to divine guidance, the bit of lightning flies and strikes the abomination, and while it starts out a spark, it cascades over the hideous form as if it were a far more powerful spell than it is.

"I hope that hurt, you bastard!"

Vulnerability usually adds +50% to the damage, so your 4 becomes a mighty 6!

6 hp sounds good for a 0 level cantrip :)
Go get 'im, John!

Resistance Is Futile | Round 3, Initiative 5
HP 2/29 | AC:17 F:11 T:16 | CMD 18 | Save F:+6 R:+4 W:+3

Will save vs. hold person (DC16) 1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 3 + 1 = 13 FAIL!

Fighting for his life as the purple tentacle that was covered in black veined sucker pods wrapped around him, John howled in pain. Between the constricting grasp on the fleshy limb of the unnatural creature that was wrapped around his neck choking him and the repeated bone shattering strikes to his midsection, every nerve in John's body felt like it was on fire. Hanging on for dear life as the first tentacle held him in place, John could feel the impact of Aaron's crossbow bolt as it slammed into the Makaru's tentacle with pinpoint accuracy.

Falling into the water, John felt a second attack, this one directed at his mind begin to worm it's way past the hard-bitten marines defenses. It whispered to John, it pulled on the memories of grief and loneliness and it tugged on the feelings of solitude and helplessness that John had felt, trapped aboard the Wormwood. John had done things that he was not proud of and it was by the will of the Makaru that it plunged into these feelings, heightening them, strengthen them. Something inside of John screamed out against the memories. He had conquered them. The loss of his leg. The death of his friend. The abandonment of his wife and child. But had he? The voice cooed to him with sibilant whispers, heightening the shadows, drawing back the hope. John felt frozen. He couldn't move.

Dropping into the water, John felt the water around his chest and then his neck. GIVE UP.. GIVE IN! The alien voice whispered to him, filling him with doubt and remorse. John sank lower in the water. LET THIS LIFE GO.

Wordlessly, John slipped below the water in the shadows of the submerged cavern.

Resistance is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 19

Makaru | hp 41/84; AC 19/10T/17; CMD 24 (can’t be tripped);
+8F/+5R/+9W; DR 5/slashing, vulnerable to electricity

FRA: Full attack
Tentacle #2 vs. Doran (AC 17) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17
> Damage 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 - 10 damage to Doran
Tentacle #4 vs. Wyn (AC 14) 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (9) + 9 = 18
> Damage 1d8 + 4 ⇒ (6) + 4 = 10 - 10 damage to Wyn
>> Improved Grab vs. Wyn (CMD 20) 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18

Bleeding and telepathically raging at the interlopers, the makaru flies into a frenzy. It whips around its tentacles, throwing them in each direction - all the while as its smaller feeler tentacles writhe in agony. Its mental assault pulses in their heads, into their minds. The first tentacle slams into Doran, hitting him in the temple and dropping him into the water. The second hammers down upon Wyn and tries to wrap her up in its death grip. Barely conscious, she pushes back with every bit of strength that she has. Her skill at slipping away from the grasp of every slimy sailor at the bar gives her the mental discipline to prevent its wrapping around her entirely, and she quickly gets free as the tentacle tightens onto nothing.

INITIATIVE
19 Makaru
16 Wynifrid
15 Crimson
13 Sandara
12 Doran
9 Vrunyar
8A Aaron
8B Thorn
7 Ollivor
5 John

Crimson: hp 14/22; AC 14/14T/10FF; CMD 18; +5F/+6R/-1W
Sandara: hp 21/21; AC 11/11T/10FF; CMD 14; +4F/+2R/+5W

Map! Wyn is up.

Resistance is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 16
HP -1/27 (unconscious, dying) | AC:14 F:12 T:12 | CMD 17 (18 t,st; 20 di, gr, 21 dt) | Save F:+5 R:+4 W:+0 | Init:+4 Perc:+6]

SA: Unarmed strike vs. Makaru

Attack, flanking with Doran: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 5 + 2 = 9
Thank you Paizo die roller, for your unerring consistency. I was hoping for a last ditch effort at damaging it, oh well. I should have just stayed still so Doran might get his flank with me--but I couldn't even go full defense without making her fall unconscious, as that takes a standard action.

Bleeding from nose and mouth and wracked with pain, Wyn can barely stand. Seeing John sink into the water, retreat seems a cowardly, disloyal, and fruitless option.

Yelling a wordless cry that is as much pain as it is rage, she slams her entire body into the Makaru---but hits only barnacle-covered hide. She slides off it doing no harm. Her own injuries overtaking her, she passes out, falling into the water with a mighty splash.

I make my checks to stablize starting next turn.

Resistance is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 15

Crimson | hp 14/22; AC 12/12T/8FF; CMD 16; +5F/+6R/-1W
FRA: Charge - Unarmed vs. Vrunyar (AC 12) 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
> Damage 1d6 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 - 8 damage to Vrunyar

Crimson rushes towards Vrunyar, deftly splashing through the water as he makes his rapid approach. Vrunyar looks up as he reloads his arrow just in time to see Crimson's boot slam into his chest, cracking a bone and knocking the wind out of him. Most men would be knocked down by the powerful kick, but Vrunyar keeps his steady footing. Crimson bounces backwards, trying to regain his footing.

Resistance is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 13

Sandara | hp 21/21; AC 11/11T/10FF; CMD 14; +4F/+2R/+5W
MA: 20' to N5
SA: Channel Energy (exclude Crimson, makaru) 2d6 ⇒ (3, 6) = 9 - Ollivor, Wyn, Thorn, John, Doran, and Vrunyar heal 9 hit points

"Hey, ugly!" Sandara and her magical double wade through the water into the range of the makaru's flailing tentacles. "They came here to rescue us - and now they're looking for revenge!" She unleashed another exquisitely painful bout of healing. It hits the sailors - two of whom who had been knocked unconscious by the creature's powerful tentacles - like a wave of emotion: joy and hate, desire and revenge, all the perils and experiences of humanoid experience. "You want my brain? Come and get it!" Sandara goads the makaru as best she can, trying to draw its attention to her - even though she has no defenses beyond her mirror image.

Makaru: hp 41/84; AC 19/10T/17FF; CMD 24 (can’t be tripped); +8F/+5R/+9W; DR 5/slashing, vulnerable to electricity
Wynifrid: hp 8/27; AC 10/8T/8FF; CMD 13*; +5F/+4R/+0W; prone

INITIATIVE
19 Makaru
16 Wynifrid
15 Crimson
13 Sandara
12 Doran
9 Vrunyar
8A Aaron
8B Thorn
7 Ollivor
5 John

Map link! No one has any of the makaru's mental influence (except for John, who is continuing to be paralyzed and will drown in two rounds if he is not helped), so everyone can go in any order this round.

Edited to correct hit points.

Noticing John under water, Aaron takes but a moment to chase the thought of running to his aid out of his mind. The other man is too far away for him to reach, not to mention that the creature's tentacles would find a chance to strike at him if he did so. "No," he says softly to himself, as if answering his own dilemma, and once more shoots at the large aberration, his bolt finding its target yet again. He would have to trust in the others to get John to safety in time.

Resistance Is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 8A

Hit Points 14/28
AC 18/FF 14/T 14, CMD 18
Fort +6/Ref +6/Will +2; +2 vs. disease, divination and mind-affecting effects
Effects: Freebooter's Bane (+1 on attack and damage rolls)

Move Action: Load light crossbow.
Standard Action: Shoot at the makaru.

Ranged attack (light crossbow): 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 6 + 2 + 1 = 29 [Critical Threat]
Damage (piercing): 1d8 + 2 + 1 - 5 ⇒ (7) + 2 + 1 - 5 = 5
Ranged attack (light crossbow): 1d20 + 6 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 6 + 2 + 1 = 16 [Critical Hit Confirmation Roll]
Damage (piercing): 1d8 + 2 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 2 + 1 = 4

Resistance is Futile, Round 4, Initiative 12
HP 4/22 | AC:19 F:15 T:16 | Saves F:+3 R:+8 W:+3

MA: Stand up, attempt to avoid AoO
SA: Attack with dagger, fighting defensively
SA: Use a Hero Point to get another standard action and attack again, fighting defensively

Acrobatics to avoid AoO: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11 Fail!
AoO vs AC19: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (7) + 9 = 16 Miss!

Dagger attack, Flanking, Fighting defensively: 1d20 + 7 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (19) + 7 + 2 - 4 = 24 Critical threat!
Dagger damage (sneak attack): 1d3 + 2d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + (8, 5) + 1 = 17
Crit confirm, Flanking, Fighting defensively: 1d20 + 7 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (17) + 7 + 2 - 4 = 22 Crit confirmed!
Crit damage: 1d3 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3 20 hp damage to makaru.

Dagger attack, Flanking, Fighting defensively: 1d20 + 7 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (19) + 7 + 2 - 4 = 24 Critical threat!
Dagger damage (sneak attack): 1d3 + 2d8 + 1 ⇒ (1) + (4, 7) + 1 = 13 13 hp damage to makaru
Crit confirm, Flanking, Fighting defensively: 1d20 + 7 + 2 - 4 ⇒ (3) + 7 + 2 - 4 = 8 Not confirmed.

Total of 33 hp of slashing damage to makaru.

The last thing Doran remembers is a massive, looming tentacle, seen just out of the corner of his eye and moving impossibly fast. Now, somehow, he has awakened underwater. Instinct keeps him from drawing the deep breath he needs, and instinct causes him to duck clumsily when he raises his head above the water's surface and sees how close he is to the makaru. Fortunately, the creature's attention is focused on larger targets, and its swipe at him misses, though not by much.

He stands, his small form a bit wobbly and dripping wet but intent on putting an end to the tentacled horror that plays with minds for its own enjoyment, enslaving people more deeply than any Chell ever dreamed of. He raises his arms out to the side, waits a moment poised on the balls of his feet, then slashes hard with both daggers at the tender underside of the creature exposed as its great limbs flail about, both blades striking deep.

Resistance Is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 7
HP: 20/20| AC: 12 F 11 T 11 | CMD 13 | Save: F:+5 R:+2 W:+4
Shaken Condition: Attack rolls, Saves, Skill and Ability checks all at -2
MA: Move to L5
SA: Jolt against Makaru

Not wanting to engage Crimson, Ollivor races away from him while flinging a desperate jolt of energy once more at the now heavily wounded Makaru. In truth, if he had time to think about it, he'd be utterly amazed at just how fierce Doran was there. Each of the crew, in its own way, had known desperation at one time or another, but it seemed the halfling had tapped into it and used it to guide every stroke with clarity and strength.

Shaken and F Bane counted in to hit, Ranged Touch: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

Dmg (Bane and Bloodline counted in) if that hits: 1d3 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5

Unfortunately, Ollivor's burst goes too wide, flying to the side of the immense abomination.

Resistance Is Futile | Round 4, Initiative 8B
HP 25/25 | AC:17 T:15 F:12 | CMD 22 | Save F:+6 R:+4 W:+0

Raging round 6 of 6, add +4 to Strength
Use a hero point for +8 luck to hit

MA:Surprise accuracy +1 to hit
SA:Attack the Makaru

ECB w/ Luck, SA and FBB vs AC 19: 1d20 + 7 + 8 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 7 + 8 + 1 + 1 = 20Hit
Damage: 1d10 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 1 = 12

While still on one knee and water up to his chest, Thorn tries to take shallow breaths to avoid the pain that follows from his rib cage expanding. The strain of maintaining all of his rage is wearing down on him as he can almost feel the fatigue overcome him. The sudden rush of a familiar warmth soothes the pain in his body once more. Thorn pray to Erastil "Erastil I call upon you to grant me the accuracy to find my mark and bless me with the luck to fulfill my task to vanquish this evil beast. Thorn regained a two handed grip and fond the slash he made earlier targeting in on the mark before uncoiling like a spring. "DIE MONSTER! Time to go back to the depths from which you came." Rising up from the water like a geyser using the remaining rage harnessed in his body his blade slashed deep through its previous mark but digging deeper than before. Thorn twisted in the air with the momentum he generated and landed on his feet now facing away from the Makaru. Thorn knew he had scored a fatal wound and their task was now complete.

Thorn yelled out as he scanned the cave "IS EVERYONE OK"

The dying makaru unleashes a psychic scream that washes over the crew, doubling them over in mental anguish. They see visions and touch knowledge that they should know. Deep in the ocean, they know that something ancient and evil stirs from a slumber. As the psychic tendrils seep into their minds, they know that the slain makaru is just one of countless sharing a single mind of overwhelming power - and that it's taken a greater interest in humanity since the one of them fought off its incutilis puppets for several years. The neural pathways burn, releasing knowledge and skills into their minds from a thousand thousand slaves under the water. The visions and pain seem to last hours - but it is over in just a moment.

