GM Captain Trips - Kingmaker Exploration Group 1

Game Master Chad Newman

Reserved

Moving right along...assuming the group is taking the directions from Oleg and headed out to meet the local alchemist hermit.

The party sets off that morning, heading southeast towards the location provided by Oleg. After 8 hours of travel through the grasslands of the Greenbelt they spot a lone homestead in the distance, a plume of red smoke lifting softly from the building into the evening air above. The home is surrounded by a worn down fence and a pair of mules can be seen grazing in the enclosed area it provides. As the party nears they hear a string of cursing and commotion coming from the home when suddenly the front door opens and out comes an ancient looking human wearing nothing but a leather smock. Wiry hair protrudes from his head in various places and his skin appears to have wrinkles on its wrinkles. His is surrounded by a reddish cloud of smoke which trails behind him and he appears to be swiping at his skin as someone would do if they were covered in ants. After a few moments of this he turns to the south as if observing something of importance, supplying the party with a lovely view of his wrinkled and aged posterior in the process.

Theod takes in the sight of the old man busting out of his home and looks to the others with a shrug. "I suppose this is Bokken..., I think maybe we should have asked Oleg to clarify what he meant by 'jittery'

As the man turns to display his rear end Theod, just shakes his head, waiting for one of the others to engage in conversation.

Castor blinks a few times, speechless. "I have seen many odd things on the road, but it seems like this man is determined to compete."

"Well, you don't see that every day...then again, I'm not sure anyone would want to." Winifred says, diverting her gaze to look at something, anything other then the barely clothed old man.

After a moment or two of staring off into nothing, the man swiftly turns around to head back into his house. It is at that point that he realizes that the party is standing not far from his home, and straightens with a sudden jerk of his old muscles, runs inside the house, and slams the door. From inside in the distance you hear "Go Away! I've got more than enough firepower to handle the likes of you hooligans! Don't make me turn you into a greasy spot on my lovely field!"

Seeing the rest of the group hesitate, Castor decides to speak up.

"Are you the man they call Bokken? Oleg suggested that we seek you out. We come with nothing but peaceful intentions!"

Nodding in agreement with the priest, Rufus adds. "We were hoping you might enlighten us about a few things, seeing as we're new in these parts."
Just in case. Diplomacy: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23, Well, hopefully that's worth something.

Hearing the threat by the old, scarcely clothed man, Hadin naturally places himself between Winifred and the little house, in case of danger.
While he takes place, the young woman can see the huge boy blushing. Their eyes make contact, making Hadin blushing even more.

Then he turns to the house and speak, his voice growing more confident with each word

We require your help, sir Bokken. I am Hadin Cassoren, Oleg's nephew. Maybe you've already seen me at the trading post. We just want to talk to you, and we certainly mean you no harm. Would you like me to put down my weapons and shield, to get out from my armor to show you my good will? Because, by Erastil, you just have to say the word. We're not bandits, sir, if that's the cause of your trouble.

Diplomacy aid Rufus1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8

"Please keep your armor on..." Winifred says, not wanting to see anyone take anything off right now.

"You are Bokken, right? I am Lady Winifred Lebeda," She begins, avoiding eye contact with the old man, "We mean you no harm."

Diplomacy aid Rufus: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (13) + 11 = 24 Come to think of it, do I even need to roll to aid since the DC to aid is 10?

Correct, you would automatically aid. A roll of a 1 is not an auto-failure on a skill check.

Swayed by the words of the group, the old man pokes his head out of an open window, banging it against the frame in the process and cursing violently. He sizes up the party for a moment, squinting in the light of the sun, before ducking back inside the house. After a moment and no small amount of commotion inside the building the door opens and you hear, "Well don't just stand there! You never know what might be watching us. Come in, come in."

Castor follows along with the instructions, looking to see if the hermit's home has any kind of area prepared to shelter a horse. If not, he ties Capella's lead to the front porch of the house, where he could keep an eye on her without issue.

"I would like to ask, Bokken, what is this red smoke?"

Theod follows as well, timing his horse off where he can. Theod adds to Castors question, "And why are you only wearing a smock?"

"I think the later question is more important. Winifred adds, trying to avoid looking at the man and yet still navigating into the inside of his house.

Assuming everyone is going along with the request and enters the home...

As you come into the house you are amazed by the general lack of organization that plagues this home. In every corner are stacks of papers and books, boxes and crates, and containers of bottles of all sizes stacked nearly to the ceiling. Numerous tables are cluttered with burners and racks of vials, as well as jars full of strange contents. Herbs and flowers hang from the rafters in the house and seem to give the house a pleasant yet alien aroma. In the center of the room stands the nearly-naked man, his hands busy working over a series of beakers and vials, pouring their contents together back and forth, occasionally working one of the containers over an open flame, causing the contents to bubble and froth.

