I suspect that there are a fair few new players who have come to PbP but have not experienced some of those old gems!
Sorry to be so late, busy day! I'm signed up for Iff's Between the Lines. I suggest we start a gameplay/discussion thread, and then Eleazzaar and I can nail down what we're playing, because with the level 1s and the level 5, El and I are going to be the deciding factors for whether it ends up being low tier or high tier, depending on what we bring.
The Taldane scratches at his cheek, looking over the group of Pathfinders before him. "Yes, you'll do," he says in his nasal voice. "Please follow me to the docks. I have been 'asked' to get you to Katapesh promptly."
Will the following players please check into the Discussion and Gameplay thread here:
Dien
Giuseppe Capriati
Eleazzaar
Sethran
Nightdeath
JamesMartin
An odd sight enters the Pathfinder lodge, bringing with it a breath of heat and the smell of sand and dust. Standing before you is a 6'1 efreeti, his eyes sunken and glowing red. About his neck is a collar, upon which is branded a single rune in Ignan. The efreeti exudes defeat and despair, his shoulders slumped, his head bowed.
"My master, Mareq ibn Bolthuni, the Rejected, the Scorned, the Avenger of all Iniquities, Ambassador Percipient to Golarion from the City of Brass, humbly offers his assistance in any of the historic endeavor that begin in this esteemed Lodge."
The efreeti bows low and sweeps his hand dramatically towards the door.
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Following the efreeti in the door, timed with the outsider's introduction perfectly, is a man with fiery red hair, an engaging smile, and a confident stride. Well-dressed in a Keleshite (?) courtier's on-the-road outfit and cloak, he snaps his fingers imperiously at the efreeti.
"Begone, Dung-Faced Thrall! You have done your duty. Return to your abode until you are needed again!"
The man holds out a simple oil lamp towards the efreeti and shakes it once. The efreeti bows his head again, grimaces, and dissolves into smoke which quickly is sucked into the lamp's mouth.
"Hello, worthy and fellow Pathfinders. I am Mareq ibn Bolthuni al-Shamiri and I seek adventure on this world you call Golarion. You will find me a willing and eager partner in any worthy task, able to bring a few small sorceries to bear in our quest, should the need demand it. If the occasion warrants, I can also summon my thrall to our aid, though I hold him in little esteem and would not recommend speaking to him at length, as his intellect has fallen from a great height and made him an unsuitable conversation partner."
The man smiles a winning smile of perfectly aligned teeth and begins engaging the room in small talk, going from one man to another, learning their names and shaking their hands, suggesting to each with his humble and interested demeanor that he would be happy to adventure alongside each one them. With the women in the lodge he displays interest in each, bordering ever so subtly on the immodest, yet never venturing into unwanted advances or other rude behavior.
Initially, he deflects inquiries about himself with a soft wave of his hand and a modest grin, replying frequently "Oh, well, I am of no account, yet your tale sounds much more engaging. Tell me more..." But slowly, over time and several drinks, he reveals to one, then another, small bits and pieces of his own self.
Mareq (pronounced with the Ignan hard, snapping k sound), is a native of the City of Brass, having eventually left for Golarion as an ambassador of the City's great vizier. He claims some small efreeti ancestry, thus accounting for his fiery red hair, which some would swear afterwards is actual fire (!). He is a diplomat by trade, but can fire a crossbow at need and bring forth useful magics occasionally. About his efreeti thrall he remains silent, gently and diplomatically changing the subject whenever asked.
A blonde human runs back into the lodge. He strums his lute and puts a sign on the wall.
"Oh yeah. We need 4 to 6 people to travel to Taldor. Top Secret stuff!" He strums a few notes and nods, satisfied with his new rhythm. "Yeah, that's a good beat. I've heard the town's gotten pretty ugly though- you might have to sneak around town throughout the night." He shrugs.
"Just like that time I slept with the Duke's- uhhh." The human stammers as he realizes he's talking out loud. "I'll let myself out."
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Following the efreeti in the door, timed with the outsider's introduction perfectly, is a man with fiery red hair, an engaging smile, and a confident stride. Well-dressed in a Keleshite (?) courtier's on-the-road outfit and cloak, he snaps his fingers imperiously at the efreeti.
"Begone, Dung-Faced Thrall! You have done your duty. Return to your abode until you are needed again!"
The man holds out a simple oil lamp towards the efreeti and shakes it once. The efreeti bows his head again, grimaces, and dissolves into smoke which quickly is sucked into the lamp's mouth.
