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Welcome and good luck submitting characters for this Carrion Crown pbp.
Carrion Crown is a classic horror adventure set in Golarion’s Ustalav – a Renaissance-era Slavic country analogous to Transylvania with a long history of oppression and suffering. There is some great information for character creation in the Carrion Crown Player’s Guide. I will favor character submissions that fit the setting and theme.
We will use the PFRPG rules with the following house rules:
- Everyone begins play at 1st level with hit points equal to their full Constitution score instead of a hit die, regardless of class, plus favored class and feats and stuff, if chosen. From 2nd level and on, roll your class’ hit die twice and take the better result. No one likes being too squishy.
- Everyone gets a free rank in a Profession skill of choice at 1st level. Give your PC some background and depth.
- We’ll use Evil Lincoln’s Strain-Injury hp variant. It’s easily found on the Paizo boards. It makes magical healing more special and thematic, and it eliminates wasting time and spells healing up after every, single tussle. It lends itself to pbp very well.
- Weapons normally affected by the Weapon Finesse feat (now called “finesse weapons”) simply work off of Dex instead of Str, even if your Str is greater. The Weapon Finesse feat allows you to add Dex to damage rolls, instead of Str, when using a finesse weapon. Some character concepts are just Dex-based, not Str.
- Combat Expertise, Deadly Aim, and Power Attack are no longer feats, but simply combat options. They may be done freely by anyone with the requisite ability scores. Also, Point Blank Shot is no longer a feat. It’s just a natural consequence of being closer to your target. Please, still declare when you’re using one of these options though, for clarity’s sake.
- The Improved [combat maneuver] feats no longer have as prerequisites Combat Expertise (Improved Dirty Trick, Improved Disarm, Improved Feint, Improved Reposition, Improved Steal, and Improved Trip), or Power Attack (Improved Bull Rush, Improved Drag, Improved Overrun, and Improved Sunder) because those feats aren’t feats anymore. I would love for combat to be more dynamic and cinematic than just a hackfest.
- Combat Maneuver attempts only provoke attacks of opportunity if they fail, or if the target of the combat maneuver has a greater feat in that maneuver than you. (no feat < Improved < Greater) Same as above, maneuvers make combat more fun.
- Creatures under a fear effect receive a new save each round to decrease the fear effect by one step. (shaken < frightened < panicked) No one, not even the GM, wants characters taken out for long. Shake it off and get back in the action.
- I will roll initiative for combat using the Combat Manager application and post the order. Everyone can post their action as they are able and then I will string them together into a cohesive narrative. I’ve never tried this before, but I hear it’s the smoothest way of doing it. This may mean I have to make some minor calls on your behalf (you attacked monster 1, but it’s dead now so I’ll just have you attack monster 2). It’s just faster than waiting for everyone to post what they rolled.
- I will use each player’s passive Perception score (10 + bonuses) at all times, UNLESS a player indicates that they are actively searching something or being especially vigilant for something in particular. It just keeps things moving smoother. And I’m not a stingy GM with searching stuff anyway. I’m not going to pull the “You did SAY you look there!” nonsense on you.
- We will use Hero Points from the APG. You’re heroes.
- I realize that this is a fair number of house rules. I have only included rules that I believe will contribute to the style of game that I would like to run. If you have questions/concerns with any of these, please, speak up.
Source material allowed: Core Rulebook and APG only. I’m sorry if that precludes your idea. I’m new to this and nervous about managing the game. I’d just feel better staying core.
The Player’s Guide for the Carrion Crown AP is required reading. It can be downloaded for free from paizo.com. Note: We will NOT be using the optional Harrow points mentioned in the CC Player’s Guide.
I will take 4 players.
Character creation:
- 20 pt buy. Max: 18, min: 6, after racial mods.
- Core races only - maybe I’d let a tiefling or something slide with the understanding that Ustalav is an insular and superstitious place. “Outsiders” are not well received at all. Being “different” will have a major impact on the game for you.
- Core and APG classes only
- 1 trait from CC Player’s Guide required. 1 additional trait from APG also allowed.