You can level up to level 4 now. If anyone wants to learn a new language, the learning period is waived.

As the psychic trauma subsides, the makaru thrashes and writhes as it dies. The still-standing members of the crew pull up their injured comrades out of the water. John's paralysis and Crimson's mental domination end - as seen when Crimson pulls John out of the water. The pirate sputters his apologies to the others, begging for forgiveness for his weak will.

Suddenly, a splash echoes through the caves - then another, and another, and several more. Looking around in horror, the crew sees that the incutilis clinging to the walls have awoken and are falling all around them. Those that hit the water slowly start to move their tentacles and tendrils as they acclimate to the water - but if the crew doesn't get out of the cavern, they'll be buried amidst thousands of the creatures within moments. Sandara looks around at the others who have risked so much to rescue her and shouts, "Run!!"

Sandara's single word is enough to snap Doran out of his shocked state, stunned as he is by his own survival and the psychic explosion following the makaru's death. Blades still in hand, he rushes toward the exit, dodging falling incutilis shells as he goes, slashing through a knot of tentacles that unfurl and reach for him, knowing that if even one of them connects in his weakened state, he'll never leave this cavern.

The dying makaru unleashes a psychic scream that washes over the crew, doubling them over in mental anguish. They see visions and touch knowledge that they should know. Deep in the ocean, they know that something ancient and evil stirs from a slumber. As the psychic tendrils seep into their minds, they know that the slain makaru is just one of countless sharing a single mind of overwhelming power - and that it's taken a greater interest in humanity since the one of them fought off its incutilis puppets for several years. The neural pathways burn, releasing knowledge and skills into their minds from a thousand thousand slaves under the water. The visions and pain seem to last hours - but it is over in just a moment.

The rush a hundred minds slams into Ollivor's psyche, threatening to bury him in a million dreams that are not his own. Yet where his mind would be easy prey, something in his blood... resists? And the memories that are stirred are anything but human, and certainly not his own.

He opened his maw and clamped down on the Wyvern's neck with fangs that put the pretender dragonling's to shame. Wyvern blood gushed in dark rivlets across the bronzed cheeks of the dragon. Herkantar shook the throat once, twice more, and then released the downed Wyvern before roaring a challenge to the rest of them, "Tell your master I am coming for him! Tell the Wyvern Wizard that swarms of his pets will not be enough to down me! My mate will be avenged and I shall bring Justice to these islands!"

And then, Herkantar opened his mouth again, and released the storm! Streams of lightning scorched the sides of the departing Wyverns that even now turned to flee. Few would make it, but a few would, and their master would know. He would know a Bronze was coming to him, and that the island fortress would be no haven from the justice of a stormbreath!

Ollivor gasps, surprised to find himself in a caves What ...what was that? Gods, I feel stronger somehow...what the hell is the Wyvern Wizard anyway?

The still-standing members of the crew pull up their injured comrades out of the water. John's paralysis and Crimson's mental domination end - as seen when Crimson pulls John out of the water. The pirate sputters his apologies to the others, begging for forgiveness for his weak will.

"Just fight as well on your own accord when we face Plugg and his lot, and all's forgiven I think, mate."

Suddenly, a splash echoes through the caves - then another, and another, and several more. Looking around in horror, the crew sees that the incutilis clinging to the walls have awoken and are falling all around them. Those that hit the water slowly start to move their tentacles and tendrils as they acclimate to the water - but if the crew doesn't get out of the cavern, they'll be buried amidst thousands of the creatures within moments. Sandara looks around at the others who have risked so much to rescue her and shouts, "Run!!"

"Don't bloody well have to tell me twice," Grabbing onto any of their party who doesn't seem strong enough to make it without help, Ollivor runs and then swims for his and whoever's life.

Despite being naturally resistant to a number of effects that assault the mind, Aaron still falters as a multitude of visions and memories almost overwhelm him. Managing to keep his wits about him, albeit barely, the pale man heeds the previously enslaved woman's urgent warning and does exactly that; he runs, just as a veritable rain of the smaller aberrations starts falling down all around them, threatening to bury them if they do anything else other than hurry to get out of the cavern.

A pair of hands, not his own. A pair of curved swords, not his own.

"Wh... What?" The single word, a question, is muttered ever so softly, his momentary lapse in focusing on what is happening almost causing him his balance and, consequently, perhaps even his life.

A swordsman's dance, the movements fast and fluid and graceful. Not unlike his own, yet different. The swords, the same curved swords as a moment ago, flash in front of his eyes, parrying and piercing, deflecting and slashing. Elegant, yet deadly.

He affords his own matching short swords a look as he keeps on running. Undeniably well-crafted, they now appear lacking in his eyes. Shaking his head, he tries to chase the images away, to focus once again in the here and now.

The opponent, clad in his exotic heavy armor, looks like a snarling demon, though he is but a man wearing a helmet forged in the likeness of a monster. He holds a curved sword of his own in both hands, his own movements powerful, if awkward in comparison to the one wielding the twin blades. Despite his armor, he is bleeding, his wounds many, but still he fights. He raises his sword. The twin blades cross, a shield against the heavier blade coming down...

And then the vision ends. And as it does so, Aaron can feel the fog in his mind lift, his thoughts and memories clearer than they have ever been in the years since he first found himself in this accursed island. There is still some of it left, of course; of the madness isolation can bring about. Even considering his long life, three years alone on an island and beset by nightmarish creatures and the animated bodies of his former crewmates have taken their toll. Still, with the makaru dead and its psychic backlash diminishing, he can feel like himself again. Certainly more himself than he has been in quite some time.

Clinging to one another, the crew dashes through the shallow water towards the tunnel that they arrived in. The water churns and thrashes with cephalopods that have fallen from the cavern's ceiling. They slash and stab their way through the incutilis swarm in the water, dodging their grabbing tentacles. Aaron makes it to the mouth of the cavern, looking back at the chaos behind him. Ollivor makes it through next, then Crimson and Sandara who half-carry John. Vrunyar and Doran follow Thorn through, and finally the badly-injured Wyn. With all of them present, they scramble to exit the flooded caverns.

The flight from the caverns is made far more difficult by the raising of the tide. Several of the passageways are completely flooded, forcing them to swim out. Every time they burst up for air and look behind them, the swarm of incutilis churns inexorably towards them. In their haste, each of them slams into sharp edges and coral of the cavern walls, coming out bleeding and bruised. A half-dozen times they fear that the incutilis will snatch them - but each time they push on in terror with a powerful desire to survive.

All but one of them.

As the crew flees in fear, desperate to survive, the former barmaid stops in a shallow tunnel after swimming through a narrow gap. "No more running," she whispers between panting gasps. "Go!" She turns before anyone can stop her, leaping into the oncoming storm of cephalopods. In the narrow tunnel, she slams her body into them and uses her fists to knock them back. They grab onto her, pulling her down. She shouts once more, "Go!" Wynifrid sacrifices herself to slow the swarm down, knowing that the others can escape if she gives herself to them. Truth be told, she has been wanting it for a while - and sacrificing herself to heroically save her friends is the way she wants to go. She allows them to latch onto her, giving the others valuable seconds.

The sailors continue to run and flee, knowing that her sacrifice would be in vain if they stopped to try the impossible and save her. It's clear from her words and actions that this was what she wanted. They swim and run and crawl onwards, given a brief respite from the incutilis. They emerge from the mouth of the cavern and climb onto the rough cliff side. One by one, they pull themselves up. Muscles burning and exhausted, they climb up towards safety. Half a minute later, more of the incutilis swarm out of the cavern's mouth, heading into the cove and towards the open sea. One by one, they climb over the edge of the cliff where they lay exhausted and pained.

"Wyn!!!" Ollivor cries out as she turns and leaps to give herself to the foe and buy them time. It's too late to help, too late to do anything but take the chance she's given them all and keep going, keep running, crawl if they have to and get to some ground where they might have even a moment to breathe.

When they find themselves on the rough cliff side, Ollivor lays there feeling very numb. The horror of the Makaru, the onslaught of memories, and now the death of a friend are almost too much to process at once. He lays there for a moment staring at an open sky. It's a sight he may never take for granted again.

Finally, he clears his throat, "Is everyone... everyone else, alright?"

"Gods be damned! Wyn! NOOOO!" screams Doran, slowing and turning, his teeth bared and his knives tightly clenched in his fists. He takes a step back towards the surging swarm of incutilis heads, moving to help Wyn, but even as he does so she disappears under them like a shore crab vanishing under an onrushing wave - though this wave will never wash peacefully back down the beach.

Faced with the horror of the onrushing mass of incutilis, Doran's instincts take over again, and he spins and takes off down the passage, though he runs with tears streaming down his face for their lost crewmate, for his clever student in the ways of quiet movement in the shadows, for his friend. The rest of the flight out of the cave and up the cliff is a blur of fear, pain and sadness, dimmed only slightly by the escape from the mind-controlling monsters as they fling themselves into the sea.

Doran throws himself on the ground, muttering "Wyn, Wyn, Wyn, dammit we almost all made it out..." He goes quiet, curled on his side and staring blankly, until Ollivor speaks up. "I'm alive," he says in response to Olli's question, "but all right? No."

In the Chamber of the Makaru

Pulled from the water with a gasp, John heaved in a breath of air. The cave was clammy, and a sickly green ooze was beginning to spread from the Makaru's corpse. John's head felt fuzzy and he clutched at it in pain. He remembered the feeling of deep hunger and mind-crushing otherworldly domination from the Makaru. In the blast of the beasts psychic deathscream, John had seen thousands upon thousands of such creature, as many as the incutilis that dotted the cavern walls, they hungered for the will of mankind.

He remembered his consciousness expanding somehow, through the sailor couldn't describe it. For just one brief moment he felt his friends and family. He could see Alima sitting in front of their family's hearth, knitting another poorly fitting shirt for John. He saw Farah playing with her friends beside a tidepool. He saw Lord Havershaw standing before an Andoran naval vessel in dry-dock. He saw all of his friends, his family and more, and somehow he knew that he was seeing them all at that very moment. And then, cruelly, it was ripped away from him.

Groaning in pain, John looked around, just as a splash from the nearby wall sounded. An incutilis had dropped from the wall. First one, then two and then more and more, falling like rain drops into the water with tiny splashes. Oh... Oh bloody, fething hells! John groaned before tiredly pushing his way through the waist high water to the exit of the cavern. Lets get the hell outta here!

Flight from the Cave-In

Adrenaline, thick and visceral flowed through John's veins as he pushed his way through the winding waterlogged tunnels with the swarming forms of the hundreds of shiney shelled incutilis's streaming behind it. It seemed as if there was never a break in their flight. The water had risen between the time that the press-ganged companions had entered the cave and now, the labored trudge against the tide while being relentlessly pursued showed the group the fears the John had harbored all along. Part of him had feared entering into these caves. John knew water, he knew the tides. The fact that the group had pressed ahead could have not been avoided, but now he worried that the group would pay the price for their eagerness. At the head of the line leading the escape, John glanced back. He heard Wyn commit herself to her last stand. He heard her call out "No more running!" as she gasped for air through labored lungs. John gritted his teeth, he knew what was coming next. As a marine he had been taught to leave no man behind. It galled him to leave her. But she was making a choice, her choice, and John would be no worse than the incutilis's if he tried to deny her the chance to choose her fate.

Glancing towards Wyn, face hard John raised his axe, the light from the blade casting shadows on the narrow cavern walls. Ever Strong! He roared out in salute to the woman. They had had their differences in the past, that was the truth of it, but John knew what Wyn was doing and why she was doing it. Everyone died eventually. Iakob had died by the blade of a murderer. Captain Jonas had died by the hell-cursed arrows of the hellish admirals devil. It was not a question of if but when and how. Watching Wyn's last moments with hard eyes, John knew he would never forget her heroic sacrifice, but he also knew he had to make it count. Turning away, even as the creatures swarmed her, John lowered his head and pushed forward through the tunnels as fast as he could, each step accompanied by the fading sounds of Wyn's final stand.

