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1) I am based in Southeast Asia (UTC +8) so my posting hours may be unusual (especially for those in North America). I usually update at least one or twice per day. Just to keep the game moving, please post at least once every day and at least once during the weekend.
2) Please label all three of your actions. Even if you think what you are doing is obvious.
3) If I am unavailable for longer than 24 hours, I will let you know in the Discussion Tab. Out of respect for your fellow players and myself, I ask that you do the same. Real life happens, and real life will always take priority over the game, but out of fairness for your fellow players, please let us know if you will be unavailable for an extended period of time.
4) Please note that on the following days, my posting can get unpredictable:
Tuesday/Thursdays - all day, as they are the 2 busiest days of my work week
4) Please complete the Macros and the Slides linked at the top of the page.
5) Questions, concerns? Feel free to share them in the Discussion tab.
6) Let's have some fun and tell a great story together! After all, that's what we are here for.
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Truly a wretched creature to behold with any sense, shambling into the lodge, rotting skin and near odor of decay, the clanking sound of heavy armor held aloft by a body wasted away, withered, worn, matching metal and what was once presumably man, rusted and jagged edge, scraping the floor with unfathomable pitch, ear screeching, neck hair standing, the deathly palor of our doomed hero’s face, shriveled and scarred, nigh featureless, peers up to observe the surroundings of the lodge that gave him a chance despite his horrid appearance, and smiles, thin dry lips stretching across teeth faded and missing and cracked...
...and behind him, radiant and shining, a magnificent steed, of hide white as snow and golden horn like a morning sunrise after a night of rain, trots close behind, beautific lavender mane with lustre alluring and angelic flowing gently in the breeze!
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A young man enters next, sniffing at the faint scent of decay, and stops to regard his fellow Pathfinder. The deific symbol is unfamiliar to him, but this is clearly a Champion of some god, and by the looks of it, a Good one.
He nods a slight bow and introduces himself with an uncertain smile, Hello, my name is Haohji and I guess we will be working together on this mission. I must admit, I have never worked alongside someone like you...
It is clear that the young fighter is at a loss for words, but is eager to work together.
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You see a male halfling wearing hide armor, with a rapier on his hip, and a shield on his back. His black hooded cloak covers his head, and his outfit has lots of pouches. One of them moves a bit.
“Call me Moonshadow, champion of Cayden Cailien!”, he says in a gravelly voice. ”Defender of the oppressed, upholder of justice, and Hunter of evil!”
He narrows his eyes at the shambling corpse, and turns to the unicorn. ”Is that yours?”, he asks.
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Oh the rasp!
A voice like metal scraping stone, a weak vibration of a vocal chord thinned through use, the repetitive strain of sound squeezing out what elasticity it might have once had, attaining through hearing the psychological equivalent of death, paining any ear within reach, spoiling any mortal skin into goose flesh, signaling danger by any natural impulse, and so, the very words themselves against the contrast of their delivery!
”I am Ghul. You look upon me with pity, for ever in pain am I, my body, as you see it, feels on the inside what it looks on the outside. But I have been given a second chance, and with it, have proven myself, to earn my keep among the fully living, to advance the cause of you Pathfinders here”
As he speaks, the the unicorn strides to stand beside him, and he indicates it ”My steed Unifax, through the bond we share, occupy this existence as one” his terrible smile returns here, the expression hard to understand, menacing perhaps in lieu of the tenderness such a visage can only abort ”It is our pleasure to make your acquaintance” and with a surprising gesture, he kneels before Haohji and Moonshadow, pausing overlong to convey respect.
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A young human male, about 18 years old if that, walks into the room, anxiosly looking about. His clothes are fine but threadbare but he has at his side a rapier and a dagger and wears leather armor.
He is handsome if disheveled and meekly waves at the group, looking around, he sees Haohji, and seeing someone who is young like him, stands next to him.
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You have traveled by river boat up the East Sellen river to Restov, the capital of Brevoy. As you disembark, Marcos Farabellus greets you on the docks. He is a man of sturdy build with a bald head and a full beard.
"Ah, agents! So very good to see you! Welcome to Restov. I hope your journey wasn't too bothersome. This time of year the mosquitoes on the Sellen can be worse than falling face first and buck naked into a patch of poison ivy." Marcos punctuates his own jest with a bellowing laugh. "Let's get you all a bit freshened up before I get to the heart of the matter."