- Everyone starts with 150gp (class kits from UE allowed, if you like)
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Dear friend;
I am reluctant to involve you in anything that may put you in harm’s way, but I fear that I have stumbled into a proverbial hornet’s nest. I haven’t the time to say much, but dark strangers have been seen around Ravengro and it appears that they have some interest in the ruined, old Harrowstone prison. While I can’t fathom what they would want with that creepy, old eyesore, I am deeply suspicious of their intentions. My best (and most feared) estimation is that the strangers are Whispering Way necromancers and that they are here to study whatever fell energies may still cling to that ruin.
My friend, I admit that I am fearful. While this may all be nothing more than the imaginings of a bored, old adventurer, what if it isn’t?! I must know. If it is the Way, they must be stopped. Anything that would interest them surely bodes ill for the rest of us. I am sorry to be so brief, but I know almost nothing, as of yet. I just wanted someone I could trust to know what I was investigating should the worst come to pass. I will send word as soon as I have more to tell. I trust you will exercise discretion with what I have told you. The Way are wily enemies. Farewell for now.
Your old friend;
Petros
Dear Sir or Madam:
It is with deepest regrets and sincerest sympathies that I must write to inform you of the passing of Doctor Petros Algernon Lorrimor, heretofore “the deceased.” Funeral services are in preparation and interment at the Restlands Cemetery in Ravengro is scheduled to be carried out after the customary ten days of mourning. The honor of your presence has been requested at the funeral services and the deceased’s family has requested your service as a pallbearer.
Additionally, you are named and summoned for the reading of the deceased’s last will and testament. Please come with all haste that this matter may be promptly and appropriately resolved.
Professionally yours,
Councilman Vashian Hearthmount, Esquire, acting executor of law
As you round the small hill skirted by the southward road you’re travelling upon, a battered, grey building comes into play. It appears to have once been a very large, proud home which has since bent to the cold rain and long suffering of the region’s past. A bright, freshly-painted sign swings softly from a post in front of the gate with an optimism that seems very out-of-place in the gloomy dusk and drizzling rain. The sign cheerfully announces the Come On Inn…literally. When you come close enough to read it, the voice of a happy, old man – reminiscent of a sweet grandfather greeting his grandchildren – appears to come from the sign itself. “Welcome! Come On Inn!” Smoke pours from the chimney hinting at a warm fire and the mouthwatering smells of savory food surround the inn like a familiar blanket. Your longing to get out of the drizzle is compounded by the lure of supper and you quickly decide that this is as far you’ll get tonight. Ravengro should only be a couple of hours farther. You’ll still make it. You absentmindedly touch the pocket containing the two letters that brought you here (in spoilers) and feel another twinge of loss at the passing of your friend.
A moment after you knock on the door, a middle-aged woman answers with a welcoming smile. She’s a handsome woman with very kind eyes, though the lines on her face betray a life of toil and hardship. She sizes you up momentarily and then pulls you through the threshold. “Come in. Come in. We must get you warm. You’re hungry, I’ll wager. Should still be plenty of room at the table. This rain… Hope the Grey Lady sees us shivering down here. The Lady knows we suffer. But sit. Sit. Will you have the roast goat or the lamb stew? And we have a wheat beer, a pumpkin ale, or a red wine. What please you? It’s 4 silver for the room and 3 more covers supper and breakfast. You can pay, right?”
The common room is not so large as you’d have guessed from sizing up the exterior of the home, but that makes it seem all the more cozy. There is a large hearth of riverstones filled with a sizeable fire. In front of the hearth is a very large, heavy-looking oak table surrounded by matching chairs. Several of the chairs are already filled with fellow guests at different stages of their meals. Conversations pause as they look over to you.
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Your application for the game will be done in-character. Jump in at this point and introduce yourself however you please. Feel free to interact with everyone else – I’m assuming the others at the table are the rest of the applicants, though you may fill in NPCs that might illustrate your PCs character. I will be using your in-character introduction and interactions to get a feel for your character and roleplaying style. I want characters (and players) who can cooperate and communicate. Show me.
