GM Tyranius (PF2) Shadows and Scarecrows (Inactive)

Game Master Tyranius

Dot in here

Dot

On your journeys you find yourselves in the far northern reaches of Nidal.

You find yourselves coming across a ranch of Rannan Atteran. You each have your own reason for being here, but nevertheless you all recognize the tell-tale signs of fellow Pathfinders when you see them.

Go ahead and introduce your character, and how or why you came to be here in northern Nidal.

A man in his late 50s with greying hair wearing a breastplate and carrying a shield covered in a red cloth wearily approaches. A longsword hangs from his belt and a quartet of javelins is strapped to his backpack. He is powerfully built but time has taken its toll on his aged body. He is frowning and clearly annoyed at something. He mutters under his breath.

"Inheritor why have you dragged me to this place?"

"Curiosity? Adventure? Learning something new? That's what brings me to new places," the relatively subdued gnome with flax-colored hair and dressed in light leathers and canvas better suited to provide mobility than protection. "Sorry. I couldn't help but overhear your question. You should speak more softly or use your thinking voice if you don't want to be over heard by gnomes, elves, hobgoblins, and others."

The fox squirrel sitting on his shoulder chitters in apparent commentary.

Brock Borenspike, Neutral Good Anvil Dwarf from Brevoy, is a stocky, grizzled sort with greying hair tied in topknot; his beard displaying many silvered clasps and his armor steel. Brock is a Blacksmith and Stonemason who worships Brigh. He is a Rostland Champion Redeemer born in the mining town Brunderton. Brock has learned the languages of Draconic and Hallit while traveling as a Scholar of the Sky Key.

An old man with a wild, tangled shock of charcoal gray hair and an equally unkempt beard leans heavily on a tall, gnarled stick. His eyes nearly bug out of his head, they're so wide--a trait exaggerated by how sunken they are, giving the bloodshot orbs an almost dislocated appearance. He opens his mouth, revealing yellowed, cramped teeth.

" 'm here cuz the gods 'as seen fit ta send me ta muh final rest 'ere! Ayuh. Bout dang time, too. I gotta spend one more summer on 'is 'ere cursed rock, I might go crazy!" He laughs, a horrid, jagged noise that grates like nails on a chalkboard.

Under his breath he mutters, "Leastways, it better be the last one. 'm gettin' right tired o' these little sojourns you's sendin' me on." He... appears to be talking to the stick.

Being a Redeemer Brock is kind, and first tries to redeem those who commit evil acts, rather than punishing or killing them. However, if they continue wickedness, those extreme measures will be brought about with conviction. As such, Brock is dedicated to helping folk with their foes needing this redemption. An easy source of these needs come from the various Bounty Boards spread across nations. The Rostland Anvil Dwarf, with his clans' dagger and his kins' ancient weapon the War Axe in hand, has helped villages with tatzwyrms, and farms chupacabras. Brock Borenspike has now heard the call of a scarecrow snatching children. A heavy feeling befalls his heart knowing that most of these creatures refuse redemption, but righteousness fills him as well knowing that it's death will cleanse the world of another wicked being.

"Well, aren't you as chipper as a bleachling?" Pawero comments to the old witch. "I feel myself fading just standing near you."

After finding your way to the town square, you each observe a short human man wearing riding leathers, hammering a piece of parchment onto a post. Afterward, he lingers nearby, speaking with some of the villagers nearby. You overhear a small bit as you approach to read the note. "Jest came back from there. Four more gon' missing." He begins to count off on his fingers. "A rancher named Nema; Lieraka and Maredine, a married couple who were abducted from their homes overnight; and Etendon, a farmer who was taken while working in a pasture just yesterday."

Ranchers and farmhands, beware! Several people have gone missing over the last month, leaving their possessions behind. Locals believe a rampaging monster to be responsible: a haunted scarecrow that roams the fields.

Travel in groups, don’t tarry in dangerous places, and keep your children under constant watch until the creature responsible is found and slain. Anyone who finds the missing people or kills the beast will get a half-share of profits from the sale of my finest steed when it’s taken to market at the end of the month, or food and supplies of equal value. If you can’t leave the ranch without putting your family at risk, don’t pursue!

—Rannan

You all begin with one hero point.

Nedri snorts at Pawero. "Bleach? I don' use bleach. Bad fer tha skin, y'see." He absently scratches at a scab on his cheek.

