The Night March of Kalkamedes PbP (Inactive)

Game Master lucklesshero

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"Ahh, it is good to be back in Absolom. Time to see what is happening in the grand lodge." A tall man dressed in bright warm colors strolls through the streets. He carries a large backpack and has a belt with two daggers and two wands. "It is a beautiful brand new day."

"Were you called for the mission too? Hopefully it's something more befitting my skills this time. I have no idea why they saw fit to send me to Druma, where blades go to rust." Hard to distinguish from a statue but for his motion and gear, a man seemingly chiseled from angular stone appears. His bulky armor is riddled with spikes and bears Pharasma's spiral at the center. Many weapons are strapped to his belt and back, the biggest of which are two ornate axes.

"But I am being rude. Mentys al-Menchur, trailblazer and warrior in the Society's employ. And you are...?"

Dressed in a light vest with tattoos of waves and water creatures along his arms and chest while using a spear as a walking stick. Hudor joins the group.

He yawns, "Should've went to bed earlier last night." He looks at the others, "Greetings. My name is Hudor. I'm a water wielder. Look forward with working with you all."

"Farlen Mizzul, jeweler and pathfinder as needed." "And yes Lady Heidmarch sent message by runner this morning." " Something about a sleepwalker or some such. Hope that is not some new form of undead I know nothing of." "Anyway,it is nice to meet you, Hudor and Mentys, as it appears our paths will travel in the same direction." "Oh, and I do practice a little magic also. Speaking of which, could we swing through a local market?" "I would like to purchase a few scrolls and replenish spell components." It should not take long."
Farlen will disappear into an a shop or turn down another street from time to time always returning within a few minutes.
"Have you all been in Magnimar long?" "I have only been here a short while. I was passing through on business and checked in. Now it seems I am needed to help." "That is a nice swirl you have, Hudor. It might make a nice necklace or pendant." I don't like religious symbols as a rule as it gets very repetitive. It can be steady money though. I still resist it as not very interesting work."

"We probably have enough to time to swing by the market."

"Something about a sleepwalker or some such. Hope that is not some new form of undead I know nothing of."

"I wouldn't mind. In fact, it would bring me great joy if that came to pass. In my view there are few honors greater than ridding the world of such abominations." Mentys pounds his chest, where Pharasma's symbol lies, ceremonially. "But to each their own. If you do not care for religion, I for one would not force you to practice."

"I only made my way here when the missive bid me to do so. Been here for a few hours at most."

"Ah, forgive me for mixing you up. Mentys, you have the swirl. I really am usually better with names." "It is not that I am not religious, it is more that crafting religious objects brings more problems then the marketability brings benefit. People always want changes or get offended that you would put a symbol of Iomadae next to one of Norgorber. That stuff is better left to temples."
"Undead on the other hand are not my favorite enemy, but I would not mind ridding the world of some. I was expressing my concern at not knowing them. I pride myself on trying to know a little about things." "By the way, I think the sleepwalker is of the normal living kind."
Farlen keeps up the conversation as he darts in and out of shops.

"Ha HA!" shouts a rugged dwarf. Short swords lay sheathed at his waist, jangling against his belt pouch. He walks in with half a bar of soap in his sword hand, cracks off a bite of it with his teeth, and proceeds to chew loudly. "Looks like 'ol Valsin can't wait to send me off on another assignment. Must be my good looks."

He shrugs, spits out the soap and you can smell just the faintest trace of putrescence on his breath, masked by the clean odor. He says, "Les see if the noggin remembers yer names: Mentys, Farlen and--Hudor! Hudor from that job in Absalom, right? Ships, slaves, all that. Well how've ya been? Up to more trouble, neh?"

A tall man, dressed in furs typical of a northman, lumbers out of the one of the nearby shops. He sports long, reddish locks and an untrimmed beard. Indeed, if it not for his blackened, smithing apron, it might be impossible to tell where the man's hair ends and the furs lining his coat and clothing begin.
" Jorden og havet!”, the man cries in a jovial voice, “Selv mine reisekammerater gjør meg lengre etter hjemlandet mitt! Torag skaper på alle måter!”

Hudor taps his chin in thought, "Maybe this 'sleepwalker' is not some type of undead but maybe some spoiled noble that is sleep walking and they want us to babysit them while they do this."

"Probably not an undead, no," Mentys agrees. "Just Farlen and I speculating. As to what it really is, perhaps you're right, Hudor. Only time will tell."