In addition to your introduction at the Come On Inn, I would like a brief spoiler about you, as a player. Why do you want to play in THIS game? What’s your favorite part about RPGs? What do you hope for from this game and from me as a GM? There are no wrong answers. I just want to know my players. I look forward to hearing from you.
I hope to have a party chosen by Sunday.
The stranger's arrival heralds a choice for the inn's drinkers- whether to laugh, or to laugh so hard they fall from their stools. A thin, bespectacled man with a shuffling gait and the nervous hands of a painter walks through the door, instinctively nodding politely to everyone, wiping condensation from his glasses and smiling at the woman. "I am dreadfully grateful ma'am, after some days walk in these sodden plains I feel some desire for a sherry, or the house red..."
His words and figure are not the cause of much pause; plenty of other such men have traveled through the town, Doctor Lorrimor just one of them. "Their reaction stems from the contrast in symbol and meaning derived from my garments and my manner" as the man, Doctor Percival Lawson, would say. For the good doctor is dressed in hard, boiled leathers nearly two sizes too big for him, small metal studs emblazoned in places, with the dirt and mud of a hard day's trek written across his brown denim trousers. A large, high-crowned, wide-brimmed hat threatens to slip past his large imply ears and cover his face, but remains bafflingly balanced as its owner shuffles into the tavern, his body settling atop a stool daintily.
He gives a simpering little smile to everyone before turning to the barmaid, settling his hat onto the bar next to him revealing a thin comb-over, and asking, "A glass of discussed, if you would be so kind, ma'am?" he fetches out and pushes over a few silver coins.
Name: Percival Lawson
Race: Human Male (37)
Alignment: LG
Class: Gunslinger
Backstory: I'll write some more later, but in essence- a museum curator in Sandpoint who one day foiled a robbery with an antique musket, discovering the thrill of the adrenaline rush as well as that of a life not bogged down in administration, so he bought some second-hand clothes that seemed appropriate (guess how much of his life savings he was charged) and went off as a hired gun.
If I might request a single extension of the core material- would you mind allowing the Musket Master archetype?
"Dont travel at night Chelly... Dont speak too freely about yourself with strangers on the road."
She heard the words of her father in her head as she stood outside the Come On Inn, a slight frown on her face. The letters, first from the proffessor than well from the council man weighed heavily on Chell's heart. He was a good man the professor. The peal of thunder in the distance decided things for her. She made her way to the entrance the heavy cloak keeping most of her features somewhat hidden. The few patrons turned and glanced her direction when she entered most hurriedly looked away however, her size would keep most of them away hopefully. She found an empty seat at table and made her way there setting her things on the floor beside her.
The ale and stew will be fine, "
She said quietly slipping her hand down to her coin pouch breifly and handing the old woman the coins. She glanced about the place looking more out of curiousity than fear, even if her father worried for his girl she knew she could take care of herself.
Nothing looked strange at all, and she relaxed enough to pull the hood from her cloak back, displaying her face. She smiled broadly and thanked the girl before turning to the drink and food. Traveling on the road had made her hungry.
I started playing pbp games here about a year ago. I work midnights at a job that let me basically sit around and watch you tube videos and well post on forums like this.
My Goals: I love the paizo AP's. The only one i had any experiance before the boards was the first, wrath of the runelords with my home gaming group before i moved (unless you count The savage tide back in 3.5 d&d) and since have started to play in Wrath of the righteous, Reign of Winter, council of theives and Skulls and Shackles here on the paizo boards. I can post everyday I dont sleep a whole lot either. My goal is to one day play in all of them. In fact i have charector ideas basically built for all of them so far.
Hopes for this game: Fun fun and more fun? As long as we are all somewhat active things should go smashingly.
ill dot in i dont know anything about this AP but ill read on it i can do several post a day . ill read the guide and see what i come up with
B+##@+%s, my apologies, could have sworn gunslingers were APG. Ill have a re think.
i know you said only Core and APG but i really want to play a Scarred Witch Doctor its from the ARG if not i still might make a witch just have to think on how thanks
dotting for extreme frightened interest.
i know you said only Core and APG but i really want to play a Scarred Witch Doctor its from the ARG if not i still might make a witch just have to think on how thanks
Nvm about the witch I feel a inquisitor for this game
@Dr Lawson, is he a gunslinger or chirurgeon? I see both on the character sheet/background. And you mentioned Second Darkness in your ooc...you know this is Carrion Crown, right? Just clarifying.
