GM Captain Trips - Kingmaker! (Inactive)

Game Master Chad Newman

Brom's brow furrows as he hustles, and he has to half-focus on the disconcerting presence of Bob nearby, but he maintains stoically. The fire continues to grow behind them (I'm guessing) and makes the night seem much lighter than normal. Interesting notion, I should learn more. He thinks. Puffing slightly in exertion, he answers Will in between breaths, "Is zhat only a bandit vay zhen? To slay v'ones enemies? Among Zhe People, much honor comes from zhe killing and dying of battle. It is good, yes?" He glances over at will as he moves, checking his feet every few steps to make sure to avoid any obstacles.

"I'm saying not everything needs to end in death!" shouts Will, louder than he means to. Taking a moment compose himself, he continues, "Death is permanent. They cannot learn from their errors and become better people. They may have family and friends, who will miss the terribly when they are gone. Who are we to judge them and end their existence simply because they do something we disagree with? In your people Brom, do you kill everyone you defeat? Is there no room for mercy? I truly understand the drive for glory and honor, but can those only be obtained by killing?"

Again, Will's free hand unconsciously grasps the hilt of his long sword, seemingly taking solace in it's presence.

Listening to Will.. "I grew up with these people.. They do not have love ones, they do not marry, they break the laws of this land every chance they get.. They rape, pillage, and murder.. Thats what they do.. Now im not gonna argue that everyone is beyond reform, because i too was once a part of this, although i didnt partake in most of it.. We here did not judge them, the ruling caste of Brevoy did.. They are lawless criminals who mostly just deserve death.. In the direction your heading there will be much of this death.. If you cannot stomach it i suggest you turn around now, for not many will be open to reform and i promiss you if the tables get turned on us there will be none of this mercy you speak of.."

After working hard to cut the fire off at it's source, Tshilaba ended up giving up close to last although it wasn't certain at all that it would help. As others were messing with the captives, he was just coming back from the edge of the flames. "It's jus' a waste. Real sad. I reckon it's a bit far gone now to stop. Maybe if we caught it earlier, it'd worked out different." He moved over to the group and took inventory, just making sure no one friendly was dying somewhere.

Brom considers Will after his minor outburst, and the man's words. "Ve are zhe victors of zhe battle, zhis is the not the vay of things vith you? Among Zhe People, zhose I fight on zhe field of battle, zhey all die. To allow zhem to live after defeating zhem, vould be vorse zhan death. An honorable death, zhat is zhe most vorthy of goals, yes?" He feels badly for the small man, so blind to the ways of true honor, and shakes the unconscious half-orc he carries, as if to say, 'At least we let one live.'

When Kurgan responds, Brom inwardly approves of the mans mentality, but keeps his thoughts to himself, only allowing himself the slightest of smiles.

The party hustles down the trail, managing to put as much distance between themselves and the blaze as possible. As the party moves along the road they spot a high number of animals of all kinds darting through the forest, heading south as well, likely trying to outrun the catastrophe that has destroyed their burrows, dens, and shelters. After a few miles down the road the intense light of the fire can no longer be seen, but it is still obvious by the warm orange glow on the horizon to the north. A massive plume of smoke reaches high into the sky, signaling the destruction.

At last the party is spent, and must stop for the night. The hectic pace and the extra load wearing them to the point of exhaustion. Up ahead is a clearing past a large stream, which luckily would serve as a natural firebreak should the flames reach this distance.

Castor looks at Will, then at Brom, then at Dendarial, and then back at will, hesitant. He opens his mouth and raises a finger, so as to speak, but, finding himself without a word to say, he lowers his hand and taking a breath.

In his few years of travel, this was the first time Castor found himself faced with such a dilemma. Usually, his answer had been to leave the culprit to local authorities, or to send him back to town, bound in rope, upon the very merchant chariot he had tried to rob.

On one hand, Will's words were true. It was not upon them to judge whether or not a man's crimes could justify their untimely end. Such a task should have been left to lawful authorities, or barring them, to the deities above.

On the other hand, would it not be placing themselves in danger to leave the enemy which had made an attempt on their lives free to return with reinforcements?

Castor stood still for a time, murmuring a prayer under his breath.

