I'd be happy to answer some of your other questions, and then I'll try to get some recruitment RP in later. :)
If anyone wants/needs more backstory/plot stuffs or wants to tie in with an NPC in Sandpoint, let me know what you are looking for and I'll give you some information on them.
Since Tolla was born into one of the big merchant families, some more info about that would be great. Although, I also own the RotRL Ann Ed book, so I think I can look them up more when I get home as well.
Are you going to be my rules lawyer?
I think I have the combat rules down pretty well, and I've basically read the CRB cover to cover. But I believe in using that knowledge only for the forces of good. :3
How long have you been playing Pathfinder?
A couple of years now. I've played PFS games on and off, and have DMed a few APs (although not very far into them) and one-shots (some mine, others premade).
What's been your favorite module/AP/scenario that you've played for Pathfinder?
A PFS scenario (I forget what it's called...) where my Paladin got to defend a town against an undead horde and a tyrannical mercenary dictator, and give a great speech about justice and peace and love.
Have any of you played Runelords before? (I'm assuming if the answer is YES you will do a good job of separating your IC/OOC knowledge or you wouldn't be here)
No, but I have GMed the first book (I picked up the Anniversary Edition hardcover when my local game store was having a MASSIVE sale). I haven't gotten around to reading much of the other five installments. I do rather like all the info it provides about Sandpoint.
Tolla: Thanks for the information, if you need more than what was in the PM let me know.
All my RPers: I'm loving it, well done, please keep it up! I am finding it quite helpful to get an idea of your style from your play here. Your vision of your character is truly brought alive with this information and I've already started taking notes. It will also make the transition into the game easier as you all have arrived and have somewhat been introduced.
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"Good to meetcha. I'm Kel. That's um... quite a thing there."
"This little one?" Onas chuckles fondly. "A beggar and a thief is what HE is, but still a good companion for the road, nonetheless. Even if it's not his legs doing the walking."
"Um, the food here is great really. I recommend the boar."
"Ahh, I find that after long days of travelling, overindulging in richer food tends to make me cranky in the afternoons."
Catching the eye of an attractive Chelaxian female at the bar, Onas nods. "Hello, lady," he says amiably."Though I only spend a few months in Sandpoint a year, I don't think I've ever met you. I'm Onas, are you here to see the festival, or perhaps to perform?"
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--- Funny pronunciation story ---
Actually it's not that funny.
As you maybe noticed I already had a character named Lucia Harpell.
She was my Pathfinder Society character.
I played a couple of games with some American guys... 7 to 9 hours of difference as a timezone.They were playing roughly from 8 p.m. to 0 a.m.
I was playing from 3 a.m. to 7 a.m.
I am not an english speaker, and Lucia is indeed an Italian name, nonetheless when I created Lucia (before PFS she was one of my NPCs in D&D) i imagined her name pronounced with an English pronunciation.
Except when I was playing with the American guys I discovered the exact pronunciation I had in mind was far from obvious.
So .. the way you should pronounce her name is Lu-see-ah
If you are wondering... the Italian pronunciation would be Lu-chee-ah (chee like in cheetah)
The way the guys in PFS used to call her was Lu-sha
I hope I didn't bore you to death.
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Balazar looks around at the other guests. Er... Mister barkeeper? Please tell me this isn't the start of a bad "walk into a bar" joke. I had my fill of those on the way here. He turns back to Lucia. Say, have you seen an aasimar girl around here lately? She lived in Sandpoint when I left, and I haven't seen her.
Lucia gulped down the last of her shrimp and helped herself with a little sip of rice wine when the sorcerer noticed her.
Catching the eye of an attractive Chelaxian female at the bar, Onas nods. "Hello, lady," he says amiably."Though I only spend a few months in Sandpoint a year, I don't think I've ever met you. I'm Onas, are you here to see the festival, or perhaps to perform?"
"I'm a performer too. My name is Lucia." said the Drume girl. "I don't think I would ever come for the festival otherwise."
She was about to drink another little sip of wine when she realized. Maybe that just came out wrong.
"I... I mean... the festival is nice. I like festivals. But I'm still trying to figure out this thing about worship. I was raised a Kalistocrat, and they don't worship the gods. Actually no one does in Druma. Don't get me wrong, now I think their prophecies are crazy, but nonetheless I grew up without searching for the guidance of the gods and I am still a little confused about faith and religious celebrations."
Lucia felt a growing sense of awkwardness.
Was she digging herself deeper and deeper into the pit?
"I do appreciate most of the tenets of Desna and Shelyn nonetheless..." finally said while visibly blushing from embarrassment.
Say, have you seen an aasimar girl around here lately? She lived in Sandpoint when I left, and I haven't seen her.
the question from the Tiefling momentarily broke that awkward feeling.