After reading the notice, he nods sagely. "Ayuh. Never did trust scarecrows. Bettin' I kin put'r down good an' permanent-like. Ent no reason ta let you fancy swordin' types have all the fun." He looks wistfully off into the middle distance. "Wonder if 'ere's meat inside it? Like, a flesh-n-blood creature jes' masqueradin' as a scarecrow? Or mebbe it's gahl'm? Eh? Hope it's the former. Ent never et a scarecrow before." He chuckles to himself before tottering over to the short man who posted the notice. Nedri's legs and arms shake a bit as he moves.

"You there! Young'n! Where'd these folks go missin', roundabouts?"

"I wonder if the missing are Dreamers," the gnome ponders. "Either way, we can't have folk being eaten or snatched. That's just not right!"

"Missing folk are most likely just Kuthites following the local custom of running into the wilderness looking for pain." grumbles a mountain dwarf with a sizeable miner's pick slung over his back. "Suspect we're more likely to find the dead bodies of them's that got lost rather than some 'rampaging monster'."

Simon frowns at the newcomer and shakes his head in disagreement.

"This is a dark and evil land. I doubt that my purpose here is to find the bodies of those that have passed due to their own actions. It is far more likely that the inheritor led me here to root out something foul."

Rannan turns around, "Guess you could always go and speak with the local priestess, Teflar. She is heading up a search for the missing and may have some more information. You will find her near the Shrine of the MIdnight Lord."

He leans in close. "Since you are outsiders Zon-Kuthon is the patron deity of Nidal, and you should step carefully around the priestess—your actions in the village could have consequences for everyone who lives there."

He draws you a quick map to the location of the shrine as well as to the families of the missing people.

Here is a quick list on who you can go speak with during the investigation.

"Well, that's a good a lead on the beast as any, the person leading the search," he says. "That sound like a plan? Speaking politely to Priestess Teflar and then investigating the homes and neighbors?"

Brock chuckles at the gnome's joke then scratches his grey scraggly beard in thought. The old Rostlandic Dwarf nods towards the Paladin. "Brother Simon and I are of like mind. The foul and wicked must be subverted. However, all creatures deserve an opportunity to repent. Let us see what Priestess Teflar can tell us, as the jovial wizard and his furry friend have suggested."

"Well, that's a good a lead on the beast as any, the person leading the search," he says. "That sound like a plan? Speaking politely to Priestess Teflar and then investigating the homes and neighbors?"

Simon shakes his head.

"I am not so sure of that."

He turns to the rest of the group.

"The Dreamers that Pawero speaks of are secret followers of Desna. Kuthite priests and mercenary "dream hunters" frequently try to root out these dissidents. The priestess should more than likely be our source of last resort. If the missing are, in fact, Dreamers then I think that we should not entreat their hunter for information unless absolutely necessary. Perhaps we should see what clues we can glean from the families first."

"The overzealous Paladin may have a very good point. The wretched priests may have a plan whose intentions we know not. Asking the poor families of this tragedy may prove more informative... or at least closer to the truth."

Sorry, I'm not as active on the weekends as during the week.

A rather large halfling rounds the corner of the local grange hall, carrying stout forked post about twice his height. He's dressed in the tattered remains of what sort of looks like an old priestly garb over hide armor, with a headdress and dark eyeliner. He leans his post against the wall, scratches the back of his head and leans in to read the warrant. Everyone always uses this damn Talador speech, so much I'm even thinking in it now.

He slowly turns around and looks the crowd over, picking his post back up as he does "You all look about as outta place as me here." He rubs his eyes just to make sure. "Nope, not a mirage, that's good." He bows slightly Yes Mother, I'll be sure to tell them. "I'm Bubba, Bubba Hotep. Son of the Queen of Miracles."

"Sounds like these folks need help, and I'll help too. Maybe we can go to the closest place first, the lost people maybe."

"Sure. Sure. If you don't think you're savvy enough to steal eggs out of a snake's nest, best not to try," Pawero concedes.

Where to first?

"Well met Bubba! Where are you from? The old dwarf has a worried look on his face knowing that Halflings are not especially welcomed in Nidal. Brock turns to the rest of the group with concern in his eyes. "We should definitely wait to talk to the priestess last, I believe. Maybe our short-statured, (oh wait, you are quite large aren't you?) barbarian friend can commune with Isis during our talk with the unholy rector of Zon-Kuthon."