On the Cliffside

Breathing heavily, John raised his face up to the moonlight. The stars were strewn across the sky and the crashing of waves from below seemed to roll in with the tide mournfully. It was a somber moment. The group had managed to rescue Crimson and Sandra, but they had lost Wyn. It had been a good death. John wanted to tell the others. Wyn had sacrificed herself to save each of them. Cayden and Iomedae both would have recognised her heroic end. But John knew that the time was too soon. He wanted to tell them that It had been her choice to make. Even in the face of death she had made a choice and by doing so lived free. But it wasn't the right words. None of them were, and so he sat there, on the grass, quietly looking at the stars until Ollivor spoke up. I'm.. I'm fine. John said after a quiet pause, until as an afterthought John dug out the creased leather tricorn that belonged to Sandra, that he had recovered from the beach so very, very much earlier that day. Looking down at the hat, and then up towards Sandra, John frowned softly before holding it out to her. Call it silly, but when I found your hat, I thought that if held it in safe keeping you would be ok. Glancing down towards the crashing ocean in the cove below, John swallowed. He didn't know what else to say. The others would have thought him crazy if he told them that Wyn had died a hero. Well dammit, the words needed to be said. If not by him, than by who. Wyn died to save all of us. She made a choice to protect each of us. She went down fighting, not murdered in her sleep by a coward or by the arrows of a hell-spawned devil. An act of courage like that earns the respect Cayden. A sacrifice like that is something that Iomedae would be proud of. She died a hero. A bloody, fething hero.

On the edge of the cliff, Vrunyar’s chest heaves up and down recovering from his escape from the cave, as he struggles with the events he just witnessed. He lies on his back, hands balled over his eyes. He knows what he saw, but he still can’t quite accept it. ”Wyn,” he moans. He takes a shaking breath and then another as his companions begin speaking.

”Yes she was a hero. A brave woman pushing past any fear she felt to save us at the end,” the dwarf clears his throat. Rolling onto his side, he stands up to look at the cave’s entrance below them. ”A terrible loss. I will miss her.”

"Right. We'll drink to her over Plugg and Scourge's dead bodies," Ollivor states with surprising calm washing over him, "We need to rest one night more, gather our strength and spells, heal up, and then... then we go for their damn throats. Let's go back to Aaron's place or some other bolt hole and do that. Wyn's spirit will wait for her vengeance, she'd prefer it down right than done fast."

”Rest sounds wonderful,” Vrunyar says, stepping away from the cliff edge. He looks at Ollivor, and squints, as if he’s having trouble focusing. He shakes his head. He speaks a few words in dwarven then frowns. ”What did that creature do? My mind feels unsteady,” he says in Common. A series of noises heavy with popping, trills, and deep droning tones comes from him.

He stops and swallows nervously. ”What was that? I know I was speaking a language. I was repeating what I said in Common. 'My mind feels unsteady.'” He spreads his fingers onto his scalp, as if feeling his head reassures him somehow. ”We need to get to safety.” Grabbing his axe, he looks at the others. ”Is anyone injured? Can we run if we need to?”

I think for now Vrunyar will know he speaks a new language but unaware that it’s Aquan and won’t know about speaking Polyglot until someone else uses it and Vrunyar is surprised that he understands it, if that’s okay with you GM Barcas

"I don't understand a lick of it, Vrunyar, but whatever you said sounded a bit like what those merfolk were talking in..." He shrugs, and gets up, "That monster's death did a number on us all."

Doran listens to his friends talking about Wyn and how she met her end, how she chose to meet her end. He sits up and just listens, not speaking, as John describes how her choice was heroic, and worthy of the respect of gods. He's right, that's so. Her choice was what saved us all, and it's worthy of song.

Unbidden, and as if he's not even aware of it, Doran begins to quietly sing, his voice gradually building in volume and his head lifting in recollection of their lost shipmate. He sings of the sea, and its devastating, indifferent power, of shipmates forming strong bonds and deep emnity, of a mighty, swirling storm and a crew pulling together to survive, and the sun coming up on a calm sea afterwards, and the realization that one of their number has been lost to the storm.

When he finishes singing, he looks around at his friends, as if coming out of a trance, and says, "I don't know where that came from, it just welled up in me and came out. And it feels that there's a great deal left in that well, an ocean of song, calm and raging, beautiful and fearsome...that creature changed me somehow, opened something in me..."

He goes quiet for a long moment, then says, "You're right, Ollivor. We need to collect ourselves, rest and make a proper plan, and then take that ship for our own, and give Plugg and Scourge to the sea."

Aaron waits in silence as the rest come to terms with their friend's death, or at least try to, given the circumstances. While doing so, he ponders the images shown to him after the makaru's death, as well as his own memories and clarity that seem to have returned, even if they have not done so entirely, not yet anyway. He does feel more focused, more in control, although he cannot deny that a part of what he now knows are not his own memories and experiences, but someone else's.

"It did not so much change me, not much anyway," he remarks after Doran speaks. "I think it... awakened me. It reminded me of who I am, who I was, what I was. Before this island," he goes on, grasping for the right words, but not succeeding entirely. He shakes his head.

"Shall we make our way back to my stockade? And on the way, perhaps one of you could tell me of these... Plugg and Scourge you keep mentioning? I get the sense whoever they are, they are... obstacles to be removed? Albeit ones with unfortunate nicknames..." He smiles. "At least I hope they are nicknames. I shudder at the thought of those being their actual names," he adds, the words tinged with sarcasm rather than the flippancy his new acquaintances have been more accustomed to so far.

Laying flat upon his back a top the cliffs edge, Thorn gazed upon the mass of bright stars strung across the night sky. Thorn was trying to control his breathing but the exhaustion had already begun to set in on his mind and body. Thorn took in a deep breath and slowly released it to slow his heart beat down and calm his senses back to normal as he tried to take in what he had just experienced.

The sight of Wyn being engulfed by a swarm of incutilis had just begun to set in his mind as he was realizing Wyn was no more. Thorn began to reminisces about their first meeting on the Hellsmouth as the memory of her voice and his native tough brought a smile to his lips. The words were a sign of hope for Thorn after so many years of solitude he finally had found a glimpse of joy in his dark time.

Thorn sat up and stared out upon moon light reflecting off of the cresting waves just before the came crashing into the bottom of the cliff. The sound of the waves made Thorn think of each of the battles he and Wyn had fought in, from freeing themselves from slavery to taking over a ship, he could still see her fiercely bashing sailors on their heads but always showing restraint while doing so. Thorn would not forget the many times Wyn helped him to show mercy on his fellow man and to not take lives except when necessary. "I always though she was too weak for showing everyone mercy but now I see it takes more courage and strength to save a mans life than to take it."

Thorn could hear the rest of the party speaking among each other but he continued to think about the passing of Wyn. Thorn realized Wyn was not as he believed no more, but her light would live on inside of them and they would carry on her memory.

Thorn rose to his feet drawing his bow from his shoulder and removing one of his modified alchemy fire arrows from his quiver. Thorn notched the arrow before taking aim out into the sea.

"May the sea rise up to meet you,
may the wind be ever at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and the rains fall soft upon your deck.
And until we meet again,
may Desna hold you in the palm of her hand."

Thorn let the arrow fly as he watched it soar into the clusters of stars before the arrow erupted into a ball of flames and streaked through the sky like a shooting comet. The flame disappeared into the horizon of waves. "May your fire burn on"

The survivors glance over the edge of the cove at the churning water, filled with thousands of incutilis. Some of them grasp and grab at the edges of the cliff faces, but most of them seemingly swim towards the entrance of the cove that leads into the sea. It is a sickening sight, made worse by the low light of dusk. The water boils with the shelled cephalopods as they climb over one another like ants in a deluge. The sailors tear themselves away from the nauseating vista and head to safety.

With Aaron leading the way, the crew - now up by two but down by one - ascends the mountain path to his cabin and stockade. He doesn't seem to need it, but Ollivor produces magical light to lead the way. Aaron sets up a few traps as they pass to ensure their safety atop the cliff. As they reach the top, they can see the campfires on the beach where the Man's Promise sits near. They're far too distant to see any motion on the beach in the night, but the crew knows that they have to return in the morning to do what must be done.

Crimson and Sandara both collapse as soon as they reach the cabin, exhausted from having their minds taken over by the makaru for so long - but not before they thank their rescuers time and time again for not leaving them in the mental grasp of the hive mind. The rest of them quickly join the pair in sleep, though two at a time stay on watch to ensure that the incutilis do not follow them up the pathway.

I'd like each of you to write a dream sequence, which is the result of the psychic waves of the makaru.

18 Calistril 4713

The morning arrives without fanfare. The sun rises over the glittering sea, bringing with it a new day. The birds of the island sing to bring their attention to the morning. The crew awakens, ragged and sore from sleeping on the floor and from their exhausting battles the day before. But they live, and they will soon be free.

After reaching Aaron's cabin Thorn fell into a corner completely fatigued from the physical exertion coming from battle and mentally exhausted from the constant mental assault from the Makaru. Thorn did not remove any of his gear or clothes after collapsing he just fell into a deep sleep.....

"Thorn I will be leaving for a while and I don't know how long I will be gone." Thorn could see the worry in Havaard's face and he could hear the uncertainty in Havaard's voice. "Where is it you are traveling off too and why the concern?"[/b A brief pause between the two men as Havaard turned to looked out over the steaming sea.

[b]Halgrim is in need of a new king Thorn and the only way I can be their king is to slay a linnorm. I then must bring back its head to prove the task complete. Now I know it can be any linnorm but the Syndergaard's have always been known for greatness and I will not settle for just any linnorm, I must slay a linnorm worthy of the Syndergaard name. I have chosen to go after the frost linnorm Frost bite. I hear he has been hunting in the Stormspear Mountains near the crown of the world." Thorn scanned Havaard with wide eyes as Havaard stood stoically facing the sea with fear and forced confidence.
"Don't try and talk me out of it Thorn, I have made up my mind and it must be done for Halgrim, my family and for father. I believe he trained me to lift the Syndergaard name into the heavens, Hell he even found you to help train me for an occasion such as this so I could rightfully take my place as a king."

Havvard turned and walked towards Thorn before slapping Thorn on his shoulder and pulling him in close to Havaard for a one arm hug. "Walk with me Thorn" They both walked back towards the great hall as Havaard had his right arm around Thorns neck. "I set off on a great adventure and a difficult task but I leave you with even a greater task maybe the greatest task of all." Thorn stopped and looked at Havaard with a confused look. "What could be more difficult than beheading an ice linnorm, not to mention Frost bite and become a king?"

Havaard grabbed Thorns head with both hands and looked him eye to eye before cracking a smile "Watching over my family wood for brains! I am asking you to watch over my family while I am away on my adventure Thorn!" Havaard stepped back from Thorn and looked down to hide his fear "Thorn there is something else. If I should fall while on my quest I am also asking you to pass on the Syndergaard name and teachings to my children just as father taught us." Havaard looked back up at Thorn withe a smile before his face turned stone cold serious "I would not trust any other man for this task and I am confident you will rise to the occasion. Can I count on you to fulfill this request I ask of you? Thorn looked at his brother Havaard with just as serious of a face and could see in Havaard's eyes there was no changing his mind "I will not let you down brother and you can always count on me to protect and preserve the Syndergaard family name and family members. I will not let you down!"

Havaard clapped his hands with excitement and appeared to have a great weight lifted from his chest. Smiling from ear to ear Havaard threw his arm around Thorns shoulders once more and lead them into the Great hall "Tonight we drink to celebrate our great tasks and reminisces about the past!" .........

Thorn rose to the sound of several birds singing and the bright light from the sun beaming through the window into his eyes. Rising to his feet Thorn could see the rest of his crew was still sleeping except for the two still on watch. Thorn quickly could see he was a mess and needed to straighten up if today was the day they were going to take back the ship.

Thorn removed his weapons before inspecting each one of them for any damage like a chipped blade or cracked arrow shaft. Thorn cleaned all of the recovered arrows and resharpened each of their arrow heads before also resharpening his elven curve blade. Thorn finished cleaning the blade by wiping it down with his shirt. Thorn noticed his dirty shirt after maintaining and readying his weapons for combat. Thorn also could smell the mixture of body odor, sweat and Makaru slime on his clothes and he decided to wash his clothes.

Thorn removed his dirty clothes and walked out to the water well to fetch some water to wash his clothes against the stones near the well. Thorn began to scrub his shirt against the stones "Well if you are going to meet Old dead eye today you sure don't want to smelling like an elk" A smile reached Thorns face as he rinsed his shirt in the bucket and ringed out the excess water.

Sandara wakes up early, walking out to the spring and staring out over the water. She plays with her hat, putting it on and taking it off. She walks back into the cabin where the others are still waking up. "I want to thank you for rescuing me," she says to the group. "It must have been tough getting Plugg to agree."

Crimson, on the other hand, seems nearly catatonic. It is his second brush with death and the weakness of his will in a month. He sits in the corner, sullenly staring into nothingness. "Fat load of good it's going to do. It's just a matter of time until it comes for us. I can still feel it out there..."

