[GameDay IX] GM Hawthwile's Ungrounded, but Unbroken (Inactive)

Game Master Hawthwile

The sun shines through the large windows of one of the Grand Lodge's best libraries, illuminating motes of dust that drift idly through the air. It is no surprise that Sorrina Westyr, Master of Spells, would ask you to meet her here - the shelves lining the walls hold books on topic ranging from practical applications of transmution spells to analysis and predictions on rainfall several decades in the future based on astrological signs, as well as everything in between - in short, a perfect place for a wizard. Large comfortable chairs sit scattered around the room, several nestled around small tables or tucked into reading nooks for privacy.

Go ahead and introduce yourselves, get to know each other, and feel free to indulge in some roleplay before the convention kicks off next week.

Entering the room, Ebonfeather looked around, appraising the value of the items as practice. Not sure about the summons, sometimes there are traps and locks that his skills come in handy that might be needed. If not, sometimes his merchant ability might be of use.

"Greetings, I am Ebonfeather" he said, introducing himself to the others.

Taarik is a massive Ifrit. His hair is blazing and burning so that he almost warms his surroundings.

He has a greatsword and a bardiche on his back, a light flail at his side and a heavy shield on his back.

He wears a fullplate that looks like it has seen battle recently.

Resting on top of his chest, an amulet showing the holy symbol of Irori is visible.

* * *

Taarik is pleased that the Pathfinder lodge is such a place of knowledge - he himself does not understand much about that kind of thing but Irori represents this part of life and he hopes to learn at some point.

In the office of the master of spells he bows to his fellow companions.

"We might be late but we have come to aid. Hmm … that even rimed!” he says a little confused about his own statement.

"Ehh, I am Taariik."

The tinkle of a small bell announces the arrival of Sorrina Westyr, Master of Spells for the Pathfinder Society. She bows to Ebonfeather and Taariik before beckoning them to follow her. "I've already let the pages know to send the rest of the expedition to the yard," she explains as she walks, leading the two agents to a courtyard outside her office.

Large, dark boulders jut from a carpet of smooth pebbles here, with wildflowers and moss springing from the cracks between the stones in a tribute to the element of earth. The Master of Spells’ slate-gray skin seems to blend into the rock she sits on in the sun-dappled courtyard, her face upturned to the cloudless sky. Sorrina stretches luxuriously before turning to smile.

“Enjoy the open air while you can, Pathfinders,” she says. “You are to be among the first agents sponsored to explore the planes - the Plane of Earth, to be exact. Reyshal ik Jalman, the Society’s contact on the Plane of Earth, recently alerted us to a rare opportunity. The Sultana’s constant war with the City of Brass means the shaitan empire needs more soldiers, and they have begun recruiting off-world mercenaries to train alongside their military. That’s where you come in.” Westyr leaps to her feet in a fluid motion, pulling an amethyst crystal wrapped in copper wire from her pocket.

“Please travel with Reyshal to the Opaline Vault. He can pull some strings to get you in with the mercenary company known as the Ungrounded. Complete the basic training and prove to your superiors that the Pathfinders are useful allies. Reyshal and I believe that working with the Ungrounded will lay the foundation for an alliance with the Peerless Empire. What’s more, this is an excellent means for you to establish your own professional credentials and connections.” Westyr pauses to brush a fallen leaf from her hair.

“I’ll contact Reyshal as soon as you’re ready, but do you have any questions first?”

What do you do?

"What can you tell us about the Ungrounded mercenary company? Who is in charge? Any idea about what their basic training entails?" Ebonfeather asked.

Taariik is clearly confused.

“Well, I really do not have any issues with impressing somebody with my martial prowess! But have you thought about the consequences of sending me to the plane of earth? You realize that I am burning and that people will dislike me being there, right? And who is Reyshal?!“ he asks.

Sorrina smiles as Ebonfeather speaks. “The Ungrounded is an eclectic mercenary company run by newcomers to the Plane of Earth, but ultimately managed by shaitan generals," she answers "I think the name is a bit of an insult, honestly, but the company is invaluable to the empire. As for the training - well, it is a mercenary company.”

