"He seemed pretty genuine in his fear o' the Stag Lord. Probably fer the best if we're not underestimatin' him." Brokk'r tells his compatriots.
"Aye, thank ye kindly, lass." he says to Svetlana.
Add up the total cost based on normal pathfinder equipment tables and subtract it from your gold.
Right now, you are so poor that Oleg can outfit you with anything you can afford.
Also, I'm leaving it up to the party to sell equipment and divide the gold. Pro tip: PCGen, free program, to easily get costs of everything.
Terrain: Plains ; max PC speed: 20 ; days to explore: 2
Rain: Muddy footing prevents melee attackers from properly attacking (20% miss chance in melee)
Following the tracks of the bandit wagon, the party sets forth with a bustle of activity and excitement! Soon, the smoke from Oleg's fireplace is nothing but a cloud in the sky, and soon enough, it is gone from sight. Unfortunately, the rain is coming down again... a cold spring rain. It does not take too long to lose the wagon tracks in the mud and muck. There is no road to follow; you are in the wilderness.
Remembering your task, you start to map and explore the terrain. Perhaps by properly exploring, you will come across the bandit's wagon tracks again. You are in wide plains of dead dry grass, with flat top hills slowly rising and falling. There is still snow on the north side of the hills. You can imagine, come summer, how beautiful this land will become. And someday... a land perfect for farmers.
It goes and goes and goes, in all directions. It will take at least two days to simply map this one area.
EXPLORATION! YOUR ACTIONS
Arlen
Brokk'r
Sigurd
Rai
Ike
Diceros
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Diceros says, "Ah, these plains remind me so much of home. Colder, but home. I could spend a lot of time here, happy."
"But, I would rest easier here knowing where those bandits will come from. I'm going to continue searching for tracks. I'll save nostalgia and proper exploration for a less dangerous moment."
Arlen loves stretching his long, skinny legs around the area.
What interesting flora in this area!
Rai looks around for anything of interest or out of the ordinary.
"I think we are here to explore and find these bandits and can do both at once"
Brokk'r keeps his eyes peeled for any signs of danger.
As you criss-cross the area, you do indeed pick up the bandit's trail. You haven't yet explored half of this area,, however. The group starts debating among itself: continue to follow the trail, or stay here to finish the mapping task?
[dice=Knowledge Local]1d20 + 5
Sigurd tries to recall what Oleg and then the bandit leader Happs were saying about his particular group of bandits. When they first visited the Levetons, the bandits brought a large number. Only after the Levetons were cowed did that number go down. Sigurd concludes that the fight in the Trading Post was probably much easier than any true fight against the likely fortified bandit camp.
"let's finish mapping this area. I think we need to do a few more side items before we face a large force of bandits." Rai says as he continues to inspect the area.
With their minds made up, the party determines to wait until a future opportunity to strike at the bandit's lair. They reason that it will be a while before the group that raided Oleg's will be missed, and even if they are missed, the others would just as likely think they were killed by wild animals.
The rest of the day is spent wandering and mapping. It is hard work; after a while, one open field looks like another open field, and there is no sun to help keep bearings.
Eventually it starts to get dark, and the group finds another small stand of trees, which do dot the landscape in between the huge stretches of plains. You make camp in the shelter of the trees, which do a bit to keep the rain off of you.
CAMPING PHASE!
The group sets up tents and settles down. Around the fire, before sleep, the group has time to chat and discuss the rather uneventful events of the day. Someone, perhaps it was Sigurd though afterwords no one really remembers, starts up a conversation of what gods or goddesses each follows. There is nothing like a good theological discussion to get to know each other.
Arlen sets up his caltrops, bear traps, and marbles around the camp's perimeter, carefully showing everyone where each hazard is hidden. He then works on the map around the campsite, attempting to make it as accurate and detailed as possible.
When the topic of deities comes up, Arlen looks around the group, listening with interest to what the others have to say. When asked his opinion, he responds "I'm not particularly devoted to any specific deity. I find knowledge to serve my needs best and tying myself to a god with a hard and fast agenda tends to limit my flexibility. Whom do the rest of you worship?"
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Any conversation about gods piques Sigurd's interest. He is very devout. He stares into the fire as he recounts his story of why he is here.