Brock votes for the Etendon family. A missing patriarch will be harder on the family than a couple who disappeared together.

Alphabetical

"Etendon's family seems as good a place to start as any."

"Nine Hells, that's a huge halfling," Ned whispers to his stick. He clears his throat and says a bit louder, "I ent afraid o' no pain worshipper, an' somebody lyin' can tell ya as much as somebody truthin'. But we'll get to 'em all in good time, I'm sure. Might as well talk ta tha fam'lies first."

I'm good with the Etendons.

You head on out to Etendon's family first. Making it to their farm you find the house is empty, though the horses whinny out in the stable. It is there you find a halfling couple strapping saddles down onto a pair of horses and making sure their young are secured onto a harness on their backs. They look very driven and determined as they tighten down the last of the straps. "Who are you and what do you need?" The man says.

"We's folks lookin' inta this business with tha missin' persons. You lost somebody, aye? We're here ta help, if'n we can. Ent nuthin' more 'portant than fam'ly." He looks surprisingly somber when he says it. "Anythin' you can tell us about 'em and the day they went missin'?"

"Well met Bubba! Where are you from? The old dwarf has a worried look on his face knowing that Halflings are not especially welcomed in Nidal. Brock turns to the rest of the group with concern in his eyes. "We should definitely wait to talk to the priestess last, I believe. Maybe our short-statured, (oh wait, you are quite large aren't you?) barbarian friend can commune with Isis during our talk with the unholy rector of Zon-Kuthon."

Bubba puffs out his chest and recites proudly "The great kingdom of Osirion, may the rains come again one day." He looks off into the future, awaiting the day. "Kinda think I overslept a while, woke up in my temple and wandered outside one day and things.. changed since last I remember. The city was mostly just sand and crumbled ruins, hardly a soul to be found, except this group of Pathfinders.. and the rest is history I guess."

------

Bubba walks along with the group carrying his oversized staff. Apparently after closer inspection it looks like a halfling sling staff, just... really big!

Bubba greats the family in their native tongue, an eye keen on their ponies.

"Ain't got much time to talk, our son went missing." He nods over to some more horses in the stable. "If you are able to keep up, then we can talk a bit." Ernam and Airill Arborshade hop onto their horses and take off out of the barn towards the woods.

Athletics to try and keep up long enough to get some information or Deception to lie about a clue of the missing people to slow Ernam down long enough to share what he knows.

"We're looking into the disappearances, and we've got to sort through the clues we have to see what's true or false, so if you could share what you remember, it'll help us find this thing and the people it took faster," Pawero obfuscates and disembles.

Deception (T): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

"Unpleasant beasts," mutters Grommfell as he attempts to keep up with the men on horse back, despite his shorter legs. "And even more unpleasant riders."

Athletics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (9) + 7 = 16

"Who doesn't love horses and ponies? I've spent quite a lot of time driving, leading, and loading ponies at my last job." He climbs up and rides like a pro, even with that giant tree branch of his.

Athletics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

"What's your son's name? And your names for that matter? We're Pathfinders, traveling the world to help people, like yourselves."

Simon sighs.

A forced march. Wonderful. Inheritor let me retire already.

athletics: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23

Panting heavily, Simon does his best to keep up the pace.

"I am definitely getting too old for this."

Brock wonders why the Paladin is so gloomy. He usually gets along well with his Champion brethren, but seems to take more of a shine to his kin. "Grommfell good dwarf, wait up!" Brock calls out cheerfully. "The longshanks never think about our heartiness... just the speed that we cannot go!" The stout Champion of Brigh puts his legs to work also trying to catch up to the horses.
Athletics: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25

Athletics: 1d20 ⇒ 9

Yyyyup.

I don't suppose his Fleet feat helps him at all here?

Despite his advanced years, Ned has a surprisingly long gait. It doesn't help much to keep up with ponies, unfortunately, and soon the old coot is leaning heavily against his walking stick, huffing and puffing. He waves the others on and wheezes, "You--hhhhhh--you keep on. I'll catch you up."

He rests one hand on his knee as he bends over and spits. "Dang... dang young'n's... with their fancy lungs... hoooo nelly..."

