Alice Margatroid's page

Kn. Dungeoneering: 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (3) + 13 = 16

NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE... Rosalia has absolutely no idea which hell spawned this terrifying obscenely long-legged spider thing, though her guess is the Elemental Plane of DO NOT WANT.

Escape Artist: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11 ;_;

Gurgling some unknown and garbled eldritch screams, Rosalia tries and fails to flee from the horrible horrible THING that is now consuming her face.

"GetitoffgetitoffgetitoffgetitoffGETITOFFGETITOFFGETITOOOOOFFFF...."

"Now, why ever would you have that feeling, Lyrian?" Rosalia murmurs as she rather unceremoniously rifles through the woman's sash. Rook yawns widely on her shoulder as she begins the slow task of aura identification...

Which I have a sneaking suspicion will be interrupted, so I will leave my Spellcraft rolls until later. ;)

Rosalia has little reason to move at this very moment, so I'm fine where I am.

Lucina lets the adrenaline finish its course through her in silence, watching almost distantly as Iolana bloodies the wall with a mark of her presence at the same time as she stops the Hellknights from bleeding out. It brings to mind her literature lessons as a child--a rose among thorns... or perhaps a thorn among roses, considering how acerbic the Varisian woman seemed to be in general. But... she seemed goodly, if... prone to an intensity not often seen in Chelaxians such as herself.

Perhaps that is the way Varisians are, Lucina ponders as Janiven leads them out into the shadow-cloaked streets of Westcrown and then into the once-abandoned temple of Aroden. Her first breaths of the cool night air are some of the most delicious she has tasted in her life; away from the cloying stench of the sewers, away from the near-constant fear of every distant noise... away from the blood they had shed in the name of freedom.

"Impressive," she says approvingly, glancing around the dilapidated place with undisguised curiosity. However, before Lucina can think too deeply on the matter, Iolana has addressed her--rather coolly, she notes--and returned her dagger to her hands. Though still having yet to figure out just what made Janiven a person to trust but not herself... Lucina forces herself to smile and waves as the other woman disappears towards the baths. "Yeah, I think we can get along well!" ...... Hopefully.

Lucina takes her time in the baths provided, relishing the opportunity to soak away the grime, sweat and blood. Not only that, it allowed her a chance to even begin to digest just what had gone on today... she heaves a sigh, glancing side-long at her silver necklace lying atop her pile of clothes. Be brave, Lucina, the young paladin tells herself silently, and never stand down from these things you know are right... no matter how dirty you get from them. There'll always be a nice, warm bath waiting for you afterwards...

Come the next morning, Lucina happily digs in to the proffered food, thanking Janiven profusely for it all. She enjoys meeting their fellow rebels, taking the opportunity to shake the hands of each individual in turn with an earnest smile. She seems quite amused by Yakupulio's sense of humour (or so she styles it), recognising the type of brashness required of a fellow tavern worker. "Westcrown's Spanking Crew sounds kinda like something the Calistrian church would be into," Lucina retorts with a laugh. "I kinda like the Knights of Westcrown myself! How gallant it sounds!"

I have also levelled up! Once again, sorry for my absence as of late.

Strange vibrations in the floors and bizarre, writhing, alien script? Rosalia's becoming increasingly nervous about her time in this pyramid, and she begins to wonder anew if they made the right decision to pursue this mission from the Society. She tries to shake off the nervous gnawing in the pit of her stomach and focus on the task at hand, occasionally shooting a subtle glance over her shoulder to make sure the sunlight from the entrance is still visible behind her.

"Given a short time I could memorise some spells to potentially help us with both this trap and the stone," she informs the rest in a matter-of-fact voice. "An invisible servant to walk ahead of us and set off the trap, for example. Though I'm not convinced it would not immediately reset..."

"Or perhaps a spell to imbue Shaggar with even more brute strength than what he already has," Rosalia adds with a smirk.

"Alternatively, we just make a run for it and hope for the best. I don't fancy standing around here for too long with that rumbling coming closer..."

Okay, so, she wasn't delusional, this mummy was just weird as hell to have holy water on its... "person".

"Maybe he was a Zon-Kuthon worshipper," Rosalia suggests weakly. "You know. Self torture and all that."

She wisely decides to not muse longer on that topic.

Mikhaere eyes up the water elemental curiously albeit cautiously. He had some familiar with the creatures, being one of his many-tooled arsenal of summons at his disposal, but had never considered actually communicating with one before. "None of you mages can cast comprehend languages or somethin'? Maybe just try and ... y'know, pantomime or whatever."

