Captain Brolin Muse's page

Great to hear from you, Brolin. I am glad that you are well. It is very normal for people to drop out of PBP games and I never take it personally. Once it happened because the person passed away IRL, which we found out from one of their friends. So I am glad that you are ok! You were a very fun player with an awesome character; I have always thought of you when I think of how cool the medium class can be. Take care!

I'm glad to have left a positive memory; I always think of you whenever I get in a conversation about NPC classes.

Also, while I don't know you Brolin, I just want to say that it takes courage to come back like you did. So if nothing else, I respect that.

It wasn't fair to leave you wondering.

I haven't been active on the Paizo forums in years and don't anticipate becoming active again in the future (and if I do it'll probably be under an account that I didn't make as a teenager) (but if anyone wants me to PM them if-or-when I make the account, you can PM me and I'll check PMs before I make the new one), so this is probably goodbye. I'll scoot out of your discussion thread now.

Good luck and have fun!

Well, it sounds like you had a lot to work out. And like maybe you've made some real progress on that.

It's water under the bridge for me, really, if a bit of a rocky transition; I'm more or less a functional member of society. I just remembered this game the other day, felt bad about how I left things off, and realized there was nothing stopping me from belatedly ending things on a different note.

Apropos of nothing, I thought I should post an apology for ghosting this game five years ago, instead of always leaving you to wonder.

I was seventeen when I joined it - eighteen when I ghosted - and this game has always stood in my memory as probably the most fun one I've played in.

Some context is, I had just moved out of my parent's house after three years of being a hikkomori, and I was trying to get my feet under me. At the time I'd get short of breath and panicky when someone was just walking on the sidewalk across the street from me, and now I needed to get a job; I was a wreck.

It would have been kinder of me to say that I was going through something and to bow out of the game gracefully, or get permission and a party role to hang around without needing to post in places where I'd hold up the game by not being there, or any number of other things which weren't cognitively available to me as options at eighteen. I can only find it in myself to hold myself so culpable for something I did as a dysfunctional teenager, but I am culpable for not apologizing after the fact: so this is that apology.

I'm sorry it took so long to say this. I especially regret that I didn't apologize in time to tell all my old friends that I was sorry.

Sorry for dropping off the face of the earth for a while there, people. I'm back now, and feeling much improved.

Earlier

After speaking with the bishop, Muse sought out an artificer he knows about further enchanting his terbutje and commissioning a page of spell knowledge.

I'm not going to type up anything of any particular length or quality at this juncture. Don't let me hold up the action by not posting things. I'll be better soon, I'm sure.

And happy Halloween, all.

"Works."

Yeah, it hasn't been fun. :\

Was talking with an IRL friend about what sometimes feels like constantly illness of one stripe or another, and they, despite being demonstrably less cleanly than myself (or, indeed, what I'd consider baseline human cleanliness) said that they usually get sick once every nine years. (Seeing as they're only ~twenty, I've no idea how they've enough data to amp such a pattern). I'm jealous, since it seems like I get seriously sick at least a handful of times every year.

Urk. That could be posted to r/ihadastroke. If it were funny, that is.

Question for the GM - can we find a wizard to teleport us across the continent? When we heard that raise dead was hard to come by, I kind of wrote off getting NPCs to cast high level spells for us as a viable strategy. If we can ‘port places that changes a lot.

To explain Muse’s reasoning here, as a character, he’s not an adventurer by trade, and doesn’t know that there’s a GM who’ll keep his WBL semiconsistent. He doesn’t know that he’s likely to find money or treasure in Iustia (and in fact is counting against it - there’s no visible source of revenue, and any number of foreseen and unforeseen costs). He thinks he has a point of pressure with the bishop, and is looking to secure funding enough to make this win-win.

As a player, I’m not trying to “break” the WBL. At all! I’ve just been playing Captain Muse as I’ve thought he’d react. There’s no point in trying to get more gold or useful items than the GM doles out, since the GM arbitrates reality completely and totally - they could give your character less money later, or have them fight tougher foes, or kill them with lightning. Any money Muse convinces the Bishop to part with would go towards feeding and clothing followers and cohorts, or expanding business. Because my idea of Muse as a character is someone with business savvy, a merchant with a policy of calculated recklessness who can’t help but see that without the implicit promise of found loot inherent to Pathfinder - a game system he doesn’t know he’s a part of - this is a pretty raw deal. He’s levying specialized skills and taking risks he knows are worth more than a few thousand gold piece to Helm, and a few thousand gold means the difference between having to borrow money to outfit the Sonder next time it leaves port or not - whether or not it’s now or later. The difference between what he sees as acceptable and unacceptable risk. If he sees a way to make this win-win, he’s going to at least ask.

Of course, he wouldn’t actually refuse the Bishop (not that he’d ever undermine his position by saying that aloud). This is too important.

Yeah, it hasn't been fun. :\

Was talking with an IRL friend about what sometimes feels like constantly illness of one stripe or another, and they, despite being demonstrably less cleanly than myself (or, indeed, what I'd consider baseline human cleanliness) said that they usually get sick once every nine years. (Seeing as they're only ~twenty, I've no idea how they've enough data to amp such a pattern). I'm jealous, since it seems like I get seriously sick at least a handful of times every year.

Kn. History: 1d20 + 14 ⇒ (13) + 14 = 27

Leaning forward in his chair and steepling his fingers, to the bishop Muse responds, "I'm aware and appreciative of all you've done to increase transparency and root out corruption in Helm. But with due respect, sir, you can't have it both ways. You're asking us to deal with you under the table. You're asking us, under the table, to, in your own words, tell convincing lies, disguise ourselves and sneak about, break and enter, fake documents, and incapacitate someone or someones quickly and quietly, which just so we're all on the same page here, means kill a bad person or an unlucky person because we think more people would die if we didn't."