"Umh.. I'm sorry, I don't think so. Actually, now that I think about it I'm not sure I would be able to recognize one. Are they usually easy to tell apart form humans?"
"Så mye for fred og ro."
Raseri busies herself cleaning up the wood shavings and packs the carving knives, chisels, and other tools away when Balazar walks through the door. She guessed it was picking up enough for her to start working.
She was returning from her room when she heard the tiefling ask,
"Say, have you seen an aasimar girl around here lately? She lived in Sandpoint when I left, and I haven't seen her."
She walked over to him, something in her eyes grew dark.
"Are you talking about Nulia?"
Something painful and bitter creeps into the soft voice. The harsh, singsong accent becoming more pronounced as she continued.
"She died a month after I came here. Her and Father Tobyn were in the old church when it burned. They say that she was heaven-touched, but I'm not sure if she was a, what did you say, ah-zi-mar."
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Ok now I feel weird...
I'm trying to pronounce Lu-Si-Uh and Lu-see-ah with an English pronunciation, and to me they sound exactly the same.
and I guess they don't... in a way I fail to realize..
In the same way someone can say piece and peace sound different..
Week Weak...
and I would never ever notice
I suddenly feel like my English is not as good as I thought.
Great. So, she managed to pronounce what could have been perceived as a petty critique at sandpoint traditions at best or a horrendous blasphemy deserving a smite from the heavens at worse. And targeting what?
The ceremony for the new church to replace the old one. The one where the local priest and a long lost friend of the happy Tiefling died horribly.
Lucia slowly slid down along the back of her chair trying to disappear.
If her magic could make her vanish she would be gone by now.
She quickly gulped what rice liquor was left on her cup.
She needed more wine... badly.
Honestly, there's no difference. It's a preference thing. I thought it was Lu-she-uh myself. (American here too.)
Raseri stares down at Lucia, wondering why she was trying to disappear under the table. Her cheeks glow red and her eyes open wide as she realizes that the woman must have thought that she was angry at her.
"Sorry, I-I didn't..."
She takes a deep breath. Calming down some.
"That happened shortly after someone called The Chopper had gone on a rampage. Since I happened to show up about the same time, everyone was suspicious of me. When the old church burned, there were some that wanted be burned for causing, nevermind that I worship Desna and happen to wear this around my neck all of the time."
She lifts a fine silver chain up to show the delicate looking butterfly hanging from it.
"My... Well, let's just say that I had had a hard time the month before."
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Quote:
Are you going to be my rules lawyer?
Not at all I still finding myself looking thing up that i don't recall after all this time especially if its rules my characters don't normally use
Quote:
How long have you been playing Pathfinder?
I've been playing pathfinder for the most part since it started, I've played almost every PFS scenario (except for a handful) and normally run a few games at the cons I go to. Also play Legend of the Shining Jewel, a Campaign that uses pathfinder rules also (have 15th level character there)
Quote:
What's been your favorite module/AP/scenario that you've played for Pathfinder?
I liked the Eyes of Ten series of scenarios, I haven't fully played any AP's yet. My home group is playing Wrath of the Righteous and Reign of Winter currently.
Quote:
Have any of you played Runelords before?
I have started a few PBP games her eon the forums but they all seemed to die fairly early for one reason or another, hoping I can get it here finally
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"That happened shortly after someone called The Chopper had gone on a rampage. Since I happened to show up about the same time, everyone was suspicious of me. When the old church burned, there were some that wanted be burned for causing, nevermind that I worship Desna and happen to wear this around my neck all of the time."
She heard the stories about the Chopper and the fire before. She assumed were old stories, almost lost in the memories of the old folk of sandpoint.
She didn't realized that was recent history and the wounds on the city were barely healed.She turned to the Tiefling.
"Remember when you said people in this town seemed more somber than you remembered? I think I'm starting to get why."
So .. the way you should pronounce her name is Lu-see-ah
This is the way I was pronouncing it, though I admit I did sound out a few other variations. Now that you mention the other two versions, I totally see how they are possible!
Also as a note, many of you mentioned that you have started this campaign and it has died. Well I can tell you that I intend to see you through it, though I'm sure all GM's say that when they start I'm sure. The amount of work that I put in to run the forums and keep the other group going should go a good distance to show you how I mean business though! I just checked, and in the five months I've have had the forums up, I have racked up 3,761 posts in them! I'm serious about the campaign and I am really loving it so far -- I hope everyone who gets selected will be too.