Sigurd grew up helping his father in the brewery, learning the trade for himself so that he might take over should his father die in glorious service to the god Gorum. Brewing wasn't all Sigurd learned, though. He also learned the songs his people sang to spur themselves on during battle. He and his father would sing those songs as they brewed, believing their drink would be strengthened by the blessing of the god himself.
While brewing would offer Sigurd stability and honor enough to provide him a comfortable existence, like most sons of the north his blood burned for battle. Sigurd's father would have been a fool to not see this in his son and so began to instruct Sigurd in the fighting arts. Sigurd learned quickly and so his father began to teach him more advanced lessons. Sigurd learned of the fey that inhabited the lands and how best to fight them. He also learned of the dragon-like creature known as the linnorm, which every king must slay in order to earn his crown. Most importantly though, Sigurd learned to sing while he fought. These songs of battle and praise to Gorum served him as they had served so many other of his people: they filled him with strength and resolve, enabling him to fight with a vigor and ferocity that was sure to bring victory.
One snowy afternoon, Sigurd training on one of the snowy planes outside of his village. As he exercised, the wind picked up and drove the snow so fast and thick, that Sigurd feared he wouldn't be able to make it back to his home. He opted instead for the nearby woods. It was closer and the trees would offer some protection from the storm. Thankfully, the snow hadn't entirely obscured the trail into the forest. Sigurd followed the path a short distance before stopping to wait out the storm. It was then that he heard a voice calling his name further down the snow-swept path. Sigurd was cautious, having been told of the wiles of the fey. However, his curiosity was piqued and he didn't want to go back out into the storm. He hefted his hammer and followed the voice.
The path ended in a clearing where Sigurd found a roaring fire waiting for him. Sitting near the fire was an old barbarian warrior. He had clearly seen combat as his armor was worn and patched. What little skin was exposed was covered in scars. His greatsword was propped against a nearby tree. The man was enjoying a supper of delicious-smelling roast venison and beer from a small cask by his side. Noticing Sigurd coming into the clearing, the warrior invited Sigurd to join him, offering to share his meat and drink. The voice was not the one that had called to him, but seeing the food and beer, Sigurd readily accepted.
As the day progressed, the two men shared stories and sang songs, all while drinking the most delicious beer Sigurd had ever tasted. Strangely enough, though the cask was small, it never seemed to empty and the two men went on drinking, laughing, and singing well into the night. Finally, his belly full and his head muddled with drink, Sigurd fell asleep.
He awoke hours later to find the fire burning low. There was no sign of the old barbarian, however, on the far side of the fire Sigurd beheld the tallest warrior he had ever seen. He stood over nine feet tall and was wearing black armor. At his side was a greatsword that could have been the twin of the one belonging to the old man, but for the size; it was much bigger. His helmet was worn low, obscuring his face save for a pair of fiery red eyes. When this figure spoke, Sigurd knew it was the source of the voice he had heard on the path.
The warrior thanked him for his faithful service to Gorum and told Sigurd that he had been chosen for a special purpose. Far to the east, over the Tusk Mountains and past the Worldwound, lay the land of Brevoy. That land was about to come under threat and Sigurd was to be Gorum's envoy to offer aid. Sigurd was speechless, recognizing this warrior from song and story as the avatar of Gorum himself. The warrior continued, telling Sigurd that he must travel to the Stolen Lands in Brevoy and wait. There he would receive further instruction as to what the powerful battle god wanted him to do. At that Sigurd immediately fell asleep once again.
He awoke to find the clearing empty save for the ashes of the fire. There was no sign of the old warrior who had shared his wonderful beer, but on the far side of the clearing were two incredibly large footprints. Realizing that he had indeed been visited by his god, Sigurd hurried home and packed for his journey. He said goodbye to his father, telling him only that Gorum had special work for him to do. Understanding his son's devotion to their god, Sigurd's father hugged his son and sent him on his way, hoping that one day they would meet again.
Sigurd made the long trek to the Stolen Lands. He used his skills in brewing to earn some money and now, with battle songs to Gorum on his lips, he waits for further word from his god as to how he is to fulfill his destiny.
"...and so, I feel that my god is always close to me. That's why my songs are sung to him. Gorum watches over me and protects me in battle. My very presence here is because of him. Many see Gorum as a barbaric battle god. He is that, but he is much more. I look forward to see what his will is for me as we work to tame this land together."