The captain leans back abruptly, adjusts his hat, crosses his legs and folds his arms, raises his chin, and smiles. "I can do that for you. It sounds to me like you need someone who can do anything, and that means you need me. I've got third circle arcane spells, third circle divine, and a host of other tricks I've picked up. I can turn myself invisible, or inaudible, disguise myself with magic, detect lies or alignments. I speak eleven different languages, I'm versed in the minutia of every banal piece of paperwork on the continent. Sir, I can spot a forgery. I can fight. Hand to hand, I've taken on any number of orcs or pirates alone or in groups. I'm not a superb liar, but I am persuasive. I like to imagine it comes from being right."

Raising his hands, Muse gives a helpless shrug. "But for all my remarkable talents, there's one thing that I lack. My problem is that I am a reckless fool when I think that others are relying on me. See, some time recently I did something that was ultimately pretty stupid, and I sailed towards where I knew some pirates were. Which wasn't my greatest play. I thought I had a good reason for it. It was important, on a national scale, there was no one else as capable, and we were getting paid. If everything went right, we were getting paid rather a lot, mostly just for sailing out to the Serpent Isles and then sailing back home. But things didn't go right, and that's where my mistake was made clear. I hadn't given myself, and my ship, and my crew, nearly enough of a margin of safety. And so a friend of mine died, and the Sonder didn't make a gold piece on van Beem's capture. Every copper went into repairing damages to the ship, and she didn't turn profit enough to outfit for another voyage. I'll have to either pay thousands of gold piece out of pocket, which is hard on a private individual - especially one like myself who's in the habit of risking their skin for the greater good - I'd like to buy some healing potions before the next time I stare down seemingly certain death for my country! or borrow money against the ship, which is intolerably risky, or sell her, which is intolerable."

"I'm not going to make the same mistake again. One thousand gold pieces would get us to Count Aral and back again if everything goes right, but nothing ever does. Suppose he's at his estate, and we have to rent horses, which are subsequently killed, because we are going into potential danger, and we have to pay a hundred gold pieces each. Already our budget's down to four hundred gold . . . I need a larger safety margin. Sir, to be frank, the only reason I am solvent at all after the van Beem misadventure is because some very rich people tried to kill me and I went through their things. I am not willing to push that luck."

Adjusting his hat confidently, the captain concludes his request. "I appreciate the difficulty of paying me under the table for services rendered. I also appreciate the difficulty of telling convincing lies, disguising ourselves and traipsing uninvited about the seat of Iustia, breaking and entering, faking documents, and committing armed assault or murder. You're asking us to break the law for you. I'm asking you to break the law for me. Certainly a salaried agent or official would be adequately compensated for something so difficult and so dangerous, certainly a salaried agent or official of Helm would have a wide enough safety margin that even if he died in the attempt, he'd have something to leave the people relying on him."

Diplomacy, channeling the Marshall, spirit surge: 1d20 + 11 + 3 + 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 11 + 3 + (2) + 3 = 27

Sorry for the delay! I've been somewhat under the weather for the past few days, a phrase which here means puking out of every orifice, ears excluded. Think it might have been something I drank. I'm feeling somewhat better now, and I'll have a post up in the Gameplay promptly!

I just want to add 3 thoughts:

* If the Sonder poses as a trade ship to cover our real reason, then having her idle at our destination for several weeks will be suspicious - especially if we have to travel on by foot and the ship stays there even longer.

* If negotiations don't go well, the ship is vulnerable - they could use it, and the crew, as leverage to impose their will on us - take it hostage.

* There's also the chance we'll simply get handed passenger tickets for a fraction of the cost on some other ship going that way - rather than booking the package deal to have the ship idle while we do our business.

Ah, but 1) the Sonder wouldn’t be posing as a trading ship - it would be one. Whether or not the bishop hires us, Iustia’s the Sonder’s next stop. If the party tags along, we’d have an airtight alibi for being there.

2) Taking a boat hostage is pretty hard, especially a fast ship like the Sonder. If negotiations go so poorly that people are trying to catch and keep an unrelated merchant vessel, I’d worry more about our own hides.

3) The Sonder’s an easy way there and, importantly, back again. It’s on its way to Iustia already, both because Nelly likely won’t be dragging those dwarves their weapons across all of the continent and because Muse is worried that Iustia might be less amenable to trade in the future, with a possible war looming. The Sonder will likely be spending a fair chunk of time in port buying and selling, likely more time than we’ll need to discreetly contact the count.

RE: travel times, I assumed that we’d be going at least as far as the Serpent Isles, just looking at the overmap, which is why I assumed we’d be using a boat. But I was assuming that the map was drawn to scale, which it seems it is not.

Maybe! In which case they’ll be flapping listlessly in the breeze. But it’s a pretty rare case that land travel is at all better than boating, in a world without trains. The Sonder can cover about three hundred miles in a day (assuming an average speed of about eleven knots), and while I don’t know anything about horses I can’t imagine one covering more than 80 miles in a day as an absolute upper bound - that’s assuming they can maintain a 10 mph pace for eight hours without rest. When Americans were colonizing the West, after all, it wasn’t it faster (if more dangerous) to sail all the way around South America than it was to cross the country by land?

Hey, for a while there I was calling Kazad Gravr, Kazad Gavr. I don’t have any excuse there!

Yeah, humans. I reread The Prince the other day, which always makes me want to run an intrigue campaign.

The 5,000 gp figure Muse needs upfront was calculated from a crew of twenty making a profession check a week for twelve weeks - which comes out at about 1,000 gp. (Very rough “about”, by the way - there was a lot of guesstimation going on.) Figure Muse sells in Iustia whatever he bought in Helm for about x1.5 the original cost, whereupon the crew get their payday. The crew is paid out of the profit but isn’t paid all of the profit, so Muse needs to buy more than 3,000 gp worth of stuff. Then you figure that Muse and Tiyeri will have a higher profession checks than the rank and file, and you round up to 5,000 gp for random miscellaneous expenses (and feeding everyone until their payday months from now). The Sonder made zero pokebucks on it’s last outing, so it needs this money to make another one (a reason why Muse hasn’t spent his personal profit from Kazad Gravr yet - he’d rather not borrow hundreds of platinum if it can be avoided).