"As for your heritage, Taariik, it is true that the Peerless Empire holds little love for efreeti and their ilk. Perhaps you can demonstrate how they are wrong?" The Master of Spells looks down as she ponders Taariik's other question. “Reyshal is, for lack of a better term, an old friend of mine," she answers at last. "He is a shaitan noble whose family was framed for the the theft of the Sultana’s diamonds. I first met him when he was in exile in Orv, deep in the Darklands. The Society helped him put to rest the serious accusations against his family, and he used this reprieve to return home to the Opaline Vault. Now, he’s agreed to help us gain a foothold in the city. He’s a proud man, and he enjoys driving a hard bargain, but he’s reliable.”

Any other questions? Sorrina doesn't appear to be in any sort of hurry.

Earlier...
The dwarf, kitted out in full plate with an axe and shield strapped to his back, stands up from his chair and stumps towards you giving you the full visual experience. First glance reveals nothing unusual, standard dwarven warrior fare most would say.

A second look reveals more interesting details - this particular dwarf's hair and armor are black as night and streaked with blue. Embossed on his chest piece is a stylistic sword before a crescent moon. While also etched in blue, they seem to shine with an inner light and appear almost white. After blinking, another look reveals no such inner light although the design itself is quite striking.

To further the rarity of the sight, the dwarf is possessively holding a thick book in each hand. He sets them down on the nearby desk before shaking hands with the newcomers and offering his name with a grunt - "Alrik" - before returning his body to his chair and his attention to the Master of Spells.

After listening to the briefing & following questions, Alrik nods his readiness before opening one of the books and starting to read.

A tall, gaunt man, with pale skin and long black hair, watches it all with a distracted look. A dark cloak and hood cover most of his features, but he is definitely human, and when he does eventually speak, there is a faint skald accent, placing his origins up in the Linnorm Kingdoms somewhere. Though he does not look the part at all.

He introduced himself as Damhán-Alla.

"We're mercenaries for hire now?" Damhán says, clearly not entirely pleased with the task in front of them. "Might as well be the Consortium, if that's where we're headed."

Seated away from the others, this Tien-Min woman towers above even many of the men when standing. Her eyes are pools of constant, harsh golden glow. She bears an uncanny resemblance to a Tian-Xia depiction of Iomedae and wears full-plate of Mendevian make, but she wears the holy symbol of Shizuru and has a katana sheathed at her side. She takes out a piece of paper, a vial of ink, and an inkbrush, laying them out delicately in front of her.

With fluid, dancing brushstrokes, she begins writing. Several moments later, she stops. She puts away the inkbrush, the vial of ink, but holds the paper, finally setting it down on the table.

It reads:

”Stand at attention
Preening for sultana’s army
We boot camp peacocks.”

She meditatively closes her eyes and places her hands in her lap. ”This humble one that sits before you would like to know if there are any particular tacts you would recommend for impressing upon our hosts.”

Sorrina's laughter fills the courtyard like the soft chiming of crystal as she turns to Damhán. "Hardly!" she answers with a smile. "With the Ungrounded being supervised by one of the sultana's generals, having some of our junior agents complete the company's basic training is the Society's best chance at impressing the shaitans enough to begin forging a more lasting alliance. And I have the utmost confidence that you will make a good impression."

The Master of Spells ponders Ayo's question for a few moments before responding. "Steadiness, acting with honor, and behaving respectfully would be my advice. Though you might have a better idea from your studies." She gestures towards the library with a slate-gray hand.

"Are there any other questions I might answer before Reyshal arrives?" Sorrina asks patiently.

What do you do?

Knowledge (planes): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (10) + 4 = 14

"This humble unworthy one that lies before you will endeavor to act with all the honor of a samurai in order to play even a small part in the success of your goals."

No other questions from Ayo. She does not want to burden her superior with excessive questions

"I am ready to leave. As long as fighting will impress these mercenaries, I believe that my path to self perfection will serve us well." Taariik says and touches his holy symbol of Irori.

Damhán merely broods, his face a stoic mask... though he is still obviously not entirely happy about the assignment.

Ebonfeather held out one of his claws "We have a chance to get some information so we can properly prepare for this journey. If the Master of Spells asks if we have any questions, it would be a good time to ask, rather than finding out the hard way. Master Sorrina, having never been to another plane, what can you tell us of where we are going?" he asked.

"The Plane of Earth is fixed in location and comprised of a vast network of tunnels and caverns," Sorrina answers. "Though the plane itself is generally suitable for humanoid life, common hazards include cave-ins, poisonous gasses, and pockets of molten rock near its border with the Plane of Fire. It's the most hospitable of the Elemental planes - you won't catch on fire or drown or fall endlessly as you would on the other three. You're likely to find creatures like crystal dragons, earth elementals, mephits, oreads, shaitans, xiomorns, and xorns there."

