My work schedule has changed for the worse, so restarting isn't an option for me, I'm afraid.
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I'll still be around barring unseen circumstances, which are actually not out of the question given my own job situation.
Beestinger will continue to maintain vigilence, letting the others deal with the prsioners directly.
Beestinger continues to watch the road both ways, fairly sure that his companions have the interrogation well in hand.
Beestinger just watches and waits in the grass, content to stand watch over the scene until it's time to head out again.
"I say let all but the leader go. The magistrates are busy enough without throwing a bunch of naive farmers in front of them."
Beestinger moves forward to investigate the bottle and the smell coming it from it. "I don't suppose one of you brain types know anything about alchemy. I got a strange smelling bottle back here." He says, still on alert, but convinced that whatever threat was present has been dealt with.
Beestinger stays hidden, wary of what the empty vial might mean, alert and ready to provide assistance should it be required.
Beestinger, watching the latest developments, keeps stealthily moving down the road toward where the "farmers" came from to look for any other signs of trouble or hidden foes.
Beestinger will simply move towards the farmers staying hidden in the brush.
Beestinger will move forward to the edge of the road (J-11), and launch a softstone at the nearest bandit.
Halflings of Golarion is definitely one of the better race books. Between the slings and the jinxes, it does a lot to give the race a few more options than being roguish.
Sticking to the light underbrush on the side of the road, Beestinger immediately stops when the party does, and uncoils his one shirt cuff, which turns out to be folded up sling. Pulling a softstone bullet from one of many small pockets on his vest and belt, he loads and prepares to fire at the first sign of combat. Any who manage to see him see his face light up as he focuses on the challenge in front of him.
"I'm sure there will be plenty of time to get to know each other that way before the trip is done for those so inclined. I just don't think that given people's state of intoxication, it's wise to invite trouble." Beestinger retorts. He also rises early to collect his thoughts, not really needing to buy anything further, though if everyone else buys a mount, he'll spring for a good quality riding dog.
"Perhaps a room for the ladies and a room for the gentlemen. That helps us get to know each other, but ensures that no one does something too foolish at the height of drink. And I don't want to know if that comparison is pulled from real life, Dreadan, so please don't elaborate." Beestinger says as he follows the others to bed, looking over his small amount of gear before turning in.
"Hmm, sounds like that one will require some practice before approaching. I wonder if that wyvern is still around; it might make a good practice run to judge talent levels." Beestinger comments quietly, talking as much to himself as anybody else, as he takes the 5 gold.
"Did you mention 'dragon'? How big of a dragon are we talking about and what kind?" Beestinger's eyes light up at the key word in his vocabulary. "Don't worry, my new dwarven associate, I'm sure that the bandits who decide they want to play will be able to provide some coin in addition to what this good merchant can provide. I just hope that you all can shake off your drink as well as you can take it in." He signs the parchment and passes it around to the others.
"Seems like a simple enough endeavor; count me in. All these drunks need someone to babysit them at night." Beestinger just shakes his head in wonder at how the others at his table are still functioning.
Beestinger just shakes his head at the drunken dwarf. "I don't know about you, but I don't think that soaking up attacks is much fun. It's much more fun to be the attacker, not to mention you tend to live longer."
"If I may ask, why exactly did your usual couriers run off?" Beestinger asks quietly as he appraises his fellow adventurers. You see nothing obvious about him that suggests he is capable of the task, but there is an aura of confidence that is unmistakable.
Beestinger sits in a corner quietly, sipping some watered down ale and pondering his prospects of finding a competent adventuring group, preferably one looking for dragons after some suitable test runs and practice, his clothes dark enough he blends into the corner quite well. His initial attempt didn't work well, and half the group found out the hard way that wyverns are indeed part of the dragon family. After that debacle, he politely parted ways at the closest town, and has been eying prospective associates for a week or so now. Seeing the gaze of the nobleman, he decides to check it out, despite the initial distaste for dealing with a Cheliaxian.
Central US here. I might miss the occasional Saturday, but otherwise I stop by at least once a day.
"Humans serve their purpose. Though I can't say that I'm much put off by their absence either. Saves my neck a great deal of stretching."
Dotting email: gflare103@yahoo.com
"I hope you don't mind if I stick to drinks that won't destroy my liver immediately. I find it rather useful on occasion." Beestinger pulls out his waterskin that contains water with some herbal flavoring and drinks to the health of those around him.