"Hello, worthy and fellow Pathfinders. I am Mareq ibn Bolthuni al-Shamiri and I seek adventure on this world you call Golarion. You will find me a willing and eager partner in any worthy task, able to bring a few small sorceries to bear in our quest, should the need demand it. If the occasion warrants, I can also summon my thrall to our aid, though I hold him in little esteem and would not recommend speaking to him at length, as his intellect has fallen from a great height and made him an unsuitable conversation partner."
"Hey man, can I get a light?"
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"This is Garundi Purple Kush, it can take it." He sticks the hand rolled Mwangi thangie in his mouth. He leans in and puts his hands out like he were going to catch a beach ball aimed at his face and talking through his teeth says: "Go ahead man. Nishe and eashy. Oh and it'sh not 'shir' it'sh jusht the Dude. Alright?"
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"This is Garundi Purple Kush, it can take it." He sticks the hand rolled Mwangi thangie in his mouth. He leans in and puts his hands out like he were going to catch a beach ball aimed at his face and talking through his teeth says: "Go ahead man. Nishe and eashy. Oh and it'sh not 'shir' it'sh jusht the Dude. Alright?"
"Mr. Dude, I have learned in my time here, that it is impolite to burn people alive. A great difference in polite society here vs. the City of Brass."
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A blonde human runs back into the lodge. He strums his lute and puts a sign on the wall.
"Oh yeah. We need 4 to 6 people to travel to Taldor. Top Secret stuff!" He strums a few notes and nods, satisfied with his new rhythm. "Yeah, that's a good beat. I've heard the town's gotten pretty ugly though- you might have to sneak around town throughout the night." He shrugs.
"Just like that time I slept with the Duke's- uhhh." The human stammers as he realizes he's talking out loud. "I'll let myself out."
Sneak around? But I just got done doing that!...not that I'm complaining about it.
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"Mr. Dude, I have learned in my time here, that it is impolite to burn people alive. A great difference in polite society here vs. the City of Brass."
The Dude removes the doobie from his mouth.
"Alright man, alright. I get it, but let me explain something to you. Um, I am not "Mr. Dude". You're Mr. Firehair-Guy. That guy is Mr. Blonde-Bard-Recruiter-Guy. I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. You know, that or, uh, His Dudeness, or uh, Duder, or El Duderino if you're not into the whole brevity thing."
He returns to his spot at the bar, and tries lighting up with one of the candles there before remembering that all the candles and sconces are lit with continual flame to comply with local fire safety regulations.
"Man."
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A large Tien man swaggers into the lodge.
"I am being here to inform you that there is a Confirmation expedition being formed. It is being of utmost importance that CORE members of the society are to be Confirmed." He almost sneers as he adds "Agent losses to the Aspis are being at unacceptable levels."
A large Tien man swaggers into the lodge.
"I am being here to inform you that there is a Confirmation expedition being formed. It is being of utmost importance that CORE members of the society are to be Confirmed."
"And from somewhere beyond the bar in that nebulous place near the back that abuts the plane o' shadows and that place fictional characters go when no one's readin' or think' about 'em a low moan goes up. It's that table next to the kitchen door with the Pharasmin inquisitor, the kitsune monk, that notable occultist n' author of weird science fiction horror, that brash half-orc cad and that huge-but-sensitive half-orc viking, and that lil' guy who's always pesterin' you about his shadow puppets. You know the one. Anyhow it's a loud piteous moan that starts down near where your appendix is or was and comes up like beer burped sob. Yeah, you been there. The Dude though, he barely registers it."
Sitting just before the Dude with No Name (who still needs a light), is a grizzled old cowboy-looking guy, all tall and rangy and gray like he invented the color. His voice isn't so much gravelly as it is a wavering scree on the side of hill out on the west coast just after a small tumbler hits. Each aftershock sends another tremor through that scree.
As it turns out he's doing the voice-over.
"I only mention it because sometimes there's a man... I won't say a hero, 'cause, what's a hero? But sometimes, there's a man. And I'm talkin' about the Dude here. Sometimes, there's a man, well, he's the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that's the Dude, in Absalom. And even if he's a lazy man - and the Dude was most certainly that. Quite possibly the laziest on the whole island, which would place him high in the runnin' for laziest worldwide. But sometimes there's a man, sometimes, there's a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But... aw, hells. I've done introduced him enough. Let's just watch."