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Diceros does he usual camping routine: laying out his bedroll under the stars and chuckling about the idea of "camping" rather than just living out in the wild as a matter of course.
Diceros forgoes his usual berry-finding routine as he was thinking more about combat today than food.
Around the campfire, Diceros does listen with interest to the conversation about gods.
"My tribe worships many of the gods you are all familiar with, though they are often called by different names. My mother raised me, however, to give reverence for Nature itself. She saw it as a higher power above the gods themselves, the force that give power to the gods, the Earth, and every living thing around us. She, and now I, sees the gods as aspects of this force, and so we respect all religions.
And even though Nature has a wild, chaotic side to it, and even though both evil and good are true aspects of Nature, we believe that the good is more powerful. Death is a part of Nature, but it is rebirth and life that we celebrate and long for."
Arlen nods appreciatively at Sigurd and Diceros, interested in hearing from them but, it would appear from the look on his face, that he is only listening to them intellectually.
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"Diceros, explain to me how you can worship a mere force. There is no personhood with something like Nature. How does it know that you worship it? How does it have a plan for you as it's acolyte? Couldn't it be that you worship a god whose name you do not know and whose identity has only been revealed to you in this way?"
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"We worship Nature because It Is. To call it a person would only give rise to questions of where that person came from, and where their power derives from. What is the ultimate origin? To be sure, that is a paradox. Yet in this land, there are many gods and many mysterious powers. They all seem to be demonstrative, and all seem to be sincere faiths. Even friend Arlen here says he will not tie himself to a god, but what is the explanation for how his mere look can transfix a person, or how a simple gesture can boost my own abilities? Is there a god giving him these powers despite his refusal to worship it? Or is it Nature, funneling power through him as It does or does not?
Rather than question, I accept and yield to Nature It's unanswerable questions."
Rai takes time to set up his camp site again ( take 20) and then will hunt around the site for dinner using the new bow.
(Take 10 for 17 )
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"You take much on faith, my friend. I can respect that. Please know that I meant no offense. I certainly have seen the power of nature firsthand. I am merely unfamiliar with a god or power that does not interact with its followers in the same way that Gorum has spoken to me.
I suppose it makes sense though, that your power comes from the earth. After all, did I not see with my own eyes the way the earth responded to you? You grew vines and bade them do your will.
As for Arlen, I know not where he gets his power, though I am grateful for it. I suspect it has something to do with that rabbit..."
Arlen listens with interest.
"Ah, our friend Diceros brings up the unanswerable question. 'Why is there something instead of nothing?' We cannot hope to answer this question due to its very nature. Nor can we use it as a means to judge between theologies. Though it tickles the mind with the weight of all existence itself, the question gains us nothing. But what better to contemplate on a rainy night in the wild?"
"As for where my small powers come from... that I cannot tell you... I am here to find answers in the ruins of these unknown regions. You are right, Sigurd, in saying there is some relationship with my fine furry friend."
He holds Rasputin up out of his jacket. The rabbit looks perturbed at being held up in the rain. It's face seems to be saying
"Is this entirely necessary?"
He replaces the rabbit, stands up, stretches, and moves closer to the fire, relying on his huge hat to keep some of the drizzling rain off of him. Upon seeing Rai return with a rabbit, Arlen claps his hands in delight.
"Well done! Well done sir! Might we partake in the resulting stew?"
Rai nabs a rabbit!
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"No offense taken, friend! My musings come only from listening to my elders debate around similar campfires as we enjoy tonight, out tonight on the plains. I lack firsthand knowledge myself of such things, only stories that may have been folk tales. Seeing the world rather than hearing about has been most enlightening!"
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"Indeed! Seeing and experiencing is truly the best way of discovery. Stories are wonderful, but having experiences of your own to turn into stories is second to none."
He moves a bit closer to the fire.
"I should have set Oleg to importing some brewing equipment for me. My own stores are running low. As my father once said, 'A man's not a man that doesn't have enough beer at the ready.'"
The time wears away pleasantly, and soon the group drifts off to bed, after setting the proper watches, of course. The night passes uneventfully.
Pharast 6, 4710
A cool spring day. No effects
The rain has stopped when the party rises, and the sun is rising. It should be a pleasant day to map and explore. You break camp, and get back to work.