"My apologies, I am sometimes unclear in my thought processes. I was referring to my name, and comparing my sling stones to a bee stinger."
"Not quite, but my slingstones sure hurt like one."
"Folks call me Beestinger in reference to my chosen fighting style."
"Brute, you say? Only if your definition of brute is very different from mine. I personally prefer finesse over raw power." The pint sized halfling speaks up from the corner.
Beestinger is good to go; everything has been updated except the equipment list. Material from Halflings of Golarion is clearly labeled and explained.
Sunshadow21 here with an old character that I will need to rework tomorrow for the crunch, but it should give the basic idea. I'd probably go for dragon slayer for the campaign feat, making it so that a dragon was who killed his parents, and left him on the brink of death before being saved. There is a fair bit of stuff in there from Halfling of Golarion that would have to be reworked or have exceptions made for, and several places were adjusted to use the sling instead of the usual monk weapons.
Who or what are we waiting on?
Beestinger settles into the hayloft, and despite the thoughts going through his head, manages to get some sleep before taking his turn. As he watches the starless night, he hopes that the caravan is having a safe trip and that he lives long enough to see his family again.
Beestinger watches the clouds move in. "Am I the only one getting tired of this dang darkness that seems to taking over the land?"
"Be my guest. Never hurts to have another pair of eyes on the task."
Having returned to his normal self, Beestinger dismounts from his riding dog. "Fortunately, Bruno here can help keep the predators away from the mounts while we are away. In the mean time, I'll do a quick sweep of the area to check for signs of recent activity."
I am in another game with Slanter, and he has had posting difficulties there as well. I'm guessing real life has risen up and demanded attention.
I'm still here.
If more people played the cleric that way, the class would be much better off.
Having finished his light meal, Beestinger excuses himself, and joins his cousin, still on guard, as the last of the town passes by with their precious possessions. Amongst the last to pass by is a convey of 3 wagons, led by his formidable grandmother, all of which hold the greatest treasure the family possesses, the children, tucked away safe and secure behind a screen of very determined adults, all of which are armed to the teeth with whatever weapons they could lay hands on, especially his grandmother, who despite her age, very much looks like a capable warrior and matriarch bound and determined to see her family through yet another crisis and beyond. After a short conversation where blessings are given all around, the wagons move on, leaving only Beestinger, his cousin, and a couple of other adults who plan on serving as scouts and skirmishers for the rear guard. When the rest of the party exits the inn to see the main body off, Beestinger, not usually the emotional type, gives a final embrace to all of his family who yet remain before rejoining the party in silence, with a look that combines worry, hope, and grim determination on his face, hoping that those who stayed behind would have the time needed to give his cousin a halfway decent burial before they, too, scattered before the oncoming storm.
"Carefully, and without dying." Beestinger manages to keep his voice level, but it is clear that he would really rather be eating his breakfast in quiet thought, without all this talking going on around him.
"Goblins were here. Kobolds were at the Keep. Probably a bunch of other nasty creatures around as well."
"Perhaps instead of selling him, you could simply let someone take care of him for a while. Payment would be in the form that they get temporary use of a pack mule. That way if we survive long enough to return to Kempo, your mule is still available to you. After it's heroics in the fight, I am sure that it's presence with the convey would help left spirits, and I am sure that many here would be willing to accept some kind of arrangement that does not involve selling him." Beestinger looks up at the newcomers. "Welcome to the our fair city, though that welcome may be not quite what anybody expected. I am a bit unsettled by the mention of the Oracles, but extra hands are much needed in this task, so I can't complain too much."
"A fair number of strangers in town today. I can't help but wonder if they are because or or despite recent attacks." Beestinger muses out loud as he sits down, calls a serving girl over for some water, and starts eating one of his trail rations for breakfast.
"I would imagine numerous things bigger than rats and worms await us, if the creatures on the surface are any indication." Beestinger comments quietly as he takes stock of the few remaining patrons, wondering who these new strangers could be.
For whatever my opinion is worth, I like Snaketongue.
I think we have effectively lost Gutlighter. Now might be a decent time to try to find a couple of replacements, as we are still in town.
"I would like to stay long enough to see my family off, and since taking some time to round up whatever gear we may need isn't a bad idea, it shouldn't be a problem. As soon as they leave, we can go the other way and provide a diversion. Perhaps you should send your mule back to Kempo with the caraven. That way you know where it is, and don't have to worry big drops or chasms."
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