"Red smoke, red smoke. Oh! That was purely an unexpected twist! The blood of the troll can sometimes be volatile indeed when mixed with the resin from a treant sapling! But! I could be on to something! More tests, more tests!" The man continues to work over the items on his table, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. He moves to a second table, grabs a jar, and shakes some of the contents into the beaker in his hand, the concoction bursting into flame, spraying liquid fire around the immediate area. A stray bit catches hold of a bundle of herbs which immediately blossoms into flame as the fire consumes the plant. Strangely the odd man seems not to even notice the conflagration as he proceeds with his work. He sets the beaker down in a holder and turns to move around the table, nearly bowling over Theod as he makes his way. "Oh, oh! Who are you?! What are you doing in my home?"

"You invited us in, sir. Said something about 'not knowing who might be observing outside...'" Rufus interjects quickly.

Hadin looks around in the little house, trying not to bump his head in anything.
His face is still in a deep purple shade, from the embarassment of Winifred's remark about keeping his clothes on. He visibly, painfully avoids any eye contact with the lithe woman, and keeps silent for a while.

The old man considers Rufus for a moment, scratching his wiry hair, "Of course I did, you never know who might be out there sneaking around in the bushes! Probably my no good brother again! and with that he holds up his right hand, showing a missing pinky finger. He spits on the ground, narrowly missing Winifred's boot, and continues, "Bastard cut that offa me the last time he hit my mother, Desna rest her soul. But he took off right after to live in a hollow tree down south rather than face the guards, so I guess it all worked out well enough."

Castor's eyes go wide at the strange assortment of implements within the hermit's house, and even wider as a fire quickly blooms. "Um... Bokken? I believe your herbs are on fire."

If Bokken doesn't notice still, Castor pours some water from his waterskin to put out the blooming fire.

Theod chimes in, assuming the burning herbs are intentional "We have come to explore and map the area. Oleg said you were good people and could potentially assist us with your knowledge and your skill." He waves his hand around to all the alchemy equipment.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18 If needed

Narrowly avoiding being spat on Winifred couldn't help but mutter, "I'm not much sure he's all that knowledgeable. I think he's just about gone bonkers actually." She sighs and speaks up a little louder, "Bokken, could you tell us about this brother of yours?"

Having successfully diffused the potential impediment of Bokken's dementia-induced paranoia, Rufus keeps his ears open & his mouth shut for the time being.

The old man, bombarded on all sides by chatty adventurers, turns his head this way and that, trying to keep up with the conversation. "Oleg! Yes, good fellow, long beard, a bit grumpy, I know him! Skill? You want potions then I take it? Yes, yes, potions, but of course! Losing his train of thought he turns to Winifred, "That good for nothing, shiftless layabout, bah! I have no time for him. No time. What was his name...it escapes me. Too long, far too long." He turns abruptly, "Well of course there is fire! What do you expect? Snow? By Calistra's brazen teet man! How do you expect a potion with no fire?" He shakes his head at the cleric, muttering something about fire and snow.

"Potions! Of course! That is why you are here no? But where did I put that beaker, how am I supposed to finish this work... he babbles on. Looking down you notice he still holds the bubbling beaker in his hand.

If that can be of any help, master Bokken, you have the beaker in your hand.

The tone is one of concern, not mockery. Hadin keeps a serious face, even if the mention of Calistra's..unmentionables get him reddening again.

Come on folks, a little more interaction here! :)

Bokken looks down at his hand, jumping back quickly when he notices the beaker there, "Indeed indeed! Thank you! I might never have located it without your help! I suppose now you want a reward?"

He goes back to the work he was doing with the beaker, pouring it into a larger flask and setting it atop a small burner where he adjusts the flame and steps away. "That should do nicely!"

Taking you completely by surprise he yells out, "Are you going to stand there all day? Those fangberries won't harvest themselves you know! There will be no reward at all if they are bruised or dirty either, so be careful and don't let them fall on the ground!"

I think Bokken has the whole party dumbstruck, players included.

"Pardon me? What are these fangberries you speak of?"

Castor appears truly and completely lost because of the hermit's incoherent attitude.

I'm sorry , could you tell me, Master Bokken, where i can find theses fangberries? I don't even remember you telling me the first time, as i was looking for your beaker... I'm not even sure I could recognise one if i see it right now.

The truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth... that's honest paladin's work.^^

"Fangberries! I need them for my potions, they give them that extra special kick you know! Well of course you don't know where they are, how could you? It isn't like you are out gathering them for me every day! Are you?" He rushes up to Hadin, inches from his face, "Did you find the beaker? Do tell me son! Be quick about it!"

"Why does the potion need a kick...What kind of potion are you making anyway?" And why are we getting caught up in helping you make your potion, we're not lab assistants. Winifred sighs, watching the party get caught up in this crazy man's shenanigans.

The more questions you ask him, the longer you will find yourselves within his web... Rufus muses as the others continue their befuddled conversation.
On the other hand...
Fangberries...
Knowledge (Local): 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13, to try & recall anything about Fangberries.
Yes, I know Nature or Geography would be better. Rufus doesn't have ranks in either of those.

You have never heard of a fangberry, but you aren't sure if that is because of your lack of knowledge when it comes to local flora and fauna, or if it is because they don't exist.

