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. . . crypt, reaches out with his longhammer, and taps gently on the crypt. Aside from the gentle shifting of a few loose crumbles, resulting from the barbaric forceful opening of this once dignified resting place, nothing of note happens when it is tapped on. From your new vantage point, it is clear that the skeletal remains of the former father Tobin have been removed.
Volta carefully but quickly scans through the parchments. Sitting on the rotting shelves in this room are a number of moldering trade agreements. A dozen or so of them are of the type you Pathfinders are searching for. All are written in Kelish, they detail pacts that Satrap Taliq Asad made with pirates, mercenary groups (for the protection of caravans), petty lords, and even a few nations scattered about the Inner Sea region. One agreement contains a personal note addressed to the Satrap, congratulating him on gaining the Li family’s jade katana and the promise it contains. DM, I detected magic in my last post. Wanted to be sure that wasn't missed... Nothing from the papers or otherwise. Aryllan, your low light vision can use the faint glow from Fernis' light spell spilling into the next chamber to make out a large room that looks like it was once a scribing chamber. The remains of many desks are scattered about, and amid the rubble is a number of long-dried inkwells, other writing utensils, and scraps of paper. These things are covered with black mold and patches of light green mushrooms. *MAP* Low light vision, torch or other needed to see into next room
Sorry guys, this last week was brutal. I kept thinking I would be able to post, then something always got in the way. I should be back to a normal posting schedule this week.
The water seems to have been seeping here for decades on end. Although Robertus has no insight for this specific type of structure, he is aware that the catacombs a buried under hundreds of years of dirt and rubble. A cursory glance around shows most, if not all, the writing seems to be in the same language as the symbol on the face you just encountered. Kelish. The creature form of Mauret locks her eyes on Fernis as he speaks. She seems to get the message he is speaking. sssssssssafe in there. papersss.
The room is small and cramped. Old. Musty. Maurit remains in the entrance way, her spelled belt casting it's blue/white light into the dank room. Aryllan, you find an area of collapses wall on the east face of the room leading to another area. Robertus; in times like these that you realize you have never actually seen a trade agreement, only talked about them. You have no idea what one might look like, especially in this molding old chamber littered with scrolls of every type and size. Volta, you detect no traps in the room. EDIT; Uraisa; you scan the room looking for the tell tale aura of arcane magic. You find none other that what you expect from your fellow adventurers.
Maurit stands still and stairs at the magical light emitting from her belt. Within the room, three rounded alcoves in this chamber contain the rotting remains of scroll shelves, honeycombing from floor to ceiling. Scattered amid the compromised shelving are damaged scrolls, and a number of still-sealed scroll tubes. A glimmering trickle of water seeps down from the ceiling in the northwest corner of the room.
The blueish white light of Fernis' cantrip radiates from Maurit's belt. She stands in front of a closed door on the north wall. The trailing edge of the light seem to spill into a larger opening or chamber. She/it scratches on the door. Thisssss way. Papersss are in here.
As the party is scattered due to the unforeseen Aspect of Air only the being formally known as Maurit Zergo remailn inside. As before, the dark and dank tunnels of a bygone century await you. The walls, once plastered and painted, featuring the occasional section of mosaic tiles now stand in decay. If No Additional Light Source:
Moments after entering you hear a raspy voice. It's Maurit, echoing softly like a whisper from the east. Thisssss way. Papersss are in here. The slight taping sounds of nails, or claws, on a wooden door accompany her words. If Visible light source; Torch, Spelled coin etc.:
Same as above, except when the light shines down the hallway, the figure of the former Pathfinder is hunched and crooked. Scratching at a door on the north wall with hands whose nails resemble claws. When the light hits her, a spark returns to her eyes, and she stands erect as before. Not as human in appearance as when the warning rays of the sun and fresh filled her lungs, but better. The light and company of living mortals seem to hold purpose for her, although the dark dank of the catacombs are aiding to pulling her further into the realm of the undead, If Darkvision ONLY, No visible light source: Same as above two, only Maurit is seen scratching in the dark, succumbing faster to her new ghoul identity in this environment.
The appraisal for the Aspect of Air would be in the thousands. You also estimate that transportation cost would also be outrageous. It's over four feet across, several tons of stone and most notable fragile as, well, a centuries old stone thing rotting in a crypt. (Yes, it's made of the cheap crumble stone, not the good stuff. It's a refuse disposer after all, not art.)
It was a one time puff, so no need to disable. Anyone making a DC 10 knowledge check of Dungeonering or engineering would know the following. Check: Back in it's day, this would have been the catacombs with the keep proper above. The keep is long since gone and only the lower working/servant level survives since it was built into the earth.