"Welcome to our group, Vulf and companion." "I am sorry but I did not catch your name stout, fine fellow, but apparently you are friends with Hudor."

Farlen puzzles over the group complete reference. "I think my message was to join with 5 others for a total of six. I believe we are still one short." "Let us travel on and perhaps we will find our last member on the way."

Farlen hearing Hudor's speculation of the 'sleepwalker' smiles. "Truly I think you are closer to the heart of it." "It would be a very familiar type task for me. Less then a month previous, I was sent to bring home a noble lord determined to run away and 'adventure'." "He was an arrogant fool too getting captured by bandits." "Let us hope we have a more endearing subject to 'babysit'"

A confident, strong half-elven woman approaches, fitted with a variety of blades and sturdy armor. She plants the base of a polearm in the dirt; she seem to use it a walking stick, always at the ready.

"Hello, all? I'm Carini. I guess they've got some work for us, huh? They told me long nights, lots of walking?"

"Well, let's do this."

"Welcome to our group, Vulf and companion." "I am sorry but I did not catch your name stout, fine fellow, but apparently you are friends with Hudor."

Kranzer scratches his head. "Aah, well I'll be a curdled troll fart. Didn't say my name did I?! Kranzer Kraken-Mouth at your service. I've played cards in all the great cities of this 'ere Inner Sea, but I call the taverns of Kaer Maga my home these days. Played Kip-up more times than I can count, and won and lost even more fortunes."

"Although..."

One second his hands are empty and the next a short sword is resting comfortably in each of his palms. He spins the handles about before sheathing the swords again.

"I ain't bad with a blade, either."

"I ain't bad with a blade, either."

"I can't imagine that you'll be needing those to handle a sleepwalker, Kranzer." Vulf suggests. "There are more polite ways to wake a man."

"And as for the final... and fairest... member of our band," the northman says as he gives a short bow to Carini in the Ulfen style, "I, Vulf Sorgrim, am most pleased to make your acquaintance. Rumor has is that this mission may require spending a night or two in the Varisian wilderness. If that be the case, then I am pleased to be spending the night with you."

Vulf has a Viking-like way with women and, thus, can be a bit of cur. Feel free to treat him as such. If his antics become too much or otherwise make any of you uncomfortable for any reason, please let me know by post or PM and I will tone him down.

Hudor chuckles, "If our sleepwalker is a male or maybe if female. We can get a succubus to wake them up. Give the sleepwalker a 'wet dream' so to speak. That always wakes people up." Remembering is youthful days and his personal past experiences before he got interested in women.

Any player with knowledge local may roll it before we begin.

"I can't imagine that you'll be needing those to handle a sleepwalker, Kranzer."

"Certainly, but we may need them to protect our charge," Mentys puts in. "I've never been on a mission where we didn't fight something. I must say, it's nice to know there will always be need for people like me, but it can be a bit silly and at times depressing."

"Ever been to Druma? No fighting there. It is all but illegal, if not entirely so, and they have the power to enforce that. What happens when we go? Bandits just over the border! Taking a tour of a new museum, that we thank our deities isn't the Blakros? A tapestry tries to strangle my friend! But I'm overreacting. Just saying, it pays to be prepared for such things."

Carini looks at Vulf with a sharply upturned eyebrow. "I'm not going to tell you not to try, but I will point out that you have to get past this first," she shakes the guisarme that's planted butt-first into the ground in front of her, "and I know how to use it."

"I also know how to use this," she taps the heavy flail that pokes up from over her shoulder. "And this," she pats the scythe hanging from her belt. "This," a longbow, strung taught and ready, "and this." She draws a sap out of of pocket, and slaps it sharply into the palm of her hand.

"If you haven't upset me in any other way, it'll just be the sap. But I reserve the right to use blades if needed. Step carefully dwarf."

Carini's not trained in Knowledge (local).

Vulf follows the fighter's hands as they move across her body, tapping each of her weapons.

She said I was a "dwarf," the six-foot tall Ulfen muses. But, on the other hand, she didn't say "no".

"I shall step carefully, indeed." Vulf responds aloud as a smile forms underneath his thick, wooly beard. "I appreciate a woman who is so well-armed." The northman leers toward the fighter's masterwork breastplate. Appraise: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5 Even this stonecarver could do better craftsmanship than that, Vulf thinks to himself, before adding, "If not, perhaps, so well armored."

