Creon 18's page

Creon quietly recovers his arrow from the injured bandit.

"Observation: it sounds like we should visit this hermit."

He pauses, his eyelids flickering, a half-remembered fragment of another life.

"It's trapped down there. The godsthing. In the city. This is our chance. Burn it out, from space."

He dodges out of Cadmus' reach. And pushes the button.

"Recommendation: We should fire all these camps, from a distance. Cut them down as they flee. Send more alcohol rather than less. Then fire the stores. Burn them out."

He pauses again.

"Reminder: This wolf creature. Which way did it go?"

Hope you feel better soon. Struggling, uncivilized countries like the US can be very hazardous to people's health.

To be fair to you colonials, it was I think a British plane where I picked it up. Darned imperialists.

Hi - sorry. Got back from a trip to the US and acquired an infection - have been in hospital this last week. Got out yesterday and finally online today. I'm just going round updating my various games; will try and get things back on track tomorrow (but I have a fair bit of catching up to do). Apologies again.

Above his mask, Creon frowns slightly.

Good.

Attack, studied target: 1d20 + 7 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 7 + 1 = 23
+1 if within 30ft, -4 if the target now in melee; if over cover I'll move to somewhere where it isn't
Damage: 1d8 + 5 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 5 + 1 = 13
+1 if within 30ft

(house rule to use dex bonus for damage, in case Marcus is wondering)

Creon notices Prophet's slight change of stance; above his mask, the android's eyes narrow and focus, almost as an unconscious response to the slow ratcheting up of the tension.

Finally ...

His bow is raised, targeted on the man with whom Marcus is speaking.

Creon's not a fan of bandits, nor of priests for that matter, so there may be some sputtering of indignation.

Creon nods to Marcus, picks a target and draws a bow.

No more offers of surrender, please. These vermin deserve to die.

Studied target. What's the distance, please?

I'm fine to follow.

Creon nods, but doesn't speak. He raises his mask back above his face and moves his bow and arrow to readiness once more, following the group on the trail.

Heal: 1d20 ⇒ 8

Creon stares at the bodies, but is none the wiser for it. He nods to Prophet.

"Agreement: fifteen bandits fewer. Not a bad thing."

He pauses.

"Question: why did Caleb and Rollin kill the boy, if the wolf wasn't present? Our theory was that the boy had found their connection to the wolf. If that was not the case, why kill him? Then this ..."

"Speculation: is the wolf perhaps our ally here?"

Perception, to notice Prophet's double take: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8 nothing to see here, then

Creon nods at Kilarra. "Response: We are following friend Kilarra's lead, in tracking the creature."

I think we're waiting on the NPC to lead us on, no?

Creon looks sidelong at Prophet.

He's still mispronouncing my name.

He lowers his bow.

"Assent and apology: I should have recognised you, but indeed you made no impression at all. I am Creon. Why are you here?"

Creon, already on high alert and very much prepared for a fight, jumps at the sudden appearance of the cloaked man, spinning round to focus his bow directly at the newcomer's head.

On the one hand, this could be yet another adventurer from the original group, of whom he's thus far unaware. Like Kilarra, for example. The group's membership structure seemed ... fluid. And the man's mention of Father Kriss pointed to him being a probable ally. But on the other hand, well, isn't this just the kind of thing Caleb and Rollin might have said?

"Query: should I know you?" he breathes.

Yes, I'm with Annika on this, think we're hunting the wolf right now.

The base is the church of Erastil, where Father Kriss is based, I think.

Creon looks at Kilarra. "Assent: let us continue."

He takes his bow in hand and nocks an arrow in readiness, as he walks.

Hi - flying back home tonight, end of vacation (unfortunately). Should pick up regular pace again from Wednesday, UK time.

I actually think the group needs a rogue more than the kineticist, but I'm easy either way.

I'm with Gallidren here - I think right now the moment we hit something with traps we have a problem.

Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (12) + 5 = 17

Creon nods to Gallidren. "Observation: Two sets of boot prints AND wolf tracks? Perhaps the wolf is working with the two in the village, rather than being one of them?"

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26

Creon's gaze follows Annika's, from the fabric to the charm, and then to the knife.

"Question: is the knife silver? I suppose the damage might have been done to the attackers, when in human form. But to handle a shape-changer would require better skills and resources than the boy might have had access to ..."

