Corwyn Silvermane's page

I'd love to join this one, and will throw my Swashbuckler 1 / Gunslinger (Mysterious Stranger) 1 into the mix. Good luck everyone!

Ha! I forgot my own last name! Yes, Silvermane is correct. I think I originally had Siverwolf, but since I'm a kitsune I changed it a bit. :) Your expenditure on the cold iron chakram is just fine. Thanks!

Oh! Should we do Day Job rolls? I don't think I ever used my reroll...

Profession (Sailor) Check DRR: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17

Eh, I'll let the roll stand.

Corwyn is still feeling a bit lost on exactly what happened back in Mercy. "Uh... yeah, and Amenira is a doll now, by the way. She came with us, so she's around somewhere. Spooked me a little bit when we found her lurking under the bed. The townsfolk are a strange bunch, they worship a big tree that was apparently dying because they were accidentally poisoning it, or something like that. Not sure how it relates to this Verdant Spark plant we found, I trust Thornberry's opinion on that - she was talking it after all. Oh yeah, and there was some kind of mutant gnoll we fought on our way to Mercy. That's where we found the cave where the cloaker thing - the villagers called it a vampire - killed Amenira. There was some kind of shrine there too. Azthoth, right?" The swashbuckler glances around to confirm his memory. "Anyway, I guess she somehow transferred her soul into the doll? I'm a little shaky on the details, there. Either way, she somehow got to Mercy where we found her."

Corwyn is glad to have helped the villagers and relaxes for the remainder of the journey - though he gives Ardain a wide berth, just in case the disease is contagious...

Thanks for the game, folks! I have no problem chipping in to help cure Ardain if it's needed.

Thornberry manages to take the slenderest of cuttings from the Spark. As he does so, the more perceptive party members notice the vines in the chamber writhe and twist ominously, and a pungent odor seep up from the floor...

...but it passes.

You heading out?

This was the odor to which I was referring - it was mostly for flavor as I have no idea ICly if it was responsible for having to make the saving throw - but the timing seemed about right, anyway...

Sorry, got busy with the holidays and the couple of days back to work right after!

Corwyn coughs as the pungent odor overtakes him, and he makes his way out, covering his mouth with his arm.

Fort Save DRR: 1d20 ⇒ 14
No modifier, as the -2 washes out with the +2 I get from my CON modifier

Ehhh.... I'll stick with that roll. No guarantees a reroll would be any better!

"Part plant, eh? I guess that helps explain things. If moving this plant around will cause the infected townsfolk to die, it seems like we had better leave it where it is, right? As you said, maybe the folks here will be a little more open to having visitors around - especially Pathfinders considering the service we've done in killing that cloaker-vampire thing."

Once the words of the tree are translated properly, Corwyn asks in a tone of confusion. "What is a Ghoran? Is that some kind of a fey creature? Or a fairy? Are the saplings the children of the village?"

Apologies if I'm being a bit slow on the uptake here. So is this creature somehow changing the kids into Ghorans?

"Wow. That is quite beautiful." Corwyn speaks when he sees the glowing seedling. "If that tree up there is dying from the rot, can this one be used to replace it? Or maybe heal it somehow? If it is that tree they worship which protects this town from the mana storm, this village is going to be out of luck soon unless they either find a way to heal it or find another tree with the same powers. This seedling might be the answer to their prayers." The swashbuckler waits to hear what the gnome has to say. Is she... talking to the seed? His eyes widen at the thought.

Though Corwyn knows next to nothing about magic, Jack and Yanda's report about the grey-colored potion is intriguing to the swashbuckler. "Could that be some kind of natural extract from the tree or something? Or maybe those nuts these villagers are harvesting? If they offer protection from all of those kinds of magic, it might explain how this village survives these mana storms."

Doing his best to ignore the thrill of fear that courses through his body, Corwyn shouts. "Oh no you don't!", as the thing drops Nira and flies toward the cave mouth.

Rapier Attack DRR: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (18) + 4 = 22 vs AC
Rapier Damage DRR: 1d6 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1 Piercing
Miss Chance DRR: 1d100 ⇒ 3 (01-20 = Miss!)
Includes -2 penalty to attack/damage

Darn it, the miss ruined my chance of a crit! :(

Corwyn grits his teeth, not liking the idea of harming both this cloaker and the doll that it is wrapped around - but the swashbuckler doesn't see that he has a choice. Stepping forward, he thrusts his rapier into the creature.