True to his word, the tengu nods to the elemental and waves in greeting. He even offers a greeting in druidic, on the off-chance that it can understand (or at least recognise the presence of a nature-priest).

Should that fail, he will sigh and have a look inside that canister he picked up earlier.

Happy to track loot if nobody else is interested. I get pretty anal about that kind of thing...

Rosalia will of course do the honours of imparting just a fragment of residual air elemental power (free radicals and all that, you know) into Shaggar's body. He feels lightweight, as if he could leap over a mountain with ease...

... for those on the ground, they may notice two tiny, mostly transparent angelic wings poking out of Shaggar's back, barely the size of his paw apiece, fluttering prettily in the breeze. Rosalia's snickering is probably enough to let on that this is just a 'flair' of hers she added for the heck of it...

My vote goes to the flying Shaggarmobile! *filler post until I'm off mobile and can post properly*

"I can't say I was very impressed by them - arrogance just tickles me funny" - the man adds, then looks at Rosalia with a smile - "Most of the time"

"Are you trying to imply something here, Master Heldar?" Rosalia responds acidly, shooting him a withering stare. However, she drops the topic right there and then; clearly, she can see the merits in focusing on their current problems rather than creating a few more here at home. (And besides--she was well used to Heldar's playful teasing by now. Much as she's loathe to admit it.)

Rosalia leans back and listens to the conversation unfolding, her eyes caught by the elemental storm in the distance more often than not. However, when she finally speaks up, it's clear that her mind was definitely not wandering off with the air and earth spirits that battle for supremacy on this mortal coil.

"I'm with Shaggar on this one--more out of practicality than anything," Rosalia says with a vague shrug. "I don't play them as fools; arrogant, for sure, but not fools. If they want to challenge us for the pyramid, it's their lives they're forfeiting. The main thing I'm worried about is them telling our other Chelaxian headache where we are."

So amaaaazing. <3

Rosalia pulls up her camel when the elemental juggernauts finally come into view, her mouth slack-jawed at the sheer immensity of the events occurring just on the near horizon. Her own magic allowed her to borrow powers from the elemental planes; those titans? They were made of her meagre magics. They had the ability to shape the face of Golarion with a single booming step. To a mage such as herself, it was nothing but awe-inspiring.

But Shaggar's voice, ever the realist, brings her back to reality, shattering her amazement like a single stone dropped into a perfectly placid lake. Rosalia nods, spurring her camel into action and following the gnoll's guidance down the rocky route to the valley base.

When they are far enough away from the living storm to not need shouting, Rosalia informs her allies, "I've been thinking about the conversation we had with Raegos back in Sothis, and I think I know how we get to the pyramid we're interested in. We need to go to the four pyramids those other travellers told us about and put on that mask!"

Level 3, yay! Level 2 spells, awesome!

1d8 ⇒ 4 Ehh, acceptable. :D

For all her complaining about the standards of living here in this awful country, Rosalia has little to complain about once they actually reach the inn. Perhaps it's the many, many days of rations having ruined her palette, but damn, she cannot get enough of the domiati, and stocks up for the winter (so to speak) on the delicious, delicious fresh foods. Goat's milk to top it all off (she still resents the hangover she picked up at the Dung Beetle) leaves Rosalia in quite the food coma, and she pleasantly drops off to snore away the next few hours in a real bed.

If only they had real baths here... Her last thoughts spring to mind just as sleep takes her. Maybe it would be a half-decent place to be... an oasis in the desert...

Rook is given a saucer of milk and some fish by the innkeeper at some point, much to the cat's delight. (He'd been wisely hiding away during the bath ordeal, and kept up the habit once Rosalia's anger... well, electrified.) He keeps hearing the word 'Bastet' mentioned around him for some reason, but, being a cat with food in front of him, he basically doesn't care one iota.

Come the morning--uh, evening--Rosalia is still in good spirits, humming an old Brevic child's song to herself as she flips through her spellbook. Rook 'helps out' by sitting in her lap and occasionally pawing at the pages, but even that isn't enough to ruin the post-food bliss. She meets up with the others, pays her fees to the innkeep, and practically skips on out of the place.

Swapped some spells around, and I'm excited to go!

"No, Lyrian, I most certainly did not," Rosalia spits venomously, a crackle of lightning jumping down her arm and sparking out of the index finger she points at the bathhouse. "For one, this is false advertisement! There was nothing even remotely resembling a bath in that place! And... and..." A flame rises to her cheeks as she remembers being surrounded by so many naked people happily revealing themselves to be doused down or massaged. "Ugh! No! You just won't get it. You're too much like Heldar!" An insulting thing to be, apparently.