Inside of the Rusty Dragon a few of the other patrons seem to lower their voices and hush their conversations. A gruff and worn man hunched in the corner shakes his head while two women eating somberly at a table whisper in hushed voices. An elderly man points to in the tiefling's direction and whispers a little too loudly something about unpleasantness to an elderly female as she hurriedly escorts them out into the street. As the exit, a brisk wind sweeps the room bringing with it a chill that causes a few patrons to rub their arms briefly. The door slams shut loudly causing a jarring moment of silence before an elderly halfling woman near the kitchen door clears her throat softly and when no one notices does so again more firmly.
She asks in a forced voice to no one in particular, "Service? Can I be of assistance to anyone?"
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Balazar's preposterously large grin is slowly replaced by a frown. Nualia's dead? That's a shame... I was just surprised that I didn't see her. She stuck out, and in a good way. Unlike me, who, well... He idly strokes his horns. I never really talked much with her, but she seemed like a nice enough sort of girl.
A bit belatedly, he notices that his words have caused an uneasy silence in the Rusty Dragon. His grin returns. But let us not dwell overlong on the past! I have returned home after five years of training to be a champion of Ragathiel. He shows a hand-carved wooden holy symbol on his neck, depicting a feathery wing crossed with a sword. Judging from this symbol that my mentor gave me, I'd say I succeeded.
Dammit...
Raseri's cheeks turn bright red as she realizes that her voice carried a good bit further in the nearly empty common room.
"Aaaaand a bad habit of putting my foot in my mouth seems to keep them suspicious of me. Excuse me, I think I may need to help out in the kitchen."
The young woman makes her way, quickly to the kitchen, and jsut as quickly slides through the door.
"Dammit. Why do I keep making everyone in this town remember how I came here?"
Her voice is softer than out in the common room. An all too familiar look of sadness shadows her face as she curls up in against the wall.
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"I... I mean... the festival is nice. I like festivals. But I'm still trying to figure out this thing about worship. I was raised a Kalistocrat, and they don't worship the gods. Actually no one does in Druma. Don't get me wrong, now I think their prophecies are crazy, but nonetheless I grew up without searching for the guidance of the gods and I am still a little confused about faith and religious celebrations. I do appreciate most of the tenets of Desna and Shelyn nonetheless..."
Onas laughs good-naturedly, "I can understand that certainly, with a little travel, all festivals look a bit similar. And, certainly, it can be difficult to understand faith. Personally, Desna commands me to go out and experience the world, and I figure," Onas gives an exaggerated shrug and winks at Lucia, "that's probably what I was going to do anyway!"
Onas uses his bread to scrape up the last bits of his soup into his mouth while he listens to Raseri's tale.But let us not dwell overlong on the past! I have returned home after five years of training to be a champion of Ragathiel.
"Indeed, friend. Accomplishment should always be celebrated."
The young woman makes her way, quickly to the kitchen, and just as quickly slides through the door.
Lucia looked at the girl as she left the room.
She heard a lot of sad stories traveling and she always felt kinda bad about them but with this girl something was different.She almost felt a compulsion to hug her and tell her that the past is the past and everything is going to be fine.
Maybe she felt that way because she was very young, about the same age as her when she left home.
It was just as if some kind of motherly instinct arose in her.
Bethana was now passing beside her table so she lowred her head to the halfling height and tired to grasp her attention.
"that girl... what is her name?" asked the Drume girl in a hushed tone. Then she changed her expression as if she just suddenly remembered something of vital importance.
"oh.. I also would like another cup of rice wine" said in a way more cheerful tone.
Just outside the tavern an obviously drunk halfling is practicing his archery skills on a tree. He liked to get in a couple of drinks before the festival 'pre-libation' he called it. He liked to fire arrows drunk. Drinking and hunting went well together providing you aren't drunk at the wrong time and suicidaly stupid. He fired three shots at the old tree where the kids used to carve their names in. The best part about this game was even if he lost, he won!
He took his time with his shots. It was more his style.
"Bullseye!" he exclaimed as the first one hit it's mark perfectly.
He was feeling lucky today. He even thought he smelled someone with some meats somewhere.
smelling
As Onas finds himself distracted by the beauty and beast duo down the bar, Kel returns to his drink only to find it empty. Leaning back in his seat he makes eye contact with the older halfling woman and motions her over. "Heyy Bethy, could you pull me another ale when you get the chance and maybe a bowl of that boar stew if there's still some left? Also," he lowers his voice, "Do you recognize any of this lot? They seem to be bugging some of the locals, which doesn't bother me none, but I figure for business and what wi-"
Kel stops midsentence as he sees Raseri, the Ulfen woman who works the bar Firedays and Stardays, hurry away from the group looking distressed. Kel and Raseri had never spent any time together, but she was a familiar face at the Dragon nonetheless and had always been friendly enough, if a bit distant at times. "Er, hold that order Bethy," says Kel as he stands up from the bar and follows Raseri into the kitchen, finding her slumped against the wall. "Oh. Hey there," he gives her a wide grin, then sees her downcast expression and softens a bit, "Is everything okay?"