Beads. The curtains are nothing more than stringed bits of glass dangling in a spectrum of full colors that is, really, quite gaudy. There's smoke everywhere, or is it mist?

"She rarely is," the Redlock laughed, "But she rarely let me be bored." The images of the laughing red dragon sorcerer began to blur...

And with that, Ollivor opened his eyes and clutched his head, looking about the room

Sandara wakes up early, walking out to the spring and staring out over the water. She plays with her hat, putting it on and taking it off. She walks back into the cabin where the others are still waking up. "I want to thank you for rescuing me," she says to the group. "It must have been tough getting Plugg to agree."

For a moment, Ollivor almost imagines he's still dreaming as Sandara approaches but then realizes he's wrong, "Once Plugg realized you two had been taken, rather than fled, he didn't give a rats ass, or so it seemed. He gave Doran orders to kill most of us, which shows just how fine an actor he is."

Crimson, on the other hand, seems nearly catatonic. It is his second brush with death and the weakness of his will in a month. He sits in the corner, sullenly staring into nothingness. "Fat load of good it's going to do. It's just a matter of time until it comes for us. I can still feel it out there..."

"Buck up, Crimson. We need every man we can get on our side. That thing is dead, and hopefully whatever pull its got left will be gone once we get off this cursed rock...listen, we've got to plan, find some way to take Plug and Scourge by surprise and kill them right quick so we can take the ship and be free folk again. You ken me?"

Diplomacy if it helps calm Crimson down1d20 + 11 ⇒ (1) + 11 = 12

The boy's mother seems intent on keeping him at home, away from other children, away from other people. He does not entirely understand why, other than it has something to do with his father. Still, today she is so very tired, and tiredness leads to sleep. Now is his chance, he knows it. All it takes is an unlocked window and out he goes. It is still day outside, the middle of the afternoon. And the laughter of other children can be easily heard and easily followed to their source. And there he finds them, playing and enjoying what time they have left before their parents come looking for them. Three boys and a girl, around his age. He smiles, a thin smile. "Never grin, never ever grin," he remembers his mother telling him. The boys seem cautious; his pale skin, his strange eyes. But the girls feels a little more adventurous, and, with a smile of her own, gets closer and closer, reaching to take his hand and invite him to their game. But as her skin touches his, she pulls it back, startled at how cool he is to the touch. And then their parents' voices are heard, calling to them. And they leave. And so does the pale boy, his curiosity for the world outside his house sated... for now.

. . .

The carpenter looks at his work. The table and the accompanying chairs look functional, adequate. His client will be satisfied. Simply satisfied. But he probably will not be speaking of his work to others, will not be recommending him and talking about the craftsmanship. Clients will come again of course, but not as many as would approach him should he take better care to make something not just adequate, but good, beautiful. And that is just as well, that is how he likes it. The more numerous the people that come to him, the greater the chance someone will notice that something is not right. Just like that girl so many years ago. No, no... Adequate is good, functional is fine. Besides, the more he can spend in this place, the better; there is turmoil back home, although there are those who say that with House Thrune victorious and Asmodeus becoming Cheliax's official patron deity, that turmoil is at an end. Besides, he finds he rather likes working with wood, even though he occasionally feels like he should not, especially when sharpening pieces of it. He shrugs and sighs and chases the thoughts from his mind before looking up at the sky. A fine day. He is almost used to the sunlight by now...

. . .

Engineering is... interesting, he thinks to himself. One more or less makes something whole out of various bits and pieces. First he has to make it in his mind before actually constructing it, but is that not true for most things? Even as a carpenter, that held true. He chuckles softly. That was a good time, peaceful. All he needed was himself and his hands and he could make so many things; now, he has associates and supervisors and staff. Still, it had to end, that previous life. People were starting to notice that he did not exactly age like he should and no amount of clean living could explain that. Another chuckle. And then it is cut short, as some of the workers have a conversation regarding what is happening in Andoran; they expect a revolt sooner or later. "Another Sargava," he mutters to himself, shaking his head.

. . .

The slayer looks down from the rooftop, the darkness of the night posing little to no problem to his keen eyesight. It has been a while since the shadow beasts first appeared in Westcrown, their mere reputation either frightening people into staying indoors after the setting of the sun or actually drawing would-be hunters of monsters or bounties to the city. This is not the first time he finds himself walking its streets, however, even though the last time was decades ago. "Infernal Cheliax," he says softly, noone around to hear the almost unmistakeable disgust behind the words. He is lost for a moment in a memory of the time before House Thrune and Asmodeus. But only for a moment. There is movement at the street beneath him. Two blades leave their sheaths as his golden eyes narrow. Prey.

. . .

"What is there not to like about the sea? The sun, the breeze, the sight of it," the officer says to the sailor next to him. The sailor, a man going simply by Smith, undoubtedly is wondering how the pale man remains pale under all that sun. The officer takes in a deep breath. He finds he enjoys sailing almost as much as carpentry, although it has been many a year since the last time he made a table or a chair. "Proud members of the Chelaxian Navy, you and I, yes?" The question is more rhetorical rather than actual, but the other man still answers. "Aye, Mr. Ivey. Proud indeed," he says in a dry voice, making one wonder whether he actually believes it or not. The pale man sighs. Try as he might, he cannot convince the sailor to just call him Aaron.

Sandara's face darkens with anger when she hears that Plugg was willing to let her and Crimson die. "What? That slimy son of a b%~!%! Even if I didn't already hate him, I'd be willing to help you take him down. So what's the plan?"

Crimson still seems despondent, even with Ollivor's comforting words. "I guess, but I'm never going to be free. Even if we kill Plugg, I'll still feel the makaru in my brain. I didn't sleep well last night..."

Sandara's face darkens with anger when she hears that Plugg was willing to let her and Crimson die. "What? That slimy son of a b%@~!! Even if I didn't already hate him, I'd be willing to help you take him down. So what's the plan?"

Crimson still seems despondent, even with Ollivor's comforting words. "I guess, but I'm never going to be free. Even if we kill Plugg, I'll still feel the makaru in my brain. I didn't sleep well last night..."

"Maybe distance from this place will help yet, Crimson," Ollivor says, feeling truly sorry for the fellow, "And if not, well, maybe we'll find some magics that will help purge the nightmares yet," He turns to Sandara's question, though she spoke first, "John and Doran are probably the ones who'll have a plan, but ways I see it, we need some way of sneaking 'the dead' on board ship and then striking hard and fast. We need the element of surprise."

Vrunyar finds himself in a classroom, with many of his past classmates and some not classmates at all but friends like Yennard, Ollivor, and Wyn. Instead of one of his many professors, a bull dressed in the robes of a master alchemist is marking a slate board with yellow and white chalk from his horns. ”This formula will give you mighty strength. Some would say that of a bull,” he pauses to allow the students to chuckle before moving on. Vrunyar copies the formula, excited to test it.

Music erupts from a tavern. The Green Peach! How did it get here in the Shackles? Doran is on a stage singing, hitting two spoons together for rhythm. The crowd starts singing along at the chorus...something about a captain with a broken mast not able to get to his lover’s port. Plugg jumps on stage. ”Not that song, not that song!” he yells as his brother Scourge whips the audience with a tentacle lash. Vrunyar meets his eyes and sees the joy he feels causing harm. Crack, the tentacle strikes Vrunyar in the face.

Vrunyar wakes feeling his heart racing. Dawn is about an hour away. There’s enough light for alchemy. He begins writing down the formula for increased strength from his dream into his formulae book. It appears correct. On another page he writes down what he remembers of the fish scale formula. With enough time to work on the formula he’ll finish it. For now though, he finds what he needs to create a strength-enhancing mutagen and starts brewing that. It will take half an hour. Then he can make today’s extracts. The dwarf doesn’t see anyway to avoid Plugg today. There’s no reason not to. He shivers thinking about his dream. So extracts especially useful in combat, he thinks. Besides extracts and mutagen, can I make anything else to aid us?

I was tempted to take some imagery from Thorn, Ollivor, and Aaron’s dreams to use in mine; explained as a brief side effect of the psychic storm we found ourselves in, but didn’t want to infringe.

Also, Doran your sheet has two alchemist’s fire. Do we want more? DM Barcas, could Vrunyar make any in the morning? Yes, those swarms got to me.

Doran feels the waves surge around him in the darkness and hears the roar of the ocean’s rage as he’s tossed about like a leaf on the wind. “What happened? Another wreck? Where am I?” is all he can think at first, his fear of dying fighting for dominance with his anger at the sea gods’ cruelty. He struggles to stay afloat, the waves ducking him deep under several times, the silence of the depths shocking after the crashing ferocity of the storm above. One especially massive wave swallows him up, and he looks up toward the surface only to see a massive flash of lightning that makes clear the surface is far above, almost certainly out of his reach. He has almost given in, almost decided that the fight is simply not worth it, when he hears something in the silence.

”Music?” he asks himself silently, “Where is that coming from?” He hears a slow tune, ethereal yet awesomely powerful, but cannot tell which direction it comes from. It grows slightly louder and clearer, but not as if it’s moving closer, because it is all around him, coming from all directions at once. He’s somehow hearing it more clearly and as it gets louder still, the deeper notes cause his body to vibrate in response, as if the music is somehow playing him. The sound and the feeling fill him with joy, but also with fear and respect for whatever is making this incredible, universal sound.

Looking once again to the surface, he knows somehow that he can make it there, that the mysterious music will buoy him up and give him strength, perhaps even enough to survive. He kicks hard upward, and as he swims toward the surface he sees that the storm has somehow abated, the waves smaller and the moon coming out from behind the thick wall of cloud that had obscured it. “How long was I down there, that the storm passed while I was under that wave?”

Just before he reaches the surface, he stops his ascent, fearful that the music will stop when his head exits the water, and not wanting it to end. His thirst for survival pushes him on, however, and he breaks the surface gasping for breath and instinctively looking about for something to cling to, and any sign of his friends. Once his breathing calms a bit, he listens carefully and is thrilled that he can still hear the music. It is quieter, but its beautiful power is still there, as if the sea is somehow singing its eternal song to him.

Tentatively, he tries to sing along. His wordless song has nothing like the dark force and flashing beauty of the music he hears, yet it is somehow right. Doran continues to sing, and is amazed to feel himself getting lighter – first just more buoyant amidst the waves, then actually beginning to rise above them. His song strengthens, and he lifts higher, now clear of the waves and able to see the flotsam from his ship swirling in the remnant storm-wash. He sings on, in a strange harmony with the wind and waves, and he sees that his shipmates are being lifted from the waves as well, but not only those from the Man’s Promise.

He does see his friends who have suffered with him under Plugg – Vrunyar, Olli, Thorne, John, Wyn, even Aaron is there. But his singing saves others from the ocean’s grasp, some who succumbed to it long ago: Kezin Jenidar, captain of the Black Wind, and his crewmates who died in that ship’s loss off Cheliax; friends and enemies who died on the his second voyage as his ship went down in flames; the bloodthirsty crew of the lost Fortune’s Bride, even the hated Makris Barrow. All of them pulled from the waves and saved, somehow, by Doran’s singing of the ocean’s mighty song.

Doran raises him arms, filled with the power of the song, wondering what else he can achieve with his newfound harmony with the ocean, when he is suddenly struck by a tall, slapping wave that causes everything he sees to disappear…

”Wha…? What happened?” he says as he sits up, wiping water off his face and looking around in confusion. He sees Thorn just walking past where Doran has been asleep on the floor, a swinging bucket in the elf’s hand. ”Oh, sorry,” says Thorn, ”did I splash you? Thought folk might want some water.”

As Thorn continues on his way, Doran finishes drying his face on his filthy shirt, then sits back and thinks on what he’s seen. Could we be at peace, the sea and I? I feel as if the sea-gods’ curse is somehow lifted, or watered down – funny that, but it’s how it feels. And I can still hear the song! His eyes light up with the realization and he looks around contentedly, glad that most of his friends survived the fight with the makaru and are around him. He stands up and begins to get ready for the day ahead, quietly humming along with the distant sound of waves breaking on the shore.

As his friends begin to discuss how they might take down Plugg, Doran chimes in with some thoughts he’s been mulling, ”I was wondering if we could take advantage of Plugg’s suspicious nature. Maybe we could get some or all of us into his cabin, make him think we’ve got some big secret to tell him, that no one else should hear. Maybe drop a hint about some treasure we found or something. He wouldn’t want anyone else to know about something like that, so we might be able to get alone with him – and kill him. That would only leave Scourge to take care of, and then the rest of Plugg’s villains might give in.”