Rapier Attack DRR: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23 vs AC
Rapier Damage DRR: 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5 Piercing

Will use Parry if the cloaker decides to attack him (concealed below if needed, if not just ignore)

Perception Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (16) - 1 = 15 vs DC 15 = Success!
"Strange place for trees to grow... this can't be normal. Hey, is that an alcove of some kind back there, behind the vines?" Gesturing with his rapier at the exact wrong moment, Corwyn is slow to react to the sudden danger - and though he hears the dark, twisted words of whatever creature lurks ahead he cannot understand them. Then Jack translates and Yanda throws one of her fire bombs. "Wow, that's a mouthful alright. You might want to pick another cute nickname." The swashbuckler ripostes verbally, ready to attack with either the rapier or the chakram at his side...

That's a habit of mine from my own pbp board, it means 'Dice Roll Result', I'll stop using it if it bugs you. As far as action, will wait until my initiative comes up before either moving in for a melee attack or dropping the sunrod and making a ranged attack with the chakram.

Corwyn heads down after Jack...

Climb Check DRR: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
Climb Check DRR: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Ha! Crit and then a fumble. Ain't that typical? Since I'm unsure of the DC because of the slippery conditions, I'm going to go ahead and use 1 panache point to roll a d6 and add to that second roll, since there is no auto-failure on a '1' for a skill check.

'Derring Do' DRR: 1d6 ⇒ 3

If this still results in a fall, making an Acrobatics check here to avoid damage. If the '5' results in a 'no progress' instead, the following roll will be his second Climb check - but only +1 to the roll (resulting in '15')

Acrobatics Check DRR: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (14) + 10 = 24

Finally reaching the bottom after an embarrassing slip-up near the end of his climb, the swashbuckler gains his feet (one way or the other) and then snatches up his sunrod, taking a look around as he mutters about the perils of slippery roots.

Corwyn is lighting a sunrod and dropping it down there, per my last post. That should give us low-light vision folks more than enough to see with.

Corwyn grins at the others. "I can see well enough in the dark, but this is ridiculous." The swashbuckler reaches into his backpack and withdraws a slim rod that he ignites, light flaring from the sunrod brightly. He drops it into the crevice, lighting up the area so he and other others without darkvision can make the descent. The climb doesn't look terribly difficult so long as he takes his time, so after taking a moment to make certain that there are no bats or cloakers rushing hiding down there, he starts down.

Perception Check DRR: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

If there are no threats present (that he can see anyway), will 'Take 10' to climb down, giving him a modified Climb check of 11. Once at the bottom, he draws his rapier and readied his buckler, picking up the sunrod with his buckler hand and taking another look around.

Corwyn shrugs. "Let the doll come along, maybe she'll be able to figure out what's going on, if her memory continues to return as it seems to be doing. But we need to figure out where to start looking, first. The cave? Or someplace else?"

Will keep current weaponry, then.

Yikes, be careful out there Jack! I presume you must be in the L.A. area (unless there are rampant fires elsewhere that haven't made national news).

Corwyn is bewildered at first, but then seems to focus his attention and nods his understanding as the others impart their knowledge and the sheriff seems to come around in helping them rather than hindering. "I'm not one to let a vampire terrorize innocent townfolk. I'll offer my help in putting that thing down, whatever it is." When the doll begins to speak, the swashbuckler looks at Nira with troubled eyes. "Did that thing... that cloaker kill you? Did it somehow turn you into this?"

Whatever the answer, Corwyn regards the others thoughtfully. "That cave we found had tracks outside belonging to something like Nira here. You think maybe that's where this cloaker lairs?" Turning to Ardain, he asks. "Can normal weapons hurt something like this? I've heard you need silver to hurt vampires. Or is that a werewolf?" He strokes his finely groomed mustache thoughtfully, trying to recall the details and momentarily forgetting his question...

Hmm... seems to me that maybe cold iron might be needed here. If the blacksmith has a cold iron rapier to sell, Corwyn will purchase that. If not, even a cold iron short sword will do.

Corwyn looks around. "What's going on? Is that the vampire?" The swashbuckler points toward the caped figure briefly, then he doffs his backpack and reaches in to grab the cold iron chakram he'd purchased from the blacksmith earlier.