A huge human woman carrying a tall stack of wooden planks on her shoulder rounds the corner of the Rusty Dragon, searching for the sound of fired arrows. He eyes fall on the swarthy Halfling, and her face contorts into an ugly look of disapproval. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" she shouts at him, her voice higher and shriller than one would think for someone her size. "Why the hell are you shooting arrows back here? You could hurt someone, you maniac!" She approaches him, her thick legs covering the distance quickly, and stands with one hand on her hip as she towers over him.
The door of the Rusty Dragon opens to reveal an elf with sharp, severe features. He wears tanned, buck-hide armor and carries a bow strapped across his back. A wooden stag head dangles from a necklace draped across his collarbone. He carries what looks to be four rabbit carcasses attached to a hook on his waist.
Linnear looks around the room of the tavern and grimaces.
"Seem to have entered the wrong tavern again," he grumbles.
It never fails. Can't possibly get lost in the wilderness, but the moment I step foot into a civilization, I become lost like a panther cub in a cathedral.
Out of frustration, the elf wanders up to the bar.
"These rabbits were for the Varisian Pony, but if you can make the same tithe to Erastil, they're yours. They'll go bad before I find that damnable place."
Aliver looked up at the big human woman.
"Eh hold yer horses lady. I--I know what I'm doin'" he said as he stumbled around. "I'm just praciticin' for the contest today. I ain't going to hit nobody. People know they're in good hands with me yes'm. I'm a professional. Yes I know it looks bad, I had--I had a bit o' ale before, but some good rest will set me straight after I get me practice. Though if it make a...uh refined human lass like ye feel better, I'll take some more precaution" Aliver turns his head around to where he saw some of the kids were playing. "HEY YOU DERN KIDS STAY AWAY FROM ME TREE. I'M PRACTICING OVER HERE!" He turns and shakes his head and laughs. "Heh I love the young people. Hey watch this." He closes one eye and nocks an arrow.
He steps up about 5 feet closer and fires another arrow at the tree only to miss. Damn, she broke his concentration.
Aliver puts aside the the bow. "Oh maybe you're right. It's enough. Sorry, that was irresponsible. I think I'll get some food and then take a nap . That's what--what a responsible person would do. Yes."
Are recruitments still going?
Duboris: Recruitment is still open and you are welcome to apply but to be fair though I have to admit I have already started the party selection. This doesn't preclude you from being selected, just want to be honest with you on where I am.
Llennear - I can't PM you for some reason. Can you send me a PM, I have some questions on your history in the town as the head cleric.
--
Bethana watches Raseri walk off into the kitchens and then looks for some customers to assist. She starts doing rounds and as she passes by Lucia she catches her question and once again looks off in the direction of the kitchen.
"Who Raseri? She's a good girl, helps out here and there when we are busy. She'll be just fine, don't you worry yourself none now."
She leans down a little closer and whispers conspiratorially, "It's one of my favorites too, I'll have it over to you in just a minute now." She winks and hops over to Kel as he addresses her.
Bethana turns to Kel and says, "Well, some --".
She closes her mouth when Kel wanders off in search of Raseri. A small smile creases her lip for a moment as she watches him walk off before she realizes she has work to do and snaps back to attention.
Noticing Father Tir'Vesson she quickly makes her way to the bar and nods accordingly. She nods in ascent to his question and withdraws a small leather pouch from behind the counter. She begins to dig into it withdraw coins and says, "Same price as last week? We are expecting a crowd with the festival and can take all the extra we can get our hands on right now."
"Oh. Hey there," he gives her a wide grin, then sees her downcast expression and softens a bit, "Is everything okay?"
Raseri's head snaps up in surprise when Kel greets her. Anger flashes in her eyes, but only for the briefest instant.
"Just being stupid again."
She rubs her eyes as she talks.
"The big guy with horns out there asked about an az-i-mar. I figured he meant Nualia. Everyone here loved her, and a lot of people here blamed me when she died. My clan's never been good at restraining their tempers, and mine got the better of me."
Kel leans back against the opposite wall of the small kitchen and absently scratches at his stubble. "Oh yeah, I know how that goes. A temper can be handy if you can point it in the right direction though." He pauses for a moment, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I don't know much about that stuff with the old church other than the bits Ameiko has told me... If it's not too weird of a thing to ask, why would people blame you?"