The twenty thousand gp figure, meanwhile, is Muse expecting to be bartered down to substantially less than that. His goal in asking for such a ludicrous sum is mostly just to move the conversation away from the five thousand he wants up front, and have it accepted as comparatively reasonable.

Also, this was all typed on a touchscreen, so forgive atypical typos. I probably haven’t caught them all.

“I’ve no official government ties, and a damn good excuse to be plying my trade in any corner of the world,” Muse points out. In truth, he’s planning on shipping out to Iustia regardless - both to honor Kazad Gravr’s last request, because with his insider knowledge he’s worried he might not get another chance to load up on Iustian trade goods in the near future, and because he has a number of Iustian friends he’d like to give some manner of advance warning. Already combing errands, he might as well mix in another one. “And I can be discreet. Of course, not having official ties I don’t draw a regular salary from the bishopric’s coffers, nor do my crew. And while it was unforeseeable, else we’d have never taken the job, we ran into rather a few unanticipated expenses the last time we did a job for you. Namely replacing damn near half the boat after it was hit with some apocalyptic alchemic weapon. So you’ll understand if in return for the convenience of not having to bring in and catch up some other intrepid captain, who at any rate wouldn’t have my own record of success, I inform you that I’ve raised my fees.”

Muse thinks for a moment before going on.

“I’ll need an advance payment of five thousand gold pieces up front, because the boat has got to be outfitted and we turned a pretty puny profit from the capture of van Beem. And a writ from the bishopric saying that they’ll foot the bill for any unexpected expenses, which we’ll put in a box at the counting house. With an eventual payday of twenty thousand gold pieces upon our successful return.”

“Building on what Mel said; Halak’s a powerful druid and was willing to work with humankind. What’s more, he’s respected by those under his command, and is charismatic enough of a leader that he’s swayed no small number of orcs to his cause. I want to raise him and his faction up as a power in the barbaric lands, and undermine their orcish enemies. Both to take the orcs as a weapon away from the Council, and because I view uniting the disparate orcish hordes under a man who has fought alongside and voiced respect of humans as an end to itself.”

Baseless paranoia in the gameplay thread.

Perhaps not entirely unrelatedly, we had our first session of Rappan Athuk a few days ago, and I didn't mention it then. So far we've avoided any deaths in the party, and while you might not initially be impressed by that seeing as we've yet to actually enter the dungeon, I'm rather proud of it. We did go through a grueling random encounter against a pair of ghasts and fifteen ghouls at level three, but since two thirds of the party can fly and the third is a warforged immune to paralysis and sporting a bit of DR, the only person in serious danger was the druid's animal companion. All things considered, I'd love to have a few more deceptively easy (if time consuming) fights like that, and put a few levels under our collective belts.

Muse takes a moment to read the note Mel got. "Hm. That makes sense. I can do cloak and dagger, with a little advance warning. But . . . now that I mention cloaks and daggers, I think I'm going to tell Tiyeri where we'll be and why. Recent events have me somewhat on edge vis-à-vis precisely how far we can trust the rulers of our nations. I've no specific reason to distrust the bishop, but I'd have said the same thing about the Council and King Stephan, which shows what I know. And all this is assuming that we can gave you that message at their word that they speak for who they say they speak for - and that isn't something I'm altogether certain of. Captain van Beem was working with the Reaps in Helm, and they've proven themselves distressingly on top of things."

To Halak he muses, "While if there were a way to pass beneath notice, I wouldn't mind having you and your warriors backing us up, I can't think of a way to pull that off. Would you be able to keep your warriors on board the ship until we've spoken with the bishop and or have been assassinated?"

Muse and company, who now that they were all garbed appropriately for the occasion were just now setting out to gather everyone who wanted to speak with the bishop, run into Mel on her way out of the Cozy Badger and joins his posse with hers.

How much was the Sonder getting paid to hunt down a dangerous pirate? Muse didn’t ask at the time, but I assumed everyone was at least being paid adequately for their time, let alone the inherent risk.

If we weren’t paid enough to cover the damages incurred and still feed the crew and their families, Muse will raise holy hell at the bishop until someone other than him pays for it (also, while I don’t know the specifics in this setting I imagine that something as expensive as a sailing ship would be insured). Something I’d be happy to handwave is saying that the Sonder’s total profit for bagging van Beem - after paying the crew - was 5,200 gp, which Muse spent fixing the boat and clothing Halak’s team.

Regarding outfitting orcs, 200 gp sounds about right; I imagined that it’d cost 165 gp - as much as sixteen adventurer’s outfits. It’s what Muse is wearing, and I doubt he’d bother outfitting them fancier than he did himself.

Quite a tale! Not sure if I believe it myself. Luckily you have a band of orcs as living proof. Otherwise that would just get you a free drink for a good story

I know! Muse is himself half disbelieving.

Unrelated to anything in particular - that 3.5 character I made for Rappan Athuk is built. Has been for a while, actually, but I forgot to tell everyone here.

You'd have to be stupid or desperate to venture into the Dungeon of Graves, and with 8 wisdom and fresh out of prison without a penny to their name (I borrowed from another PC to afford to have spent a stint in the Otyugh Hole), Alex Summercorn is both.

As of level three they're an Incubus/Succubus on one side of the Gestalt, and a Wizard/Cleric/Barbarian on the other. For feats (I took two flaws) I'm rocking Precocious Apprentice, Sanctum Spell, Power Attack (using a wizard variant that trades Scribe Scroll for a combat feat), Fell Drain (which I can't use yet, but - goals), Knowledge Devotion (cloistered cleric), Travel Devotion (cloistered cleric), Extend Spell (which I got from the planning domain), and Mindsight. For class features I took Abrupt Jaunt, Lion's Pounce, and Whirling Frenzy. My three Incubus/Succubus alternate forms are skulk (for +15 racial bonus to hide), human, and aquatic elf.