This air gust was once used to blow refuse out the side of the siege castle; the servants would stack all of the keep’s refuse in the corridor, open the door, and then activate the head. Now it is just a dangerous curiosity. There is a long reset delay to help keep it safe.
Volta, the Kelish work inscribed on the face is "air". The exact moment you utter the word, whispered or otherwise, the relief’s mouth blasts out a mighty gust of air. Much like trash would have been swept away in centuries past, everything in the gusts path is blown down the hill and into the gully below.
Maurit has rounded the corner ahead of the group so she is not effected. If hit by wind: If you are in the path of the wind gust, make a DC 12 reflex save to drop prone, grab the door frame etc.
Success = you stay put and undamaged. Fail = take 1d6 points of falling damage as you tumble into the gully down below.
Maurit Zergo's rheumy eyes watch Robertus' guarded observations of her every move. I was . . am, Varisian. I know not Kelish. You wish me to go first. Knowing the answer, she/it crosses the threshold, then turns to the right disappearing into the darkness.
After the rotted door is bashed in, light spills into this dark catacomb. Perhaps for the first time in centuries. Attached to the north wall directly in front of you is the relief carving of a giant face. The relief is that of a Qadiran man with a billowing beard. His eyes are closed, and his lips are parted, as if he were blowing out a flame. His lips frame a deep hole in the wall. The paint once adorning the relief is chipped and faded, but traces of its brilliant blues and pristine whites are still visible here and there. On the man’s forehead is a single Kelish word, carved in a flowing script.
At the comments of leading the group into the catacombs, Maurit Zergo nods and moves to the door. Once there, she starts picking away at the rotted door, but with no success. As Volta climbs closer, he can see and feel the conflict within her. He senses that she is using her strength to hold onto her humanity, and if she unleashed the new power of her transformed state to tear into the door, she would be unable to stop the ghoulish rage and it would consume her. The hunger for flesh and clinging to humanity are eating at each other violently within her. Volta, you can reach the door and stand with five feet of the ghoul. She twitches from human like posture to undead with quick spasms. Her skin is pale and greying emitting and decaying stench, yet her eyes still hold the faintest hint of humanity when you look into them. Most of the time . . . The door is old rotting wood with pitted iron straps. A century of being buried make it an easy target to break through.
If you toss a rope down, it will add +10 to anyone's climb check. There is no solid structure to secure it to, so you would have to hold your end.
I had a hunch the undead grasping at her former life might be causing a problem. It's meant to be kinda a no-win situation. More of a moral challenge for each PC to explore his/her alignment, class and values and also work as part of a group and further balance that with the needs of the mission. I'll pop over to the game thread and see what I can do to move it along.
Hey guys, just checking in. Posting has slowed to a crawl. I'm guessing people are waiting for others, extra busy with RL or have no actions that apply to the situation. If it's the later, what do you all think of just a quick snippet of your PC's thoughts, or even an OOC saying that you are stuck for ideas. That would help me move things along and shore up my weak spots with the narrative.
The area you are at lays at the base of a hill. After years of buildup a recent storm caused a landslide to part of the hill exposing an ancient and rotting wooden door. A twenty foot shear drop-off from the ledge above leads to a mass of dirt and stone rubble the slopes at a twenty degree angle. Giant flat boulders are in abundance, the wind blown tops flattened by years of exposure. All the ground in this area is considered difficult terrain. The Ghouirl (Girl/Ghoul hee hee) stands eagerly ten feet before the door. Her demeanor and physical posture twitching between a deformed flesh eating ghoul and the former pathfinder adventurer of her former self.
The half ghoul half human gets more excited as she is brought back into the world of adventuring by your questions. Robertus can sense a sincerity in her words, as well as the gnawing hunger that she is holding back. Oh. Agreements. Paper. Yes. Perhaps. There are many papers, most written in Kelish, scattered throughout the catacombs. Shall we. . explore? She stands expectantly. Seeming eager to serve the ways of knowledge again. Her stance looking, almost, natural.The frame of her bones still slightly crooked from her partial transformation.
Maurit/Ghoul looks from Aryllan to Volta seeing them relaxing their weapon stances a bit. She also seem to relax, taking a step forward. . hmmm. jade. yes. Yes. I have seen a katana sword made of jade. When traveling among the ruins, there is a tribe of Kobalds. A strange color shifting humanoid leads them. It oft times carries a jade katana. This has meaning to the Society?
Maurit posture leaps back and forth between the two extremes with those head-twitching spasms. She look from your weapons to your faces and back again. What is it you seek? I have been inside and may be able to tell you of it's location. She again looks from you faces to you weapons, unsure or your intentions.