Tolla rolls her eyes at the halfling's excuses. She is equally unimpressed by his archery. "Real impressive," she mocks, but grows more serious: "Damn right it was irresponsible! If you're looking for food and bed, this is a tavern, if you weren't sober enough to notice." She sighs. "I'll let them know you're coming. If you don't already have a room there, I should at least them know that some drunk is firing arrows out back".
Tolla walks around to the entrance and steps in through the (thankfully) large doorway. She spots Bethana and navigates her frame through the archipelago of tavern tables and chairs toward her. "Hey Bethana, there's some drunken, beardy, Halfling lunatic shooting his bow out back. Want me to call the guards on him?" she asks, her voice still incredulous at the man's recklessness, and sounding like she assumes that Bethana will already agree with her.
Raseri's icy blue eyes became dark when asked.
"It's... it happened right after the Chopper's rampage. My clan is from the north, the Lands of the Linnorm Kings, but my parents, and my brothers were guards that traveled with the caravans that ran from Kalsgard to Magnimar. We had passed through the town a few months before, and all was fine." Her shoulders heaves as she took a deep breath. her voice was flat, as are her eyes. "Many of the merchants went on to Korvosa, when we stopped at Magnimar. A few miles out from Sandpoint, we were attacked. Goblins swarmed about us and most of the guards died in the first few minutes, and many of the merchants followed them into death. My parents and brothers were the last. Bjorn died protecting me, and..." Her eyes closed and her body curled tighter, burying her face in her knees. Silence settled in the kitchen until the small, young woman too in a shuddering breath. "My father and I were the last ones alive. He told me to run, so I did. I showed up at the town gates after dark, covered in blood, and weeping. The Chopper had just been killed a day or two before and the guards thought I was another killer. They refused to believe me until they sent a runner and he returned telling them about the fight."
The room grew colder, despite the crackling cook-fire in the hearth.
"That's why. There are still some that want me to hang for what happened. Fortunately, they're too scared of Belor to do anything about it."
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, Lars.
Human Fighter 1
CN Medium Humanoid (human)
Init +2; Senses Perception +0
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Defense
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AC 16, touch 12, flat-footed 14 (+4 armor, +2 Dex)
hp 12 (1d10+2)
Fort +4, Ref +2, Will -1
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Offense
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Speed 20 ft.
Melee Handaxe +4 (1d6+4/x3) and
. . Handaxe +4 (1d6+2/x3)
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Statistics
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Str 18, Dex 15, Con 14, Int 12, Wis 8, Cha 8
Base Atk +1; CMB +5; CMD 17
Feats Power Attack -1/+2, Two-weapon Fighting, Weapon Focus (Handaxe)
Traits Goblin Watcher
Skills Acrobatics -1 (-5 jump), Appraise +3, Climb +5, Craft (sculpture) +7, Escape Artist -1, Fly -1, Knowledge (engineering) +5, Perception +0, Ride -1, Stealth -1, Survival +3, Swim +1
Languages Common, Goblin
Other Gear Hide armor, Handaxe, Handaxe, Artisan's tools, masterwork (Craft [sculpture]), Belt pouch (1 @ 1.18 lbs), Ceramic mask, Fighter's kit, 59 GP
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Special Abilities
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Goblin Watcher +5 to Appraise checks to determine most valuable item in a hoard.
Power Attack -1/+2 You can subtract from your attack roll to add to your damage.
Lars is a man of average height, and is well built. His armor covers the majority of his body, and is your regular, run-of-the-mill Hide, though it has his own tasteful changes. His hide armor covers the majority of his chest, though it cuts off at the start of his arms, allowing free movement of them as they swing their respective hand axes. He wears gloves to wield his small axes; gloves that happen to almost always be filthy and stained with copper and residue from the scrapyard just short of Junker’s edge.
Save for the furrowed edges of his hide armor, Lars has only one specific feature that has puzzled, as well as bothered the entire population of sandpoint, and that would be his strange mask, an off-white, somewhat tattered thing with perfectly circular holes that reveal deep, crimson eyes beneath.
He is an extravagant man, whom almost always flaunts his strange-colored hair that hides beneath the circumference of the aforementioned mask. His pack and kit are filled with strange tools, and he often carries worthless trinkets that he’d crafted himself from the junk in the yard.
At certain times, he can be seen looking off into the distance, arms crossed and axes on his sides, obviously in thought about the future.
First and foremost, Lars is a strange being. As a result of his unusual upbringing, and bastardization, he has taken to acting somewhat like a goblin. For the longest of times, Lars would do nothing but sit at the very tip of Junker’s edge and watch the goblins rummage through the useless material, creating their crummy weaponry that happened to be surprisingly effective.
This being his only interaction, save for the random concerned passerby, he became somewhat awkward in all standings. He stutters, somewhat, and is lacking in the department of charisma despite his good looks. He doesn’t know how to properly talk to people, and his actions are somewhat childish at times. He’s very adult, however, though he speaks with his body, and more frequently than not he tosses his hands about and dances around as he speaks.