Climbing into his saddle, picking up the toppled bucket, and getting ready to depart, Castor remained silent and pensive, making communion with the night and the stars. He would have to find an answer of his own in the days to come.

As the party makes a new camp beyond the river, Castor remains mostly silent while preparing for the night, speaking only when spoken to.

Did we find anything on the bodies?

At some point I am sure an inventory will be taken of the items grabbed from the archers and fallen orc that were collected up. Within the spoils you find three serviceable shortbows, a total of 43 arrows, four daggers, two flasks of alchemist's fire, a silver ring crafted in the shape of a serpent biting its tail, an uncut blue tourmaline, a bloodstone, and a few pouches of coins which add up to 19 gold, 42 silver, and 142 copper.

Dendarial quickly removes the chain shirt from the dead orc, not worrying if he dislocates a shoulder or breaks a wrist in doing so. Those of you who can, loot the archers before retreating. I can use those arrows and the bows should be worth something in trade.

To Will the ranger responds. Judge not the vengeance of Desna Human. Enemies still run free and threaten us with fire, and who knows what else. In a few moment that orc would have once again been a combatant and I chose not to allow that. His leader who is invisible and still around could have woken him and ordered him to kill us. I would not have killed him if we had the luxury of time.

Has the owl spotted anything of interest - I really was hoping for horses tied up somewhere, or better yet, being led off by someone invisible.

Not sure how much time we have to loot, but Dendarial really wants the bows and arrows after he gets the chain shirt off the orc. What melee weapons did the archers have?

The looting has already been done earlier. I imagine they used the daggers. Castor is mostly interested in his fair share of the gold and maybe one of the daggers. He has plenty of arrows.

When Dendariel addresses Will, he turns to look at the one who started all the bloodshed "While not an active follower, I never knew Desna was a particularly vengeful god, Elf. That seems more akin to Lamashtu's domain." Will then swiftly turns his back on the ranger, walking away.

Seeing Castor in quiet contemplation, Will approaches him quietly. "Castor, you are a priest yes? Might you assist me in some soul searching, for I am torn and in need of guidance."

"Let us not go that far, Will. There is a difference between vengeance and cruelty. Still, ideals vengeance are more befitting of Calistria's followers than they are of Desna's. Desna has only ever spoken to me of the freedom of the road, the luck that befalls the benevolent, and of the shining stars in the sky. I fear my communions have not told me what the Starsong would instruct her followers in doing with their fallen foes, but I find it unbelievable that it would involve such wrath."

Castor's glance to Dendarial is quick, but its meaning is easy to read: "You claim follow the same god as I do, but your ideals are alien to me."

As for your guidance, I believe I may be struggling with the same issues. Let us speak of it for a time."

By the way, Dendarial, I'm kind of confused OOC. I've looked around in the books I have, and I can't seen Desna having a "vengeance" angle anywhere. I know Calistria is an elven deity with vengeance in her portfolio, but I can't find it for Desna. Mind pointing out to me where you found it? It would help me in our future interactions.

@Den, sorry, I should have been more clear in the description. The orcs had chainmail, not chain shirts. The archers were wearing leather, which I assumed the party left due to the amount of time it would take to remove the set from them without damaging it. There were two short swords but it sounded to me like a scoop and run and the heavier items were left behind. I'm fine with anyone who wanted to grab those.

And they had no horses, they were on foot, tracking. They spooked the wizard earlier in the process.

Leading Castor a bit further away from the group, Will sits on a rock, and stares up at the sky a moment before speaking, "I wasn't supposed to be here, did you know that? It was supposed to be him, it was always supposed to be him. Only, death cares not for the plans of men, and finally caught up with him. Oh the blood, I can still see it pooling beneath him... his life, leaving his eyes, immune to my calls to stay with me." he then grabs the edge of his cloak, to wipe his eyes, "Damn this dust..." he says dryly before continuing,"I took up his sword, and have come here to honor his memory, but there will be death everywhere, and I know that. I.. I thought I would be ready for it. I know those that we will kill have brought it upon themselves, and deserve to reap the rewards for their choices, but I can't help but think that when I land a killing stroke, I may be dooming someone else to the turmoil within me."