After landing on rubble, the creature looks up, seeing the group clearly for the first time. The ghoul's head jerks, and her expression softens as the foul light of undeath drains from her eyes somewhat. She straightens from her crouch, and calls out to you. Friends, it is I, Maurit Zergo, a Pathfinder as well, even in this horrid form. I can help you, if you will take the help of someone as damned as I. She almost seems normal and living for a second, but soon shambles back to her crooked slouch. Init:
Aryllan 12 Fernis 9 Volta Robertus 21 Uraisa Average for PF's 13 (13.4) Maurit/ghoul PF's act first. GO GO GO
mechanics:
Back again among nature and the wilds Aryllan's skills with a bow return. Tracking the unknown creature she looses an arrow catching it mid jump in the thigh. The creature lands, standing bent and crooked. Fernis uses his knowledge of religion to determine it's true nature before deciding on a course of action.
Landing on the freshly disrupted ground before the door, head cocked to one side and crouched in an disfigured pose, your hear it's voice. A female voice speaking in common. Not the gibberish of the undead. How long will it take you all to cure, I wonder? You seem so full of life, and I am oh so hungry.”
The door, sixty feet ahead, looks revealed by a recent rockslide.
Through the morning fog Aryllan and Frenis spot the outline of an humanoid figure scramble across the cliff top before preparing to leap down in front of the door.
Bravo! Huzzah! Well done! It's so satisfying as a GM when a player(s) figures out one of the fiddley plot points just from in-game dialogue alone.Here is your reward. A free Knowledge:History check even thought you dont have that skill. Perhaps you overheard your parents negotiating about something similar with a client once. The trade prince's legal statements are somewhat dubious. Few houses try to protect any claims within the Cairnlands as such claims are notoriously difficult to uphold and enforce. Still, if any house could do it, it would be House Damaq. It seems he did not expect the greenhorn youth faced rogue to pay such close attention to the subtleties involved.
Storypoints:
”. . . Can you provide a map of the keep before they became ruins? And what else can you tell us about what to except there?” If only it were possible. In the time it takes my messenger to sail from this island to my desert home in Katheer, have sages scour the ancient library and return, you will have completed this mission and shall likely be well into your next. Katheer from Absolam"If these Trade Agreements are so important to Padishah Empire of Kelesh, why not go get them yourself? What is preventing you from returning and getting them at your leisure?" Do you toy with me? Certainly a leader such as your self will not allow your detail to leave behind such a valuable treasure. Your charge is to return it to you sponsoring Venture-Captain under normal circumstances. This is not the case Lieutenant. They rightfully belong to Quadira. I see you as a man to do what is right. Do I read you incorrectly?
Volta recognizes that Aaqir al’Hakam is a deliberate man whose attitude, while brusque, is not directly hostile toward your group or the Pathfinder Society. Nevertheless, it’s clear that he is unaccustomed to hearing the word “no.” ”Current Time” and “Flashbacks Time”:
We now move “Current Time” to after the gala ends. Please feel free continue, if you wish, conversations and investigation as “Flashbacks”. This will allow both the overall story and the detailed role playing to both continue at the appropriate pace. After the Snapdragon Festival winds to a close and you leave it, there is the opportunity to purchase any equipment you may desire before you head into the Cairnlands the following morning. While it may be very late at night, a city the size of Absalom never sleeps, and nearly anything your characters level can afford can be found at any time of day or night. Returning to the Grand Lodge to bed down for the night, you are free to make your own preparations for the task at hand before heading out in the morning.
I very much appreciate the heads up.
As your group approaches, you take in the well dressed, tan skined Keleshite Trade Prince named Aaqir al"Hakam. His posture ridged and eyes intent as you arrive.
Shall we shake on this agreement
Aryllan bumps into the well dressed Keleshite man with Uraisa a pace behind.
The Trade Prince nods to a quite corner, then towards you companions, indicating his wish for a private conversation with your group. Without waiting for an answer, he turns and travels to that rendezvous point and waits.
Lieutenant Toreador is accustomed to filtering out the distraction of social situations. Perhaps the rice wine, the wafting smoke of pleasure herbs or the uncharacteristic social activity of the water wizard has effected his senses tonight. Focusing as best he can, Robertus can neither remember seeing, or for that matter not-seeing, his Keleshite admirer. Aryllan, now alerted to onlookers searches the rest of the crowd. Unlike her military companion, she is not accustomed to these urban social gatherings and is unable to discern much from observing the festive throng.
Volta: Once again, Volta uses his keen sense of of peoples true motives to size up the flamboyant major.
Is this major an arrogant but well-meaning dandy? OR is this calculated for effect. To the cause of Andoran? To freedom, To something else? Any or all of the above? I wonder ... You have a strong hunch the major is not in fact a dandy at all, but rather a calculated leader using every means at his disposal to its greatest effect. As to your other thoughts, you suspect the major takes every opportunity to proselytize for the Andorean cause. Something you suspect he believes in deeply. Sweeping you eyes across the room, many eyes gaze back in light of the recent display. Of note, one set of dark eyes belonging to a Keleshite male seem to have taken a keen interest in you activities for some time now. Especially those of Robertus.