He shrugs and says, ”It’s not much of a plan, but it’s better than the first one I had, which was John walks up and challenges Plugg, and I stick a couple of knives in the bastard while he’s worried about John’s axe.”

17 Calistril 4713

Twenty four days. John thought to himself, staring out at the stars from atop of Aaron Ivey's reinforced cabin. The moon shone brightly down on the sea below, causing the light to reflect off the far away waves. In the distance on the eastern side of the island John could make out the flickering bonfires that had been built by the crew of the Man's Promise.

Twenty four days. John thought again, taking a slow sip from the canteen at his side. He was tired. His body ached, his leg and chest especially so. Twenty four bloody days since we set sail from Souston, though by the gods it felt like a lifetime ago. John grimaced to himself. Laid in front of him on the ground was his eagle embossed armor and his multitude of weapons. To his left was his worn Andoran naval cutlass and to his right was the boarding axe he had recovered from the Man's Promise during the hurricane. In front of him resting below his armor was the large two-handed falchion with its curved blade and its etched Osiriani script. Sitting, the marine picked up the axe and inspected the curved blade. There was a knick there that would have to be grinded out eventually. Putting the axe down with a sigh, John placed his whetstone back in his pouch before carefully wiping his weapons down with the sweaty rag that doubled as his bandana. Sliding his cutlass back into its leather sheath, John sighed pensively. In the span of twenty four days I was reunited with my best friend. I left my family. I fought spies and rescued Ollivor. I watched the death of shipmates, fought on the decks of two ships and have been nearly killed three times. Hells, my best friend was killed by that bastard Plugg. I was made a slave in all but name and then somehow got singled out by the bloody Queen of Pirates herself from some sort of gods-cursed blessing. All in twenty four fething days.

Rubbing his chest to smooth out the pain, John sighed. His whole body hurt. He wanted to take off his shirt and use the spring to clean himself. After the fight in the sea-tunnels and the psychic attacks by the Makaru, John felt dirty somehow. Like there was a layer of grease covering him. It was as if the creature knew how to target the worst of John's fears and desires. Shaking his head, John pushed himself to his feet before gritting his teeth. There was no point in thinking about it. The beast was dead. John had seen that with his own eyes. Besides, there was nothing that John could do but feel angry at the thought of how the beast had managed to control John through his own fears. To think on it any more would just make it worse. Picking up his armor and weapons, John pushed his way into the cabin before looking around for a spot to rest.

To his left was Sandra. She looked exhausted from the battle. John shivered a little. He didn't want to think of the way that the Makaru's control felt as it attempted to mentally dominate him, but he knew that that experience had only lasted for a moment. Sandra and Crimson had been in the clutches of the creatures control for the better part of a day. The fact that she had been able to fight it off, only impressed John all the more. Sighing, John dropped his armor as quietly as he could near to the fire. The heat would dry out the moisture from the leather straps and hopefully protect it from cracking during the wrong time. As he dropped the armor, the breastplate clanked against on of the pauldrons with a quite clang!

Immediately Sandra's eyes shot open and she opened her mouth as if to scream. Seeing John and the others around her, Sandra took a deep breath. It's ok Sandra. John said quietly. We killed the bastard and got revenge. You're among friends. You can go back to sleep There was something in the woman's eyes, John thought. He had seen it before and it troubled him. John had come to Sandra when Iakob had died. She had seen him in a moment of weakness. He had felt gratefulness towards her, but that was all. Then during the hurricane he had led the rest of the press-ganged members of the crew in stabilizing the mast and she had watched him. It was only when she was ordered to attack John that she had broken free of the Makaru's mental domination. Finally it was after their escape that John had presented her tricorn back to her. He had kept it, for her.. Sandra smiled at John, there was a questioning hope in that smile. You're among friends, go back to sleep. John whispered again, while looking at Sandra before turning back to the flames with a frown. Aw bloody hells.
 
 
 

::It had been twenty four days since John left Souston with Iakob Steele, Ollivor Myles, Doran Tidewrack and Vrunyar Magmabeard. The five had left the peace of Andor and become swept into events far beyond their control. Rickard Plugg and "Master Scourge" believed Sandra and Crimson dead. So much the better. Secrecy was the only true weapon that the press-ganged members of the Empty Lighthouse had at their disposal. From the moment that John and Doran had hatched their plan escape, John had known that everything would be secrets and lies, until death rendered all things equal and void. John slept now, before the fire in Aaron Ivey's hut. It was the night before he and the others were to lay claim to the Man's Promise and take revenge upon Plugg and his brother Scourge or die trying.::

::I FOUND IAKOB STEEL standing on the polished wood deck of the Righteous Eagle studying the sea. Massive icebergs drifted around the abandoned ship. The air was cold and thin. Colwin Myles was with him, and they were talking together with their cutlass's leaning across their shoulders. I approached along the ships deck, spreading my hands to run along the wooden edges of crates and bits of free hanging line that were lashed about me. Colwin saw me first. He turned and smiled at me, then tapped Iakob on the shoulder. Colwin called something out to me that I couldn’t catch. By the time I’d reached them, he had faded away like smoke. Iakob Steel looked me up and down before smiling. It's good to see you John, he said. It's good to see you too, Iakob I replied. Looking good, he said, glancing at my legs. Looking whole, I answered.::

::Iakob nodded. He was a slight man, tall and corded with muscle. His head was closely cropped with a tuft of beard on his chin. Is it time? he asked. Time? I replied questioningly. He shrugged. I'm here. In this place. In this dream. It's all connected. You, your dreams, the shark, the graveyard, Besmara. It's all connected. I've come to you like this, or maybe you came to me. I think you know what I'm here to here to ask. I frowned. Do I now? Iakob nodded again. You do. You made a promise and swore an oath. And now it's time to take what is due. Iakob nodded slowly, as he did a thin cut began to appear over his throat. Plugg.. I whispered staring into my dead friends eyes. You want to know if I am going to take vengeance for you.::

::Iakob looked away. I always thought I’d be the one leading a crew, taking a ship and freeing our friends from Deepmar. He said, his voice trailing off mournfully. The ghost shapes of orca's were melting off into the distant waters. Where is this? I asked him.
He shrugged. I'm not sure. Somewhere in the northern latitudes, maybe the Steaming Sea. She often brings me here. Although last time, the icebergs were over there.::

::The Righteous Eagle continued to drift in the waters. The horizon seemed to melt away and we reached the edge of a stoney shore. Mountain's rose in the distance. The water was calm lying like a glass spearhead amongst the evergreens that dotted the shore. It was so still and glassy it mirrored the trees, the mountain and the sky. And there we were too, side by side. Myself, wide-shouldered, thick-armed, my physique as tough and strong and well-worn as the armor breastplate I wore. And Iakob, as he had been at the age of twenty two, an eternity before the capture and imprisonment in Deepmar. He was a little shorter than me, lighter in build, short blond hair cropped in a military fashion and his a high cheekboned face. So, will you do it? Iakob asked. I nodded my head. Iakob, we've been through plenty together. Alot of bad things and close scrapes. Typhus Scalp-taker. That boarding of the Fevered Jackal. Hell, stuff I don't want to remember. I'll do it. It needs to be made right. Iakob frowned. Because you want revenge? he asked. I pondered that question. Did I want revenge? I was not a bloodthirsty man, but in my heart I knew that I had spent the last three weeks planning Plugg's murder. Iakob was my friend. He deserved the truth. I opened my mouth. Yes I want revenge. But it's more than that. I swore an oath. This is what we do. Iakob nodded softly to himself. He seemed pleased. She likes you, you know, thinks your cheeky. He muttered, looking at the rocky shore from the deck of the ship. She? I asked quietly, afraid to break the moment of companionship with my friend. The Queen. The one who blessed you. Iakob said quietly pointing to my chest before returning to a parade rest stance on the deck. Iakob's frown turned to a smile. Cursed at her while you hung from a yard-arm. Calling for a showdown! Iakob chuckled. Yes my friend. You certainly earned her attention. Gods would I have loved to have seen that.::

::I watched as in the distance the wind picked up and the sea's began to grow choppy. Iakob frowned, turning from me and glancing into the wind with clouded eyes. Our time grows short, John. Turning back towards me Iakob thrust his hand outward and I took it with my strong grip. It felt cold and lifeless but there was a thrum of power that surged through me when I took his hand. The wind grew stronger. This is just the beginning John! Iakob cried out as the wind began to whirl around us. I tried to hold onto his grip, but the wind was strong. We will see each other again! The wind lashed at me. It tore Iakob from my grip and threw me into the water. I awoke.::
 
 
 

18 Calistril 4713

Pushing himself up from the gutted fire, John rubbed his chest thoughtfully, thinking back to the dream. It had felt so real. Iakob coming to him, asking him if he would honor his oath. All of it. Shaking his head, John nodded to the others as if in good morning. He didn't want to discuss what he had dreamt of the night before. It was too much to take in. Yawning fitfully, John nodded at Doran. It could work, but the moment he spots us, he is going to try to disarm anyone he considers a threat. Pushing himself to his feet, John headed towards the door. I'll be back in a moment, nature calls. The marine muttered before pushing himself out of the cabin and towards the redoubt's natural spring.

The sun was shining. Birds were singing. It was hot already. John stumbled towards the spring to splash some water on his face. It felt cold against his skin. Sighing at the invigorating sensation, John tugged off his shirt and scooped up some water from the spring and splashed it on his chest and back. He rubbed the water along his chest, pushing away the grime and residue from the battle with the Makaru. John's body still ached fiercely from the beating he had taken during the battle. The bruise that was already starting to form along the left side of his chest was huge. He glanced down in the water, frowning before he closed his eyes and opened them again. He looked at his reflection in the water. You've gotta be fething kidding me. John murmured peering at the splotchy bruise on his chest in anger. A voice laughed in the distance It sounded like Iakob. "I told you she liked you mate."

As his friends begin to discuss how they might take down Plugg, Doran chimes in with some thoughts he’s been mulling, ”I was wondering if we could take advantage of Plugg’s suspicious nature. Maybe we could get some or all of us into his cabin, make him think we’ve got some big secret to tell him, that no one else should hear. Maybe drop a hint about some treasure we found or something. He wouldn’t want anyone else to know about something like that, so we might be able to get alone with him – and kill him. That would only leave Scourge to take care of, and then the rest of Plugg’s villains might give in.”

He shrugs and says, ”It’s not much of a plan, but it’s better than the first one I had, which was John walks up and challenges Plugg, and I stick a couple of knives in the bastard while he’s worried about John’s axe.”

Pushing himself up from the gutted fire, John rubbed his chest thoughtfully, thinking back to the dream. It had felt so real. Iakob coming to him, asking him if he would honor his oath. All of it. Shaking his head, John nodded to the others as if in good morning. He didn't want to discuss what he had dreamt of the night before. It was too much to take in. Yawning fitfully, John nodded at Doran. It could work, but the moment he spots us, he is going to try to disarm anyone he considers a threat. Pushing himself to his feet, John headed towards the door. I'll be back in a moment, nature calls. The marine muttered before pushing himself out of the cabin and towards the redoubt's natural spring.

"Don't we still need to hide John and Thorn somehow? Maybe Sandara and Crimson as well. I know Plugg wanted Wyn dead..the bastard, but I thought the only ones he wanted returning was yourself, Vyrunyar and I? O certes he ain't gonna let John clamber on board unchallenged I'm thinking. At the least, they will disarm some of us as John says."

Sandara touches her nose and points to Ollivor in agreement. "Plugg's too paranoid for something like that. If he ordered you to kill the others, he'll be very suspicious as to why it wasn't done. Especially if you show up with some new face. Why not just abandon the pretense completely? There are eight of us here, and we could probably get a few more of the sailors to mutiny against Plugg. Rosie, Conch, the others from your old ship... I bet that we could get half the crew. We could just show up and say, 'This ship's ours now, who's with us?'."

”You guys are right,” says Doran a bit glumly, ”we’re not supposed to bring some of you back alive, so that won’t work.” He ponders a moment, still humming quietly, then his tune picks up a bit in tempo, his toe taps quickly, and he speaks up again, a bit more excitement in his voice, ”I think I’ve got a better idea! How about this? Those of us that are supposed to return hustle back to the ship, saying we’re being chased by the others – maybe they’ve turned into vudu and are after us! We tell Plugg all about the vudu and the incutilis, we can even bring Aaron with us and say we rescued him, that he’s a hell of a fighter and Plugg should make him part of the crew. So most of us will be on board, then we hit Plugg and do as Sandara suggests, calling everyone to join us. I’d rather get the jump on Plugg, and get a couple of knives in his back if I can, before we make any announcement that we plan to take him down.”