The goal is to use Mindsight to avoid encounters we can't win before they even happen. When a fight breaks out, I plan to use a polearm along with Travel Devotion and Abrupt Jaunt to avoid ever being hit, while dealing decent damage (after all, I'm a pouncing barbarian with a two-handed weapon). Next level, though, which will be a level of Psychic Warrior, my damage output will become somewhat more respectable - I'll take the feat Divine Might to add my charisma (currently +7 and it's only getting higher) to damage - at that point I'll be able to pounce in, attack twice for 2d4+10+knowledge devotion and power attack, and then use Travel Devotion to move away. They'll take an AoO closing, and then if they hit I'll Abrupt Jaunt to make it so they didn't.

Fifth level is bard, and then I'll go into Incantatrix (using Precocious Apprentice and Sanctum Spell to qualify). I'll get the ability to Persist my Spells at the same time that I get third level spells - I'll use it to Persist as many castings of Cloud of Knives as I can cast, adding Knowledge Devotion and Divine Might damage to each of them. Once I've got Arcane Thesis, I'll make them Fell Drain as well. At eleventh level I'll abandon my wizard progression in favor of Divine Chord to swap my casting stat to Charisma in time to learn some save or dies worth casting.

While Eastman's fitting Suhgorim, he catches up with his one-time first mate. They converse, which is to say, trade insults they don't mean.

"Why in hell'd you go and shave your face, kid? If I'd a face like yours, well, I'd wear a veil, but a bit of face-hair's the next best thing."

Muse rubs his woefully barren chin. "If I had a face like yours, I'd disguise self myself. So you know, I did not make this regrettable fashion choice by choice - some son of a bugbear wizard lit my head on fookin' fire. I healed the burns, but, to my eternal woe and dismay, positive energy can't bring back facial hair. I've been keeping it trim since . . . I'll have to wait for it to grow back the normal way and I do not wish to be seen in some awkward state of transition."

"Sympathy," Eastman grunts. "What'd you do to piss off a wizard, anyway? Insult his man-dress? And, if you don't mind my asking, why in the lightless depths of hell am I plying my trade for what seem to all senses but the common one to be sixteen orcish raiders?" The old man grows more serious as he talks. He might sound like he's joking, but he wants answers. "Last thing I hear, you're getting paid to bring in van Beem like you were a bounty hunter. Then the Sonder gets back without you on it, Brickenden's dead, Torval says you're off to gods know what but they'll be sailing back out to the Barbaric Lands to extract you when repairs are done. The hell happened out there, Brolin?"

"Ah." Muse is pensive. "It's . . . rather a long story. Did I ever mention that I wound up speaking with Bishop Claudius himself, about those suspiciously well informed pirates? Well, I did. And . . . like in that old story where a girl falls down a rabbit hole into this whole other realm where nothing makes sense, or where everything makes sense but only by some foreign, abberant logic, I found myself in some nightmare realm just alongside the world we live in, where heads of states vie for dominion and rogues like the Reapers and van Beem vie for the crumbs that fall. The Bishop's the one who chartered the Sonder to ferry Captain Blackskull, her marines, and two Bishopric agents with their own agendas to Captain van Beem, because they needed a fast ship for the job and there weren't any suitable in the Navy. I can't even tell you why it is the Bishop wanted van Beem, or why he wanted her alive, because that's a secret that could spark a war if it got out. Or at least accelerate one. But it sounded impressive enough, dire enough, that I took the job. I don't even know if I regret it. I'm reserving judgement on that for after I learn what the Bishop learned from that pirate. Just got back today, after all."

"The way I heard the story, you're the one who beat van Beem. Shield to the side of her head, dropped like a sack of flour."

Muse is far from exultant in that small victory. He pulls his flask from his pocket and stares at it. "Well, I had help. But yeah."

"You're a legend in the pubs."

"Hm." He drinks.

"But why didn't you sail home with the Sonder?"

"More cloak and more dagger. There's a dwarf named Kazador, called the clanless. He's a warrior, a mage, and a fookin' force of nature on the battlefield. He's also nobility in hiding, from a city-state that was overrun by orcs. I swore that I wouldn't tell anyone where his city was hidden, but that's kind of a pointless promise now - we barely made it out of there before the whole place collapsed. There's nothing left of it at all. We went there to retrieve certain items that were by rights Kazador's own, hidden at the heart of the dead city. But en route we met . . . a band of murderers. They were vying for dominion or vying for crumbs, I don't honestly know. Either way, they tried to kill us. Rather a few times, actually. That's where I lost my beard." Muse gestures towards the orcs in the shop. "Halak et al fought with us, and after the city collapsed they sailed with us back to Helm. I came here hoping to dress them up so everyone knows that they belong. And, well, I also came here to talk."

With Halak et al more suitably outfitted in fine cloth and brass buttons, stylish hats perched atop their craniums, Muse sets out to gather Mel and everyone else who wants to talk with the Bishop.

Brolin, you're currently holding a Potion of See Invisibility. Could I request that for Mel? That's useful on an archer, and she can't cast it herself (not being a caster).

Definitely! Feel free and take it.

Muse's own potential shopping list is as vast and deep as the sea, but the stuff he really wants are agile for his +1 terbutje (6,000 gp), a page of spell knowledge: false life (4,000 gp), and a page of spell knowledge: longarm (1,000 gp). For those counting at home, that's 11,000 gold pieces, so we'll see how much of that is feasible after the wealth is split.

On their way to pick up some nifty new clothes, Captain Muse drops by the Sonder to say a quick hello and check on the progress of the ship's repairs, and considers making a pitstop by the Public Counting House to drop off some of the gold he's carrying, but in view of that Halak and his crew are themselves in view, he concludes both that a pickpocket would have to be mad to come anywhere near him, and that the bank would have to be mad to let his little company inside.