After about two hours of criss-crossing the land, looking for taller hills that provide good vantages points, and climbing the occassional tree, Pygmy starts snorting and huffing. He smells something. He leads the party up a rise, and once on the top, you look down a gentle slope to see a small herd of elk grazing in the fields 200 feet away! Five elk, with beautiful antlers, and smooth pelts. They could be worth a pretty penny at Oleg's, if you were interested in bringing them down.
Brokk'r sits quietly at the fire and smokes his pipe while the others discuss their faith. He makes no attempt to get involved in the conversation, but if asked directly, he explains that most dwarves don't really worship the gods the way most humans do. Torag created Golarion at his forge and his people, born of the sparks that flew from His hammer, hone their crafts in His honor.
"We do our duty, and the Father's family watches over us. Mother always said she saw Kols in me, though."
The next day, the rhino leads them to a herd of elk.
"Take a look at those beauties," Brokk'r says. "We in any kind o' hurry?"
"does anyone else have a bow? Those elk are good meat and their pelts will bring good coin" Rai says quietly.
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Diceros is muttering to himself, trying to decide how to deal with this hunt. He makes up his mind.
"Friends, I would prefer not to hunt these wild, majestic beasts. They are no threat to us. My people only kill the wild when needed for protection, or the herds we raise and care for ourselves...
...still, this is the way of civilization. And if Nature has provided these beasts for us for food, that is a divine blessing. I will not object if the company decides to hunt, but I myself cannot take part."
"Well, I got no objection ta huntin' 'em, but I ain't exactly gonna sneak up on 'em neither. So if no one with a bow is interested, we might as well move along..."
Rai takes his bow of his shoulder, walks to the front of the group, and aims!
SURPRISE ROUND!
Everyone gets either a move action or a standard action. See Roll20. Due to the size of the map, they are closer to 120 feet in reality.
Rai takes a bead and aims down range hoping to take the elk cleanly.
Arlen places a mystical piece of fortune upon Rai, seeking to improve his aim.
I'm not much of a hunter but I fully support furthering our industry! If only we could determine the concentration at which this land would naturally support these populations. Then we could achieve optimal harvesting if we kept them at one half that density! ...In theory...
Brokk'r shrugs, borrows one of Diceros's javelins, and begins to move closer.
Ike listened to the discussions on theology... and realized he himself didn't really subscribe to any deity. Not the way most would, he suspects. But then again, to fit in, having a higher power you believe in would be of aid. Sitting in the pouch he'd claimed on Pygmy's pack, Ike pondered this notion as the others spoke. Which deity would suit him best?
The lawful deities were so strict on their tenets and rules... it might not be his best choice, even if he did try to conform to rules. Desna liked to wander... but he didn't. He was tired of wandering. Cayden... well, he liked to do good, but liquids didn't really agree with him. Perhaps not... Sarenrae? Then again, had he done anything that needed redemption? Was his very existence something he needed to make up for?
Finally, though, he recalled Shelyn... of wanting to be loved for personality. That was him! He wasn't very pretty, but he did want to be wanted! Inspiring others... he DID like helping others succeed! It made them like him more! Art and beauty... as a slime, he wasn't very appealing... but he could take on appealing shapes! And maybe he could use those shapes to inspire others, like she did! Perhaps Shelyn was his best choice!
And thus, a mass of gray goop became a Shelynite.
The following morning, the others had located a herd of mighty elk! While they spoke of trying to catch a few of the beasts, Ike decided that, without any way to throw things reliably in his current slimy state, he would head the great creatures off, should they try to run! Compacting himself into as tight of a ball as he could, Ike rolled his way a decent distance in front of the herd. If they tried to run, he could hide in the foliage and surprise any of them that tried to run past him!
Rai's shot flies true, and he hits the elk in the hindquarters! The elk is clearly wounded, but not down. It starts to bray. The others perk their heads up, but still don't seem aware of you.
ROUND 1
Arlen
Brokk'r
Sigurd
Rai
Ike
Diceros
elk
Arlen throws fortune onto Sigurd as the champion charges toward the targets and moves to follow himself.
Not certain he's close enough to hurl the javelin accurately, Brokk'r drops it for a moment , loads a hefty stone into his sling , and lets fly .