@Riuk, the scarred witch doctor looks ok. Go ahead and submit it.
Sorry, I briefly joined a Carrion Crown game as Hector Lawson, Gunslinger. And I briefly played Percival Lawson as a chirurgeon in a second darkness game. Ample oppprtunity for confusion.
I wished to apply for this Carrion Crown game as Doctor Percival Lawson, Gunslingsr. Then I remembered gunslingers are UC, not APG. Will reconsider.
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A big dark man in a large black silver trimmed cloak that completely covers his face and hands. The man tells the women
"yes the stew and the wine will do"
the cloaked man sees an open space at the table setting his large well worked backpack.
at the table he takes out a small piece of wood as he sets it on the table silver trimmed black gloves with what look like hard sharp polished nails are ripping out of the gloves. He begins to work on the wood carving a small well detailed statuette from it. Once the woman brings here the meal he reaches into his cloak and hands her 1 gold piece, as he hands it to her the man ask her
"can i please have a extra food in the morning thank you madame"
as he eats his meal anyone at the table can see that the carving looks just like Doctor Petros Algernon Lorrimor
the man discreetly looks at everyone gathered at the table to see if anyone takes extra interest in the carving
I really enjoy RPg's i have been playing for about 12 years now. What i think i enjoy the most about this type of game pay is getting really onto character and interacting with the rest of the group as the character would even if that means doing something dumb like taking a celebratory drink from the alchemist lab. After a big fight when OOC you would know not to do that but your character dose not and want to calibrate.
I want to be in this game since as i read more about it it a HORROR campaign and that sound like so much fun. And from what i can read the @GM and the potential players will be very active {i can post several times a day and hope others can as well} it seems like a grate time and i am looking forward to getting in to it ^_^
I wouldn't mind a dhampir for the setting, but I'm very wary of having an evil character. I went back and re-read the CRB entry for LE and i just don't think that will work. I guess it could depend on your brand of evil, but you ARE the heroes in this AP... I'm gonna say "no." Sorry.
I nod, sitting down, taking a sip of my ale with mild fear. I close my eyes, letting time tick by slowly.
He hasn't been here in ten years. Hasn't been here since he left.
He sighed. He left after about five years of study with the professor after his mothers... Demise. It's been ten years since he left him, and... He was dead. He was sad. Not much else to really say.
He laid back, and sighed to himself. His mother's death was... Painful. It is, now, but at the time, it was a ounce of freedom- and self defense. She tried to kill him, a demon trying to end him...
What about a Dhampir Paladin? Would that be at all considered?
"Roast goat," the dwarf rumbles. "Beer if it be all ye have, something more fiery to take the chill off o' the bones if ye have that." He shakes out his cloak and hangs it on a wall peg, walking forward to slap down a gold coin, pulling out the two letters as he does so. A cross look goes across his face, and he when he sets the coin down, he says, "Aye, best make it two drinks. Goin' ta be a bitter walk to Ravengro tomorrow."
Looking around the inn, Morgrym makes note of each of those who are clearly not regulars in the town: the thin man with spectacles, the blonde human woman, the large man cloaked in black, and the brooding one. Wonder if the be here for the same reason, or just on this miserable road? He sips whichever of the beverages he is presented, and begins working on the goat. "Hmphfmpfh," he offers - his best attempt at compliment through the warm food and good drink. After swallowing, he says, "Well, it may no' be the same as the Whistlin' Treant back home, but it'll do. Cheers t' warm shelter on a cold night's travel. Know tha' I'll be stayin' the night, too, if ye have a berth."
Morgrym thinks back to what it would be like in the mines over in Barstoi tonight. Would they be finding anything but the same tin and salt that they have been mining for generations? Or was this the day that they finally found something more interesting? That'll have t' wait, Morgrym. Time t' think on yer friend and his kin.