...

Shortly thereafter, when the Pharasman priest approaches them for a fortune-telling, Rosalia remains darkly silent and brooding. She doesn't pay any heed to the useless prophecies that the church espouses. Good fortune was something you made, not something you hoped would meet you somewhere along the way.

Rosalia knew something was up the moment she was offered sandals and robes.

Public bathhouses weren't that uncommon, really, though she would have much preferred a private little place in which to soak away the pains of the road. Still, beggars can't be choosers, and she was excited enough for the opportunity to bathe that she even waves off Heldar's teasing comment without much complaint.

Alas.
Robes.
Sandals.

She stares in confusion at the garments proffered to her by the bathhouse attendants, resulting in a rather awkward stare-off between the strange and pale northerner and a shy-looking woman unable to communicate in Taldane. Rosalia eventually dons the robes, albeit warily, often shooting furtive glances over at any other women preparing themselves alongside her. Nobody else seemed weirded out by the fact that you needed to get clothed in order to... well, get hot, wet, and naked, as it were.

This place is as backwards as ever, Rosalia notes dryly as she proceeds into the bath area...

......? ...Wh--what--

The magus spends some time blocking the doorway until an older woman roughly pushes her forward, muttering some complaints about rude foreigners to her companion that Rosalia can thankfully not understand.

This room was... awful. It was like being locked in a library in Absalom in the middle of summer. No, even worse than that--a tropical cyclone was on the way, the clouds not yet broken, creating the unpleasant humidity Rosalia so loathed about the City at the Centre of the World. Except this time she had to be naked around a bunch of strangers during it.

Taking up a spot on the very edge of a stone seat, Rosalia stares pointedly at her lap (thoroughly covered with a robe, of course--she's much too prudish to let much of her skin show, even amongst other women) and awaits this hell to end. She can't tell if the flushing of her cheeks is from the stifling warmth, her bubbling anger, or plain old embarrassment at this stage. Patience, Rosalia, she tells herself, sighing heavily and closing her eyes. This is clearly some weird local practice, but there's got to be a payoff at the end.

It's like... going for a run before you bathe, right? Rosalia nods assuredly to herself. Sweat heavily, and then the bath is doubly nice.

Rosalia point-blank refuses a massage despite her aches and pains from days of camel-riding, not feeling comfortable showing off her pale body amidst so many strangers. Are the Osiriani really into public nudity, or something? Absolute nonsense for one used to long, cold winters and short, mild summers, but she could sort of understand the logic in a place that seemed to be perpetually hot. ...but then why make yourself even hotter in that warm room...? Every time Rosalia feels she's figured something out, yet another perplexing question comes to mind.

Finally--finally!--Rosalia is led into a cooler room, and she looks around excitedly for the tubs. Unsuccessfully, of course. She watches in confusion as a few other bathers get jugs of water poured over them, and accepts the treatment once, though refuses to undress--her loud shriek of shock as the cold water splashes down her bare shoulders convinces the confused attendants to leave her alone after that though.

Indignant, Rosalia (clutching the now drenched robes around her chest in a desperate attempt to retain some modesty) gets up to leave--and then stares in slack-jawed amazement when she is offered her clothes. "B-B-But... the bath...?"

The pretty young attendant smiles widely, understanding neither Rosalia's words nor the disbelief and utter despair on her face.

...

Rosalia awaits Heldar and Lyrian to emerge from the bathhouse just outside of the building, a veritable stormcloud of anger and embarrassment. Her pride keeps tears from forming, but her fists unconsciously clench and electricity unconsciously sparks along her fingertips, causing passers-by to give the strange foreigner a wide berth...

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28

Farris smiles broadly (and toothily - he is a half-orc, after all) and moves up beside Ezren. The light of the sun seems to illuminate his expression, making it seem incredibly warm and friendly.

"As Ezren here explains, we're here on an adventure... of sorts. Up until this point, it seemed to have been manufactured by the townsfolk... but I get the distinct impression you may not be involved in that!"

"My name is Farris Imrian, humble servant of Sarenrae and nominal Pathfinder." He flashes his Wayfinder for Roldare to see. "This is Rayne, and Argus, and Jerrik, and Vitor." He points to each of the other men in turn for their brief introduction.