"Dang... dang young'n's... with their fancy lungs... hoooo nelly..."

:D love it!

Oh, I read that wrong, no horse rides for Bubba!

"Too tired mister? Bubba will help!" The oversized halfling slings the old man over his shoulder like a sack of partially spoiled potatoes and runs after the farmers.

You don't seem to have much bulk and Bubba is way under his max so this could work ok!

I find the image of a three-foot-tall halfling carrying a full-grown human utterly absurd and I am here for it. Unfortunately I don't think the rules agree XD

"So!" Ned says as the halfling tries to load the old man onto his back. "Osirion, huh? I spent a while down 'ere doin' research fer a new type o' soap! Some unique lye formations in the Asp River. Sad ta say--oof, watch the hip, sonny!--it were bust an' I gave up on it."

Judging by Ned's smell, one would probably wish he'd kept researching.

Pawero gets the couple to slow down just long enough to have them explain to the rest as they barely keep up. "Look, we don't have much time but we found a set of tracks near the woods earlier. They were strange and came to a single point." Ernam directs you over to where the tracks can be found.

It is around this tie Nedri comes wheezing up on the group, flopping down onto his side as he tries his best to maintain breathing. The pair look at each other. "We have to go, see if we can find some more. Good luck."

You have earned a +2 to survival to track the prints witha critical success. You can either try to follow the prints or you can investigate another source (Families or Priestess).

"Perfect! Thank you! Where did you say you were going?" he calls after the halflings. "Where are we supposed to send your son... or his remains?"

"We are looking for Etendon, but we can’t go too far because of the two younger children, Avienu and Meira." They smile back at the smaller children.

Simon looks around at the group.

"Is anyone capable of following these tracks?"

Simon looks around at the group.

"Is anyone capable of following these tracks?"

Grommfell shrugs. "I've done my share of tracking in days past."

+5 Survival

"Of course I can follow them, as long as someone points them out to me," the gnome says without sarcasm.

Bubba waves goodbye to the family "Looks like we follow the tracks, maybe the best tracker win!" He gives a playful grin and leans down and looks around to get his bearings. Before starting he snaps a few twigs from nearby trees so they can find the start of the trail again if they lose it.

Survival, Bonus: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (1) + 5 + 2 = 8

It doesn't take long for Bubba to get turned around. "Maybe I need to start over..." He goes back to the broken twigs and tries again.

Hero Point: Survival, Bonus: 1d20 + 5 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 5 + 2 = 25

Quite funny considering I wrote about breaking the twigs before I made my roll...

"Where? What tracks?" Brock says out of breath. "Point the way, Bubba!" There is a concerned look on the champion dwarf's face.

"Most trackin' I do is trackin' rats fer dinner," Ned grumbles, and follows Bubba, who seems to know what he's doing. "Anyway, the thing 'bout Asp River lye is that it's all sortsa unstable. Ya sneeze wrong around it an' yer covered in chemical burns! But if'n ya don't powder it, it's right hard ta shape into bars fer soap, so mostly ye just haveta think non-sneezy thoughts an' hope fer the best. Ooh! Termites." He snatches a couple termites off a nearby termite hill and shoves them in a random pocket, then immediately forgets about them. "Where was I? Right! Powdered lye. So I hit my first snag when I tried reducin' animal fat by way o' boilin'..."

He doesn't sound like he's going to stop talking anytime soon.

Bubba quickly picks up the tracks as you make you way through a winding trail. After several minutes through the woods you spot someone wearing a scarecrow mask standing near the entrance of a cave. All of the missing people are behind the scarecrow. As you emerge the scarecrow grows angered as it steps in between you and the missing people. "You can't take these people away from me!"

To the east you also notice that the Priestess, Teflar comes walking up the trail. "Kareida, is this all for vengeance? Your faith has always been weak." The priestess of Zon-Kuthon grips a spiked gauntlet.

Gromfell, Simon and Pawero notice that the villagers seem to appear scared of Teflar, and not Kareida.

Kareida draws her mace and moves in on you.

All within 30 feet need to make a DC 16 will save. If failed you become flat-footed to Kareida and take a –2 circumstance penalty to saving throw DCs against skill checks Kareida makes against them until the start of their next turn.

Round 1
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Kareida
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Simon
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Teflar
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Nedri
Gromfell
Bubba
Brock
Pawero