By the way, Dendarial, I'm kind of confused OOC. I've looked around in the books I have, and I can't seen Desna having a "vengeance" angle anywhere. I know Calistria is an elven deity with vengeance in her portfolio, but I can't find it for Desna. Mind pointing out to me where you found it? It would help me in our future interactions.

I'll have to find it for you later - I build this character a year ago and modified it for this campaign and do not recall exactly. I am working from Seattle this week and part of next week and do not have all my books and easy access to other reference material at the moment.

@Den, sorry, I should have been more clear in the description. The orcs had chainmail, not chain shirts. The archers were wearing leather, which I assumed the party left due to the amount of time it would take to remove the set from them without damaging it. There were two short swords but it sounded to me like a scoop and run and the heavier items were left behind. I'm fine with anyone who wanted to grab those.

And they had no horses, they were on foot, tracking. They spooked the wizard earlier in the process.

Ok - No problem. You said chain and I incorrectly assumed chain shirt. If he has time to get the chain mail off he does so, if not he will take the entire body I guess. He can maybe at least drag it far enough away from the fire to buy some time - like across the road, which should act as a fire break.

That's fine, anything they had would have been available. Chain would only take a minute or two at most to remove. You could have done that without too much problem.

And to the Desna comment. I do recall reading that somewhere, I just don't remember the source. I am pretty sure she does have a vengeance aspect. I'll try to track it down.

I think so too. It came from somewhere. And if I am wrong, and vengeance is not part of Desna, I will play it like the more militant of my tribe misrepresenting the goddess to me as a way to get me to do what they needed done. That will give you a chance to correct me and lead me back to the true path. :)

Having explained himself to the human once, he does not try to do so again, giving the man no more attention for now. To Castor he speaks in elven.

The party hustles down the trail, managing to put as much distance between themselves and the blaze as possible. As the party moves along the road they spot a high number of animals of all kinds darting through the forest, heading south as well, likely trying to outrun the catastrophe that has destroyed their burrows, dens, and shelters. After a few miles down the road the intense light of the fire can no longer be seen, but it is still obvious by the warm orange glow on the horizon to the north. A massive plume of smoke reaches high into the sky, signaling the destruction.

At last the party is spent, and must stop for the night. The hectic pace and the extra load wearing them to the point of exhaustion. Up ahead is a clearing past a large stream, which luckily would serve as a natural firebreak should the flames reach this distance.

Brom wearily trudges through the stream, nearly falling twice, Krasa no longer on his shoulder, but dragging on the ground, even through the stream, which just makes the crossing that much tougher. Finally making it across, he dumps the prisoner on the ground in a limp heap, dropping Krasa and his pack down next to the body. Large arms dragging, he pulls feebly at the lip of his pack until it opens, yanking out his blanket with unnecessary force, as if the blanket is to blame for his tiredness. He glances at the prisoner next to him, "Is zhere somevone vishing to tie zhis heavy, useless, steaming pile of horse$@!% up?" he calls out tiredly. While he waits he tosses his blanket down next to the prisoner, aligned so he can use the mans stomach as a pillow, but doesn't let himself lie down just yet. He tugs at Krasa irritatedly, trying to get it into position next to his blanket, but the heavy weapon just drags stubbornly, hooked to a low rock. The barbarian shoots daggers with his eyes at the offending rock, but otherwise makes no move to improve the situation.

Hearing Dendarial's words in Elven, castor thought for a moment, before replying in common, for everyone to understand. "It may be so. I would prefer not to debate such things until I have come to a conclusion of my own. If you will excuse me, I believe one of our travel companion requires guidance."

Without another word, Castor joins Will and listens to his worries, remaining silent and attentive.

To his surprise, as he attempts to comfort Will, Castor finds that words come to him easily, and that answers to his own questions soon come to him.

"In life, like on the road, Desna traces many paths for us. Some lead to good, others to evil. Though she strives to show us the right one, to light our way, some err and take a detour through shadows. It is a sad reality that some of these roads lead to dark and lonely destinations, but we cannot let the fear of such lands bar us the path that is our life.

I do not approve of how coldly some of our comrades react to the truth of it, but in some ways, I cannot fault them. At times, the guilty must die so that the innocent may live free."

