This is the discussion board.
Please feel free to role-play during the Swallowtail festival here while we sort out the cut and the character refinement. Enjoy! Have fun!
I have posted my house rules on the campaign board. Give 'em a looksee.
Abraham walked around the chaotic festival his mind whirling. So much color, so much noise, it was almost too much to grasp. He was used to a more subtle form of celebration. In the temple of Shelyn the brothers and Acolytes certainly had their share of laughter, but this festival took it to another level. Of course he had heard of these festivals...you didn't grow up in Magnimar without knowing of them, but reading about them and experiencing them was another matter.
"Funnel cake sir", came the voice at his side.
Started out of his musing, Abraham caught the scent of the cinnamon spiced hot pastry, and his mouth began to water. He reflexively reached for the coin purse at his side, and it's lack of heft reminded him of his situation. He turned to the lad with a sad smile, "Not this time my friend". "I have already had my fill for the day".
Abraham kept walking, drawing a few stares from many of the young women of Sandpoint, and even some of the men. He was striking, with his platinum blonde hair and silver eyes, his celestial blood was not hard to guess. But he had grown used to the attention, and thought nothing of it. He rounded a corner, around a couple of tents, and came upon a group of musicians...pipes, lute, and drums... and stopped to listen for a while, nodding his head in time to the music.
The musicians were alright. The back-up vocalist took the lead on a few songs, with what Abraham recognized as classic folk songs, but apparantly with different verses reflecting the Varisian population base out here in the "sticks". It was enough to convince the audience he should remain the back-up singer...or perhaps just stick to percussion altogether.
Colors and banners, streamers and children, families that had pulled up a patch of ground with a blanket and were relaxing...the town breathed with a life of it's own. Children ran by, their faces painted with butterflies, the sweet smell of grilled buttered-corn trailing after them.
"Ahh I love festivals, and this one looks like it will be a big one. The Aasimar man looks over the crowd, finds a drink and some food.
As Zaigon wanders through the stalls, he notices striking silver hair on a man leaning against a tree ahead. Hair that color was extremely rare...
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The crowd parts at the sound of an eager, high-pitched barking, and a strangely colored fox comes trotting merrily through the streets of Sandpoint. It has ash-grey fur with rust colored "socks," and is certainly not shy around the people here. It dashes towards a man peddling funnel-cakes, intent on claiming a treat.
"Ember!" A harsh admonition cuts through the air as a willowy half-elf pushes his way through the wake of festival goers, his silver hair trailing out behind him as long strides bring him towards the fox. He wears utilitarian robes of muted, earthen tones, and looks as if he has not slept in a proper bed in weeks. His most striking feature, though, is his eyes, each one a different color. His left eye is a vibrant green not uncommon to those of elven ancestry, but his right is vivid yellow with a cat-like pupil. The fox halts abruptly as it meets the dual-colored glare of its master, ears flattening behind its head.
"We've just arrived in town and already you're harassing the locals," the half-elf chastises. Ember gives a manipulatively sorrowful look, appearing more contrite than any animal has a right to be. [b]"You remember your manners," the traveler practically hisses before turning to the shocked peddler. "My apologies," he offers, "He is a bit over-excitable after spending so long in the wilds." His expression softens as the scent of fried bread wafts under his nostrils, and he tosses the man a coin. "I have learned to trust his nose, though. I don't suppose you could recommend a place for lodging?"
The skinny man wipes hus protuberent nose, eyeing the fox as if it had just eaten one of his fingers, and he was unsure of how to politely ask for it back. "Check tha White deer, top o' the 'ill, if it please you. You might also try the Rusty dragon, down on Market street, back that'o way." he says, pointing down the hill towards the docks. He is missing his pointer finger, and gestures with a gnobby middle finger. "Three coppers for the treat."
You can't help but notice the scrawled sign in the booth that clearly states funnelcakes are two coppers.