So it is that he makes his way to Eastman's Livery Emporium to outfit some orcs. Muse keeps the straightest of faces as he watches old Eastman's own expression at the dozen-odd furred and armored orcish outlanders who just trudged into his shop and abode.

"Brolin." the old man states with all the condescending longsuffering Conrad Eastman can muster. Which is rather a lot. He perfected the art of sounding impatiently patient a lifetime ago as Captain Conrad Eastman of the Salt Dragon.

Captain Muse grins. "Miss me? No, no, don't answer that. Look, this is Halak, Wudugog, Dumburz, Gnarlug, Kodagog, Opkagut, Targhed, Oghuglat, Ohulhug, Sahgorim, Gat, Bandagh, Mergigoth, Vakgu, Zaraugug, and Dular. Gat, Suhgorim, Ohulhug, Oghuglat, Targed, Opkagut, Kodagog, Gnarlug, Dumburz, Wudugog, Dular, Zaraugug, Vakgu, Mergigoth, Bandagh, Halak, meet Conrad Eastman. Conrad Eastman, meet Halak, Wudugog, Dumburz, Gnarlug, Kodagog, Opkagut, Targhed, Oghuglat, Ohulhug, Sahgorim, Gat, Bandagh, Mergigoth, Vakgu, Zaraugug, Gnarlug, Dumburz, Wudugog, and Dular. They need something to wear in town."

Eastman shakes his head longsufferingly and chuckles. "I'll see what I can do for you."

. . . I'm lazy . . .

Far from it!

I must admit that the administrivia of splitting pillage is hands-down my least favorite part of Pathfinder, so many thanks for tackling the paperwork in such a large part. Believe me, I am more than content to affix my own shiftless self to your hard work.

I went through the loot sheet myself, and I'll highlight the things I think we should add to the "sell" bucket in blue. Muse plans to keep his +1 heavy shield, since it gives the same AC and is cheaper to enchant. And he doesn't really have any use for a +1 dagger, so I'll highlight that too. There's a few other things that I can't imagine anyone ever actually using, like the oil of magic vestment +1. (Delay Poison? Shillelagh oil? Why do I even have these?) And I don't imagine we have much need for a scroll of Comprehend Languages, when we posses a Staff of Understanding.

Post script: Turion should probably be the person holding the Staff of Understanding. My UMD ain't great, and he doesn't have to use an exhaustible resource just to have spells on his spell list. So mark it on your character sheet, it isn't marked on mine!

Considering carefully Mel's argument, he nods slowly "Alright, but I would like to assign them a guard escort. We get half-orcs from time to time but they are not thought well of by most. Full orcs in traditional warrior garb are going to make a much stronger impression..." Hannady selects one of his men to take the first shift accompanying you. "So where are you heading now?"

"Sounds wise," Muse agrees. "We were actually just about to go buy some less conspicuous togs."

He translates what Hannady said to Halak.

Let's go with diplomacy, to foster longer-lasting goodwill. I'll channel the Marshal to get that spirit-surging goodness on.

Diplomacy: 1d20 + 11 + 3 + 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (8) + 11 + 3 + (1) + 3 = 26

Quietly, Muse responds, "I don't mean to sound to you like I'm talking about children, but I'd rather not leave them on the boat unsupervised. Better to take them all along with their leader and the humans who speak their language then for the ones left behind to wander off by themselves."

Oh boy, Halak and his posse are loose in Helm. This is going to be hilarious. Or, you know, awful. One of those two. Or maybe both.

Yup. :]

Ugh, I just broke made a Facebook account. And not one under a throwaway email made and promptly forgotten to access some game or service but briefly. One with my actual name, that I plan on actually using. I'm officially a cog in the dystopian machine. I feel dirty. I can feel my privacy withering away under it's datamining attentions, like when Pippen looked into the Palaintir and something looked back and saw things that frightened him. It knows things about me, now, like that my gender is "custom", or that I was born in 1916. Sigh.

Muse wears an ear to ear grin. Partly it's because he's glad to be back in Helm, the sights, the smells. Street food and pigshit. And old friends. But mostly it's because he sees people pointing and talking at the surreal sight of more than a dozen orcs tying down a ship of obvious elven make. After all, Captain Muse has his reputation as an eccentric to maintain. If he isn't occasionally in the public eye doing the impossible or at the very least highly implausible, people could come to expect less of him than astounding success.

Halak looks uncertainly at the dock, as do his warriors. "What we do now?"

Various pithy lines wind their way through Muse's cranium before he decides not to try and quip past the language barrier and cultural divide. This might well be Halak's first time in a major city. "A short while ago we bagged a pirate as a special favor to the Bishop. I'd like to follow up on that, see how it turned out. Probably Tiyeri, she's first mate of yonder Sonder, could tell me everything I want to know, but I'm not the sort to turn up his nose at an excuse to trade words with the Head of State that's so ready-made; if I've a little bit of sway with the Bishop of Helm, I'll put it to use securing an audience for your diplomatic force. After that . . ."

He gives Halak a serious look. "Before that, actually, we're going to play a bit of dress up. It's dumb, but the fancier you're dressed the safer people will feel about you. Since you're in a human city, it's best to dress as though you'd always been. If you walk with me, I'll show you somewhere were you can trade coins for clothes."

He addresses the orcs in orcish while they walk down the gangplank. Orc "I've mentioned before that I'm a merchant, yeah? That I buy or trade people for their superfluities and lug them over to distant vistas where I do the whole thing over again? Helm is both a way-stop and a destination for merchants from all over the continent, not to mention that a whole bunch of people live and are employed here year-round. You can find anything in Helm. But that only works because everyone knows that they're safe to live and do business here. There are shoes in Helm that are more comfortable and will last longer than anything you've ever worn, because they were made by someone who's better at making shoes then anyone you've ever known. They got that good at cobbling by practicing for hours every day, every day, instead of growing food or hunting it (they pay farmers and . . . rat catchers for that (eat street food at your own risk, by the way (I seriously, seriously wouldn't recommend it))), instead of making their own clothes (they pay a tailor to do that), even instead of making their own music or protecting their own belongings and territory. They pay professional musicians for that, and fund the Guard with their taxes. You'll hear awesome music in Helm, walk on stone streets and through stone buildings, see works of art that someone spent the better part of their life making, and everywhere you go you'll feel safer for knowing that the implicit threat of the Guard's swords and ropes that hang over all of the Bishopric."