Castor places a comforting hand on Will's shoulder.

"Your brother, who was he?"

The elf grasps the reigns of his horse, calming the beast and eventually makes the black horse settle enough to make his escape from the fire. As he follows the crowd through the forest and across the stream, he pulls up aside the foreign warrior.

"I reckon a few of us were unprepared for prisoners. I don't have no rope, and I don't know if anyone else has any either. But, I'll help you watch him 'til we get him wrapped up right proper." He smiled his trademark smile and got off his horse, throwing the reigns over a nearby branch.

There's a coil of rope in Castor's horse's saddlebags that shouldn't be too hard to notice.

Grunting his thanks to Tshilaba, he notices some rope dangling from Castors mount, Capella. Brom abandons his tired attempts to drag Krasa closer, and instead hauls himself to his feet and pulls the rope from the saddlebag himself, largely forgetting his distrust of animals in his near-exhausted state. Dropping heavily back to his knees beside the prisoner, he attempts to tie him up, working with tired fingers. **Tie Up**: 20+CMB = DC25 to escape.

Finished, his head hanging down as he considers his handiwork, he glances over at the elf next to him, "Speaking vas not easy before, but is too bad about zhe voods and many creatures. Very not good, yes?"

Cappi won't ever steal from the group. However, he's a filcher by nature, so I'm looking for opportunities to flesh this out without actually stealing. If this upsets you, Castor, let me know and I'll alter it!

Cappi joins the rest of the group, winded but smiling. He rests his hands on his knees for a moment, looking up at the sky and catching his breath. Then, as if just remembering, he adds the few things he was able to pull free from the other orc to the pile they were collecting. Noting the ring he quickly reaches out and snatches it up, holding it up above his head so that it could catch some of the waning sunlight. "Would ya look at that witcher bawble? Looks a bit familiar..."

Knowledge(Local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11
Appraise: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20

Brom beat me to the punch, so to speak. Editted so that Castor's rope doesn't magically multiply.

"Well, it isn't as if the land won't recover. Some lands do quite well after a good fire. The waste comes from all the lumber and greenery that could have been of benefit to the area that was lost and now can't be a benefit to anybody. They will regrow in time, but not before you start graying. It'd take at least fifteen, maybe twenty years before the area returns to it's former shape."

He watched the sleeping orc lay there with more rope around him than really was necessary. "There's a fella whose lack of vision will end up causing his own a whole heap of trouble, but there are some humans and even elves in the same boat."

This is true. Fires do happen in nature, rarely. It is a terrible crime to set one intentionally like this. Much waste and many animals will die senselessly.As he builds a new fire the ranger offers I am called Dendarial. The owl, a good friend, is Acio. She will help watch.

Dendarial will agree to take any watch he is asked to and in the morning will go out and try to hunt for some food.

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

Brom nods in silent acceptance of Tshilaba's explanation, turning to regard Dendarial's addition. "Very not good." he laments quietly.

When the Ranger introduces himself Brom manages a tired smile, "Your arrows vere as good as zhey vere a surprise. I am glad for zhis meeting." and reaches to clasp forearms. After the introduction and Brom is getting settled back onto his blanket, groaning a little as he settles his head on the prisoners gut, using it for a pillow, and allows himself to drift off.

As he's passing to sleep he can be heard speaking/humming very softly, presumably to himself "Zhere's Acio and Bob and Capella and zhe kitty named... somezhing. Horsies and kitties and ow-els a-flying. Vhat's a man to dooo, but to find small man pet just like yooou..." and any more lyrics are lost as he drifts off.

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EDIT: Removing Brom's morning post to allow some night time convo's to continue per OOC thread request.

Tossing the ring back into the pile, "Hmm, mistaken it seems. I'd watch that ring though."

He also introduces himself to Dendarial. Slightly hesitant as he introduces himself as 'Beau' again. He doubts he'll maintain the ruse much longer, but now hardly seems an appropriate time to break it.

Being much more of a night person than a morning one, Cappi volunteers for the first watch and relishes the option of sleeping in!

Tshilaba extends his handshake to his fellow elf. He wears his big smile and treats him with the same friendliness as anyone else.