Marcos leads you to a nearby street vendor who sells fried fish and vegetables. He buys each of you a portion and buys himself a skewer of crayfish. While everyone eats and walks, he elaborates on the mission.
"First off, thank you for coming. This is a bit of an unusual ‘mission', so let me get right to it. I received a challenge recently from Orlaelia Aldori. She's an up-and-coming swordmaster here in Restov. Claims her students are capable of besting any of mine. Now, I get challenges like that all the time, and normally I ignore them. But this time? Well, there's a little bit more to it. A double-edged sword, so to speak." He lets out a small chuckle. "Which is apt, because one of these extras is a sword. Orlaelia has bet Inheritor's Fury, her old longsword, on this deal. She used to be a Mendevian crusader, you see, and the sword has seen the depths of the Worldwound. It's a relic in its own right and an item the Society would love to study in depth, not to mention a valuable piece of modern history deserving proper cataloging and preservation."
"While the pursuit of a relic alone would not merit taking you away from your other duties, this challenge also gives us a chance to make new friends and acquaintances in Restov. It's been a while since the society had an active presence here. Rising to this challenge could give us a friendly rival at worst and some new friends at best."
"Orlaelia, though a veteran of many battles, is still Taldan at heart, from what I know at least, and still loves the arts. So! While this challenge will culminate in a duel between you and her students, she will most likely have a few other tests in mind that go beyond raw combat. Who can say what they'll be. From what I hear her style is quite practical, but old veterans like us see lessons in the strangest of places." He smiles, perhaps thinking of similar examples from his own past, though doesn't elaborate further. "I've opened up Birchwood Hall, our lodge here. Haven't managed to get all the damp and dust out yet, but that shouldn't bother us overmuch. I'm sure you've all seen much worse during your travels."
You arrive at Birchwood Hall just as Marcos finishes speaking. He leads you inside the building, through the main sitting room and into a wood paneled conference room. There's a faint smell of dust in the air that the open windows have yet to dispel.
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Before you move off from the docks, a member of the river boat crew catches up to the party.
"Um, is one of you called 'Ghul, Doomed Knight'? It seems that you did not complete two of the forms for entry into Restov. Immigration officials are rather strict on this matter. The forms are pretty straightforward. I have the forms with me. Please fill them out HERE and HERE. I'm afraid I cannot allow you to continue to your destination until these are done. I'm sorry, but it's procedure. The forms are pretty boilerplate stuff so it shouldn't take that long to complete."
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Before you move off from the docks, a member of the river boat crew catches up to the party.
"Um, is one of you called 'Ghul, Doomed Knight'? It seems that you did not complete two of the forms for entry into Restov. Immigration officials are rather strict on this matter. The forms are pretty straightforward. I have the forms with me. Please fill them out HERE and HERE. I'm afraid I cannot allow you to continue to your destination until these are done. I'm sorry, but it's procedure. The forms are pretty boilerplate stuff so it shouldn't take that long to complete."
Touching his glowing horn to the forms, magical golden ink fills in the information as if written by an invisible hand descended momentarily from heaven, fully and completely.
Unifax - radiant steed! - neighs happily at the crewmember, pausing to allow the lad to pet him if he so desires...
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Rosa moves 10 feet away and draws her sword. Gripping the hilt two handed she thrusts towards Moonshadow. A twist of her wrist sends the tip shooting towards him as the blade separates into segments connected by a set of wires. Swinging her arm to the side the blade sweeps through the open space between them before being pulled back into a coil.
Something serpentine
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You hear a hard knock on the lodge door. Marcos asks you to accompany him to the sitting room and be on your best behavior—but to also try to look impressive. He carries a slightly nervous air as he opens the door.
A party of five waits outside, led by a middle-aged woman with her dark hair pulled back into a simple knot. She wears woolen trousers beneath her sensible skirts and a thick leather jerkin with an emblem embroidered on the right side. Catching sight of Marcos in the doorway, she grins widely and greets him with a firm handshake; one that goes on a little too long. The four students behind her wear similar jerkins. All carry a distinctive Aldori dueling sword strapped to their hips.
As the guests enter the lodge, the instructors share a bit of competitive banter, and you have a chance to meet your competition, who hide their nerves under a thick veneer of pride. These students were told Pathfinders see battles unlike those in the streets and dueling halls of Restov, so they’re looking forward to seeing what their opponents can do.