”I don’t have all the details clear – maybe we can hide John and Thorn in the bottom of the john-boat somehow, so they can climb aboard once the fighting starts? – but I think something like that, arriving in a rush like we’re running from something and trying to kill Plugg when his guard is down, just might work.”

"We could try to time it at night, give John and Thorn a better chance to hide until they strike? Course it might also hinder us, but ..." Ollivor shrugs. Until John returned from nature's call, they'd not likely to get the man's further opinion

Hey. Just wanted to give a shout out for DM Barcas here. I'm playing in his Kingmaker campaign and I've got to say it's a blast. He'll build the story around your characters and play with most any idea you can cook up with them, create npc's and plots within plots like you can dream.

And with the brown-nosing aside I'd like to place my dot of interest if you don't mind ;P

Don't worry guys, knowing DM Barcas I won't have an edge over new players, he'll pick and choose fairly based on the strength of our submissions.

I see people are shying away from a strong captain candidate so I'll place my hat in that ring. Of the bat I'm thinking a human gunslinger (buccaneer) born and bred in Souston, Andoran, under constant threat from pirates and slavers. Father was lost at sea, his shipmate brought home daddies battered pistol and gave it to the boy, a tender teenage of 12, so growing up on the docks he up and left when he was old enough (and his mother wasn't looking), signing on to the Eagles' Glory as a deck hand he got a taste of fighting slavers but due to drinking he was left post side after disgracing himself somehow...

Anyway. First thoughts. I'm going to read over the source material and cook up a sheet before finalizing. Might make him older and stabler but first thoughts are a (semi) untried youth.

Of the bat I'm thinking a human gunslinger (buccaneer) born and bred in Souston, Andoran, under constant threat from pirates and slavers.

Oh that's interesting. As I alluded to in my background, Johns wife and daughter live in Souston. If we both get selected its possible that we might have known each other in passing. In fact, as I read the new backgrounds I am seeing quite a bit of interest in Andoran.

Must be all the freedom fighting ;)

Sigz wrote:

Of the bat I'm thinking a human gunslinger (buccaneer) born and bred in Souston, Andoran, under constant threat from pirates and slavers.

Oh that's interesting. As I alluded to in my background, Johns wife and daughter live in Souston. If we both get selected its possible that we might have known each other in passing. In fact, as I read the new backgrounds I am seeing quite a bit of interest in Andoran.

The funny thing is, I went with Andoran because I was tired of Cheliax and Varisa getting all the love in these things *G*

TheGato: put it here in the thread. You can create an alias and submit in-character if you'd like. To get in, make a pitch of a good character.

Okay, thanks DM Barcas.

I was thinking a Rogue Dervish Dancer Duelist.

Here is a write I did real quick today. Definitely open to changes and some of it may need to be modified before finalized.

Trissana Moonshadow:

Trissana is an Elf of slightly smaller than average height with alabaster skin marked by several tatoos, long dark blue black hair (usually pulled back in a pony tail), and very pale green-ish blue eyes that at times seem to shift in the light. Not everyone would think her beautiful, but most would agree there is something alluring to her. She carries her lithe athletic form with the saunter of a swashbuckling fencer and grace of a dancer. She often dresses like a flashy swashbuckler, with tight dark breeches and billowy shirts usually accompanied by a dark scarlet sash and fencers gloves with a wide brimmed hat; most always a rapier at her side.

Her often enigmatic persona keeps others at a distance with truths half-lies and out-right lies. Not that she wants them to know that of course. She rarely trusts anyone or puts too much faith in any one thing. On the rare occasion she has accepted friendship she does honor it to the end. It seems she always on the hunt for a big score or a fantastic treasure while staying one step ahead of trouble.

Trissana was born in Kyonin to a normal family with an older brother (Vandigar). She led a very mischievous and troubled childhood, running away at an early age for a life of adventure on the road.
Over the years she made her way towards the city at the center of the world, Absalom, by selling her thieving abilities.
Once in Absalom things weren't quite what she dreamed. She found it hard to work on her own in the large city and on several occasions found herself working off a debt to one of the local guilds.
Now she has heard a rumor of someone matching her brother asking questions about her and an ancient relic in Eleder and has booked passage to there with the intentions of finding him or at least this treasure he seeks.

Would a Clockwork Arm (or similar mechanical prosthetic) be OK (without the strength bonus)? Asuming a good reason/backstory.

Only Paizo sources are allowed.

DM Barcas, I didn't see a response as to whether you were concerned that I owned the AP (if I missed it, I am sorry).

I am going to go ahead and submit a character. If you'd rather I not throw my hat into the ring, obviously please disregard.

Character: Wyn the (ex) Barmaid/Bouncer, human fighter (cad)
In short why she is on the ship (more details are in spoilered background below): She chased a thief onto the ship, got knocked out, and by the time she awoke the ship had set sail. Despite the inconvenience, she looks at the situation as an opportunity.

Character sheet

Background and Appearance

Sheet should be finished I believe. I would like to put Beshra forward as a Captain candidate, she is charismatic and a leader who almost literally cannot break her word has an advantage of sort, or at least would eventually.

I am not a fan of alignments as they often don't seem complex enough, but I would describe her alignment as neutral good with cynical tendencies. She is deliberately trying to be good, often against her better judgment, because she believes that if she becomes evil she will be taken over by Tharash. She would naturally be inclined to chaotic actions, but has a long reinforced lawful streak from her constant deals with Tharash, and legalistic curse.

I believe she would prove a competent leader, and I often find my characters taking this role in games, because I am a frequent poster who likes to advance things. That being said if selected I'd be perfectly happy to see what kind of natural dynamic developed between the group and roll with it.

I'll also point out that mechanically she's not really an oracle of Besmara, since that's not how oracles work, but because of her background and Besmara's favor she thinks she is. Generally I would imagine her actions would be a bit on the goody goody side for Besmara, but she justifies this to herself because of the risk straying towards evil poses for her. She would probably claim she is good for selfish reasons, and there is some truth in that.

That's an awful lot of caveats and addendums there, miss.

Loads of writing examples in either game I am running (LINK) or playing in (LINK), if you think I would be a solid addition fire me a PM and I'll fashion a character out of the ethers.

If not this time around, and another game comes into existence, look me up.

Hmm. Not only is someone else applying to this game using the same icon as I am, but they are the same class. :(

Not the best thing to happen, but I am sure you can keep us separate DM Barcas. I'm the Waves oracle. :)

Lol, sorry Diana, Beshra's been created for a long time, and I guess its pretty natural since its one of the few oracle icons. I'm personally not bothered about party balance in the least, I've had great fun with some odd parties, had an all Paladin party that was awesome in 3.5 and went from 1st well into epic. Characters of the same class can be very distinct. If we both got in we could roll off for the icon or something, I'm sure it would not be a problem, its not hard to cut and paste a profile into a new one :)

I remember looking at the Waves Mystery for Beshra, but its very ice focused which wasn't really in keeping with what I wanted. Just the mysteries ought to give us very different characters, and Beshra's dual cursed to and utterly hopeless with weapons. I really like the oracle class because it offers such a broad range of character types, more so IMO than any other class.

Alias of TrueRepentance here.

Also taking GM advice and example from John.

Not sure if a compass is allowed as a divine symbol. Hoping the image on the back is enough? If you want me to make him buy one while in Absalom or something that can easily be changed. He could also purchase some more equipment while there if you think that would be advisable. Basically he is starting again because he lost almost everything. Though gained more than he thought.

And since I did say as much, a bit of a name change. Sorin Beleren shall henceforth be known as Eridan Valkeri. According to Golarion lore, Azlanti supposedly do not adopt surnames, but Eridan's family also has a bit of Taldan blood and has found it useful in their travels to use a last name, even if they do so somewhat sparingly.

Presenting Quara Sher, a Beastbrood Tiefling I made a while ago for a Skulls & Shackles game. She's all ready, I only need to add her equipment. One request, though: could I exchange her racial language of Infernal for Vudrani? It seems more logical to me, and I could pick up Infernal with a rank in Linguistics later, if you like.

(Yes, DM Carpe, I saw your entry. ^^; Trust me, it really is a coincidence! Of course, it would be amusing to have two Beastbrood Tieflings on the same ship... Heh. "Oh no, it's the Tiger Sisters and their dreaded pirate crew!" -- "We are not sisters, damn you! Bring out the plank and start throwing fish guts in the water!")

Lol, sorry Diana, Beshra's been created for a long time, and I guess its pretty natural since its one of the few oracle icons. I'm personally not bothered about party balance in the least, I've had great fun with some odd parties, had an all Paladin party that was awesome in 3.5 and went from 1st well into epic. Characters of the same class can be very distinct. If we both got in we could roll off for the icon or something, I'm sure it would not be a problem, its not hard to cut and paste a profile into a new one :)

I remember looking at the Waves Mystery for Beshra, but its very ice focused which wasn't really in keeping with what I wanted. Just the mysteries ought to give us very different characters, and Beshra's dual cursed to and utterly hopeless with weapons. I really like the oracle class because it offers such a broad range of character types, more so IMO than any other class.

Other things discriminate us as well. My character is Human and her lowest stat is a 12, but I could not quite afford an 18 in charisma. Still we fill the same roll. I have played and run games with a duel cursed oracle. but never in PBP. Not quite sure how the revelation will work mechanically with so many rerolls. Does it slow the game?

For immediate actions like that, I don't like to retcon. So what I do is to have the player give me a set of circumstances (if the attacker attacks me and rolls a critical threat, for instance) that they would use the ability for. I will try my best to work it in.

Speaking of Firefly (well, alright, not quite speaking of it at the moment, but it was mentioned), I have not actually seen the show, though I know of it being a rather good space opera/action show (Wikipedia calls it a "space western drama") that was canceled rather too soon. I have seen Serenity, however, and I did like it quite a bit. Of course, I am kind of a sucker for action-adventure space operas, be more or less straight up sci-fi (e.g. Battlestar Galactica, Robotech), or mixing in other elements such as western (e.g. Firefly, Serenity) or piracy (e.g. Space Pirate Captain Harlock). Which kinda makes me look forward to Defiance...

On a different note, has anyone noticed most, if not all, of the characters are either Neutral Good or Chaotic Good? Though, considering the premise, I suppose it is understandable. :-)

I see Lilly being a Navigator / Mate on board the ship. She seldom is lost, and Eyeball makes a great lookout.

On a different note, has anyone noticed most, if not all, of the characters are either Neutral Good or Chaotic Good? Though, considering the premise, I suppose it is understandable. :-)

Well the GM was quite clear in his opening post that he would like to see a "Chaotic Good-ish" party in a way, so it's very normal to expect characters who are either CG or just 1 step away from mentioned alignment. I simply chosen to move Jericho a bit on the Good/Evil axis, as opposed to Law/Chaos. And it would be quite a challenge, maybe even detrimental to have someone in the party of opposing alignment, on both axis of the scale. A Lawful type stuck in a ship with so many Chaotic's (remember - a ship, no where to run from them?)- I pity that damned fool! ;-)

I'm completely fine with that Quara, but how are you selecting a Beastbrood Tiefling without taking Fiendish Heritage?

Special Feat: Fiendish Heritage.

The Fiendish Heritage feat allows for some variant options for tieflings (see below.)

The below being the tiefling variants such a beastbrood, etc. People seem to do this often on these boards, but RAW you need to take the feat, which seems pretty reasonable since most of the variant are just plain better than the standard tiefling, and everybody who uses them picks something that's stat bonuses suit their character. Of course I'm going by the PFSRD, rather than the books so I might be missing something, and Aasimar don't seem to have to take a feat for variants which are just as good if not better.

The tiefling heritages are in the Blood of Fiends Player Companion. Unlike the rules mentioned in the Bastards of Erebus book, it seems that no feat is necessary, as long as the DM allows them.

Ah, fair enough it seemed odd everyone ignored that. I still rather like the feat though, it balances them with the other races, lets face it a feat that gave the resistances tieflings have would be snapped up.

Okay, let's start responding. I'm going to try to get to everyone. If I seem to have missed you, let me know. Everyone's getting a fair shake. One of the things that I like to do is help people flesh characters out. Even if you don't get picked (and there's sadly no way I can pick everyone), hopefully the character will be stronger for it and might get picked up elsewhere.