"You can trust me. A true servant of the Dawnflower would not lie." Farris reaches for his trusty bible, flicking through the pages until he discovers a line that he was searching for. "Ah, here. 'To persuade the fallen to return to the light, one must be believable. To be believable beyond a shadow of a doubt, one must be creditable. And to have one's words be creditable in the minds of the unconvinced, one must be truthful. Truth is the light that will shine the way through the darkness for even the most lost and forgotten.' From Chapter 4 of the Birth of Light and Truth."

When it becomes apparent that, yes, she would get to sleep in a real bed, and yes, she would get to have a real bath, Rosalia perks up significantly, and seems the happiest you've probably ever seen her. Is she... is she humming happily?

"Hey, I know a thing or two about getting people to talk. But I might need a translator, because seriously, have your people never heard of Taldane before?"

Yeah, I've started keeping inits saved on the campaign info page for my other game, so I'll be doing the same for this :)

Side note - I hope the creator fixes Wayfinder soon. Really annoying to post via mobile at the moment. I'm kinda tempted to make a similar app myself... I need an excuse to learn Android development anyway.

Swaggar, swag-king of gnolls. Yes.

Rosalia groans and grumbles as she's prodded to wakeness, quite upset that someone would interrupt her beauty sleep, but the warnings of 'incoming!' very quickly rouse her consciousness into full activity. She roughly scrubs the granules of sleep from her eyes (or is that just sand?) and fumbles for her blade.

With movements being made to bring the camels in to safety, Rosalia attempts to sneak outside and get a glimpse at this bird-creature for herself. It's a bit hard to find anything to hide behind in the middle of the freakin' desert though, to be fair. The scrub-brush doesn't do much to conceal her form, stealthy as she is.

Stealth: 1d20 + 19 ⇒ (2) + 19 = 21
Knowledge (arcana or dungeoneering): 1d20 + 13 ⇒ (15) + 13 = 28

Rosalia frowns, her eyes still quite wary (particularly with Lyrian's commentary) but cognisant of Shaggar's reverent tone. She can't quite decide whether he's being serious or not, legitimately having no idea about these strange southern customs; she wouldn't want to criticise what sounded like a potentially liberating and honestly quite spiritual event...

In the end, she decides to simply stick to more personal derision. Much easier and less morally ambiguous that way.

"Certainly surprising that you'd want to see me do that, Shaggar," Rosalia responds snidely. "You're going to break the heart of that poor camel over there." She roughly points with her thumb at the 'pretty' camel that Shaggar had been riding.

Too bad I didn't go the dervish dance route!

"Dance of the... what?" Rosalia sits up again, genuinely confused, but she quickly clues in upon seeing the no-doubt universal group of snickers, bemused smirks, or faux-innocent smiles. That, of course, is met with a dark scowl.

"The only 'seven veils' I'm aware of are prismatic ones. The red one burns, the orange one corrodes, the yellow one electrocutes... all the way up to the violet one destroying everything. Surely that's not what you meant, now, is it?" She returns any innocent smiles...

Rosalia groans loudly and flomps back onto the sand, roughly ripping off a hunk of bread and watching the stars as she chews. "I might actually die from boredom," she grunts exasperatedly. "Or heat. Can you die of heat? I think that's what I'm dying from."

Liadain smiles and waves as the usher dashes off; once he's out of sight, she allows herself a light sigh. Of course, two seconds later, the librarian is here and she's expected to play the role of eye candy once more...

"My good sir, friend Tobias, a pleasure to meet you" she begins with a well-practiced smile; it would take a keen eye to notice that it's completely constructed. Lia tips her hat to him in salutations. "We are here from the Pathfinder Society, with the blessings of Arch-Exarch Gregorius, to examine some of the most wonderfully rare books you have here on offer."

"For the most part, I'm sure that such skilled chroniclers as my companions here," she makes a wide, sweeping gesture back at the motley crew of Tian nutters and alchemically-enhanced intellectuals, "will not need you to assist us. But perhaps you can point us in the right direction to begin with?"

Lia raises her index finger dramatically. "One: honour." The middle finger follows. "Two: courage." Finally, the ring finger. "Three: glory."

"These three topics are key to Taldor's great history - and they may yet unlock secrets that would allow us to triumph over the mighty evils of the north. That is what the Society believes, at least; and thus we come here."

"What do you think of when you hear these words, Tobias? Where would you recommend we begin our search? The Taldan military history section? Records of the Crusades? Religious treaties from the Iomedaean church?"

If he has any ideas, Liadain will smile gratefully and offer him a low and flowing bow. If not, she'll simply smile. "Thank you, friend Tobias. That should be enough for us. Please, do feel free to enjoy the performance; we shall contact you if we need you. We shall take it from here."