She said I was a "dwarf," the six-foot tall Ulfen muses.

Ooops, should've paid more attention to the stat line than the picture, the picture screams dwarf. Haha

I'll let it stand. She's implying that you're too small to interest her. :)

"Shall we continue on then?" "We are all a group now." "To the good Lady Hiedmarch."
Spells are as listed in my profile. I will hold the cards I got so to speak.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6

"Ha, she called 'im a dwarf! I like her." He scratches his head. "Or, wait, was that an insult ta kin? Sometimes human games swing over my head. Ha! Getit?! Over my head!"

"Aye," he says after a fit of laughter, "But stone-man's got the right of it. Never had an assignment went smooth in my life."

"Is there a game that 'humans' swing things over the heads of dwarfs?" "I am sorry I do not know that one. In Saragava, we sometimes played a form of catch with a person in between trying to steal the projectile. We called it 'monkey in the middle'. This 'swinging over dwarfs' seems a very mean spirited contest. Is there a local name for this craziness?"
He attempts to hide his smile seeing if Kranzer will take the bait.
"I am sure there is some danger involved in this task." "You don't pull a team of six people armed to the teeth to watch a simple sleepwalker. A servant could do that." "There must be a catch."

"Yes, there is always a catch. As to what it is, we can guess, but nothing's more conclusive than waiting to find out."

You've all had a long hurried journey through, the back roads of Varisia, and deep in to the Fernwall mountains. It's rained hard throughout the area, the last two days but, by late afternoon it's cleared up as the coach drops several of you off, at a modest cabin overlooking a spectacular ridge. A couple of your group had arrived, a few hours earlier. Everyone is told to wait until called upon. Two senior Pathfinders who've declined to identify themselves, guard a door leading to the back half of the cabin. After the coach arrived, everyone is ushered inside the cabin's kitchen. Everyone is given some light fair to eat and told to prepare for a long night. Finally, you are called in to what must be, the living area of the cabin. There stands Venture Captain Sheila Heidmarch. There is a man tied to the bed. It appears he was sleeping. He begins to stir as you all push in to the room.

Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch glances out a window as the last wisps of twilight fade over the Fenwall Mountains. Turning from the sight, she runs her hand along the rustic cabin’s wall and stands beside an occupied wooden bed before addressing you.

“This,” the venture captain says, gesturing to the man thrashing around violently, straining against the bonds that lash him securely to the bed, “is our colleague, Kalkamedes. Every night for several weeks now, he has fallen into a deep slumber and tried to sleepwalk right out of his cottage. If not restrained, he marches straight north, eventually falling off a cliff or into a bog as if trying to get himself killed in an attempt to reach an unknown goal.” As though he were expressing disagreement, the man tied to the bed suddenly begins pumping his limbs even harder, the violent spasms threatening to smash the bed into splinters.

“Kalkamedes’s friends are at their wits’ end, so we are going to attempt the only thing that we have not tried: we’re going to let him go tonight. That’s where you come in. I want you to follow him and keep him safe and in one piece. Let him get to wherever his addled brain thinks he needs to go so badly. Maybe, just maybe, if he gets there, you can find a way to help him. Maybe you can determine who or what did this to him and find a way to undo it.” Heidmarch pulls out a serrated knife. “Now before I cut him free, does anyone have any questions or last minute preparations?”

"He isn't a pampered nobleman, that's something," Mentys notes as he peers down at Kalkamedes. "Perhaps we should tie him to something or someone, to keep him at our pace?"

"And what of the hazards of this area? You mentioned cliffs and bogs, is there anything else we need to keep a lookout for?"

As the Venture-Captain responds to Mentys' questions, Vulf looks around the cabin, trying to get some sense of who Kalkamedes by looking at objects he keeps. Appraise as full-round action to determine most valuable object in the room: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8 Once he has done so, he looks for anything unusual or out of place in the room that he may not have already seen. Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

"Have you tried waking him up when he goes walking?" Vulf asks. "If so, what means did you use?" Vulf glances over at the blades sheathed in Kranzer's belt and smirks. "And how did he take it when he woke?"

"Well, we should be able to keep him safe; we certainly have enough blades to fight off anything that wants to tangle."

"we certainly have enough blades to fight off anything that wants to tangle."

Including the party. Vulf muses to himself. I must have really made an impression on her, because she is obviously still thinking about me.