"My name is Tshilaba Vadoma. I don't come with anyone besides my horse Cherry, but he let's me do all the talkin'. If'n you are goin' the same ways as the rest of us, would you have seen me up on the road? There's a matter of a couple of folk who were creepin' up on me that I would love to settle. Do you know who they might be? If it weren't y'all, we might get some more company tonight." Despite the somewhat serious tone of the conversation, he didn't seem to lose his good humor.

Continuing his conversation with Castor, "He wasn't my brother, though I cared for him no less. He was my friend for nearly as long as I can remember. He was always the focal point, the star, and I was always there, helping him shine. Now, all I have left of him are my memories, and this." says Will as he pulls out his long sword. In the starlight, Castor can see it has a bronze hue, not the usual grey of hardened steel, and the blade is decorated with ornate inlay.

"I concede your point, that we face these men to protect the good people they would prey upon. It may make the lives we are forced to take more tolerable. Still, no matter what these writ's in our hands say, I feel death's embrace should be a last resort, not our first impulse." Seeming more at ease, Will rises, to return to the makeshift camp being arranged. "And thank you for listening.

Returning to the camp, Will sets about caring for his mule and setting down for what he hopes to be a restful evening. "Shall I take the first watch again, or since that worked so well last time, does another wish to take first watch?"

Castor smiles and nods solemnly.

Moving back to join the main group, Castor takes a deep swig from his waterskin. He stops in front of the sleeping barbarian and kneels, observing the gash remaining in Brom's arm. "This ought to help him sleep better...

Gentle light forms in Castor's hand and pulses gently across the camp, washing over the tired group like warm sunlight.

Channel positive from the approximate middle of the camp: 1d6 ⇒ 3

His deed done, Castor takes a deep swig from his waterskin before joining "Beau" and the others by the campfire.

"I saw the lot of you tallying the spoils of war; it is only fair that I add my own finds to the pot."

Castor rummages through his belt pouch, adding the two gems he had found amongst the archers and the two coin pouches he had obtained.

"You seem rather knowledgeable about market values, Beau. What can you tell us about these two stones?"

Then, with a smile and a glint in his eye, he adds, jokingly, "In an honest manner, of course."

After getting the evaluation done and exchanging a few pleasantries with his fellow camp-mates, offering to refill waterskins as needed, Castor pitches his tent once more and once more marks the camp's perimeter with taut string knotted to a bell.

"I'll be up for my turn of watch at the break of dawn. May your sleep be peaceful and marked with pleasant dream, despite this unwanted surprise."

Bidding the others good night, Castor allows himself to rest at last, to prepare for his early guard turn the next morning.

Nearby, Capella stands by the other equines, dipping her head for one last bite of grass before she too allows herself to rest.

"I know good things when I see them," he beams. Taking the gems in his hand, he rolls them around a bit. He tests they're weight and watches the way light refracts upon the surface. He even licks them, taking a moment to let the taste settle on his tongue. No sense showing tricks of the trade without throwing in some curveballs.

appraisal: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Wearlly dragging feet after such along day Kurgan will quickly lay out his bedroll and attempt to get comfortable.. Content to set back and listen to the procedings its not long before he is snoring..

"Zzzzz.."

We will assume night passes.

Early morning, Oathday, the 26th of Sarenith, 4713 AR.

In the morning the party awakes to the sound of grunting from under the massive form of the barbarian who, in the night, shifted positions and now has his upper back flatly pressed against the face of a struggling orc. The creature is pulling at his bindings and attempting to bite through his gag with his yellowed and pointed teeth.

Wakeing up refreshed Kurgan walks over to the orc and sets him upright.. "It was a mistake to come after me.. I shall here of my fathers plans if yall were not to return.." Pulling the gag from his mouth he will backhand the orc hard.. "Speak or i will break your legs.." Intimidate: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18 Situational Bonus?

The orc blinks from the backhand and snarls at Kurgan, barking out a series of words that sound more like grunts and growls than an actual language...

At the end of his tirade of hateful noise the orc spits at Kurgan, hitting him in the right eye, and tosses him a toothy grin.