@Sigz Sigz has been one of my strongest players. In the space of a year and a half (in-game), Berrin Myrdal has gone from a mercenary on the run from his past to General of the kingdom's army (with a brief stint as fill-in regent). He has fallen in love and been betrayed by his lover (who is reportedly pregnant with his child). He has faced off with a nobleman he once murdered who bears a grudge towards him. At this moment, he is sallying forth from the city with two hundred men at his back to fight a dragonrider and his army that have besieged the city. Good times.

As I said earlier over PM, let's go with a bit older character - you suggested a former officer from the Andoran navy. You said something about him being marooned on an island after his ship was sunk by slavers. Let's explore that a bit more. What did he learn on the island? How did he surive? Why did he resign from the Andoran navy after his return to civilization? What does he hope for in the future? How would he step up, should the occasion call for it, and how would he lead the ship?

@Xenh You definitely seem like a strong writer. Do you have any character ideas that you would like to submit?

@Lilly What does Lilly want out of life? Tell me more about her life growing up on a pirate ship after being kidnapped. Was she kept by the original kidnapper (and who was he?) or sold? How old is she now? What are the psychological implications of her ordeal? Is she trustful or paranoid? You've described her as naive, but how is that possible if she was kidnapped by pirates and forced to live as a slave? What is her opinion on slavers? Has she ever partaken in taking any new slaves? What is her opinion of nations such as Cheliax and Andoran?

@Amaka Gry How did her "unusual" appearance influence her personality? Did the bardic skills come naturally to her? Does she worship Shelyn like her aunt, or Desna like her clan (or some combination)? Did she pick up any habits from the Varisians, like their penchant for petty theft? What language did she get from Linguistics?

@Beshra Bleak Has Tharash given her the name of the man who killed her mother? Tell me more about Kerith. Does Kerith know about what happened between Tharash and her mother? As Kerith was a willing participant in her mother's piracy, how does she feel about Catelyn's conversion, and how did that effect her relationship with Beshra? Does Bleak still sail? What is her opinion of Iomedae now? Has she attempted to heal her hands?

@John Rawkins You know, his story is very similar to an NPC from S&S. That said, let's drive forward: given the opportunity and the cash to regenerate his leg, would he take it? Why does he carry a holy symbol of Abadar? How does his wife feel about him since leaving the navy?

@Randol Perry I don't see any problems with the compass being a holy symbol. How did he learn Elven? How has he changed since being shot? Did his father object to him leaving again? Does he think himself foolish or naive for letting the ship fall to piracy?

@Wynifred I don't have a problem if you know the general outline. I'm going to make reasonably liberal changes, especially to meet the different goal and tenor of the campaign. What country is she originally from? How did the death of her family affect her personality? Does she have a last name, either real or chosen? Since I think it's not much of a plot secret that you'll be an unwilling captive of pirates at some point, how would she react? Does she tolerate lechery or despise it? Does she have a protective streak towards those who cannot defend themselves, or does she have an attitude that everyone has to be able to fend for themselves?

@Skaldi Tell me more about Skaldi. Where does he hail from? Regarding his newfound summoning powers, how does he feel? Is he excited? Does he feel trepidation? I need to know a lot more about him and his history.

@Eridan Valkeri, the PC formerly known as Sorin Beleren Seeing as the "true" Azlanti are long-extinct, how far does Eridan take his heritage? Does he truly believe himself one? Did his family? Is his family still in Absalom? How did they feel about his training and his quest to fight in the Sargava Chalice? Tell me more about his teacher. Does he have any other pupils? If so, did any of them join Eridan?

@Thoubert Tell me more about his history. How did he come to be a druid? Where is he from? I'll wait for your more lengthy post.

@Diana Seamyst How does she feel about her homeland, and about citizens of other nations? Why would she go to Gozreh instead of a priest of Asmodeus? How does she feel about Asmodeus? How is she tan? As I understand it (and correct me if I am wrong), the Chelish tend towards pale skin.

@Olliver Myles I like the quality of writing in your backstory. My game tends towards fewer and longer posts, whereas his history seems to suggest shorter and more posts. Could you adapt to the style I'm asking for? What does he seek from his draconic ancestor? Has he begun to master the spells in his blood?

@Jericho Fiendaxe How does he feel about running away from the plot that he was part of? Does he think of it as cowardice or as something else? Stuck between Chelish forces on one hand and pirates on the other, which does he dislike more?

@Sluuth What nation would he be from? I like your idea a lot - espiecially the aasimar angle - but it needs more filling out.

The tiefling heritages are in the Blood of Fiends Player Companion. Unlike the rules mentioned in the Bastards of Erebus book, it seems that no feat is necessary, as long as the DM allows them.

Ah, fair enough it seemed odd everyone ignored that. I still rather like the feat though, it balances them with the other races, lets face it a feat that gave the resistances tieflings have would be snapped up.

I have Tieflings of Golarion. I'll have to take a look, but I suspect that F. Castor is correct. Which would give Beshra an extra feat to mess with. (I'm sure there are some cool tiefling feats in the ARG.)

@Sluuth It seems that strategist and musketeer are mutually exclusive because they both replace expert trainer at 4th level.

@Olliver Myles I like the quality of writing in your backstory. My game tends towards fewer and longer posts, whereas his history seems to suggest shorter and more posts. Could you adapt to the style I'm asking for? What does he seek from his draconic ancestor? Has he begun to master the spells in his blood?

To answer your questions as best I can:

2) Ollivor himself may not know exactly WHY he's seeking out his ancestor. Subconsciously, I think he has MANY questions he wants resolved. "What was my female human ancestor like?Were you in love?" Did you what you'd done to our bloodline? Do you feel any responsibility or kinship to us at all?" I think he's in awe of the idea of the creature, but also might be a bit angry at said dragon. After all, every generation there's a chance some poor relation could get mobbed by some idiot villagers. A little warning would have been nice. Also, he's stubborn. He wanted to find it, and now its a matter of pride and principle to see it through.

3) Over the years, he has mastered the spells he knows enough to be competent and not a danger to himself or others (Unless, of course, he WANTS to be). While it will not be a perfect match or the only source, I plan to have many of his spells reflect his draconic nature (Hence Shocking Grasp as they are lightning breathers) and may grab a few spells from what Bronze Dragons themselves cast. Some spells (like Mage Armor) will be bloodline bonuses, so I may hold off on them so I don't end with redundancies.

I hope that answers your questions :)

Tharash has given the name of the man who killed her mother, hopefully if selected this could be picked up, I'm happy to provide a name, but I was leaving it open. Bleak does indeed still sail and is one of the most feared Shackles Captains, I'd like to leave how he would react to Beshra up to the DM, but I'd imagine he would either want to restore Tharash to increase his own power or kill her so he can try to rebirth the Rakshasa again.

I'll respond to the Kerith stuff tonight, off to work now :)

1) Definitely I can adapt. I sometimes err on the cautious side in posting (so not to hog too much 'face time' or run with my view of some details that the DM himself has not yet given), but given a DM's go ahead to 'wing it' then I can certainly adapt to the more descriptive and longer posts :) Just let me know if I go overboard (No pun intended)

I'm a strongly collaborative fellow. I love building a story and running off players' ideas, then watching as they build on mine in return. Everyone is encouraged to write as much as they'd like. There is no maximum. I tend to post once or twice a day and have been known to wait for a response - even if just to know a character's internal reaction to the situation - before posting again. I like my characters to have internal struggles and questions, rather than simply dialogue and action. I also prefer posts to tend more towards PC-to-PC interaction rather than PC-to-NPC.

For example: in my Kingmaker game, Taisper (an inquisitor of Abadar) has no conscience. He is a somewhat mentally-disturbed zealot of Abadar, enforcing his will against lawbreakers and threats to the fledgling civilization. While he doesn't struggle with this, he does struggle to reconcile his feelings towards a local widow and his loyalty towards his friends and family with his duty to Abadar. He is also kind of a serial killer in the way he stalks and takes down enemies of the state. His cousin, Verik, another PC and a cleric of Abadar, knows about Taisper's madness and the killings, and sort of joined him in covering it up. This hasn't been easy for him. When Alexius Morai-Thrune, an agent of Cheliax who had been trying to manipulate Taisper into deeper troubling actions, tried to kill Verik to get him out of the way, Taisper was forced to decide between his cousin and the possibility of more power. Taisper chose family and killed Alexius. He and Verik then disposed of the body and Alexius's devil-bound sword. It was all quite dramatic.

@Amaka Gry Did the bardic skills come naturally to her? Does she worship Shelyn like her aunt, or Desna like her clan (or some combination)? Did she pick up any habits from the Varisians, like their penchant for petty theft? What language did she get from Linguistics?

Nice questions. I'll reply using this alias to prevent "Alias bloat", but let her speak in her own voice. and add my comments in blue.

DMB: How did her "unusual" appearance influence her personality?

" A better question would be, "how did my appearance affect the way others treated me?" I barely remember my first home, but I have flashes of running with children darker than me, an old black crone cursing me, and a white lady standing square on the boardwalk until my mother stepped off into the muddy street.

"I was family in the caravan, but never a favored child. My father often rode out with the other men and left me with the wild pack to be raised by our rolling village. I usually had to be the Chelish witch or sea crone or some such when we played heroes and monsters.

"In a caravan everyone has to work and I always had to do my share. When you reach town you've got just a couple days to make some coin and buy supplies for the next leg. The dancing was a big money maker. But I couldn't dance because they tried to keep me out of sight when we reached towns. I drum because I could help out that way in back of the other musicians at the edge of the firelight. I will say that is there was ever any trouble about me most anyone in the family would take my part. I was definitely one of them.

"Today, my appearance can be a strength or a weakness. Some see me as other and shun me." She shifts her posture slightly and her skirt falls open revealing a long leg and bit of thigh. "Some can not help but want what they see."

She's definitely aware that she's alone out in the big world now. She's a little insecure, shy and self-protective. Performance is a way to mask and simultaneously break out of that. And she's performing all the time.

DMB: Does she worship Shelyn like her aunt, or Desna like her clan (or some combination)?

" Unless called directly by a god, only a fool worships one to the exclusion of the others. Shelyn and Desna are my favorites. Nethys has been kind to me. A traveller on the seas ignores Gozreh at his risk."

DMB" Did she pick up any habits from the Varisians, like their penchant for petty theft?

"It's not theft if you find something lost."

I hadn't though about it, but I am so picking up petty theft as a character feature. Don't worry, it won't get out of control. I've got a CN thief, Romon who had a penchant for that sort of thing and it never caused any problems. If I do steal from party members it won't be important items and I usually end up re-gifting one way or another. If it's a problem for any other players she can focus this peccadillo on NPCs. She's also seen a bit of prostitution in the caravan, which has given her a hard manipulative outlook on sex. This is balanced by a Shelyn driven belief in true love and the value of her person.

DMB:What language did she get from Linguistics?

"Papa Giorgi taught me bits of everything. Jack of all trades master of none."

Something to work out with you. Given her first teacher's knowledge, I see her as a student of the tongues of men (and other humanoids to a lesser extent). Given her background I imagine she'd start with Common (Taldan?) and Varisian as a base. 1st linguistics language should probably be a child's version of whatever her tribe spoke in the Mwangi. We can branch out from there.

@Trissana Moonshadow I'm going to presume that she is a rogue of some type, or maybe a fighter? How old is she? How is her relationship with her brother, and what is he like? Why does she dress the way that she does? Is there a reason for her being cool towards other? What sort of trouble has she gotten into with the thief guilds? Does she have any acquaintances or enemies from her time there? How does she feel about the sea? Does she reject or embrace her elvish heritage?

@Quara Sher How does she view others after her time on the streets? Has her tiefling blood caused her any problems with others other than her parents' reaction? How is she CG despite her harsh upbringing and her own cursed parentage? Why would she leave the captain who gave her a chance for escape, and what happened to him? What of her family? Where did the raksasha blood come from? Does she consider it a taint or a blessing?

I'd like to submit Strom Burlog, a barbarian turned Sea Reaver far from home. I'll give the Kingmaker game your running a peek, but from all the praise it's been given I'm already excited to see how your Skull & Shackles game pans out.

Story and stats are under his profile, if you prefer them on this thread let me know and I'll add them real quick. Thanks!

Okay, let's start responding. I'm going to try to get to everyone. If I seem to have missed you, let me know. Everyone's getting a fair shake. One of the things that I like to do is help people flesh characters out. Even if you don't get picked (and there's sadly no way I can pick everyone), hopefully the character will be stronger for it and might get picked up elsewhere.

@Jericho Fiendaxe How does he feel about running away from the plot that he was part of? Does he think of it as cowardice or as something else? Stuck between Chelish forces on one hand and pirates on the other, which does he dislike more?