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (17) + 10 = 27
Bluff: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (18) + 8 = 26
It's a mix of truth and deception... so pick either.

Dayum! These rolls!

Rosalia actually laughs quite openly at Shaggar's quip... a side-effect of the wine, no doubt.

"As far as the Society goes," she remarks bemusedly, "you'd be hard-pressed to find people who aren't thieves, tomb-robbers, or monsters... so don't worry; you'll fit in just fine."

Rosalia considers that for a moment, her head cocked. "No, I certainly didn't think I'd be on the run from the law with a thief and a tomb-robber and a gnoll," she comments dryly, but there's a hint of a smile being forcefully swallowed at the corner of her lips.

"As I've said to you before, Heldar," Rosalia mutters, accepting a cup of wine and almost immediately emptying it, "you are way, way too happy to be stuck out in the stinking heat in the middle of nowhere."

"Hmm. This isn't bad," she notes. And, to the toast, she somewhat reluctantly clinks her cup against Heldar's. "Yeah. I guess."

Rosalia tries to ignore those forcing her to get out of her bedding, at least until Rook takes things into his own paws and becomes a living alarm clock, pawing and licking and biting at her face until she can stand it no more.

Oh, cats. You gotta love 'em.

Begrudgingly sitting up with a yawn, Rosalia follows the wine opening activities with narrowed eyes. "Not to say I'm not curious, but... drinking when your first wake up sounds like alcoholism to me."

"On the other hand," she mutters to herself, sniffing at her armpit with a grimace, "maybe getting myself pissed would let me forget how long it's been since I've been able to have a bath..."

In the interests of keeping this well-organised -- and taking off some of the burden from Jesse and the crew -- I have created a spreadsheet of all the (public) games I could find being run for the game day.

The spreadsheet should be publicly editable. I will keep an eye on Paizo's recruitment board in particular, but I'm not a member of MythWeavers and I'm certainly not going to keep the "Open?" status updated for every game. So, GMs, please go ahead and edit things/add things as you like.

Rook gets lots of pets and chin-scritches, at least until he spontaneously decides that's enough and lightly nips Rosalia's hand and stalks off. Because cats.

Hi! This is a semi-private recruitment for a Wrath of the Righteous play-by-post campaign. If you were not invited, but you still want to chuck your hat in the ring (particularly if I've gamed with you before!), send me a PM before you apply, thanks.

******

The Worldwound tore reality apart at the dawn of the Age of Lost Omens, murdering the nation of Sarkoris and unleashing a ravenous demonic horde upon the world. Only the quick action of several other nations of knights, barbarians, and heroes stemmed the demon army and contained it within lost Sarkoris, and for the next century, crusade after crusade tried to defeat the demons only to fail time and time again.

Even before the Fifth Crusade has begun a city has fallen and some of the crusaders' greatest defenders and heroes are slain. Can anyone rise up against the demon host to prevent the armies of Deskari, the demon lord of the Locust Host, from swallowing the world?

******

A few things to note

* I'm looking for 4-6 players for this campaign. Please have a read through the Player's Guide before applying; it’s quite essential knowledge!

* I'm aiming for at least a daily posting rate. Even more sometimes would be nice! I'm also hoping to not have to replace players much (if at all); the relative continuity of this AP is incredibly important. So... basically, I’m looking for dedication and reasonable pacing, in other words.

* I really don't like powergaming. Mythic can get incredibly dumb very quickly, particularly if you’re already playing a cheesey, tricked-out build... but that also allows for characters that maybe normally would be "sub-optimal" to come into their own.

* Story > Mechanics, always. If you want something, I'm happy to work together to fit it in somehow, if possible.

******

What do I want from you?

I’m a fan of long and ponderous character vignettes, but really, all I want to see is an interesting and well thought out concept. It doesn't have to be long (although it can be); it just has to let me see some spark that fascinates me. Interesting characters that break the mould are fine and dandy, but so too is the quintessential stereotype done in a particularly nice way.

Characters will begin in Kenabres, a city in Mendev along the border of the Worldwound. You don't have to be from the city, but you need some reason to be there. Luckily, the beginning of the campaign starts with a festival--Armasse!

Traditionally an opportunity for scholars and priests to come together to study the lessons of history from wars past, since Aroden's death, this holy day has become more about training commoners in weaponry, choosing squires, and ordaining new priests. Over time, Armasse has grown to encompass jousting competitions, mock duels, battle re-enactments, and other festival events. In Kenabres, the festival is eagerly anticipated, for it provides distractions from the horrors of being on the front line of war.