With a nod, the Master of Spells looks over the assembled Pathfinders one more time before holding the copper-wrapped amethyst to her face. "Preparations are complete," she says into it, "and we are ready." A few moments later, the boulder opposite the Master of Spells' seat ripples like water. What appears to be a towering stone statue of a muscular man clad in gold-lacquered armor emerges from the stone. He bows dramatically to the Sorrina.

“Well met, Trail Seekers,” he grins wryly as Sorrina frowns in irritation. “Of course, I mean Pathfinders. Just a jest between friends.” The shaitan steps forward and inclines his head in a shallow version of the bow he just performed for Sorrina.

“I am Reyshal ik Jalman, humble servant of Her Radiance, Ashadieeyah bint Khalid, and sworn ally to the steadfast Master of Spells. Today I am honored to escort you to the Opaline Vault, the glorious home of my ancestors. I hope that together we can cement the bonds between our peoples, dear Pathfinders. But first, please, introduce yourselves!” He looks around expectantly, seeming to gloss over Taariik's flaming hair and Alrik's stout form.

What do you do?

Taariik gives a noble's bow of respect.

"I am Taariik, Paladin of Irori, son of the great nation Taldor, and a Pathfinder!"

Ebonfeather bowed as well, but not as proficiently as Taarik.

"I am Ebonfeather the Shadow, um, trap expert and merchant, from the land of Tien. Also a Pathfinder, but Trailseeker if that translates better in your language." he said, in Terran.

Damhán frowns slightly as Reyshal enters, staying back for a moment.

"You may call me Damhán-Alla." He finally says, after Ebonfeather and Taariik introduce themselves. He continues to stand where he is, making no effort to bow or make any other gesture of greeting.

The two make quite the contrast, Reyshal's tall glossy muscular form and gleaming armaments standing in quiet contrast to Damhán's pale gaunt profile and simple light black robe with no weapons or armor of any sort to be seen.

Ayo bows deeply for Reyshal, her body rigid but her form perfect. Those gathered get the sense she tends to always be rigid.

"This unworthy soul is known as Ayo of the Radiant Eyes, and her meagre skills lie in the art of ichimeiyo, as dictated by The Empress of Heaven. This nobody has the unmatched honor of serving Crusader Princess Avelina Galfrey, Heir Presumptive to the Throne of Mendev."

Alrik either doesnt appear to or chooses not to note Reyshal's lack of interest or otherwise in him and offers a bow of his own.

"I'm Alrik, Pathfinder and follower of My Lady"

He bangs his fist softly against the sword & moon etching on his chest.

Sorry for the delay - slides and handouts can be found here, including pictures of both Sorrina and Reyshan.

Reyshal hides a smile behind his hand as Sorrina shakes her head. "It is not a matter of translation so much as stubborn commitment to an honest mistake," she explains. "Thankfully I'm above making any comments about shaitans and their rock-headedness."

Her backhanded insult gets a guffaw out of the outsider and he slaps his leg. "You wound me, Sorrina!" he wheezes. "Alright Pathfinders, let us depart before your Master of Spells can stab me in the back again. Now, you two closest ones take my hands, and everyone else take their hands and form a ring..." The shaitan nods as the circle closes, winks at Sorrina, and then a distinct feeling of vertigo and an unpleasant but not-quite-painful sensation rushes through the agents as the world rushes around them.

As the ground settles under their feet, the Pathfinders look around to see a spinning tunnel of shimmering crystals that gives way to the inside of an immense geode, a cavern so vast that the walls and ceiling appear as a distant night sky. Multicolored twinkling lights hang in the air like stars, painting shifting auroras across the geode's walls. At the heart of the city, radiant spires of gold and platinum connected by soaring bridges emerge from a churning lake of liquefied gemstones. "Welcome," Reyshal whispers, "to the Rainbow Metropolis."

The journey from the edge of the cavern to the city proper takes severals hours, though it might have taken less time without Reyshal stopping to point out various buildings and structures. "See that taller building with the small colorful ones flanking it?" he asks excitedly. "That's the Peerless Embassy, home to diplomats from all over the multiverse. And that bank of slate over there? That's the barracks where most of the Sultana's army resides. They call it the Slab because, well, that's what it is." The shaitan shrugs apologetically. "Oh, and that tower there..."