Shrugging, Dherisan hands the vendor three copper coins, figuring a single penny isn't worth the fuss. "Appreciated," he responds curtly as he breaks a piece off of the cake and tosses it to Ember, eating the larger portion himself. "Do you see what your rudeness has costs us, Ember?" Dherisan mutters as he makes his way towards the Rusty Dragon. The fox seems not to hear, though, as it is busily scarfing down it's food.
As Dehrisan strides up the hill, munching his delectable, he see's a palm reader to the side of the road under an awning. Her table is vacant at the moment, and appears as if it has been for much of the morning.
Corvus skirts the crowds and scans the various stalls offering beautifully aromatic foods. She pauses at each stall in turn, taking in the smell and trying to guess the ingredients.
She finally engages a hauling selling a delicious smelling soup. As the stall holder opens her mouth to speak, Corvus holds up a hand. "No," she purrs. "Let me guess. Mullet? Yes, red mullet. And saffron, beautiful saffron. Garlic and pepper and...and something else."
The hauling opens her mouth again but Corvus waves her hand. "No, let me taste it. " she pays for a steaming bowl of soup and takes a mouthful, swirling the hot liquid around her mouth. "Thyme," she says, triumphantly. Handing the bowl to the open mouth stall-holder, Corvus strides off, her attention held by a grey fox trotting through the crowds.
A chubby halfling woman in a colerful dress walks up to the halfling man, his jaw still open, the half-empty bowl still in his hand. "Honey, did that woman just eat your lunch?"
The halfling man shakes his head. "Took it right out of my hand. Paid me a copper for it. Didn't even finish it." he looks into the dregs of the soup with a sad expression, as if he is considering finishing it.
"Humans." huffs the halfling woman, a rie look of amused annoyance on her face. "Didn't bother to notice or buy any of the fertilizer we're selling, did she?" she sighs, and kisses him on his ruddy cheek. "I'll go get you another bowl, dear." she stomps away, wiping her hands on her apron. "And wash your hands! Their covered in goat feces."
Abraham surveys the scene cringing a bit as the lead singer shows why he is not a bard, and catches sight of an unusual thing. Could that possibly be another of celestial blood? He makes his way to the man and can see that he is indeed blessed with the blood of angles.
"Hello friend". "Enjoying the festivities"?
Krallek eyes the crowd suspiciously. As a child of the streets who was unaccustomed to the social nuances of crowds of people celebrating, this was an awkward situation to be in. He knows he doesn't do well in these situations.
Krallek notices the exchange between the two halflings and chuckles to himself. He looks at the chubby halfling woman and says "so yer not selling soup eh? More's the pity, since that smelled good. I don't suppose you could spare another bowl of it could ya? I can pay. Or I could even go clonk that other one on the head and get your bowl back if'n you like?"
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Nathaniel surveys this enormous orgy of light, sound and chaos with an expression of both shock and delight. <PeopledancingsingingfooddrinksomanyPEOPLEspinningjumpingyellinglaughing LIVING> he thinks in a daze. With a wide smile, he straights up and steps forward into the maelstrom. The next hour passes by with a blur- hesitantly walking into the dance floor and being swept up by a roar of cheering back-slapping men and women, his legs aching yet exuberating as he spins around in time to the pounding beat.
Escaping from the crowd for a moment, the tall half-elf with pale hair rests on the sidelines next to a small group of children watching the dancing adults with bored expressions. With a wink, Nathaniel snaps his fingers and a small pony with bright blue eyes appears in their midst, to their delight. He closes his eyes and nods a hello to an approaching stranger. "Greetings, friend! This is an extraordinary spectacle... i'd never realized how small my home village is before this day!"
"Spare another bo...do we look like a soup kitchen?" the plump woman asks exasperatedly. She clucks her tounge, looking Krallek over. "Oh, do come here. I'll get you some soup." her face lights up with a motherly smile, and she leads Krallek to the soup stall.