That is my action for this round. No bothering to roll Perception to figure out what's going on, as my modifier is only +1!

With a shrug, Corwyn follows after. There are still a lot of unanswered questions. He wonders if a plant creature would have a different definition of 'vampire' than a flesh and blood creature.

Deciding that the sheriff at least seems a bit forthcoming than he was earlier, Corwyn decides to be a bit more... direct about their reasons for coming here. "As the others have said, we are here to help, if we can, and to look for our missing friend Amenira. We have reason to believe she has... well... um... 'changed' somehow. Into a doll, in fact. Is such a thing possible? If you could provide us with answers, it would mean a lot to her family to know what truly happened to her."

I rolled a Diplomacy check above that doesn't seem to have been factored in yet, if that's any help?

Corwyn is dumbstruck when he walks into the house. Why is the girl a plant? Is this normal? What does it have to do with the mana storms? And the vampire? The questions swirl in his head, seeking release.

The swashbuckler steps forward, trying to help despite his confusion. "We are here to help, if we can. Will you start from the beginning? Why is your child a... plant of some kind? Will she transform entirely given time?" He echoes Jack's questions, and suspects he already knows the answer, given the mother's words, but he wonders if the parents are truly fine with the idea or if they have somehow been brainwashed... "Does the big tree have something to do with all of this? Does the ointment somehow assist with this transformation?" Corwyn's voice is smooth and charming, despite his inner turmoil.

Diplomacy Check DRR: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (17) + 6 = 23

Corwyn calls out to the person behind the door. "We're really quite good at helping those in trouble. If you'd be kind enough to speak with us for a bit, I'm sure you'll find that out for yourself. We believe our friend is in some sort of trouble herself, and she spoke highly of you in her last letter."

Bluff/Diplomacy Check DRR: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12

Unfortunately, the swashbuckler is slightly distracted by the paladin heading out into the squash garden with an intent look on his face, and so he isn't quite at his most charming.

Corwyn follows along, his eyes flickering toward the doll when it speaks - something that the swashbuckler still finds more than a little creepy. He glances at Yanda as she asks if Nira remembers anything more.

Wisdom Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12

Even as she asks, Corwyn remembers a minor detail about their first encounter with the doll and asks the others. "Hey. Uh... Did anyone ever decipher that note Nira gave us? I couldn't make heads or tails of it, myself. Was it magical? Maybe it has something to do with this place, if she was investigating the weaver?"

Looks like it required Read Magic to interpret it, which Corwyn obviously doesn't have. Did anyone ever take a look at it?

Corwyn seems momentarily startled when Yanda calls him out. "Uh... yeah... well... actually, this is my human form." He waves at his body awkwardly. "I can't really make myself like someone in particular. My natural form is very different. Yeah, basically a bipedal fox with silver hair and a tail!" The swashbuckler trails off with a faint smile on his face. "You know, it's been a long time since I've taken my natural form. I guess I've kind of gotten accustomed to this one. In any case though, I can't disguise myself as a villager, not unless they have a silver-haired kitsune among them." He adds with a grin.

Unless I'm misunderstanding the Kitsune class feature - Physical Description: A kitsune has two forms—a single human form and its true form, that of a humanoid fox. So it's not really like a Disguise Self spell or anything like that.

"Ah! That is perfect! Thank you, kind sir. May your business here thrive." Tucking the chakram away into his pack after paying the 2 gold coins, the swashbuckler listens to the others ask the tradesman a few questions, and then follows up with one of his own. "Is it Robori that protects you from those great storms I've heard about that ravage these lands? That must be something to see!" He takes note of the blacksmith's interaction with the gnome and considers the look he gave the doll.

Sense Motive Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12

Hmm... He looked specifically at the doll in her hands when Thornberry mentioned Amenira?