He turns to the bartender "Say, friend - you got any more of that good sarsaparilla?"
He gets his drink.
"The Dude abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that. It's good knowin' he's out there. The Dude. Takin' 'er easy for all us sinners. Shoosh, that's strong stuff. I sure hope he makes his own Confirmation."
Vash Steel follows the blonde human that was struming and states, "I am interested if you will have me. I am new but I am good at my job and do what is needs.
"What? Yeah, that's cool. You can come along. Wow, that was kinda fast. Hey, uhh..."
"You guys should expect instructions soon, probably tonight."
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A tall, bearded wizard with black hair magically affixes a paper to the notice board. Though young, his hair and beard are streaked with silver. He behaves in a distinguished manner, and wears nondescript black robes with silver runes on the sleeves.
He examines the notice to ensure it is straight, then turns around and leaves.
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A tall, muscular man walks into the lodge with a rolled up paper in hand. He unfolds it, holds it up and taps it a few times. "It appears a group is being formed for six brave Pathfinders. They are to travel to the Pathfinder Lodge at Heidmarch Manor in Magnimar and keep watch for unexpected events. I wish you luck!" He smiles as he bows.
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A strange old man with a skull on one shoulder and a raven on the other shuffles in. "You lot! Some sort of ker-fuffle about Cheliax to be taken care of. Tut!" He posts a notice, shakes his head and leaves, muttering about kids these days.
... or were checking the boards all day long.[/ooc]
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It is on many levels, but it also promotes a sense of 'exclusivity'
That being said, it *is* very nice to see everyone post on a daily basis as a player. Even if it's a post -- I've even done those myself, and it's something I suspect some players are afraid to do.
Even when one knows their character inside and out, PFS scenarios have been becoming more and more designed to *challenge* preconceptions and evoke new thoughts and ideas. There is no shame in admitting that there's something one's run into that's just... WT....
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Putting together a run of Faithless & Forgotten, starting with 7-14 Let Bygones Be, classic version. Please sign up here. A raffle will be held Friday afternoon at 4 pm CST for players, with the game to begin next week.
A tall, thin half-elven Tian woman with greenish skin quietly makes her mark on the signup sheet.
This woman has wanted to see the great nation of Cheliax. She hopes to be of some service to thee.
It is on many levels, but it also promotes a sense of 'exclusivity'
That being said, it *is* very nice to see everyone post on a daily basis as a player. Even if it's a post -- I've even done those myself, and it's something I suspect some players are afraid to do.
Even when one knows their character inside and out, PFS scenarios have been becoming more and more designed to *challenge* preconceptions and evoke new thoughts and ideas. There is no shame in admitting that there's something one's run into that's just... WT....
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"No, but if you've got a light I'd really appreciated it man."
Tynat tosses back the remainder of the drink in front of him, then reaches into one of the myriad pouches strapped to his tiny frame, and removes a glass vial. Uncorking it, he swiftly pours a few drops of Alchemist's Fire into his empty glass, and hastily restoppers the container, tucking it back into his pocket. As the volatile liquid combusts, he slides the flaming glass over to the disheveled drifter down the bar.
"Take it easy for all us sinners Dude."
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A surly half-orc wanders by reading something and frowning, ignoring the people he bumps in to. He balls up the letter and tosses it over his shoulder, then breathes deep before addressing the room, definitely not using his 'indoor' voice.
"Alright here's the deal. I've got four Pathfinders out in Tian Xia in need of some help, I've also got a single powerful teleport scroll to send some lucky chump out there with them. Who's it gonna be? Who among you wants to help activate the Braid of a Hundred Masters?"
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A surly half-orc wanders by reading something and frowning, ignoring the people he bumps in to. He balls up the letter and tosses it over his shoulder, then breathes deep before addressing the room, definitely not using his 'indoor' voice.
"Alright here's the deal. I've got four Pathfinders out in Tian Xia in need of some help, I've also got a single powerful teleport scroll to send some lucky chump out there with them. Who's it gonna be? Who among you wants to help activate the Braid of a Hundred Masters?"
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Tynat jumps up off his stool and runs to the half orc. "Tynat will take this task to travel to Tian Xia!"
The old man shuffles back in with a curse and nails a list of names on the wall. He spits, scowls and shuffles back out without a look.
A note is nailed to the door of the Lodge in the middle of the night.
Town in River Kingdoms under siege by long-dead dragon. Send help. Must be willing to work with thieving halflings or at least tolerate them. -The Baroness