I like the RPs are opportunities to tell collaborative stories. I never know what what others will do or say, and all I can do is focus on my PCs core motivations, and from that respond to the world around him.
As a GM, I hope that you will create easy hooks for us to latch onto and keep the story moving. I hope that as a player, each post of mine will help push the story forward, rather than just pass around the proverbial hot potato. Though in this story, I guess it's a ghost potato, or something like that. :)
@Javell, sure, dhampir are a good thematic fit...just don't forget what a pain it might be to heal with negative energy. That's always been the hardest part about playing a dhampir.
The thin man goes silent and contemplative, staring at his glass of red; he remains silent the rest of the evening before bed and slipping out of town in the morning, never to be seen again.
Behind Morgrym, another dwarf enters the inn; this one is bald, extremely so. No hair atop his crown, no beard, no eyebrows or eyelashes, all combining to give a curiously ageless effect. He runs his eyes over everyone before nodding to the barmaid. Drawing out a small rectangular device of dwarven make, he fiddles with it as small engraved slips of wood drop out of it one by one, wound back up into the mechanism as they proceed.
My name is Thak Val Zsing
One room for the night
Please
Putting it away, he pulls out a tiny chalkboard, and clumsily writes a message on it-
Wheat Beer, please
Wiping it off and stowing it away, he pulls out a few silver and settles on a chair, dropping a hefty sword and one of his curved daggers to the ground with his pack.
Name: Thak Val Zsing
Race: Male Dwarf
Alignment: LG
Class: Ranger
Backstory: To come
Personality: Initially insular, loyal when bonded. Hates orcs and accents. Likes fighting.
@Javell, sure, dhampir are a good thematic fit...just don't forget what a pain it might be to heal with negative energy. That's always been the hardest part about playing a dhampir.
Actually I've always loved that part about it. A challenge to be sure, but an interesting one none the less. :)
And I am gonna be honest with you, I don't like roleplaying within a recruit thread.
Now, here's the guy I would submit: Morbury. He's been in 3 other CC campaigns and, obviously, they've all died.
BUT, if roleplaying is an absolute must, I will respectfully withdraw. No worries. No harm no foul. I totally understand.
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as time passes on the man in the black coat takes out more small pieces of wood and carves it with his long sharp npolished nails makes statuettes of every one at the table
" madame more of the red.. "
places 1 more silver coin on the table and as she walk up with the wine
" please have stake with the meal at dawn I'll need a full stomach to see an old friend family and there sad state that they are in...thank you "
Upon being pulled into the common room by the strong-armed woman, the man she pulls abruptly steps away and wipes an accrual of rain from his brow to the floor. He glares at the woman with a pair of mismatched eyes. One is shockingly green, almost gem-like as it takes in the firelight. The other is blue, steely and hard as stone. Demitri gathers himself, pushing wet strands of his black hair away from his face. His flesh is pale, his lips scarred. He clears his throat and replies, voice thick with a native Ustulav accent. I rather like the rain, but food would be welcome...have you bread and hard cheese? Lamb..lamb would suit. No drink that will take my wits - goat's milk, if you are giving." He flashes coins to show he is good for it, and moves over nearer to a fire to keep from puddling. Holding out his hands, they show to be well and often used - hard and cracked, scarred and calloused. He looks at them as the fire tugs shadows across their features until a voice behind breaks him from the trance.
"Is that you, Demitri? Ho, I say it is!" Demitri turns to see a tall man, mustachioed and thick with brawn. He is missing an ear, and carries a large hammer on his back. A soft smile grows upon Demitri's lips in recognition and he gently waves. "And looking like a drowned rat, ha!"
"Ivan," Demitri says simply. "Looking well."
"Aye, aye, still one-eared but now I'm just as handsome as the rest of you. Fancy seeing you here. On the hunt? I am, here with my old friend Rurik," the large man explains, jerking his thumb towards a man at a nearby table. "This is Demitri. Told you about him before, I think...joined him on a hunt once a year or so back." The seated man nods, sipping his ale. "Anyway, you should come along with us, could always use another that knows his way around a fight."