First of all - I agree with you strongly in regards to the "questioning model". Whether our characters get chosen or not, this way we get to improve our characters giving them "depth" and making them more "realistic". On to the answers...

Jericho does not care much about the plot itself. He was chosen to be part of it because of his strength, not his cunning, and in a way he is aware or that. He has learned since then, that this was not the first plot against Avimar, and now he is not really surprised that this plot failed, as all the others before. This has just reassured him in his conviction that if Avimar is to be defeated, it has to be in a "direct all out attack", simply using superior strength/abilities. (probably a very stupid conviction, but as I said - Jericho is not very wise).

He does not see his act of running away as "cowardice", hell he had run from the fight many times before. He learned one thing growing up in Ollo - you hit them as fast as you can, as much as you can and as hard as you can. If they are still standing after that - run and pray that they don't catch you and you might live to see the other day! Only chummers insist on fairness and nobility is...well, for the nobles.

As to Chelish vs. pirates - Jericho "dealt" with pirates many times before. He fought with them, he beat them, and they beat him, he drunk with them and he knew lots of them personally. Sure, there are some nasty guys and girls there, but he overall does not see them as "evil". While Cheliax, although he had almost no contact with it - he considers almost anything coming from it "evil", and he hates that state with passion. Being chaotic and an individual - he can understand that there probably are specific people hailing from "devil state" which might be OK (in a way), but he is very, very judgemental to anything directly related to Cheliax navy, army, state...

I hope the answers above give you a bit better understanding of this simple guy.

I generally prefer histories and details on the thread itself, mostly to make it easier on me and anyone looking in to get a feel for it.

The spoilers simply serve to avoid the dreaded wall-of-text phenomenon. Anyone is welcome to check them out. :-)

@Strom Where does he come from? Does his morality begin and end with loyalty to comrades? How does he feel about slaves and their treatment? How does he feel about betrayal of a ship that he has less loyalty towards?

Human Barbarian (Sea Reaver)

@John Rawkins You know, his story is very similar to an NPC from S&S. That said, let's drive forward.

Well, I came up with the initial concept after I watched the scene on "Master and Commander: Far side of the World" where Blakeney lost his arm. Myself being in the Coast Guard, and having done time on a ship, I though how if part of me was ruined and I was cast out of something that was important to me, how I would cope. Self-reflection like that can suck!...

@John Rawkins Given the opportunity and the cash to regenerate his leg, would he take it?

He might, but it would depend on other factors. The PRG states that a scroll of regenerate would run about 2,275 gp. Right now John is *poor*, and not like one of those allstate commercials poor. He's poor in a way that he's traveling halfway around Golarion, to work for a country that relies on a slave industry to keep going, type poor. Yet, despite his flaws, he still loves his family. In game if I was selected, I had planned for John to send money home to his wife to help keep them going. So in that respect, until Alima and Farah were safe, John couldn't allow himself to spend that much money on himself.

@John Rawkins Why does he carry a holy symbol of Abadar?

John admires The Lawgiver aspect of Abadar. It is said that occasionally this avatar will appear as a double headed eagle, and I think that appeals to John on a deep level. His previous ship the Ealges Claw was an enforcer of the seas, and a protector of the weak. The nation of Andoran is founded on the ideals of justice and equality for all. While these ideals were already imprinted on John, having both been raised as a citizen of Andoran, and his time in the Navy, it was seeing the plights of others, the slaves and impressed sailors, that really drew to the forefront his his mind that justice and equality were not just words or ideals, but something that had to be fought for.

I realize that I choose for John an alignment of Neutral Good, and when I speak of Abadar and Johns love for equality and justice it doesn't seem to add up. I chalked that up to him back-sliding a bit since he started drinking. As the campaign progresses I want to see John free himself from Alcoholism. (In the same line as Colonel Tigh in Battlestar Galactica.) As he does so, and some of the gruff exterior starts to fall away I would see him work back towards a Lawful Good alignment. Also, and while I admit this is far off at fourth level John would gain access to his first divine spell. We would have to see how it would develop, but John might take it as a blessing from Abadar (Or Besmara if things come crashing down on John).

@John Rawkins How does his wife feel about him since leaving the navy?

Not good actually. If John had just been discharged and then found work, as perhaps a shipwright or merchant sailor then things would likely be different. Instead he fell into the bottom of a bottle. What little money the Rawkins had is now gone, and John's drinking is responsible for it. When Alima married John he was the dashing red-haired sailor, who had stormed into her cabin and struck off her chains. Not the man John is today. Perhaps its the alcohol or some inner self-deception, but John can't see whats in-front of his face. As for Alima, money is tight and she has a three year old to feed. She loves John, but she's desperate. If things get much worse... well, she was a pleasure slave aboard the Taskmasters Pride, It would be repugnant, but what choice would she have...

As I said earlier over PM, let's go with a bit older character - you suggested a former officer from the Andoran navy. You said something about him being marooned on an island after his ship was sunk by slavers. Let's explore that a bit more. What did he learn on the island? How did he survive? Why did he resign from the Andoran navy after his return to civilization? What does he hope for in the future? How would he step up, should the occasion call for it, and how would he lead the ship?

How about we go with a prison colony instead? What was the name of that one off the coast of Cheliax in that module with the derro (sorry if I'm spoiling it for someone)? ...**rummages around the forum**... No Response from Deepmar. A prison colony run by House Thrune of the coast of Cheliax. Getting beat by the slavers he and the surviving crew (Captain Perth got ransomed back), six in total, were sold to House Thrune and set there to mine crystal, he (I'm working with the name Iackob Steel a.t.m.) managed to escape, swearing to return and bust out the people there, and get into contact with the underground in Cheliax who shipped him back to Andoran. The Andoran navy gave some half-assed excuse about starting wars as to why they couldn't attack the colony and free the crew so Iackob stormed out in anger and took a job on a trader, heading to the shackles in the hopes of finding other disgruntled andorans to form a crew to bust out his friends...

Anyway, cleaning up after the birthday party and putting the kids to bed. I'll give this some more work in a bit.

Link to sheet.

Questions answered:

Question: How does she view others after her time on the streets?

Question: Has her tiefling blood caused her any problems with others other than her parents' reaction?

Question: How is she CG despite her harsh upbringing and her own cursed parentage?

Question: Why would she leave the captain who gave her a chance for escape, and what happened to him?

Question: What of her family?

Question: Where did the raksasha blood come from?

Question: Does she consider it a taint or a blessing?

@Strom Where does he come from? Does his morality begin and end with loyalty to comrades? How does he feel about slaves and their treatment? How does he feel about betrayal of a ship that he has less loyalty towards?

1. His people enjoyed the nomadic lifestyle of his ancestors, and would travel across the Thanelands between the cities of Ullerskad to the south, Turvik to the north, and Summerglen to the east in the Hagreach.

Some years the game was not plentiful enough, the tribe would travel to the Steaming Sea to hunt the coastal animals. One such year is how he ended up being vulnerable enough to be taken into 'forced labor' (basically slavery).

2. He feels a strong sense of loyalty to his people, and by extension most Ulfen. However, the life of a Raider is cut-throat and deadly, so Strom has become very careful about those he trusts and entrusts with his loyalty. His first loyalty is to himself, second to his tribe, and third for those comrades who prove worthy of it.

3. Although he's careful to act disinterested and uncaring about slaves and their plight, he secretly yearns to free them, fancying himself a slave of sorts. Taken against his will, 'broken' by the slavers who took him (or so they thought), and far from those he loves, Strom does what he can to help slaves when he believes no one is watching.

4. Strom has been at sea long enough to realize the need for a strong hand at the helm. While he is not afraid to betray a ship he has less loyalty towards, he'd be well certain it'd benefit him or those he cares about before he'd go along with the betrayal.

Here is the aasimar angle fleshed out some.

The background is quite sketchy now. I have painted the canvas in broad strokes, but have yet to do the fine details.

Why is Luther not min/maxed or optimized? - as a cavalier he mixes firearms, challenges, melee, and a dex fighter build with some CHA skills. His order of the seal challenge involves tripping, but he his far from optimized to trip. The character will be a balanced leader capable of making others better with teamwork feats.

Note: the strategist and musketeer overlap with the level 4 ability, but the 'squad training' ability is poorly constructed so the expert powder ability fits in better.

What else is important to know -- Luther has a hereditary firearm, and like Jane from Firefly, he would probably trade it for a young blonde Saffron (my two favorite episodes were the ones with Saffron). Unlike Jane, Luther has not named his firearm yet.

Gryffin remembers…

…lurching from a deep and dreamless sleep to the sound of loud rapping on his chamber door deep in the novitiate cellars beneath the Cathedral of Coins in Oppara…

…gathering his scant belongings and taking a carriage--rare luxury!--to the Westport docks, being unceremoniously bundled aboard a Cheliax-bound merchantman with a purse of gold and a quick prayer, watching the sun rise over the city, being carried out by the tide past Jadrishar Island, in scant moments being borne farther from the city of his birth than he had ever travelled before…

Gryffin Helwyr has been a ward of the banker priests of Abadar since he was nine years old and his destitute family gave him over in partial repayment of a loan. He has spent better than a decade undergoing the specialized training of the Church's inquisitorial arm, being honed as a weapon to turn against any enemies that might arise in the Church's midst.

Over the last few years, his training grew more specialized, as he was prepared for the contingency that the Church's interests might require an agent in the Mwangi Expanse. Others in his cohort studied the history and languages of Tian Xia, Vudrani, or the Padishah Empire, while Gryffin learned the Polyglot tongue of the southlands from a series of native speaker tutors.

Now he has finally been loosed like a bolt from Abadar's crossbow, aimed at a rumor. Church agents in Absalom have learned that an associate of one of the greatest traitors to the Church in living memory, the fallen paladin and embezzler Tedeo Ness, purchased at auction the papers of a sage specializing in the jungles of the Expanse. Maps, journals, learned treatises, a whole library's worth of information was bought for more than it was worth by Ness's thrall. It could mean nothing, or it could mean that Ness has at long last made a slip, and revealed something of his plans.

A rumor, no, a whisper, a mere hint of a rumor. Not enough to send a full team of the Church's paladins and priests so far. But enough to send Gryffin Helwyr…

Gryffin's orders are to make for the Chelish port of Corentyn, and there take passage aboard the first vessel bound for the Expanse. He is to make his way to Eledar, capital of the breakaway province of Sargava, and search out any sign of Tedeo Ness's presence. Should he learn anything substantive, he is to send word by the swiftest courier he can find but by no means to seek to track down Ness himself.

He is young, he is excited, he is inexperienced and a little frightened. But he is as ready as he ever will be to mete out justice on the enemies of his Church.

Oh, for my audition I have excerpted a piece from a Carrion Crown campaign as the pregenerated character and elven bard Ereviss Ciedrel giving an inspiring speech after the fight in the graveyard when everyone is gathered round the fire. It may not be my best writing, but it is my funniest.

How did he learn Elven? How has he changed since being shot? Did his father object to him leaving again? Does he think himself foolish or naive for letting the ship fall to piracy?

Being boarded by pirates for the first ever time was the first occurrence of an extraordinary circumstance since he had left home and he had no idea how to handle pirates. Not to mention the ship wasn't at all equipped for battle and relied on being a smaller ship that, let's face it, one of Duran's ships wasn't ever worth plundering before now.

His father did object in a way but not nearly as much as the first time Randol left. He knows Randol will live his life the way he wants and really he now regrets not having seen any of the world outside the village, especially since he is now unable to travel. He mainly cautioned Randol and quickly accepted that he may never see him again.

He knows he was naive in the pirate situation but he does not think himself foolish.

Edit(forgot the elven): I was going to change that for a more suitable language for the region but I am not sure what to go with. Probable the most common sailor language of the region. As for the int bonus for extra languages, I want to have him know the basics of these languages from his trading and have one of them learnt through his clerical learning/studies.
So Common, "sailor", elven?, and most likely celestial.

Gryffin - Do you have any other character ideas? Because one of the PCs in my Kingmaker game is a remarkably similar Inquisitor of Abadar. Or even another deity?

Gryffin - Do you have any other character ideas? Because one of the PCs in my Kingmaker game is a remarkably similar Inquisitor of Abadar. Or even another deity?

Dang. Okay, back to the drawing board. I'll post another concept in the next day or two.

It doesn't have to be a total shift. I liked a lot of what you wrote. It's just too similar as-is to Taisper.

It doesn't have to be a total shift. I liked a lot of what you wrote. It's just too similar as-is to Taisper.

Okay, how about I redo Gryffin as an inquisitor of a different faith with a slightly different backstory? But if I come up with something else altogether may I enter it as well? Or do you prefer one submission per player?