******

Character creation rules

* Ability score generation will be 20 point buy with a maximum score of 17 and a minimum score of 8 AFTER racial modifiers. This is meant to encourage a more balanced spread of modifiers and unique (but not necessarily “optimal”) characters while discouraging min-maxing.

* All core races (dwarf, elf, gnome, halfling, half-elf, half-orc, human), aasimar, and tieflings (including variants) are allowed by default. Alternate races may or may not be allowed on a case-by-case basis. (Ask me first!)

* All Paizo-official classes and archtypes are allowed except for gunslingers (and gun-related archetypes). The playtest classes from the Advanced Class Guide are also acceptable, with the caveat that certain aspects may be modified or disallowed. Non-Paizo classes (e.g., 3PP or 3e) may be considered on a case-by-case basis, but don’t count on it.

* Good alignment ONLY. C'mon, this is the best excuse to be a hero ever!

* All characters can select one trait of their choosing. In addition, all characters must select one of the Wrath of the Righteous Campaign Traits (as listed in the WotR Player’s Guide). Rich Parents (as well as any other trait that modifies starting gold) and Reactionary (as well as any other trait that improves initiative by more than +1) are banned. I'll consider disadvantages, but run it by me first.

* All characters receive a free skill rank per level. This rank may only be placed into Craft, Profession, or Perform skills, as befits the character’s background.

* All characters receive maximum HP at 1st level. Average hit points (rounded up) gained thereafter (i.e., 4 for d6, 5 for d8, 6 for d10, 7 for d12).

* All characters receive average gold for their class.

* Lastly, no, you're not locked in to the Mythic Path associated with the Campaign Trait you select.

*****

Bonus information!

Here is a preliminary house rules document. Things can be changed, and things will certainly be added, but it's a good start.

Following are some write-ups of the local area I did for the players of my live WotR game. You may find them handy. I strongly suggest you don’t dig around the site too deeply unless you want spoilers. ;)

* The Worldwound
* Mendev
* Kenabres
* The Crusades

Feel free to ask me anything, either here on in PM! And thanks for being interested! :)

Jeez, I forgot how complex maguses are in combat...

Giving half a moment's pause to judge the distance, Rosalia swings herself down below with a quick twist of her waist, landing comfortably on the ground with a dull thud and the half-crouched poise of a cat about to pounce.

"Well, that explains Heldar," she mutters, ducking behind Shaggar as he raises his axe up high and using him as cover from any retaliation. Her eyes and blade flash with a surge of energy, a pale blue light encompassing the sword's exterior.

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 16 ⇒ (19) + 16 = 35 Yeah, pretty sure I can get behind him without AoO.

Spending a point from my arcane pool to add a +2 enhancement bonus to my weapon for the next minute.
Gladius (magic; outflank; arcane pool): 1d20 + 11 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 11 + 4 + 2 = 21
Damage (arcane pool): 1d6 + 6 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 6 + 2 = 13

Rosalia is more than able to sneak behind the wraith, and she then lunges upwards, trying to pierce through the thing's sides... although adjusting her blade's trajectory to deal with a target who isn't quite there somewhat dulls the effect.

"Does anyone know what this damn thing is?" Rosalia asks into the fracas as she brings her blade back. "I think our resident know-it-alls just bolted!"

Rosalia is indeed very sneaky, but Javi and Lyrian were having such a good time of it that she decided not to butt in. ;) p.s., I have invisibility prepared if we need it.

Create water cantrip ruins so much fun in desert adventures! I say we should go to the oasis anyway. 'Cuz it's funner. Like charging in when you have 2 hp left. But I will defer to the wisdom of the rest of the party that is perhaps less crazy than I.

Rosalia decides to pretend she didn't hear Javi and Shaggar's conversation. She nevertheless shudders profusely at the unbidden and nightmarish mental images as she attempts to bunk down somewhere that looks like it might remain out of the sun for a long period.

Rosalia's never ridden a camel before, but she's... well, okay, she's only really had experience with quite well-trained and docile mares, but that's irrelevant, she can totally ride horses, and it's that stubbornness that leads her to be in the driving seat (so to speak) on the camel's back. As a result, she's painfully awake all night (emphasis on the painful part), her butt seemingly forcefully rearranged by the uncomfortable saddle and strange loping camel gait and the stench of fish guts constantly wafting into her nose from her dear, beloved familiar of hers.

He's totally doing that on purpose, Rosalia scowls at the cat.