"And this is the Outer District!" Reyshal announces happily, gesturing at the bustling street ahead that winds between shabby domiciles and buildings sporting a breathtaking array of flags.

What do you do?

Sense Motive: 1d20 ⇒ 20

Damhán notices the apparent animosity being directed towards Taariik and shrugs. The ifrit knew what he was walking into... though whatever his people did to these ones, it must have been pretty bad to garner this much attention so quickly. He does not comment on it otherwise.

When he sees the shabbines of their destination, he can only frown, knowing full well that was likely going to be their treatment. Mercenaries were seldom invited to the better parts of any community... little more then riff raff, usually.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (18) + 3 = 21

He eyes the various flags thoughtfully, surprised to see so many from outside the plane... though the thoughtful look turns dark when he sees the Consortium flag.

"Bloody snakes." He mutters.

"We here for a tour, or for training?" He calls forward, to Reyshal. "Where are we headed?"

perception : 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (19) + 2 = 21

Taariik realizes that he is not welcome but that was to be expected.

“Thank you for your introductions! This place is truly beautiful!“ he admits.

“And I will try to .. eh ... lead by example to show that we can be friends. I .. I hope!“ he says with some doubt.

kn local untrained : 1d20 - 2 ⇒ (6) - 2 = 4

Alrik notices the apparent dislike for their guide but also chooses to remain silent on the topic for now.

He also sees the many flags of various Inner Seas countries and kingdoms which receives a grunted

"This is a popular place"

but otherwise Alrik just matches onwards.

Take 10 on both checks

Conig floats atop a levitating disk, a pistol at his side. He ruffles his whiskers a bit through the course of discussion.

perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
kn local: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (4) + 11 = 15

Conig picks up what Damhan sees, The worst. Plenty of other players here as well.

Y'all can read the kn local spoilers.

Ready for training. He nods to his hosts.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (2) + 15 = 17

Knowledge (local) untrained): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (15) + 0 = 15

Ayo extends her fierce, judgmental gaze on each person that dares to give Taarlik a nasty look, but she stays quiet.

K:Local: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (4) + 6 = 10
This place is pretty popular. Oh, looks like we might have some competition. This mission just got more interesting. Ebonfeather said at the additional information provided by Conig.

Reyshal leads the Pathfinders through the Outer District to a collection of squat stone warehouses. Banners bearing the sigil of a crossed scimitar and spear on a field of yellow mark what appears to be a main door to one of the tall windowless buildings. Inside, the building is drab and sparsely furnished, with only a few engraved plaques and portraits adorning the walls. Several armed figures, mostly oreads and humans, walk through the room without looking at the visitors. Several of them openly wear a cloak pin with the same sigil as the banners outside.

After a few minutes, a young oread peeks out from behind an interior door. "A-apologies for the wait, sirs," he stammers, opening the door wider. "The captain will s-see you now." He leads the group down a short hallway to an unmarked wooden door and knocks three times before opening it. "C-captain, your visitors."

On the other side of the door sits an immaculate office barely large enough to house the writing desk and bookshelf within. The unpainted stone walls are devoid of windows or decoration. A stern, middle-aged human woman with darkly tanned skin and close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair sits in a rigid pose behind the desk as she studies an open ledger. She lifts her chin and glares at the open door. Reyshal smiles back and produces a paper-thin, intricately chiseled stone tablet. "Greetings, Captain Othis," he says in his easy, laid-back manner. "It is my honor to introduce to you these Pathfinders for training with the Ungrounded. As you can see," he hands the tablet to the woman, "they are each of distinguished character and extraordinary potential."

The captain wordlessly studies the tablet for several minutes, occasionally pausing to frown at her visitors. Finally, she stands. "Thank you, honored shaitan," she says with a servile bow. "I promise to take these Pathfinders under my wing and begin their accelerated training program at once." Reyshal nods, nods once more to the Pathfinders, and leaves.

As soon as the office door closes, Captain Othis crushes the tablet in her hand. "So you think you have what it takes to be Ungrounded?" she bellows, broken pieces of stone falling to the floor as she circles her newest recruits. "I'll be the judge of that. You look softer than night soil to me. Your friends in high places won't help you when you're down in the trenches, or when there's an efreeti scimitar at your throat. Now get out of my sight. Your trials start tomorrow. Dinner is at six o'clock sharp. If you're late, you can starve." She marches over and opens her office door to reveal the young oread outside. "Recruit Dell, take the fresh meat to the meatlocker. Dismissed."