He is a caring person, though alien towards people he doesn’t know. Friends are something he’s not had the luxury of having in his life-time, though he is rather hopeful for the future. He feels required to sit by and watch the goblins, and analyzing them, frankly certain that the people wouldn’t accept him if he decided to finally mingle. He’s young, 19, to be exact.
Lars’s name was given to him by himself. It was just something simple to say, as he never completely learned the common language, to be sure. He knows more goblin than anything, ironically enough. He can, only barely, the shadows of his mother and father, though his memory of anything before the age of 8 is null at best.
From a young age, he was adept with axes. Something fantastical about them just went well with the way he preferred to act upon things. He would cut wood for just enough to feed himself, and then go to junker’s edge to enjoy the view of goblins rummaging through the materials. They never did anything, really, save for light themselves on fire with disposed lantern oil, stab each other occasionally, and babble on and on. The money he earned from chopping wood kept him fed and alive, as well as toned his body.
Eventually, he saved his coins, purchasing his own two personal axes. They were smaller than a regular wood axe, or the wedges he’d occasionally use. He even purchased some lovely hide armor that he would later tear the arms off of, as it was far too thin for his arms. In truth, he had been preparing for something. Something that the people of sandpoint didn’t much expect.
One day, far later, and in his upper years, he stood at the edge. A small group of goblins finally arrived, and they began rummaging through the debris again. He kneeled down, as they got nervous when he stood up. They’d almost gotten used to him. Almost. They plucked a shiny bauble from the junk, and a grin crossed his face as he raced down towards them. The goblins had been so interested in the bauble that they hadn’t noticed that he had just been waiting, today, on them to find something worth taking.
He killed the goblins and took the bauble, as well as all the other shiny bits he could find, eventually selling them for more money… Save for his strange mask that’s been confirmed to be worthless. He enjoyed it, and wore it into public, though it got a bad reception… he still likes wearing it.
Day by day, after that, the goblins would come and he’d watch, and wait. Slowly but surely he gained an eye for the baubles, his mask included. All of this time, the word of the goblin watcher got around, and he was well-received, though he remained anti-social.
He has high hopes, however. There’s something in his gut that wants to be free, and he wants to look at far more things than just the goblins. An urge for adventure is strong in his arms. It will be fate that places him at the festival around the way.
Lars’s motivation is nothing but wanderlust and a burning curiosity. His desire to find new, shiny objects that could very well be magical is strong, and he could even be considered quite greedy. Day by day his thirst for excitement grows, and he feels now, more than ever, that something is on the horizon.
Lars’ ultimate fear is the idea that he’s doomed to sit idly by, a hermit, and watch goblins for the rest of his days, or that he’ll die before he can experience true glee before he can explore the world as he wanted.
He wants to see the world! These huge towers he’s heard of, the ruins, all of it. He wants to go to a distant land and return to the open arms of sandpoint as an adventurer and a hero.
[spoiler=Moral Boundaries]
Lars, while he has been sequestered from humanity for quite a while, despite living so close to a town, has morals. He doesn’t much care about the opinions of others, but he becomes touchy at the prospect of harming children, or parents. Lars’s only true loss, in his eyes, is the fact that he can’t remember his father or mother. He wouldn’t willingly give that pain to anyone, even if he has gotten over it.
I'd also like to take this moment and say that I am a very frequent poster, and can easily exhaust that 3 times a day limit with no trouble whatsoever. I'm experienced on the paizo boards as well, and I'd love to drop into the pre-game roleplay to give an example :D So here I come ^_^
Good luck to everyone. There's a pretty good chance I may have just wasted my time a little making this guy, but I'd like to have him play in a RoTrL campaign some day.
Lars had never entered any door this deep in the middle of town before. It was an odd door. Truly odd. It had become somewhat mid day and he had tired of watching the goblins do their rummaging, and his curiosity had just so happened to have brought him here. Ever the stranger, he poked and prodded at the door before some kind, confused woman shuffled past him to gain entrance.
Placing a finger to his mask's chin, he scratched it curiously before opening the door the same way she had. The noise of casual banter and strangeness was appealing to the ears. He'd been in the area before, but he'd just never walked in. He'd certainly woke up in it before, though... That goblin had a mean shiv.. What a shame it had gotten away! A shame indeed.
Strolling right on it, he sort of shrunk 2 entire sizes as he realized that he had absolutely no idea what he was doing or why he'd came in. He absolutely wreaked of sweat from being in the sun all day, and people had started to give him odd looks, as usual.