"Or," he sighs, "that's the theory. In practice I rather imagine years of orcish raids on the Bishopric's outskirts have done little to foster goodwill towards orcs. I'll vouch for you, which will help a little, and if the Bishop vouches for you that'll help more. Be courteous, don't pick fights, and by Cayden don't rise to the bait of any fool who tries picking one with you. Mind other people's property, look with your eyes not your hands. If someone won't stop staring at you, just smile and wave. If they try talking to you, say 'I'm terribly sorry and I do beg your pardon, but I speak only one sentence of common and I'm afraid this is it.' Repeat that a few times, get it down. Oh, it means you can't speak human. Yeah, it's a verbose language. Stay in a group, and stick with me or Fyrtor. We can intercede on your behalf."

Muse grins at the sky. This will go well, he promises himself. "Let's go shopping!"

I'm ready.

After the hell that was Kazad Gravr, Muse is intensely glad to be sailing back to Helm. Once back in the capital, he'll have music to face and dole out, but that's later. For now, he breathes deep of the salty air and lets those days of stress fall away. It's refreshing.

When he's off his shift, late in the evening or night, Muse plays a bard for the crew. He tells them about Helm, about it's stone towers that have stood the test of time and the people who've lived in them. Merchants, rogues, bishops, assassins. He tells them about his own life and the ocean, about storms, shoals, pirates, and sea-serpents. And he listens to their stories, trades for their trinkets, watches their memories, and tries to understand them. At times it's as unnerving as it is enlightening. Other times it's as enlightening as it is unnerving. But on occasion it's inspiring, to live out stories of bravery and love, to see firsthand what every sapient has in common.

Late in the predawn morning, when he can't sleep, he studies magic with Dancer. Muse is more accustomed than most to things of perspective shaking scale and history, but it still makes him feel like a little kid. There's so much institutional wisdom that he'd have never puzzled out himself, that it makes what he did teach himself look infantile. It's a strange thing, he reflects, that the more you learn the dumber you feel. But the well traveled sailor has long since resolved to accept that he's ignorant without accepting the ignorance itself, and he sets about learning the ins and outs of his unique brand of sorcery that's so less anomolous than he'd thought with the same attitude he'd bring to learning yet another language or cultural tradition. He knows he'll have to get much better at magic to maximize his impact on the Iustia-Concordat Affair, and Dancer's experience makes him hopeful that he can without spending decades learning clerical magic or wizardry. Other people have walked this path before him, and he's nowhere near the top of the power ladder. It makes him hopeful that he might stand to change the course of future events.

And so it is that Muse feels refreshed, inspired, and if not optimistic for the future at least more so than he was upon spying through his eyeglass the Bishopric of Helm.

No, but seriously. You must be starting at a pretty high level to make all of that even remotely feasible. Just keep your base classes in balance and you'll be fine.

We’re starting at third level, but the monstrous multiclass nightmare wasn’t something that took long to come online - it’s just that there’s very little incentive to stick with a class and in gestalt you can only take a prestige class on one side or the other, so it wound up fairly dip-tastic. Unfortunately, it had seven levels of wizard (five more levels than I was planning on taking in any other base class, which was curtains for the concept. I might try to rework Dr. McDoeverything to use less classes and/or to be something with wizard as a favored class, but that leads to a lot of duplicated effort anyway. Might as well specialize, and try out a different exciting subsystem every time I have to roll up a new character!

Gotta say, though, enforcing the multiclass XP penalties is a sadistic move on the GM's part.

I’m not too upset. We’re deliberately invoking an old-timey feel. He offered to waive the costs on crafting magic items, and the player rolling an artificer specifically requested he not. The one concession we’ve made to modern/user-friendly game design is fractional bonus progression, because not using it gets kind of messy.

Do have fun.

Thanks, I plan to. :D

About that 3.5 character! I was building a pretty horrific barbarian/swordsage/factotum/dragon shaman/crusader/wizard/bard/fist of the forest/deep warden/sublime chord/ur-priest/mystic theurge, but then we had a session zero and I found out we were using multiclass exp penalties. :(

Also I found out what everyone else is playing and decided to build a character that synergizes with the rest of the party, so. :/

Whatever, I'm sure I'll get my chance to play a factotum/swordsage at some point. This is Rappan Athuk, characters'll be dropping like flies! For now I'm running the Incubus/Succubus monster class from Savage Species on one side, and going crusader/barbarian/wizard/bard into sublime chord on the other. Put that lovely racial +12 CHA to good use throwing down save or dies, take AoOs with a polearm, and use martial maneuvers with my swift and immediate actions.

Kudos and good luck, Fyrtor! I don't have time for another game, but I might read your thread like a lurker in the light.

About that face to face game, though! We'll be playing Rappan Athuk with a party of three - I plan to build as versatile and survivable a character as I can, and I expect it won't be sufficient. Betimes Rappan Athuk is a slightly unfair. For a bit more background and context, two of the players (including myself) and the GM were part of an . . . I want to say part of a nine or more person party who failed to clear the Dungeon of Graves waaay back in the day. Dying (repeatedly) in Rappan Athuk is one of my earlier gaming memories, I think I was like twelve. It'll be nostalgic!

I'll definitely show off the build when I'm done with it. :)

I tend to make pretty weird builds myself, mostly because I want to fit every idea I have into every character I make. I play so infrequently that the character concepts pile up faster than I could ever use them, so I think it's only reasonable to try combining wherever possible.