Hi - we're tomorrow morning (its currently 11pm here) going on our annual family vacation, for 2 weeks. I believe I'll have Internet access throughout but will try to avoid getting too dragged into the computer. Will try to post once a day.

Creon nods. "Statement: I should be able to track."

Survival: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 lol ... and, then again ...

If necessary I'll take 20.

Creon nods. "Agreement: the priest's hypothesis has merit. We should hunt down the source of the contagion."

Couple of things - firstly how many arrows do we have blanches for? Or should we just treat it as an unlimited supply for now? And on tracking, I think I'm the only one with Survival so it might be better for others to Aid Another rather than throw individually(?)

If I recall correctly, we all heard it speak, but Gallidren received more information with the vision

I went back and checked. It addressed Gallidren and we all heard it speak, but it spoke in Celestial, so only you and Gallidren would have understood it.

"Counter: friend Scholar, I still believe this temple, whereof Jhod spoke, is the hub around which much of this revolves. Recall our first party, before we joined with our friends here. Slaughtered by undead, within sight of the very elk statue Jhod recalled."

"Question: if Caleb and Rollin are indeed monsters, and they did not come from Restov, where did they come from?"

I think it was Gallidren who actually had the vision.

"Clarification: Friend Father, I personally am not a believer. Or rather, while I believe these things exist, I do not trust them, let alone worship them. But I agree that something was trying to communicate with us. I believe my friend Gallidren, the scholar here, was most ... blessed ... with the information."

"Extrapolation: But it would seem, from what we know, that the temple by the lake, the sickness that affects the forest and these local attacks continue to demonstrate evidence of interconnection."

Godsthings and their complications! I thought I swore never to ... but the father seems a good man.

Creon recalls the conversation with Rollin. "A Puzzle: Caleb's friend Rollin claimed to have shot at the escaping creature. But I kept the watch and was awake, or at least in an alert fugue state. I heard no shots. I also heard no screaming; he said he was attracted to the shrine by the noise of screaming. Did the victim say she had screamed? Did she have time to scream?"

"Hypothesis: this pair seems to be lying. Yet we lack evidence. Can we somehow trap them?"

He turns to the priest. "Reminder: You had matters to urgently discuss with us. Or was this simply a reference to the arrival of friend Kilarra?"

Creon nods to Kilarra.

"Opinion: If Master Caleb shows you his own charter, he should of course be included," he says, loudly enough for Caleb to hear.

He pauses, then realises he has missed something.

"Belated Welcome: Welcome, friend Kilarra."

Sense Motive, Studied Target: 1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 + 1 = 8 Sigh

Creon nods at Rollin. "Gratitude: Thank you for your help. It seems I must be going. Farewell."

Creon does his best to nod in understanding, though in a slightly artificial manner.

"Questions: how did the two of you become aware of the attack, in the first place? And ... are these weapons muffled in some way? We heard no shot. I heard no shot, and I was awake on watch."

Perhaps the woman might speak more easily in the absence of oversight...

Creon walks past the apothecary and up to Rollin.

Sense Motive, Studied Target: 1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 + 1 = 11

+1 further if Rollin is a bandit. Seems my dice throws are not great at the moment, though.

"Request: I have questions to discuss. Best not in front of the apothecary. Might we step outside a moment?"

"Comprehension: that explains quite a lot. Thank for your explanation. Then I agree that we should wait."

"Question: which friend? And, father, why is it not that time for that conversation?"

Creon frowns. He can accept the appearance of this new associate; everybody, after all, has their own history. But everyone seems to be speaking elliptically at this point, deferring conversations and actions with minimal explanation.

Note - I'm flying to San Francisco tomorrow so will be offline pretty much all day. Should have plenty of time to post while I'm there though.

Creon nods. Best to say nothing further. Fortunate, in fact, this hasn't happened more often. Is it possible I'm mad, defective in some way? Is this normal for ... my kind?

And then: Creepy the Archer? Perhaps the half-orc mispronounced my name.

He opens his mouth, about to correct Prophet. Then thinks better of it, and remains silent.

Creon sleeps without sleeping, in the way that Golarion's androids do. Within that fugue state, he's visited once more by the indentured servant from the bandit camp. The woman is old, shrunken both emotionally and physically from her years of servitude, yet she wears the telltale tattoos on her face and neck, the giveaway brand of a synthete.

But how, he asks himself, could she then shrink? Unless she was manufactured in that form. A double bluff, perhaps? No, this doesn't make sense.