"Sorry. I'm on...other business. Not a hunt. Maybe next time." Demitri brushes his thumb against the letters in his pocket, feeling the weight of their words even through the fabric of his jerkin. "Ah, I believe my supper is ready. Excuse me."
Demitri moves over to collect his food and drink, picking out a distant table, and eats lightly, casting his gaze around the room, watching those that discuss, eat, drink, and carouse. He unfolds the first letter again and reads over it for what seems like the hundredth time, and then the second. Eventually, he spies another person or two with documents looking peculiarly similar to his own. Well... he thinks. Isn't this most interesting...
@Demitri, a changeling/half-elf sounds fine. I have no problem with the race. A "monster" fighting monsters could be a fun theme.
I've got a couple of characters first the clergy man.
He inspects the woman's hands. Clean fingernails. No blood nor gore beyond what one would find in kitchen help. Her face is clean, placid, a bit dull. Her skin is warm to the touch and flush with life. She is startled by his temerity and forwardness but cowed nonetheless by his bearing.
Coiger wears his impeccably trimmed black goatee in what many might suppose is mocking admiration of the Lord of the Hell, but it suits him, so why change? He wears the somber black of the Pharasman clergy save that he is not as soft as most of them. Not in the waist, and certainly not in his countenance.
He forces some coin in her hand and tells her to keep her eyes and ears open and to come to him with any news.
He was here early, not to enjoy himself. No, he never enjoys himself. There's never the time. One never knows when their allotted span will run its course. All one can do is make the most of it. Coiger did that every moment of every day.
He had finished his wine before the first local came to his cups, and been using the mug as a prop since. Sitting there patiently, he awaited all the pieces to arrive so that his mind might assemble them into truth.
or...
A tall, swarthy stranger bursts through the door cursing the rain and spraying it widely as he shakes it off his himself, and the sheathed crescent blade tied to his back.
"By the gods! Has your country no sun?!" He complains loudly to the woman who raced to meet him at the door. She offers him a ridiculously small towel given how damp he is.
Looking darkly at the towel and then at woman behind it, and the gathered crowd of patrons beyond her he sighs. Gently he unwraps his cloth headdress and wrings the rain from it into a sleeping patron's mug.
"Wine?" the hostess offers timidly.
"I never drink, wine." He says now wringing his long black hair. "I'll have hot tea instead."
When the woman says nothing he looks at her meaningfully and asks:
"You do have tea, correct?"
"No sir, we don't get much call for it here."
"Never mind." He says, apparently defeated.
He picks up the mug filled with rain water and downs it in one long gulp.
"Pray tell ma'am do you have accommodations in this-" He struggles to get the word out "-village?"
"Yes sir! The finest."
"Very well, lead me to them. I'll also need housing for my steed, until after my friend's funeral tomorrow."
The words carry over the tavern crowd and halt the flow of drink and conversation almost immediately. Somewhere in the back an empty cup tumbles to the floor.
Okay, They are both (Coiger and Aba'al) updated.
May the fates shine upon us all.
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A tall, lean elf enters the inn, smiling wryly at the pun. His hair is silvery-white and his eyes green. A colorful thrush is perched on his shoulder. He is oddly dry and clean, considering the weather.
He smiles warmly at the inviting woman. "Pumpkin ale, please." He nods to Morgrym. "Master dwarf seems to recommend the goat. I'll try it. Do you have any fruit or berries for Lady Lyra?," he asks as he pulls out a chair and sets the thrush down in it. "She does not care for meat." He takes the woman's hand in both of his own, slipping the coin into her grip.
He finally sits down and nods in greeting to the others. "Fellow travelers."
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the man in the heavy silver timed black cloak speaks and ask in a gravely voice
"how many of you are here for the Doctors funereal?"
holding the carving of the good doctor in his hand he says
"this man a good friend of mine saved me from a bad place i was in when i was younger, i owed him a lot... It saddens me to think ill never have the chance to repay him..."
all this is said wile this dark man has kept his face in the shadow of his hood
Demitri stows his letters sweeps from his seat and stalks around the perimeter of the inn when he hears murmurs of "Doctor." He steals glances while passing other patrons to see who speaks of him, catching a glimpse of the wooden carving, a likeness that Demitri has not forgotten in the past few years. The scarred half-elf steps around a few others to stand before the table at which the holder of the carving is seated.