Speaking of weird builds, though - I might be playing in a face to face game soon! It's 3.5, which I haven't played in forever, and gestalt, which I've GMd but never actually played. I don't know when I'll next (or if I'll ever) get to play 3.5 again, so I'm trying to merge all the ideas I've ever had for the system into one Frankensteinien abomination, and it's fun.

Nope, GM’s the one answering these questions - mechanically all Muse did was use a supernatural ability that works like call spirit with a few differences.

Muse is down for side conversations if anyone has anything they’ve been wanting to discuss, or he’d also be happy to just shoot the breeze.

Hey, since we're doing several scenes concurrently despite temporal dissimilarity, I imagine Algric can ask his questions too! Kazador, feel free to assume any of Muse's actions needed to get that scene rolling. Algric gets eight questions, since that's Muse's caster level.

Fyrtor, thanks again so much for keeping track of loot. Bookeeping is my bane (which makes Muse's choice of class somewhat ironic . . . but I digress). Muse's character sheet and profile have already been updated to include the +3 amulet of natural armor, so if someone else wanted that they should have spoken up at the time (or they could speak up now. That's cool too.) If no one else wants that handy haversack, Muse would not be at all adverse to grabbing it - but that's a weak preference, since he'll be picking up some manner of extra-dimensional storage space or other once we're back in Helm anyway.

In Muse's traveled opinion, there's nothing in civilization or nature like a sunset over the sea. He's seen so many paintings that try and capture it, even tried his hand at making one himself (as a practiced illusionist, he's got a rather excellent visual memory and is good at drawing things from it - but he's no good at all at the mixing of paints and ultimately the painting didn't turn out how he wanted it to). But nothing compares to the actual thing, and after all these years they can still take his breath away.

As the light fades, Muse ties himself to a chair in a private room beneath the deck of the ship. Fyrtor with his sword stands in front of him. Algric waits outside.

"Alright," the captain says. "Let's begin."

Fyrtor, you can ask eight questions.

Oh! It's worth noting that Muse cast false life this morning.

false life: 1d10 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

"This isn't a pleasure cruise - I don't plan on setting anchor until we reach Helm. We've got a crew of twenty-two able hands, albeit mostly inexperienced ones, and most of us see better in the night than in the day. Once everything is sorted and things are moving well enough without constant oversight, we'll all start sleeping and working in shifts. Tonight, though, I plan to summon your father's spirit, and Algric's son."

Taking ten on that profession check with a +2 from his anytool for a total of 21

Muse wakes up to the rhythmic rocking of a boat, which feels really damn good after so long on land - and under it. He's almost skipping as he makes his way to the deck.

Seeing the sorry condition the boat is in after being left for days to the elements almost dampens his mood. But he's in his own element, and he'll have this ship in it's own soon enough. "All hands on deck, get on the deck!" he jubilantly shouts. "We need to get this ship ship-shape if we're going to sail it back to Helm!"

Muse wants to tell someone to fetch a broom and sweep the deck, because things are crunching beneath his boots and that is a thing that should not be. Unfortunately, no one on this boat is actually under his command. His comrades are the only ones he really trusts to do anything particularly important, and he doubts any of the orcs would appreciate being told to do such a menial task, at least not before he's earned their trust. Such is the burden of leadership, he thinks, turning his own anytool into a broom - he was already planning on pacing up and down the deck telling people what to do and how to do it, so he might as well knock some dirt and leaves into the deep while he's at it. Cayden knows he's not going to keep stepping in it, like some kind of slob.

Addressing the assorted orcs and landsfolk in languages they know, Muse gives everyone some version or other of the following speech - "I want the each of you to feast your eyes on the drink around us. I don't mean to be melodramatic, but that's your grave. It's already been dug, and it's a hell of a lot deeper than six feet. If you pitch over the side you'll be following millions of pioneers to the watery depths of hell, and if you capsize us I'll hold you under until you drown and float to safety on a raft I made of your bloated corpse. The ocean is a dangerous place even to old hands, and I want all new hands to regard it like they would a monster so big it's insatiable maw stretches from the Iustia to Avinoax - the long way around. Don't let our current good fortune and clear weather fool you! You're in a war zone fighting a war unlike you've ever fought before, and if you want to live long enough to learn the ropes you'll listen to the veteran sailors on board. Of which there's approximately just the one. So if I tell you to do something that doesn't make sense to you, you do it anyway and I'll explain why when we aren't in immediate pressing danger. And, hey, when you've lived as long as I have you'll get to boss around landsmen too. Which is always fun."

With that he assigns the varied crew to varied tasks, manning the tiller and trimming the sails and running the pumps and striking the flag and checking the ropes and cooking food and scrubbing the whole damn thing with soapstone and lye. Muse himself winds up doing a little bit of everything, a whole lot of teaching, and some loaning out of his anytool since he doesn't know where anything is on this boat do these elves have any organizational system at all oh thanks Kelian you're a lifesaver. He takes note of who all among this motley crew responds the fastest and grasps new ideas the quickest, and organizes teams so that he has at least one reliable person on every absolutely vital task. By the time the boat's smooth sailing on the open ocean (though still within sight of land - and making sure the landing boat was ready to drop was pretty much the first thing he did) Muse is utterly exhausted. He'd console himself saying that at least the groundwork is laid and things will be easier going forward, but the ocean's unpredictable and that isn't at all certain.

Fyrtor comes up to him, fresh from a shift at the pumps (Muse isn't particularly concerned with the amount of water the ship's taking on but he's altogether upset with the amount that it's taken on, there aren't any major leaks he can find but there's still a few days' brackish backlog to work through) and the ship's cleric asks the captain a question.

"I call them ghosts or memory spirits, but I'm not insistent on terminology, seeing as I made most of it up myself. When a mortal dies their souls move on to the afterworlds, but there memories are left behind. Sometimes these memories congeal into one being, sometimes they scatter but I can pull them back together. More powerful mages can reunite memory, soul and body . . . which raises a philosophical question. Who are you if not your thoughts, emotions, and experience? If someone loves and hates all the same people as you do, has all the same hopes and dreams you do, how at all can they be a different person? You could put me in a different body, and it wouldn't change who I am. Some philosophers disagree, but I think that if you somehow replaced my soul with someone else's, the person with my memories would have a better claim to being me, even if an angrier me or a more pious me, than someone with my admittedly fantastic soul and their own comparatively lackluster mind. So, who is the spirit that I'd summon from your sword, with all your father's opinions and memories and mind? It's your dad."