Kurgan will wipe the spittle from his eye and in turn will punch the orc in the face for punch: 1d3 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5.. "You are probably right about my father doing worse, but he's not here, i am and unless you wanna get beatin till your tusks fall out then i suggest you talk.."

sense motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

Castor, who finished his prayers just minutes before the prisoner had the gall to spit in Kurgan's face sits nearby, roasing a few handfuls of nuts on the campfire, and listens to what he can gather, hoping his own skills at discerning lies might be of use.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

Well, well, well, look what turned up. I might get some kind of penalty for not knowing orcish, though, but I imagine body language does translate to a certain point.

Prepared spells have been changed and refreshed.

Waking to the grunts and snarls of the orcish language, Will bolts upright, sword flashing out of its sheath. Seeing it’s only Kurgan interrogating their prisoner, he relaxes slightly and sets about getting ready for the day. Donning his armor and packing up his belongings, he arranges them for maximum balance and comfort on his mule, all the while, watching the orc bandits reactions and trying to gauge it’s potential willingness to change its thieving ways.

"Kurgan, I know you want answers, and to be quite frank, I do as well, but... I think it may be wiser to have another of our fellow campmates interrogate him. Someone who is less familliar to the orc may have an easier time pulling some words from him.

Kurgan sighs.. To the group.. "This vermin is completely loyal to my father.. He will not talk not matter what we do to him.. He will not be carried anymore.." With that Kurgan will bring his flail up and around, smashing the orcs skull.. cdg dam: 2d10 + 12 ⇒ (6, 6) + 12 = 24 Fort DC 34

Will winces at the vicious blow that crushes the orcs skull, Curious. He continued to fling insults and reject everything about Kurgen, even though he knew his life was forfeit if he resisted. Perhaps these bandits really are too far gone on the path of evil to change. He must have known what would happen when he spit at Kurgen, and yet he did so, and showed no sign of repentance or fear for his fate.

Castor averts him gaze as the flail drops, and solemnly places a hand upon the wooden butterfly hanging from his neck.

"May this lost soul soon find its rightful path."

It takes Brom a oddly long time to be roused by his rambunctious 'pillow', making several attempts to elbow and prod the thing until the orcs struggles finally wake him. He sits up, stretches widely, and rubs his eyes as Kurgan begins the interrogation with a backhand. Brom gives a mental nod of approval, Interesting, a small man... well a man who knows how to get results. I did not know if they had the stomach.

Brom partakes of some of the offered water, and some of the other procured food with a word of thanks to Dendarial and Castor. He notes the fully healed wound on his arm, and his chest is also healed now, the scars forming nicely. He closes his eyes and remembers the pain and experience garnered from each battle, each wound, and can't help but smile contentedly. Finally he returns to the moment, watching the half-orc spit on Kurgan, and feeling like the prisoner is not going to be of much use, and must be disposed of. Standing slowly, some of the soreness from their late-night escape lingering in his body, he does his best to ignore his discomfort and move towards Castor and Kurgan.

"Is he revealing anyzh...." and Kurgan's flail smashes through the prisoners head, "...useful?" he finishes lamely. "Vell, zhat vas not fortunate -for him. Are ve ready to move?" as he speaks he kneels and begins untying the bindings from the body, trying and failing to do so without getting blood all over much of the rope.

I'm not even going to try to make that save. He is splatted.

Just to be clear, it was an orc, not a half-orc. Kurgan can explain in character if he wishes about the orc's function in his father's band. Brom snuggled with an orc, ewww.

Dragging the orcs body towards the river Kurgan will let the water take him.. "Sorry for that gents.. He was of no use and therefore subject to the charter.. Im sorry i have put you all in this situation and you should know this will not be the last time we see the Grimtooth clan.. But enough of that, let us be on to Oleg's!"

He was my snuggle buddy, alas, no longer. lol

Brom makes the suggestion, and moves to help before the body is released, they don't put the body in the stream -not wanting to pollute someone's water supply downstream if the body snags. It was a stream not a river I believe.

He'll help drag it all the way across the river and into some bushes if Kurgan is agreeable. The task finished, he splashes some water onto his face and torso, squeezes back into his armor and repacks his lightly-loaded pack properly, then stands ready to depart.