Ze doctor ov which you speak..." he says gently, his accent afflicted with that of Ustalav, "Could you mean Petros Algernon Lorrimor? Zis man aided me once, as well, years ago...Helped me to understand some things.. You too are here, for funeral? Intriguing."
Just to summarize what I'm looking at so far... (Let me know if I miss someone)
Melee- Chellian, Aba'al*, Demitri, Thak, Javell
Arcane- Gremly, Sohar
Divine- Coiger(?)*,
Skill- Morgrym,
* = same player, can't both be picked
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once the man before Gremly speaks he put the carving on the table and pics up one more piece of wood and as he speaks to Demitri. Gremly carves a small statuette of him
" yes the man help me in the pass as well, i did wish to see him again but not in this way...i am Gremly Dan by what name do you go by??"
in the short time Gremly is speaking he carves a perfect likeness of Demitri and place's it on the table next to the statuette of the good doctor
"A good man," Demitri replies. "Better when compared to most...It is not surprising ov him to have had such effects on others." The half elf lowers his eyes to the wooden replica of himself, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a split-second smile. He picks up the piece with a scarred hand. "A fine talent, and swift." He sets the idol down gently. "Demitri." His eyes fall on the face behind the hood before falling to Gremly's hands, eyes lingering perhaps too long on the sharpness of the half-orc's nails. Realizing the stare, he shakes his head and averts his gaze, twiddling his own unusual fingers. "Chance plies upon us, no? To have crossed paths here..."
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Noticing the prolonged stare Gremly motions to the chair inform of him
lowering his voice
"Do not be alarmed by my look most people do not like my kind in there establishment, especially in these parts. How did you come to know Petros if you don't mind the asking?"
Gremly lowers his hood a bit further so it would be harder for his face to be seen...
Demitri gives a wry smirk and looks back to Gremly. "Contrary, contrary...Not alarmed. Thinking we might have more in common than our mutual acquaintance, no?" Not dwelling on the subject, and realizing that perhaps he was letting his guard down too much, Demitri clears his throat. "I am a...hunter. I have made hunt ov strange things, and sometimes they have made hunt ov me. Ze doctor, he found me, wanted to know more, how I hunt, how zey hunt. How I survive. We spoke ov it, and I told him ov many things I do not tell to anyone. He helped me understand more, and made me a better hunter, in ze end. He helped me more than he knew, I think. I have not seen him in some time, only letters. Until ze last letter, and now there will be no more of those."
Just to summarize what I'm looking at so far... (Let me know if I miss someone)
Melee- Chellian, Aba'al*, Demitri, Thak, Javell
Arcane- Gremly, Sohar
Divine- Coiger(?)*,
Skill- Morgrym,* = same player, can't both be picked
Oh I know, I just had a couple of ideas for characters and couldn't out and out decide. It looked like the game needed some divine, but at the same time with all the possibilities for available combat feats I couldn't not recreate my old 3.0 (yes, 0), smart (though not always wise), fantasy, Arabian fighter.
Anyhow good luck to all. And may the best inquisitor win! ;)
The door to the inn opens and a small figure steps through. It stands 3 feet 6 inches tall. It is hard to say what it is as it is almost completely covered wearing an Explorer's Outfit, leather armor, gloves, a cloak with the hood up and a balaclava. It is small enough it might be a child, but no child would be carrying so much weaponry.
The stranger has a heavy crossbow slung over his right shoulder and a quiver holding a dozen throwing darts slung over his left shoulder. He carries a Gladius attached to the center front of his weapon belt rigged for a right hand draw. He has a morningstar on his left side and an oversize crossbow bolt case holding 40 bolts on his right side. He has a sort of suspender like arrangement that holds up his weapon belt and has a sap attached to that on the left side of his chest.