The first to introduce herself is Dura Aldori, a half orc woman with long black hair in an intricate braid. She wears her school jerkin partially open to reveal a spotless white blouse underneath. Her pants are a light brown linen and don’t show a crease out of place. She wears black leather shoes with silver buckles. As she introduces herself, she winks at a female or female-presenting Pathfinder.
A human man with short brown hair steps up next, introducing himself as Halran Aldori. He looks to be in his late twenties. He completes his school jerkin with riding pants and boots and wears a single pearl earring in his right ear. As he introduces himself, he gives a fancy bow.
The ysoki beside him with white and gray fur is a bit more standoffish, though not unfriendly. They introduce themselves as Rhenei Aldori. It is hard to guess their age due to the natural gray fur. Their school jerkin has a few extra pockets sewn on and they wear colorful layered skirts along with wraps around their back paws, leaving the toes open. They curtsy to the PCs while introducing themselves.
The final student, a gnome with golden hair in a bowl cut that looks as if she performed it herself, practically thrums with energy. Her introduction is very swift, and she looks ready to explode into a thousand questions, but it does come across that her name is Thisnabel Aldori. Her school jerkin looks as if it had several minor accidents with various substances and bears odd stains. She wears practical leather pants laced up down the sides and leather boots which have seen better days
Unifax - radiant steed! - greets the students by kneeling before each one, horn aglow.
Then speaks! ”Dura, Halran, Rhenei, Thisnabel, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Unifax, and this is Ghul, my charge. We are excited to see your skill with your blades in friendly wager. And although our own choice of battle implements may differ in style, you may find that we are evenly matched. Let us sport?”
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The leader of the group introduces herself as Orlaelia. As she leads her troupe inside the Lodge, she nods to each of you.
"Well met, Pathfinders. I have heard of your exploits. Although we will duel eventually, there are other aspects of your training I would like to test my students on. My experiences in the crusades fighting demons have taught me that to not only survive, but win decisively, one needs more than a strong sword arm and quick reflexes. I therefore propose three challenges. The third challenge is obviously the duel between my students and yourselves. I will let you choose the first two challenges."
Challenges:
Orlaelia proposes a round of flyting, bragging and insult competition demonstrating each contestant’s wit. She believes unnerving one’s opponent can win battles before they are even fought. A demoralized, distracted, or enraged opponent is much more easily subdued in a duel. This competition takes place in the conference room, where the large table can keep both teams away from each other to help deal with some of the tension.
Orlaelia was born and raised in Taldor and knows from experience that a good poem can really get the creative, problem–solving juices flowing. Also, a good poem can impress friends and allies and discredit an enemy, giving an advantage before a duel even starts.
To test everyone’s physical prowess without resorting to duels, Orlaelia likes a good, old-fashioned tug of war. It not only tests raw strength, but also teamwork and steadiness.
During official duels and training matches there is always a first aid professional close by; however, by their nature duelists usually aren’t so lucky when accepting a challenge in the heat of the moment outside of such formal settings. Not only that, Orlaelia has seen enough of her friends and comrades die in the Worldwound before first aid could reach them. Therefore, she feels it’s always best to be prepared and have someone on your team trained to save your life.
"Sometimes you have to take down an opponent in an unconventional way, without harming them." Orlaelia won't say anything more but the pet carrier she carries to the garden (and the yowling that comes from within) might have something to do with it.
"Sport then" Unifax listens to the manivaried ways he can participate in the challenge, undecided on which would best suit his bondmate, Ghul, as well as the rest of the party, that they could put a best hoof forward.
Teetering his golden horn at random, he decides "Surveying the field to keep an eye on your allies at key moments, and being decisive in those moments, is what elevates practice sparring to the level of real battle, where the stakes are high and the wounds are physical. I suggest we practice those skills?" looking around to see what the rest of the party thinks.
"It seems to be decided: Tug-of-War and Medicine" Unifax - radiant steed! - whirls on the Aldori lords "Shall we test our strength of body and knowledge of healing?" raising his horn into the sky, the sun gleaming off of it.
Insults @ ☑☑
Poetry @ ☑
Tug-of-War @ ☑☑☑
Medicine @ ☑☑☑☑
Battlefield Conditions @ ☑☑
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Marcos and Orlaelia eject all of you from the sitting room. After about an hour, you hear a blood curdling scream coming from the sitting room. Rushing back into the room, you see both masters lying in a pool of blood and groaning.
"Pathfinders, help me!" Orlaelia moans, as the students rush to help Marcos. "We got this, " Dura calls, "Help Mistress Oraelia!"