By repetition you are somewhat convincing me to let Brolin control his out-of-control self with my directives. But no promises. Never promises. ;)

Hey, that's more than I hoped for! Of course, there's nothing saying we can't combine the two ideas and get the best part of both - a sort of joint control where I play the spirits under your directives regularly, but you take over whenever your gamemastering knowledge and instincts compel you to.

Ah, it seems that we're in perfect agreement. It's one of the big reasons why I think it'd be cool if when possessed the GM PMd me instructions and I got to follow them - seeing them enact their own agenda, especially an agenda thought up by a different mind than the one behind one Brolin Muse, would be (as the youth are wont to say) amazeballs.

Btw...Brolin. Have you considered possessed hand and its feat chain?

As far as feats go, I plan on taking bodyguard and then that's it as far as planning goes - there's no long trees I particularly need, so the build is open from level nine onward. Possessed hand looks flavorful and fun, like a combination of weapon focus and quickdraw when you really need it, but hand's autonomy is a rough feat tax to swallow on someone who doesn't TWF, so that's probably as far as I'd go with the chain. Thanks for pointing it out!

What I'm trying to say: It can work remarkably well to outsource the string puppet to the one blocked from playing his regular role for whatever reason.

But as said, I'd think they should be more focused on their own agenda, not just purely benevolent towards Brolin.
Like, I'm glad Legacy helped convince the Orcs, but did HE have reasons for that? Maybe he would have helped, on the promise that at a later time of his choosing, Brolin would give up control to him once more, sealing the contract with us and leaving it to us to explain to Brolin that we conditionally bartered away his freedom. (e.g. when we come to some temple, or in a certain port town, etc...)
That would also allow them more "Screentime" and direct interaction if such is wanted.

Awesome story. :)

Regarding spiritual benevolence, you’ve got to remember that these disembodied souls need Captain Muse more than he needs them - if so inclined he could drop them over the side of his boat and let them live heir centuries in silence, and that wouldn’t even be a crime. Barring extraordinary circumstances (that they’d do their best to create, if it can be done subtly enough!) they have no leverage at all. It’s in their best interest to play nice.

I've been waiting for Mel to have this moment of realization that since . . . the sixth of August?! Wow, it doesn't seem that long ago.

Fyrtor and Turion's conversations are fun to read too.

Yeah I'm open to ideas from Brolin in these scenarios but will still take things in surprising directions from time to time.

I should clarify my line of thought!

Running out one's influence as a Medium is mechanically similar to being dominated, albeit narratively more interesting. But there's two main ways to run being enchanted that I've seen - the first and probably more common manner is for the GM to take over the player's character and have the PC watch from the sidelines as their ragelancepouncer wades through their lesser party folk as you or I might wade through dust mites or tardigrades. The second, and perhaps more interesting manner is for the GM to just tell the trusted player (or better! slip them a note/PM them - no reason here for the other players to know what their characters don't) that they're under a mental compulsion, and what it is their orders are.

I think it'd be fun to roleplay the various spirits while they're in control of the body, though, of course, to better facilitate surprising twists and to remove any chance whatsoever that the ghosts wind up merrily and without complication advancing the goals of Muse and the party (since otherwise there'd be no reason to ration influence at all!) you the GM would give the orders by PM, and I'd carry them out, keeping any secrets from the party that you want me to meanwhile. Beside giving me something to do other than gnaw on the upholstery, this would have the added benefits of giving more screen time to whatever it is that you want the ghosts doing - you may not of realized this, but betimes I can be very verbose - and giving the other players a chance to converse with the various spirits.

I’d say...trust the player? PM with the Gm for instructions on what he’d like to see, and then RP it out. Player gets to play but he loses overall control.

I like this idea!

Weird to think that we made it out of that place, after almost a year and so many close calls.

It was one hell of a story arc, and I'll raise an imaginary glass to the superb GM who GMed it, as well as all of my fellow players!

Might I be so bold as to suggest we rest for the night? We probably don't want to try traversing that bendy river in the dark, especially considering that the party's sailor is somewhat preoccupied.

Muse stares at what's left of Kazad Gravr for long minutes.

Though it's only been a few days it feels altogether too much to him like those few days mark a clean break with his past, like they divide his life into a before and an after. The frenetic battles in the dark, the panic and adrenaline, the exhaustion after and between life and death struggles where he could barely keep his feet under him, the feeling of metal sliding through his innards and pulling them outside him, pushing himself past what he thought were his limits again and again until for sure he thought he would die - these things will stay with him forever. And yet they barely seem to matter, next to all the rest of it. Next to the memories of Kazad Gravr that he'd stewed in. That he'd lived these past few days. That he now wore around his feet and carried in his pockets, so that he'd never be free to forget them - they say to study history or find yourself repeating it, and there are more important things in this world than blissful ignorance. And next to the friends he'd descended into hell alongside, and who'd all suffered so immensely that he feels positively ridiculous moping about on his own behalf.

None of them were the same people that they'd been, entering Kazad Gravr. And while he'd been pushed past his limits until they were wee little specks on the horizon behind him, he wished he could say he was a stronger person for the ordeal. But in truth he felt less sure of himself than he'd been since he was a little child, unsure of his place in the world and unsure of what steps he should take next. Fitting, he thinks, that I started this walking inland of my own volition, and I end it with someone else walking me to sea. Maybe it says something symbolic of what happens when I go about broadening my horizons.

Here's to you, he thinks, raising an imaginary flask to imaginary lips. And he turns his back on Kazad Gravr.

Kudos on a well-written botched diplomacy roll on Turion's part!