As the others search for signs of the children that the swashbuckler never even glimpsed, he wanders around the area, eager to move on. The hostilities at least seem to have diminished, and it isn't long before Corwyn's curiosity get the better of him. Approaching the blacksmith involved in the altercation, he tries to 'talk shop' as best he can. "Greetings, I'm new in town and though my weapons were confiscated, I'm bet... err... thinking you might be pretty good at making something I'd like to buy. Ever hear of a chakram? Lovely weapon, it's disc-like, you see. Sharpened all around, except for where you grip it. I'd like one crafted of cold iron though, to match my other one. If I had it, I could give you a better idea of what I'm looking for..." He rambles on a bit like this, and if the fellow doesn't seem interested in weapons he'll switch to whatever topic the blacksmith might want to talk about. Horseshoes, nails, the melting point of iron, or even the craziest request for a job he's ever heard. Once he's got the fellow talking, the swashbuckler then broaches the topic of interest to him, the real reason that he wandered over. "So... what was that little spat with the carpenter all about? I'd have thought a couple of skilled craftsmen like yourselves would be talking over your respective businesses over a cold beer, not arguing in the street like you were."

Diplomacy Check DRR: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Trying to get the fellow to open up a bit about the ongoing feud between the carpenters and the blacksmiths.

"Sure! Let's go. Bandaged, you say? I can't imagine these people would hurt their own children, would they?" The swashbuckler quickly hustles after Yanda, intending to keep her safe in case there is a threat. Though he realizes with a twinge that he only has his dagger. Though if hard-pressed, he could fight with more than that. And it's not the locals would have any contact with pirates, right? Unlikely. Still, he has become very fond of this human form he's taken. Reverting to his given nature would be quite odd after all this time. And it would very likely ruin his clothes. A distracted frown settles upon his handsome face, unusual for Corwyn's typical attitude.

Corwyn is mystified at the arguments, whispering to the others. "Looks like we've got a glimpse of what Amenira wrote about. But... why? Blacksmiths and carpenters? Are their guilds so powerful in a village like this one?"

Perception Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (15) - 1 = 14

Not the most cunning of souls, in response to Yanda's words the swashbuckler starts craning his head around. "Huh? Where?"

No blue! Here is my outfit description on my character sheet "sturdy boots, black leather breeches and belt, a white shirt with a black vest, black gloves, and a dark red cloak - all with plenty of pockets, as well as a wide-brimmed hat" I guess I never specified hat color, but figure it's not blue - it would clash with the look he's going for!

I like the idea of spying on the ceremony tonight. Might be time to break curfew now that we have some ideas of what we're looking at and what mysteries we are trying to solve. Not sure if there's anything left to explore today other than maybe getting some more information from the locals about this supposed vampire, so maybe we fast forward to tonight after we get that information? Or is there another place to explore?

Corwyn's eyes had been glazing over as the priestess spoke, and though the story of the protective trees starts to bring him around, her response to the vampire question causes his eyes to widen. "So there IS a vampire! Where does it live? What does it look like?" The swashbuckler either didn't hear or already forgot that she believes it is bad luck to speak of the creature.

Corwyn finds it odd they are discussion their mission so... openly in front of the priestess, but the swashbuckler figures they know what they're doing. Also, it might force an interesting reaction. Without any useful to add to the debate, he watches the priestess carefully as his companions speak.

Sense Motive Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17

Corwyn marvels at the twisted tree, having seen nothing like it.

Survival Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (3) - 1 = 2

He peers around with curiosity, but with no real clue as to what he's seeing. The tree looks fine to him, and damn big. Could be a god, he supposes. Wouldn't be the strangest thing he's heard. When those more knowledgeable mention blight and disease, the swashbuckler moves away from the infected area. Who knew if one might be able to catch a disease from a tree god. He listens to what the gardener (priestess?) has to say.

Corwyn shrugs. "So they're talented gardeners? Doesn't sound particularly... you know, threatening."

Did Nira answer Corwyn's question about the supposed feud between the carpenters and the blacksmiths? Or does she not know or remember anything about that?

Corwyn shakes his head. "Maybe it has to do with those mana storms? I mean... something is keeping them away from this town, right? We already know that the villagers worship some kind of a tree like it's a god, isn't that what the sheriff said? What if the tree is some sort of a... protector of some kind? Let's go see where they make these cashews, but I'd like to see that tree as well. And hey, didn't we hear about some kind of trouble between the blacksmiths and the carpenters?"

The swashbuckler turns to the doll and kneels down almost instinctively to speak with it, as though it were a child. "Nira... uhh... Amenira. Do you remember a letter that you wrote some months ago? You mentioned a feud of some kind, between the carpenters and the blacksmiths? Do you remember any details about that?" Corwyn can't imagine why it would be significant, but the letter that the venture captain gave them seemed to indicate it might be.