Dell stands rigidly until the door closes behind the Pathfinders, then smiles weakly. "She's... uh, she's tough as nails, that one. Right, let's get you all some bunks." He leads the group out the main door and over to another squat stone building. Doors and hallways branch in regular patterns, with what look to be rooms of bunk beds spread evenly between connecting bathrooms and a few communal showers.

"R-right, here you are!" Dell opens a door at the end of one of the hallways, then inhales sharply as he sees the mess inside. "What the- I can't believe they left it like this!" he exclaims. "The captain hates a mess. Well, uh, anyways, these will be your quarters. I'll, uh, come get you for dinner in a few hours." He closes the door behind him, leaving the Pathfinders to survey their housing for the duration of their training.

What do you do?

perception: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (7) + 8 = 15

Conig allows his floating disk to dissipate as he settles in for dinner. Not a lot of room for sleeping arrangements, if you notice. Mentioning to no one in particular from the group. I'll split a bedroll and a sheet with someone.

"Ya. They're all the same." Damhán mutters.

Perception: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (8) + 9 = 17

He glares at the room for a while, until suddenly all the clutter starts moving about on its own. Pallets and bedrolls. Sheets and lockers. All the items in the room start to move on their own, back to some semblance of order.

Shrug. Will telikinetically, just move everything where it seems like it should be... at which point the lack of bedding will become evident.

perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6

Taariik looks at the others and does not understand.

When he is informed properly, he looks up.

"I can just go out and buy a bedroll after dinner. No problem, right?"

Ebonfeather started to laugh at seeing the items move about. "Since you are moving things, let us use the time to clean the place up. Let me scout the other barracks out first to get an idea as to what level of cleanness they are looking for before you have to rearrange the place more than once. Oh, I have my own bedroll so I will not need one." he said, patting his haversack.

Stealth: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (18) + 13 = 31
If they have it in the adventure, check out the other barracks to get an idea to the layout and how clean they are. I am not stealing anything, even if I could with that roll

I suppose it is the first test of our cohesiveness. Problem solving may be rewarded.

"If I'm not gonna get in the way, I'll help you lot clean up this mess."

Alrik has a blanket and bedroll as part of his own gear. I assume we have brought all our gear with us?

I would see no reason why you wouldn't have brought your things with you.

After a few hours, the enticing smell of roast meat and potatoes fills the air. A knock at the door announces Dell's nervous face as he leans in. "D-dinner's ready! Come on!" He waits for everyone to join him before heading outside to another building, this one a single massive spotless room occupied by several dozen stone tables surrounded by stools. A partial wall separates the kitchens from the dining room, leaving space for two serving lines - though only one seems to be in use right now.

As Dell leads the Pathfinders to the line, the group is stopped by the sudden presence of a handful of mercenaries. Each of them bear a cloak pin in the now-familiar shape of a crossed spear and scimitar on a field of yellow. "Well well well," a obvious leader says, a wide grin showing off his half-orc tusks. "New recruits I see. I don't suppose Dell told you that the Ungrounded have a tradition, now did he?" The rest of the group laughs. "See, on your first night with the company, you provide the entertainment for the evening. After all, if you won't party with us, you won't fight with us. Your call as to the nature of that entertainment, but remember..." he gestures broadly to the several-hundred warriors taking their seats or moving through the serving line, "...we don't like to be bored. So whatcha got?"

If you want to entertain the other Ungrounded, play to your strengths. Figure out how to spin what you're doing as entertainment, then roll an appropriate skill check.

What do you do?

am trying not to get tempted into turning this into an Animal House style food fight.... Telikinetically.

Ayo finds the stern woman in charge oddly familiar. She then takes a look at herself standing the exact same way with the exact same expression and realizes why.

Ayo has worked as a mercenary before, so she has some familiarity with the tastes of soldiers. She has also been the one to confiscate certain "blasphemous" materials from the Nerosyan barracks on behalf of her Mistress, materials that were remanded to Mistress for her to dispose of privately.

She quietly sits and begins composing. She takes to her work with utter and complete seriousness, producing a set of poems for all of their hosts.