"Ahh another of Celestial blood. Never thought I would see another, at least here in Sandpoint. Yes, the festivities are great, and you? How are you enjoying them?" Zaigan replies to the other Aasimar
Dherisan appears bemused as Nathaniel conjures a pony out of the air. His fox's eyes go wide as it hides behind its master, and Dherisan cannot stifle a chuckle. "Well, don't think it's like this all the time - I'm sure in a few days Sandpoint will seem much more familiar to your home village. My name is Dherisan, by the way - a traveler of Varisia's wild places, and an occasional visitor to it's village. Where do you come from? It's possible I've been there while re-supplying?"
Oblivious to the chaos trailing in her wake, Corvus mirrors the fox's speed and direction and becomes aware of its companion. Still a little awed by the volume of people, she moves on an intercept course for the half-elf – reasoning a conversation about the fox would be a safe way to beak the ice. She pauses as the silver haired half-elf greets one of his own kind.
Not wishing to approach two strangers at once, she changes direction abruptly and heads to the nearest market-stall, looking for anything that looks as though it has been made from dragon-hide.
"Ahh another of Celestial blood. Never thought I would see another, at least here in Sandpoint. Yes, the festivities are great, and you? How are you enjoying them?" Zaigan replies to the other Aasimar
"I find them thrilling, and a bit overwhealming all at once". "But first things first"."I am known as Abraham". "I have devoted my life to Shelyn".
Abraham then looks up as he hears applause, and children's squeals of delight.
"Shall we see what all the excitement is about"?
He begins walking towards where all the people were dancing earlier.
"I do not see why not. I am Zaigan, follower of Irori, or as the humans refer to them, Monks."
Krallek thanks the halfling woman for her kindness and offers her a few coppers for the soup. That was very tasty. I do hope your husband had no part in the cooking of it though. Thats one suspicious looking seasoning hes got on em. He casts a baleful look at the brown lumps of goat poop under his fingernails.
Krallek smiles and heads over towards the sound of children squealing.
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"Nathaniel, a pleasure to meet you. A pity, though it is amazing that an event such as this should exist even for so short a time... I hail from a tiny village far in the east, named Kamsen. I would be extraordinarily surprised for you to have heard of it, I must admit." The elf gestures to a seat beside him. "If you have the time, I would be honored if you would tell me about Varisia's wild places- I have lived in my home village all my life till this month, so sadly have no experience with such locales." The children look expectantly up at Nathaniel as the pony vanishes, and he quickly waves his hand and makes a small puppy appear in its place.
Corvus happened upon a stall selling a variety of herbs and spices. All other sounds and sights zoned out as she became consumed by the variety on offer. She recounted the selection out loud to herself, unable to contain her excitement. "Dried chillies...Cinammon...Dried oregano...Pink peppercorns."
Abraham follows the trail of voice to the commotion, and nearly squeals in delight himself at the antics of the Pony, though he knows it must be an illusion of some sort. "Well where did that little fella come from", he asks to no one in particular.
All of a sudden, a cry goes up from up the street. All of you hear it.
"What in heavens was that? Zaigan searches for the source of the scream
"Seems a man lost his cart, I don't think we will be able to catch it."
Corvus looks up and sees that the store holder has been watching her open-mouthed. Corvus smiles and her cheeks flush. "What can I say, I just love my spices. Oh, that sounded quite sensible when it was in my head but less so when spoken."
Before her embarrassment deepened, Corvus was aware if a man's cry. She cranes her neck to see if she can see the source of the commotion.
"I did," Dherisan states simply as his eyes begin scanning the streets.
Abraham looks about to see what is causing all the commotion. He then looks to the children to make sure they are in no danger.
"OK". "Everything will be fine". "Nobody panic, and we will get the situation under control".
Diplomacy
Streamers blow lazily in the wind, counterpoint to the wagon, which careens down the street, bumping over the cobblestones, gaining speed. People rush to get out of the way. as yells go up farther and farther down the hill.
"Runaway wagon, look out!! Zaigan shouts over the crowd. He runs towards the Wagon, and jumps in.