"If we do tie him to someone, might be best to tie him to two people. In his frenzy state, he might have enough strength to drag one person."

Kranzer looked about to say something, chest puffed up, cheeks slightly red, but the Venture-Captain cut him off.

He focuses his attention on the briefing and then the questions the others ask. Not finding anything else to ask, he instead says, "If anybody should be tied to tha thrashin' man, should be Mentys, eh?"

Knowing that this was coming but unable to fully prepare, the oread sighs. Kranzer certainly isn't wrong. "Fine, I suppose. I'm as strong as an ox, likely more so, and a walking statue."

"Maybe this is what my idiot mentor had in mind when he did this to me, but I've yet to see him plan more than two minutes ahead...All part of the Lady's plan...All part of the Lady's plan...." Mentys mutters before trying a calming mantra.

"Have you tried waking him up when he goes walking?

The Venture Captain is clearly irritated having even been asked the question.*sigh* “There are those who have recently criticized the Pathfinders for our indifference to the plight of our fellow field agents. It’s time to show that’s not true. I want you to help Kalkamedes, whether he wants it or not. Several of our best spellcasters have attempted an extensive list of magical cures, but whatever sleepwalking curse or effect he’s under tenaciously resists our efforts. Including all mundane means of trying to wake him while in this state. All we can do is keep him safe.” Heidmarch pats him with a degree of professional affection, and Kalkamedes rewards her by trying to swat her with his head.

Once he has done so, he looks for anything unusual or out of place in the room that he may not have already seen.

While others are talking, Vulf does a quick search of Kalkamedes’s cabin. The wardrobe in Kalkamedes’s bedchamber contains his outdoor clothing (an explorer’s outfit) and a pair of strong boots. A drawer in the end table next to Kalkamedes’s bed, contains a series of unfinished charts mapping the Fenwall Mountains. In addition to the the Wardrobe, Bed, and end table(all already searched); there's also a desk and a wood-burning stove in the room.

"Perhaps we should tie him to something or someone, to keep him at our pace?"

"And what of the hazards of this area? You mentioned cliffs and bogs, is there anything else we need to keep a lookout for?"

Sheila Heidmarch looks with concern at Kalkamedes once again *sigh* “Do what you must, but go easy on him. Remember the point of this is to help him!” She looks out the window, as for the hazards.. Sheila points to the horizon and the last rays of the setting sun. It's the Fernwall mountains, I've already told you about bogs and cliffs. We've been lucky he hasn't killed himself yet and that we've been able to save him from those hazards. We know little else of where he goes. Although we know he marches north, we haven’t been able to find anything that sheds any light on the situation. For this to work, we’ll need Kalkamedes to be our guide and show us exactly where he’s trying to go. That’s why you have to get the job done before dawn. Once he wakes up, he remembers nothing and becomes downright useless as a guide.”

Sheila Heidmarch looks one more time at Kalkemedes and says, I'll leave you alone a few minutes to prepare, be ready to go within' a quarter turn of the glass.(you have 15 min to prepare)

Vulf keeps his eyes on the Venture-Captain as she walks out of the room. On the one-hand, she didn't seem pleased by my questions. he thinks to himself. On the other-hand, she didn't threaten to threaten me with a blade or call me a dwarf. Vulf chuckles. She likes me too.

Vulf turns to the others. "Divination is not my gift However, if our friend, Kalkamedes, is going for a walk outside this evening, particulalry into the mountains, we may wish to get him dressed for the occassion." the northman says as he points to the wardrobe.

"His papers may also provide us with some indication of where he has been, where he is likely to go, and what may be causing him to do so." Vulf lays Kalkamedes' charts out on the desk and looks them over for any identifiable locations, potential landmarks, or other items of possible interest.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (8) + 4 = 12

"I am neither a local nor a geographer, but I believe I can make some sense of these scratches with their jots and tittles." he says. "Though, I suspect that most of you are more well-traveled than I." Vulf adds inviting the others to take a look.

Hudor heads over the charts Vulf is looking at and assist him. "I'm more knowledgeable about magic and other worlds. But I'll see if I can help you decipher the charts."

Perception (Aid Other): 1d20 ⇒ 6

Farelen wanders over to the table where Vulf has spread out the unfinished charts. It only takes Farelen ('take 10' geography) to note the maps and charts are almost useless in their current condition. Hudor begins to dress Kalkamedes. Kranzer moves in closer to the bed to get a good look at Kalkamedes because his face looks familar.