As soon as Shaggar draws the group to a halt, Rosalia leaps off the camel, happy to be at least temporarily rid of that literal pain in the arse. She groans, ignoring the (honestly rather pleasant) chill as she's hit with the full force of her saddle-sore.

I think sleeping here would be safest. I don't think we need anything at the oasis, and keeping out of sight is probably for the best. The only thing we might need from the oasis is water, maybe?

I know, just wanted to see if Caelin knew. ;)

Noting the reaction, Caelin hurriedly stifles a laugh, and offers her a wink in return.

Rosalia decides to stay quiet and obedient, already sweating up a storm from the upcoming crazy-level heat and loathing every minute of it. She ducks behind a pile of rocks in the wadi to change into the cooler gear; it's a bit long in the leg, but it works well enough. Her armour's off, too, mostly because touching it gave her a minor branding.

I think we should risk the heat saves.

1) We need to get a head start, and for sure the people behind us are going to stop during that kind of temperature.
2) The saves to begin with are not all that bad, so if we start to become fatigued and so forth we'll still be able to cross some ground at least.
3) The heatstroke condition ends when you get rid of the nonlethal damage, as I read it. Heldar could heal us up if we fail a save and we could continue on relatively unaffected.

Side note: if Rosalia conjures an unseen servant to constantly fan her, would that give me a bonus on Fort saves? Heeey? :P

I think we should run away from them, as a distraction of sorts.

Rosalia grabs Heldar's hand and makes a run for it.

"Rook is still pretty freaked out," she says hurriedly. "I don't know what's going on down their end, but I don't think it's good at all. Let's keep them watching us and not them."

Rosalia glances behind the two of them at the following guards.

"Let me try this..."

With a snap of her fingers and a disgusting squelch from god-knows-where, a splatter of thick grimy mud coats the ground before their pursuers.

Casting grease on the guards' area - DC 14 Reflex or fall prone. Like dropping a banana peel in Mario Kart...

The myriad emotions Rook is sending her way - ranging from relief to absolute terror as Javi leaps from the wall - is causing Rosalia some consternation. She can't figure out what the heck is going on at all, and it's most likely showing on her face. "W-Well then, dear, we'd best head off back that way then! Come along now!"

Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Reaching up on her tiptoes, she whispers in Heldar's ear, "I think we should run. Now."

Meanwhile, the cat realises that he should have picked the spellcaster's shoulder to ride. Damn mundane plebians.

En route to the docks, the party runs head-first into a bizarre, mud-covered creature that Nivik recognises as the sour-tempered tengu, Mikhaere. Turns out he'd gotten bored of waiting around for their contact (Ospreys were pretty common birds anyway, he'd muttered) and had decided to do some recon himself. To little avail, of course, considering most people around here ran away at the sight of him. Oh well.

To those he doesn't know? Well... they might be a little confused, but he assures them (in tones dripping with sarcasm) that he is a beloved and valued member of the Society who is here to assist in something-or-other about an osprey causing problems or something. Being informed of the actual goings-on (no birds besides seagulls, no doubt) causes him to become sullen, but he follows along anyway.

As soon as the party spots the blood-covered scene, Mikhaere gags, covering his beak with one feathered arm to block the scent. He lingers outside as the others converge, but eventually dares to step inside.

Mikhaere tentatively approaches the bodies and takes a quick look at them, trying to determine the cause of death.

Heal: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (20) + 10 = 30

At that moment, of course, Halbarad kicks the door open, and Mikhaere is forced to pay attention to what awaits them beyond...

Rosalia this far has been relatively quiet, sans the huffing and puffing as she quickly heats up in the god-awful scorching rays of the desert sun. She's thus quite amenable to the plan being concocted here. "I'll stay with Heldar," she says, "but I will send one thing off with you all..."

Before Lyrian turns invisible, Rosalia picks out Rook from her backpack (much to the then-sleeping cat's displeasure) and sets him beside the bard. Rook yawns widely, his tail flicking as his mistress explains her plan. "Rook and I share a rudimentary link - general feelings, for the most part. But that should be enough to alert Heldar and I if anything particularly bad happens. So you follow them, okay, Rook?"

You still owe me that fish, the cat reminds her before skulking off after the others. He's as silent as death as he deftly makes his way up onto the wall of the suite.

Rook can use Rosalia's skill ranks with his own bonuses.
Rook Stealth: 1d20 + 23 ⇒ (20) + 23 = 43
Rook Perception: 1d20 + 12 ⇒ (15) + 12 = 27
Rook Climb: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

Meanwhile, Rosalia decides to make a distraction. Tugging Heldar a little down the street away from their infiltration point, she begins to complain quite loudly in a tone of voice borrowed from her youth... that of the rich noblewoman speaking to her henpecked husband.