Take 10 on craft (erotic haiku) for 22. I'll spare y'all the actual contents.

Taariik laughs but his cheeks redden after Ayo‘s performance.

He then stands up and asks the mercenaries to clear a path.

In his full plate he suddenly starts to run and flik flaks with a salto at the end.

acrobatics : 1d20 + 20 - 2 ⇒ (11) + 20 - 2 = 29

Slight of Hand: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
Smiling, Ebonfeather started doing slight of hand tricks by making it look like he was pulling coins out of peoples ears.

Conig casts a floating disk from a wand that will last the next hour and mounts it flitting and flying around the mess hall like a parkour athlete.

fly: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (9) + 12 = 21

The half-orc snatches one of Ayo's poems from the warrior's hand and begins reading it out loud to the assembled mercenaries:

"When I walk on by
Girls be looking like damn he fly
Look at that body"

A low murmur of chuckles swiftly grows to cheers and whistles around the room, and several other brave souls make their way forward to snag Ayo's other offerings. "Hah! That's the stuff for homesick soldiers!" the half-orc continues. He waves Ayo through to the serving line and calls after her, "Tell 'em Larssok said to give you an extra ale!"

As Taariik steps forward, the hubbub instantly grows softer. Several stools screech against the stone floor, but the ifrit easily sees a good number of legs that just "happen" to be left sitting right in his path where he could easily trip over them. The ninja does not turn away, but deftly dodges the offending limbs and finishes with an effortless jump onto one of the tables without disrupting a single plate or cup upon it. The crowd is silent for a moment, then breaks into cheers and whistles once more. "Aye, you might be alright Cindertoes!" Larssok calls from the front of the room as he waves the ifrit on to the serving line. "Best get yourself something extra to drink after a show like that!"

Dell and several other recruits crowd around Ebonfeather, trying to spot where he is getting all these coins from and always failing to spot it until the tricksy tengu pulls it from their ear. Larssok finally intervenes - "Let him alone so he can get some food and drink, you wetbacks," he growls in mock ferocity, then winks as Ebonfeather. "Don't think I could stop those quick fingers of yours from grabbing a second ale, so let 'em know I said you could take two."

Conig, could you confirm how you are able to put ranks into Fly? Normally you need to have either a fly speed or a means of flying on a daily basis - second paragraph from the bottom (of the CRB section), and given that the use of Magic Trick (floating disk) to fly requires ranks in Fly, I don't think you could use it to satisfy the requirements to put ranks in the skill.

The half-orc looks up at the ratfolk zooming around and grins gleefully. "Alright Twinkletoes, get down here before you knock down the lights!" he bellows. "I'll even give you an extra ale if you'll stop endangering everyone here!"

Larssok turns to Damhán and Alrik, hands on his hips. "Well? You two got anything to show?"

What do you do?

Wow! Great post GM. THANKS!

Damnhán frowns. "I have no interest in dancing for anyone's amusement." He says, matter-of-factly. "Or did I join a circus, not a mercenary troop?"

Charisma 7, represent!

He turns towards a nearby table to sit down with his food.

Note: if the man starts to press, then foods going to start flying... all on its own, of course.. and probably from his companions' trays.

Ayo folds her arms and stares at Damhán-Alla. "Explore. Report. Cooperate."

Ayo nods towards the half-orc. "Our hosts have provided a meal and lodging for us. Offering a story or other minor entertainment is a small price to pay for such hospitality."

7 charisma, representing

Heh. =)

Hah, that had not come up before. I can prepare floating disk daily which should satisfy the last clause: "Creatures can also take ranks in Fly if they possess a reliable means of flying every day (either through a spell or other special ability)." Emphasis mine.

You're in a catch 22 here.You can't use the disk trick to fly without 3 ranks in the fly skill... you can't take ranks in the fly skill without being able to use the disk trick to fly.

The magic trick (floating disk) does not allow you to fly until you can perform the Disk Rider maneuver... which requires 3 ranks in fly as noted... and even that is suspect, as you are simply riding it (like a horse), not flying, until you actually get to 6 ranks.

IMO, In the end, you can't fly on the disk via the trick this early until you can get ranks in fly via some other means of actually flying.

My apologies folks, i had no idea. well shoot. Should I switch characters? No combats yet. I have at least 2 at lvl 4 I can offer. Or if this too egregious and i have to bow out, i understand.