"Potions! Right! All potions need a little kick to get the juices flowing properly you know. Of course you do, your studies would have taught you that! Silly me." He begins shuffling through a massive stack of papers on his table, finally coming across the one he was looking for. He begins to write on the paper and then offers it up to Winifred for inspection. "Here! Here it is, the fangberry. I need no less than twenty of them. Clean mind you! And not bruised! Bring them to me as soon as possible! I'll give you a discount on any potions you might need in the future!"

Bokken's Paper for Winifred

Theod chuckles at the old man.

Know. Nature: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25 To see if he knows anything about Fangberries or where they might grow.

Fangberries are actually a rare plant/fruit that do indeed grow in the area. They are known because of the rather thorny bush that they grow on, hence the name. They are typically harvested by workers who wear gauntlets or specially fashioned plate gloves. Chain doesn't prevent the fangs from burying into the skin of the person doing the harvesting.

They usually grow in large clusters near a running source of water, but like any plant they can be found outside of their natural element as well.

Whoa. Those are some nasty thorns.

Castor takes the party members aside for a moment.

"What do you say then, friends? Shall we try and find some fangberries? I do not believe we are in any kind of hurry, and securing Bokken's help could certainly prove advantageous in the long term. Surely the five of us working together can manage such a task."

Theod looks to Bokken "We should be able to help you with these. I am familiar with the berry you seek, though not as familiar with the area. We can be on the lookout for them as we explore. Speaking of which, as we explore are there any dangers we should be aware of locally or any maps you might have of the area?"

Bokken looks at Theod with a strange look, as if he had any other looks to use, and says, "Dangers? Maps? Do I look like a ranger to you son? If I had maps I'd sell maps! I have potions! Watch out for the bandits in the area though! They stole a beaker of mine a while back."

Theod nods "Ah so you do know of dangers then. We shall keep a watchful eye for bandits and your berries." He looks about to the others "I think we may have all we can get here for now, shall we continue exploring and mapping out the area?"

Anything that gets me away from this crazy man. Winifred shoves the paper in her pocket after glancing at it and deciding it wouldn't help in the slightest. "Sounds like a plan." Winifred responds, eager to leave the crazy man's house.

Rufus nods in agreement with Theod's suggestion. "Thank you, for your hospitality." As he leaves Bokken's hut.

Anything else before we move on?

I'm good.

"So, Theod, what should we be on the lookout for? I don't think I've heard of such a fruit before."

As they depart Theod explains what he knows to the others. "The bush of the berry is very thorny, usually requiring special gloves to harvest, so we may have some difficulty. It generally grows near running water, but could potentially be found elsewhere. I should know it when I see it." He looks up to the sky, "We should have a few hours of light left still, perhaps we should begin our exploration from this point and see how far we get. I suggest we start furthest from Oleg's and work our way back in that direction. I have a feeling just getting this area down will likely eat up all of our time before we should be meeting up."

Im thinking the time of day is like 4-5 PM? Based on the 8 hours of travel. Not sure if those 8 hours counted toward our 96 hours of exploration time for one hex with a party of 30 ft movement or not.

Yes, those hours would count towards the time needed. And it is getting towards the evening, probably 5pm.

I'm good to start exploring
"Well that description helps a lot more then the picture." Winifred says with relief. She looks up at the sky as well. "We better get going then."

Nodding in agreement, Rufus re-settles his pack as he checks that the others are also prepared to head on.

Theod nods, getting is horse ready to continue to move on "We should have at least 3 or 4 more hours of light. Let's head south east then sweep around counter clockwise until we head back toward Oleg's over the next couple of days."

Again getting a feel for the timing if we are in the month of Erastus we should have longer days with nightfall being around 9 PM or so? Maybe even later since we are a good ways up from the equater.

"I would not know a good navigation plan from a bad one," Castor replies, climbing in his saddle, "but that sounds about right to me."

The party heads out, leaving a nearly naked Bokken standing in the doorway wishing them well. "No dirty ones mind you!" he yells after the party once more, and turns to head inside, his sagging rear once again gracing the horizon.

You travel southeast for the remainder of the day, camping in a small grove that seemed the most defensible spot in the open plains. The night passes without event and the morning brings a foul storm that soaks the party to the bone, leaving them quite uncomfortable throughout the day. As you continue to explore the area, making notes of some of the more flood-prone spots of the grasslands, thanks to the rain, you come across a strange burrow a few hours before the sun sets. The dirt mound itself stands about four feet high and the opening is around three feet wide. All around the area there is disturbed earth and torn grass.

"I have no idea what kind of beast might rest in such a burrow, but I have my suspicion it would be no mere bunny rabbit."

Castor picks up a pebble from the ground and, with a flourish and a command in Celestial, causes it to cast a bright light.

Casting Light

"What do you think? Should we investigate further, or shall we leave the animal to its own devices?"

"Whatever it is, I don't imagine it's friendly." Winifred comments, looking at all of the chaos that has been seemingly caused by this creature.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

But Winifred is too busy looking at her own feet to see anything.