"Look at what you've done now," she sniffs indignantly. "You said you knew a shortcut! Now we've been stuck out here in the sun for so long, and, ugh! Look at my skin! Goodness, I'll be a laughing stock back home like this."

"Dear, I'll ask again--are you sure this is where we're supposed to be?"

Rosalia Bluff: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21

Anyone who comes to the game with a brawler without a pre-set list of feats written out for quick access is doing it wrong. If someone could not provide the rules text within a reasonable period of time I will simply have them delay until they know what they want to do.

The same, incidentally, applies for ANYONE. If a summoner or conjurer came to the table without stats for their monsters and expected me to wait while they calculated the stats for their augmented fiendish giant dire platypus, they'd get a couple of minutes before I'd skip to the next person. If a druid is digging through four bestiaries looking for the perfect animal to wildshape into, I'd skip to the next person.

I expect players playing complicated classes (i.e., basically all spellcasters) to have a pretty decent grasp of what their class abilities do, and to take the initiative in having things prepared for odd situations.

Why not just make a thread: "<Character Name>'s Pathfinder Journal"? Each post would be a new journal entry.

Yeeeep I made a mistake clicking that first spoiler. Ugh, that's awful. :(

Tsarok crouches down beside some of the tracks in the mud after spending a long time failing to decipher what the point of Cricket's red blanket was. "A Horned Ghost has been born here recently," he announces gravely. "An aurochs-headed bestial spirit given physical form by its malevolence and hunger. They hunt the unwary in gangs through the swamps, never getting lost, always knowing the best way to turn. ... They can't swim very well though," he adds, almost as an afterthought.

Gonna attempt the "jump three cards" thing... I think I understand it: as a full-round action I can attempt to move three cards by succeeding on two of the three checks.

Also, congrats dien!

Acrobatics: 1d20 + 15 ⇒ (6) + 15 = 21 Yikes, close call!
Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (12) + 11 = 23

Rosalia does her best to duck and weave under the old woman's angry bread-flailing and dislodge her sword from whatever it had caught on. Before the woman can deal even more damage to her pride, Rosalia dashes off, trying to remember where the rest of her group had gone to. She dances her way between the throngs of people, this time trying to shout (at least somewhat gently) for them to get out of her way and avoiding silly stunts like crawling around on her hands and knees. Rook pokes his head out of his bed in her backpack, possibly providing some extra cute-points to convince people to listen to the strange, red-faced foreigner's words. Or maybe he just liked to see his mistress in a spot of trouble.

Having gotten somewhat lost, Rosalia asks for directions from a nearby merchant. She winds up skirting around the outside of the press of dromedaries and down a side-alley that manages to completely avoid the camels and leads up to... well, places unknown!

After regaining her composure to some degree, Rosalia decides to join Shaggar's conversation with the Docent, if only because thinking about filthy stinkin' thieving halflings that always seemed a half-step ahead of them was giving her an aneurysm.

"Do you own the real mask?" She asks, "Or did you just happen to accidentally purchase a forgery?"

Alice Margatroid wrote:

Come to Australia! It's a pleasant 26C (~78.8F) today. And half the country is NOT currently on fire (unlike a month ago). :)

You still got Dropbears?

Placate them with vegemite behind the ears and you'll be fine.

The meeting with the now apparently friendly bandit-dwarves has shifted from an annoyance to merely tedious, so Tsarok finds a sunny spot nearby and lounges out for a while. Sadly without some bad jazz in the background and a cocktail in hand, lounge lizard that he is.

-----

Later, Tsarok will look for the sort of food that suits his palette, having a penchant for raw meat (maggots are fine too!) and various grubs. Caspian may find some amusement in the fact that he really enjoys eating crickets, although the joke is likely to be lost in translation.

He misses the swamp with its bounty of delicious treats...

I get a 17 on a Survival take-10.

I've totally lost what people are even arguing about here. How about those revolutionary movies, Comrade Goblin?

Here's the first part of Inheritance, Zark. All of the chapters are available on the blog. And yes, it's a same-sex, human-gnome couple.

It's just webfiction, telling a little story on one corner of Golarion. And it's so cute you might die, so be careful.

Am I the only one that's finding the suggestions of men being innately violent by their very nature simultaneously hilariously ironic and incredibly offensive?

Also going to throw out a global [citation needed] for pretty much everything that's been said in the past page or so.