His curiosity had been sated upon entering the room, but that didn't last long as he began to look around. Colorful people were in here. Colorful people indeed! Not a single name besides his own did he know, and all anyone ever referred to him as was "Watcher" which he'd started to like the ring of, even if he had no idea what that word meant.
Sheepishly, he came to the front of the tavern to a chair before sitting down and just lounging with his back against the wooden table, staying silent and on high alert the entire time. He never said a word, though he looked as if he were about to jump out of his own skin in excitement.
Lars: Thanks for taking the time to submit a player to the campaign. I've added you to our list in the campaign tab.
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Balazar notices the masked man enter the tavern and his grin somehow gets even wider. Greetings! You don't need to wear a mask. We're friends here, we have nothing to hide! I mean, look at me! He raises his left hand when gesturing to himself— it has seven digits, two of them opposing thumbs. I was born looking like a freak, and I never let it bother me! The boisterous tiefling's smile never falters for a moment.
Standing alert as soon as the man yells his boisterous welcome, Lars smiles a bit beneath his mask. Finding himself on two feet, he cocks his head to the right and slowly walks toward him, feeling of his mask. He didn't understand what the word "Disfigured" meant. Frankly he just enjoyed wearing the mask.
He sort of raised his hands before nervously lowering them behind his back and twiddling his hands in secrecy. For the first time in a while, with nervousness burning in his gut, he spoke; He... Hello.
Coming up to the nearest table to him, he sits down, giving a casual look about, his eyes obviously wide beneath the mask. Finally he looks at the hand, tilting his head once more before looking straight into the strange man's eyes. "Where did you... you come from?" he asked, a curious light in his eyes. He didn't really know what to say about any of this, really.
Lars's head tilts in confusion. "How long ago? Where have you been?" he asks, ever terrible at conversation as a result of his somewhat status of hermit. With every question his head tilts back and forth.
He chitters and chatters beneath his mask for a moment, speaking in a rather strange, but all-too familiar language to sandpoint. The strange language is ended with what is most definitely a question, however.
With that, he looks around once more as he thumps his fingers against the table playfully.
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Tolla walks around to the entrance and steps in through the (thankfully) large doorway. She spots Bethana and navigates her frame through the archipelago of tavern tables and chairs toward her. "Hey Bethana, there's some drunken, beardy, Halfling lunatic shooting his bow out back. Want me to call the guards on him?" she asks, her voice still incredulous at the man's recklessness, and sounding like she assumes that Bethana will already agree with her.
Talking about motherly figures... that was a woman that could make Lucia feel like a tiny little child.
And apparently, now there was a drunk archer outside, not counting the masked man at the bar.The halfling finally arrived to serve Lucia her second cup of rice wine, not a moment too soon.
She took a little sip from the glass looking outside the window.
Festivals always lured the strange and eccentric, and in fact she kinda liked that. She just hoped things would go smoothly the night of the festival.
The last thing the town needed was another tragedy.
The young sorceress quickly drank her wine and approached the huge woman.
"I think is better to inform Sheriff Hemlock about that halfling. I wouldn't like to get shot on the street and miss the festival."
"Ooooh. Magnimar?" he says, slowly removing his hands and leaning back a bit in his chair. "I've heard of that place... though... short on description." he says as he crosses his arms.
"What's a blessing?" he asks, cocking his head to the side once more in curiosity. A habit he's gained watching the goblins in the scrapyard, to be sure.
While he might be talking, he can't help but shift his gaze at the silent, tall, red haired woman who seems to be sharing just as many cursory glances as himself. Staring at her, he kept listening to the odd man across the table.
I wake up under a big tree. The sunlight burns my eyes and my head throbs. I roll over and look at my pack of meager posessions - daggers and leathers and some crumbs left from the loaf of bread the Widow Omoroi gave me when I fixed her wheelbarrow.
Don't go getting the wrong idea, I just knocked her wheel back into the right spot.
I get up and kick an empty wine bottle as I stump over to the ditch I've dug to relieve myself. This little dell down the Lost Coast Road has been a great place to sleep to avoid being tossed out of town during some of my longer drinking binges.
As I wash my face in the small brook, I see a glinting and can barely contain my excitement!
It MUST be a chunk of rough gold ore, and that means I can head into town and trade it for some much needed cash.. Then I can maybe get a shave and a hot bath and some sausages and beer, maybe all at once!
I clean myself up a bit and sling on my swordbelt and daggers.. Betsy can wait here at camp. I kiss the large weapon as I leave my meager possessions under a pine bough cover I've made.
I whistle a bright tune as I cross the bridge onto Market Street and head to the general store.
Lars retained his posture, somewhat reeling at the sound of the booming laughter. Laughter was a nice thing, but to him, the sound of such a boom usually meant a rather large group of goblins was on their way to assault him... It was a dead giveaway, despite their high potential for stealth.