Corwyn glances around the small patch of scrubland, his nose wrinkling in disgust. "Smells awful! I hope to the gods that there aren't children buried out here."

Perception Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (9) - 1 = 8

Take care of yourself, DM. I know personally quite well how those issues can really mess you up. Stay strong, and know that people care.

Kristoff and Talon, good luck to both of you with your recovery!

Corwyn is sad to hear that Aminera is dead, but not particularly surprised. He and the others need to do something about it, especially if her murderers are in this community somewhere. The fate of the children are equally disturbing to the swashbuckler. Perhaps something can still be done for them, if they are in trouble. "Yes, we need to see this place that you speak of."

"That thing is Ameneira? Huh." Corwyn strokes his mustache in a thoughtful manner as he watches the others look at the note. He glances at it over Ardain's shoulder, but it makes no sense to him. "What does it say? Is that some kind of magical writing?" He is rather wary of Thornberry's reaction to the doll. "You know that's not a toy... right? Uh, Nira? Are there others like you in this town? Other... dolls, I mean? Ones that can walk? And... talk?"

"Yeeaaaagggh!" The swashbuckler shouts heroically as he stumbles backward against the wall, nearly knocking over a table. "What in the Nine Hells is that thing? Uh... Nira? No offense, I mean. I'm just... not used to seeing dolls creep around like that!" Getting himself under control when he sees that it's not trying trip Jack's face off his skull or anything, Corwyn moves forward to stand beside him, hesitantly sheathing his dagger. He lets the wayang lead the investigation into this... creepy situation.

Thanks, DM! That was some awesome timing. And now I won't be sleeping well tonight. :p You certainly live up to your name (and that image of yours...

Corwyn glances under the bed and backs up a step. "Ugh. That thing IS creepy." When Jack suggests one reason for the lack of children, the swashbuckler cringes. "You think so?" He waits for the wayang to retrieve the note clutched in the doll's hand, is own hand resting lightly on the hilt of his dagger.

Corwyn wanders around the cottage, peeking into everything - even if it's beyond his knowledge (which is nearly everything, really...)

Perception Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (18) - 1 = 17 to examine journal

Perception Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (14) - 1 = 13 GM requested roll

Oh shoot, yeah I forgot our weapons are gone! My earlier post should be Corwyn pointing his dagger at the chair, not his rapier.

Corwyn wakes up a couple times during the night, eyeing the chair suspiciously. But he finally drifts off into a deep sleep. In the morning, he readily agrees to visit Amenira's place.

Corwyn watches the tengu stride over to the chair and make as if to sit down. The swashbuckler tenses, as though waiting for the chair to suddenly fold up and swallow Kristoff whole!

Yep, I vote for stay and not cause a ruckus tonight. We've been traveling all day anyway and could probably use the rest. Plus we've just arrived and they'll likely be watching us like hawks. If we don't learn anything tomorrow during the day, likely we can spend time hatching a plan for a nighttime excursion. Looking for good places to hide, maybe trying to spot places where our 'keepers' might be watching us from, etc.

Corwyn's response to Talndreal's words is to immediately draw his rapier, its business end pointed toward the chair. The swashbuckler cocks his head as he stares in confusion at his target. "Huh. Is it... invisible? Or the chair itself? Wait! Is it a ghost? Is there a ghost sitting in that chair? Amenira? Is it you? What have they done to you? Speak, apparition!"

Corwyn frowns, his normally amused grin replaced by a troubled expression. "Something is definitely wrong here, though I can't really say why. You all have noticed more than I. While I dislike the idea of staying cooped up in this house, it might be better to do so tonight and avoid trouble for now. It sounds as though they intend to watch us tonight. Tomorrow morning we can take a look at Amenira's house and go from there."

Wondering if we should just take it easy tonight and get the lay of the land first before we go looking for trouble, after that last comment by the sheriff. But if we want to head out, I'm up for that as well.

Wisdom Check DRR: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (13) - 1 = 12 vs DC 15 = Nope!

Corwyn gazes at the townsfolk with mild curiosity, but gains no insights. He whistles tunelessly as the sheriff leads them to the guesthouse that will apparently be serving as their jail for the night.

No further actions for me!