"You need to leave," says the woman. "You're tomorrow's sacrifice. You need to run. To always run."

Run where? he asks. He makes no sound, the question merely forms.

"The Stolen Lands. The answers are there. All of them. Far from here."

I have no idea where these lands are.

"Trust your destiny. It will lead you there, whether you like it or not. And one other thing ..." The ancient's rheumy eyes regard him, almost pitifully. "Seryn - she forgives you. It wasn't in vain. You'll understand, at some point. Just not yet."

He stares at her. The memories are merging together. Seryn wasn't in this story. Her story, her fate, was elsewhere, on the metal ship travelling through a blank grey void. She wasn't in the forest story.

"Contradiction: It makes no sense,", he finds himself saying, physically, out loud, back in the present.

Got it & agreed. Posted in thread.

"Conclusion: then I think our business is concluded for the day. We should indeed collect the blanching in the morning. And, despite your assurances, I think it best to maintain a watch. I am happy to take the middle of the night, given my sparse requirements as regards sleep."

Ready to move on, per the discussion thread.

Jon - had a couple of days of heavy work stuff get in the way (similar issue elsewhere, as I think you can see). I'm ready to go to the following day though.

Creon nods at Annika. "Partial agreement: but if they are not lycanthropes, our silvered weapons may not avail us of any advantage."

Don't we also still need to get the blanching?

Creon agrees with the priest. "Gratitude: that is good advice. We should investigate the scene of the crime, and perhaps the bodies. I think this is the next step. Also, I think we are perhaps jumping to conclusions that this is a lycanthrope. Do we actually know it for certain?"

I'm not sure we do, just checking in case I missed something.

Creon eyes the priest quizzically. "Question and Reminder: Father, did you find anything in your books that might help us? Or in your meditations? The apothecary: her son fought the attacker; we believe the attacker was wounded. As Caleb is."

Suggestion: when we speak to the priest, let's ensure we sleep in a fortified place. The full moon will be with us shortly."

Intelligence: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7
Heal: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9

Creon stares at the woman, trying to put this latest run of facts together into some kind of theory.

Waiting to see if anyone else passes the checks.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25

Creon frowns. "Inconsistency: it strikes me as more than coincidental that an individual, unaware in advance of the presence of lycanthropy, turn up in town with an expensive silver ..."

His voice tails off. The boy from the village, found mauled in the woods ...

He looks at the woman. "Confirmation: you had a son ...?"

Father Kyte? :-) Clerical namespace overload error.

Creon frowns. Prayer and meditation? Priests!

"Assertion: I still believe we should seek out this temple. Let's collect appropriate armaments from the apothecary. We can return here afterwards to check if something has occurred to Father Kriss, in his books or his prayers. But I believe the key is at the temple."

Ready to move on.

Creon's mind is still on the question of the temple. Surely all these issues are related?

"Question: Jhod spoke of a temple with "the head of an elk jutting out from an old, carved ridge of rock". Are you aware of it, or of any problem therewith?"

Creon thinks: More priests! Am I the only unbeliever in these lands? No wonder it's a mess.

But Creon says different. He notes Marcus' suspicions. Nobody thus far has actually accused these two of being the lycanthropes.

"Introduction: my name is Creon. And I think my friend here is about to show you his charter."

He looks expectantly at Gallidren.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8 ... sigh.

Creon frowns. He studies the man closely while he is talking.

Sense Motive, +1 Studied Target, +1 trait: 1d20 + 1 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 + 1 + 1 = 6 ... oh.

"Question and tentative apology: perhaps I have not been listening closely enough, or perhaps I have forgotten a detail. In which case I apologise. Why did this messenger leave for Restov?"

"Supplementary: When the attacks occurred ... was there a full moon? The attacks seem to be sporadic in some way. Was there some kind of pattern to the timing?"

Assuming there's no significant revelation as an answer, I'm ready to move on.

Creon fixes a look at the man. "Request: please tell us of the village and what happened with this alleged lycanthrope. We met a man, whom we believe you know, called Jhod. He seems to be mixed up in this. He also told us of a temple that needed cleansing in some way. It's not clear to me that this is that place; Jhod spoke of a place with "the head of an elk jutting out from an old, carved ridge of rock". I don't see that here. Do you know of it?"

Note: the elk statue was also shown to Gallidren in a vision, by the deer we freed, but it's not clear that Gallidren passed on the fact to the group. The vision included the additional detail that the temple was by a lake.