At the recoil, he instinctively grabbed an axe off of his belt before realizing the situation and slowly placing it down on the table somewhat embarassed.
"Ah... Shizruk madastal. rik rik sesay ristka..." he said underneath his mask. He looks around for a moment before leaning in. "Do you know Junker's Edge?" he said, leaning in close.
He claps his hands together when he learns that the man doesn't know of the Junkyard viewing place. Though he tilts his head when the man states he doesn't understand him. "Ah... Sorry. Junkyard edge is where I stay. I take from the scrapyard and keep goblins at bay. Fun job. Many trinkets!" he states with obvious happiness, jingling the various baubles that adorn his strange neck piece. Cocking his head to the side, he asks yet another obvious question. "What is Demon? Abyssal?"
Torn between not wanting to get thrown in the drunk tank before the festival, not wanting to have people tell him what to do, and his own personal superstition of not wanting to leave practice on a bad note, he fires on last arrow before heading inside. He gives the arrow a small kiss before he nocks it.
"Come on darling, just one more for me."
He smiles as the arrow hits it's mark perfectly.
Uh oh, better get rid of the evidence
Aliver gives the arrow a good tug and manages to wrest it from the tree. Good it wasn't a broadhead.
He puts his archery stuff in his bag and stumbles into the tavern, almost tripping on the way in. He sits the same place he always does.
"Hey how about tha' meat that guy oe'r there's having" he says to whichever waitress is walking by as he puts a copper on the table.
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Balazar's ridiculously huge smile is replaced with a look of absolute confusion. You... what? Demons are horrible monsters, not from our world, that destroy everything in their path. Balazar is getting noticeably angrier. If I ever found out which of my ancestors thought consorting with demons was a good idea, I'll— He catches himself and quickly pulls a small glass sculpture of a jackal head from a pouch at his waist. Without much fanfare, he swiftly forms a fist around it. When he opens his hand, sparkling dust falls to the ground. Sorry, I can get angry easily.
A unnoticed eyebrow rises underneath Lars's mask at the sight of the crushed bauble. "That was a pretty bauble. Why did you destroy that trinket? " he asks, backing away a little bit into his chair and letting his arms fall slightly. "Not a good reason to destroy such a pretty thing. That looked valuable!" he states.
Kel listens attentively to the story while continuing to scratch at the stubble on his cheek. When Raseri reaches the point in the tale about the goblin attack, a spark ignites in his eyes and he furrows his brow. 'Goblins...' His mentor Madruk had told him stories of the wretched little monsters when he was just a boy back in Kintargo, but he never knew the true scope of how depraved the blighters could get until he met one himself.
His stomach still turned at the memory of the farmhouse. He had been scouting around the Devil's Platter during his first months in Sandpoint when he had found it. At first glance nothing seemed amiss, but drawing closer, the scene sharpened and Kel could clearly see that something was indeed very wrong. The front window was broken, with a piece of knocked over furniture from inside blocking any view, the just-open door was damaged with many deep cuts and a broken latch, the old hound dog laying out front was missing his head. Drawing his blade, Kel had approached cautiously and, opening the front door and peering inside, he had found a scene drawn from nightmares. The former owners of the house lay butchered throughout the ransacked common room and dozens of sets of bloody little footprints were all that was left of the butchers, or so Kel thought. Assaulted by the horrific sights and smells before him, Kel had stooped over and begun to retch up his breakfast when he heard sounds of hideous laughter coming from the adjoining room. A fire in his eyes, he stormed through the house and came upon a lone goblin joyfully giggling to himself on the floor in the center of the room. The goblin didn't immediately notice Kel and he had a moment to take in his surroundings. The walls of the room were plain, but had been painted with murals of woodland animals, in the far corner sat a smashed wooden crib, and the goblin was surrounded by wooden toys and was shaking about a weathered old doll. No - not a doll. As the realization flashed through Kel's mind, the rage overtook him and the next thing he remembered was stumbling away from the farmhouse, his bloody sword clutched tightly in his hands.
'I hate goblins.' Kel's expression remains dark as Raseri finishes her story and an uneasy silence fills the room. Kel studies Raseri's face, really looking at her for the first time since she'd poured him a mug of mead on his first visit to the Dragon. "Well," he breaks the silence, "They'll have to get through me too if they try to put a rope around you." Giving an awkward smile, he suddenly feels like he'd just said something out of place and backpeddles, "Not that you couldn't handle yourself I mean. You look strong as an ox... not that I think you're in any way oxlike I mean. I think you are nothing like an ox, except strong." Running out of words, he continues to grin like an idiot.