Zaigon rushes ahead of everyone, leaping at the wagon in an attempt to jump in, but misjudging it's speed, the wagon barrels into him partway through his jump, and it's all he can do to hold on. Nathaniel runs directly in the wagons path, and after a few seconds, suddenly expands to just over ten feet tall, and braces himself for the wagons impact.
"Not my strong suit," Dherisan confesses as he glances with concern towards the oncoming wagon. He takes a step back and raises a brow as Nathaniel begins to transform. "Nathaniel!" he shouts as he begins tracing a symbol in the air, "I'll offer whatever support I can with magic!" Light plays across Dherisan's yellow eye, making it appear to glow briefly as he whispers a short incantation and presses he thumb against his forhead, finishing with a gesture towards Nathaniel. After finishing the odd little ritual, he rushes behind the other half-elf, waiting for whatever may come.
Krallek sees the danger to the children and rushes over to assist. If wagon with the horses is the out of control wagon, he attempts to grab the bit and bridle of the lead horse and pull himself on to slow the team down. If it is a different wagon with no horses, Krallek attempts to ram his spear into the spokes of the wagon to form a crude brake. He will try to jamb the spear head between the spokes and into the body of the wagon. Either way a strength check is in order? Or "to hit"? I will do both and you can decide.
To Hit the wagon with spear: to hit
To push the wagon to safety if the spear thing isn't possible: str check.
To grab the bit and pull myself onto the lead horse: str check
*edit* and those are some mighty impressive rolls. I must look really strong BAHAHAHA
If none of those are possible then Krallek simply rushes over to push any children or women in the path of the wagon out of harms way.
Abraham looks on with horror as the drama unfolds. What can he do? He's too far away to stop the wagon... Abraham hurries over as fast as he can to the area of impact...maybe he can help those who survive.
Perception
Krallek "attacks" the rolling-out-of-control wagon uphill by jamming the spear in the spokes.
Sprinting past Nathaniel and Dehrisan, Krallek sees Zaigon ahead of him, hanging off the front of the wagon he just attempted to jump into, and jams his spear into the spokes of the wheel as the wagon rumbles past him.
The spear slides through the spokes, and the wagon jumps a foot into the air, it's back end swinging to the right 45°, it's front end now pointing to the left 45°. The wagon has slowed a little, but is still rolling, and still with some decent force behind it.
Zaigon's grip slips from the wagon, and just as he's about to slip under the wagon and be crushed to death, a hand reaches over the edge from inside the wagon, grabbing his wrist. Zaigon's heals bounce on the stones of the road, the axle spinning dangerously close to his hips.
- Finish this introductory encounter.
- Introduce ourselves, with a little insight into who is on the chair end of these characters we will be socializing with for the next unforseeable future.
- Complete character creation in accordance with my guidelines. We will also address any house rule questions, and I will hopefully be able to answer them to an acceptable degree.
- Make all character "sheets" standardized, so I, and all of you, can easily read and reference them.
- Test the mapping options I have, to see what works best for the group.
- Make sure we are all on the same page for posting protocol and format, so that we are standardized there as well.
- Connect the groups histories and backgrounds. Strangers meeting works far less than already established friends caught up in an adventure.
- Get goals from each of you. I'd like to know what you'd like, for your own enjoyment, and for your characters goals.
- Discuss XP options. What levelling speed we use, and different ways to get XP.
- Discuss combat flow, and what we feel will speed up the process with six players, both in and out of combat.
- Play. Lots. :)
Welcome. And thank you for giving me a shot.
Reflex Save:
Krallek attempts to slow the wagon down by grabbing the wagon and leaning hard into it to push it to a stop.
Str check:
*edit*
DM
Suddenly seeing the empty wagon out of the corner of his eyes, Abraham runs towards the wagon, intending to push it into the path of whichever of the out of control wagons he thinks he can reach.
"Over here"! "You"! "Help me with this"!
Guys, as much as I really want to play this ap and all of you seem to be great but I think I will sit this one out. There are just too many home rules for my tastes. Thank you Mittean for the opportunity and good luck to you all.