What are the rest of you doing? including Kranzer who only took a second to recall what he knows.

"Well I'll be a drunken mite, I knew I saw 'im once before! Kalkamedes. Good Pathfinder, retired now though. Pretty famous around these parts. Met him in Korvosa back when I was gettin' my beak wet. Played Kip-up til morning in that tavern, ah the good old days. Head hurt so bad the next morning it felt like Norgorber had 'is fingers in there, rummagin' around fer something."

Kranzer sets his backpack on the floor and produces a coil of silk rope.

"Mentys, you got some rope? If not tie this to Kalk over there and then to yourself. My thinkin' is he'll be calmer once we're on the move. So let's get to it!"

Carini nods at Kranzer. "Indeed. No need to dally." She flips her head in Kalkamedes direction; "He sure doesn't want to. Keep up the good work, Hudor." She smiles at the man as he attempts to wrestly Kalkamedes into sturdy clothing.

She'll join Vulf and Farlen--pointedly placing her guisarme against the desk between herself and the northerner--but she ignores the charts, instead beginning to rifle through drawers just in search of anything else that might enlighten them about the strange sleepwalking.

Perception: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (2) + 10 = 12

"What Pathfinder doesn't carry rope?" Mentys queries with genuine confusion as he rummages through the Pathfinder's belongings. Drawers, floorboards, anything that can be opened. "Its usefulness can never be taken for granted. All right, let's get this over with," he adds, fishing out his rope and tying it around himself, then the struggling Kalkamedes.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

When Mentys searches the stove, they find the remains of a crumpled and burned charcoal sketch. The tattered sketch depicts a squat fortress under a full moon enshrouded by clouds. Mentys also finds a hidden lever in the back of the stove. (check slide # 4)

"This looks promising," Mentys notes as he comes upon the sketch. He shows it to all present, then waves it in Kalkamedes' face to see if it elicits a reaction. Barring any strange response, he hands it off. "Wouldn't want this to be lost with me when I'm dragged into a bog with my fellow statue," he says in a jokingly macabre manner. He then pulls the lever to see what happens.

The hidden lever in the back of the stove releases the catch to a hidden compartment concealed in the floor under a stack of water barrels. Once you move the barrels you find a locked metal chest, within the compartment.

Receiving the sketch from Mentys, Vulf gives it a glance. "Looks like a friendly place." he chuckles as he hands it off.

"Now what we here?" Vulf remarks as he helps Mentys move the barrels and open the compartment.

Grabbing hold of his necklace with one hand, Vulf forms a cup with the other before placing it over his left eye.

"Father of Creation." he utters, "Let me see what has been made by means beyond mere mortal toil." Casting detect magic Then peers into the compartment toward the chest.

Farlen, in awe of the efficiency of this fellow pathfinders, helps as he can. He looks at the charts and maps but they are too crude. He looks at the partially burnt paper from the stove.
knowledge geography: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
"There might be a landmark or something on the drawing that will give us a clue about where this depicts, how to locate it, or why it was in the stove."
"Kalkamedes being an eperienced pathfinder should have a stash of equipment, potions, weapons, scrolls and the like. Maybe the lever leads to his hiding place for his stuff?" "They should come in handy protecting him."
perception aid: 1d20 ⇒ 19

Vulf detects 6 magic items within' the chest..most of them of mild aura but one has a moderate aura. Farlen you definitely can't recognize any landmarks around the building. But the drawing rendered has distinct Thassilion architecture ascents depicted on the fortress structure. Though many surviving buildings in current times still have the same style.

"Whoa-ho-hoah!" Carini busts out when the secret compartment is discovered. "Kalkamedes has some secrets! Good for you, man. Good for you!"

She peers over someones shoulder at the chest. "If nobody can open that the usual way.... I can take a shot at it the hard way!"

"Oh, wait it already did." "Vulf, you have that in hand then?"
Farlen turns away from the chest and continues with the drawing. "This drawing almost looks like a cat or a cave that looks like a cat. I wonder if there is some reference on the charts." "No wait they are useless. Who draws a map with no legend and look at the handwriting? Just useless."

Vulf picks up the item with the strongest aura and examines in carefully.

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

"Confounded trinket" Vulf mutters with disdain. "Keep your secrets from me if you like, but the wizard may coax them out of you yet."

"Farlen, these items appear to be arcane in nature and, thus, you may be able to identify them more easily."