Given that he is wearing boots he's probably not a halfling as they normally go barefoot. It would therefore be reasonable to assume that a gnome has just entered the inn. The serving lady walks up to him and then takes a step back, obviously shocked. The lady says, "What are you? Why are you here?"
The figure takes his hood down and lowers his balaclava. He may very well be the strangest thing most people have seen in a long time. It looks like he is a life sized wooden puppet carved by a master craftsman to resemble a gnome. Yet there are no strings on him and he is obviously alive. This strange figure answers the lady with a voice that sounds like a bizarre high pitched monotone. He says:
"My official name given to me by my creator is 'Scout number 42', though I usually just go by 'Scout'. I am an advanced type of wooden golem that is actually alive, having intelligence and free will. I am here to attend the funeral of Professor Lorrimor in order to repay an old debt to him incurred when he saved my life."
The lady replies, "So I assume that you're going to want food, drink and a room taking up items I could use for other good people?"
Scout replies, "I don't eat, I don't drink and I don't need to sleep. I just want to come in out of the rain and talk to other people who may be here for the Professor's funeral."
The lady gives out a disgusted sniff and says, "Ok, find yourself a seat if you can and talk to whoever is willing to talk to you. But don't you dare pester anybody who doesn't want you to or I'll have the Sheriff throw you in jail for causing a disturbance. And after the other good people here go to bed, you can go to the stable."
Scout replies, "That will be acceptable."
Scout fully enters the inn and initially just finds a spot in a corner where he can stand and look around. After doing so for a little bit he takes some of his throwing darts and starts juggling them.
Hey, all. I had intended to choose the party by tonight, but I'm not quite ready to do so. I apologize for the delay and I appreciate your patience.
Notes in his ledger:
New (suspicious) arrivals:
- Shaved dwarf - do they all smile like that under all that hair?
- Pale soldier - bears investigating
- dwarf - noisy eater - "GOAT"
- Half-breed Witches? (Fetish carvings-what could they mean? A code perhaps?)
- Irrisen amazon - another witch?
- Kellish reaver - out of his element
- Animated puppet (haunted???)
- White-haired bird-lover, what did he give the hostess?
Notes in his ledger:
New (suspicious) arrivals:
- Shaved dwarf - do they all smile like that under all that hair?
[Dice=Perception]1d20+8- Pale soldier - bears investigating [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
- dwarf - noisy eater - "GOAT" [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
- Half-breed Witches? (Fetish carvings-what could they mean? A code perhaps?) [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
- Irrisen amazon - another witch? [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
- Kellish reaver - out of his element [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
- Animated puppet (haunted???) [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
- White-haired bird-lover, what did he give the hostess? [Dice=Perception]1d20+8
Aba'al looks in his change pouch.
"So it is judged." He says ironically.
He looks about the room's walls for work postings. He'll need money to get back to Garund. He has enough to see him through the next few days, but after that--well, he'd have to find something.
Race: Male Dwarf
Alignment: LN
Class: Ranger
Backstory: Born into a semi-noble dwarven family, after hearing stories of the battles he developed an extremely strong hatred of the murderous orcs. Consequently he answered the silent call for dwarves to stand guard in Ustalav against the orc forces of Belkzen. His group was nearly massacred by the orcs, with him and another the only survivor. The two went their separate ways- Thak retreating to the woods, to live alone fighting the orcs in his own way; the other to return to dwarven society and never fit in due to the trauma of the experience. Since that incident, Thak has not spoken, instead relying upona chalkboard and a small drop-down mechanism of his own devising.
Personality: Ran into Professor Lorrimor as he was delving a forest ruin; the two struck up an arrangement, him guarding the site while Lorrimor uncovered a secret passge into Belkzen, one Thak leaked to the nearest Sky Citadel. Lorrimor taught Thak sign language, the man Thak's closest new friend since the incident. Thak is (obviously) quiet and reasonably sullen; get him drunk and like any other dwarf he will bellow with wordless laughter. Intensely, deeply loyal to his chosen allies. Furious when facing orcs.
Character Sheet