The major's heads snaps to take in Uraissa. My! Arn't you the vision of loveliness. His voice picks up to a performance level one more. And your dress. . Tis a crime for it to not be seen by others. He takes your hands. Come. He whisks suddenly into an Andoren waltz.
Much as the quiet returns after air burst from an overinflated balloon, he is gone.
The knight squints a look at Volta. hmmm. whaaa Har HAR He bellows in the way one does when entertaining a crowd. He then slaps Volta on the shoulder in a festive manor that causes his drink to slosh about. Colson Maldris. (image) At your service. It's been a long while since I had to introduce myself at one of these function, eh. He speaks to the crowd. Drawing closer, his tone and mood change. He is now speaking in the practiced manor of a military leader. A word of warning, though, friends. He puts the firm grip of his hand on Fernis' shoulder for emphases. Especially for you, my stout holly warrior. His voice lowers, causing everyone to gather a bit closer to hear. Beware the walking dead. The crumbling ruins surrounding the city are rife with them, and you’re likely to run into more than your fair share over the course of your career. Undeath and the undead are more than just a physical peril, however. Undeath is the worst kind of slavery. And it should be eradicated like all servitude, whether to aristocracy or to mental control. Being enslaved to the flesh beyond when Pharasma calls one’s soul to the Boneyard is a fate I wouldn’t wish upon my greatest enemy. He looks to each of you in turn, as he continues. So while you plumb the depths of Asad’s Keep, remember your solemn duty to your fellow man—both living and dead. Any undead you encounter along the way should be freed of their earthly shell.
Hearing the sounds of Dwarven toasts and song, an extremely charismatic human male approaches decked out in the military fineries of an Eagle Knight’s ceremonial uniform—a bright blue overcoat with polished gold buttons, gold eagle epaulets, and a fine, black felt tricorn hat. He speaks loudly and confidently, as if he wants the entire gala to “overhear” his conversation with you. Greetings, Pathfinders! I hear you’re headed out into the Cairnlands on official Society business. Best of luck outside the city walls, though you look like sturdy enough adventurers. Perhaps not Eagle Knight material, but qualified for the work of a Pathfinder. His hand waves in the air, as if inviting the entire room to share in his bravado and humor.
Lady Ellsworth. You are resplendent in your well tailored gown. Truly your mind is as quick thinking as you are lovely. As to the ruins, they are recently discovered, so no Pathfinders have yet explored there. What inhabitants my or may not reside there are yours to discover. As to you tilting her head slightly to address Aryllan. Lady Lanliss. You and your companions will be the first to honor me with venturing to retrieve my families katana. Standing gracefully, she addresses the group. Lieutenant Toreador seems to have the discussion well documented for further reflection. A prized attribute in any Pathfinder. If his words are as well crafted as his polished appearance, his writings will grace the societys chronicles sooner than later. Master Stoutanvil seems eager to join in the festivities. I would hate to deprive my guests of his songs and stories, as I am sure they are eager. These affairs can be so full of excess she gives Fernis a nod pleasantries, can they not. Now please she moves to the door, her slender hand guiding the way stay and enjoy the evening.
The beautiful Tian Venture-Captain turns an astute smile to Volta.
*Background Info:
Most pathfinders are independent, only joining into groups as needed before moving on to the next destination. Occasionally pairs or even trios band together for mutual interest, but this is still uncommon. The elite group Vaslin assembled you to be is somewhat unique. More so for the Society to have put you together. The matter of my families jade katana is she looks to each of you in turn. personal. if you deliver the katana to me, you will have my favor as you begin your careers
As for the Society, the fame and wealth you will doubtlessly recover will bring you much honor assuredly.
At Aryllan's comment, Amara Li (photo), locks her almond shaped eyes directly onto the elf.
Volta:
Your keen sense of others motives gives you a hunch that she is looking for something more than just an ordinary mission. She is courting your group. But to what end . . . If you will indulge me, I wish to tell you a personal tale. Long ago, one of my most esteemed ancestors, who was rich in power but poor in sense, gave a gift to a foreign prince, a gift that prince did not deserve and my foolish ancestor had no right to give—a ceremonial jade katana. At the time the gift was sent, its recipient was invading this island. He laid siege to Absalom from his fortress in the foothills of the Kortos Mounts. Like those who came before him, the warlord failed to take Absalom and perished in the attempt. On the very day of his defeat, his castle crumbled to dust in a violent earthquake and has been lost to the centuries ever since. My family’s heirloom was lost with it. A recent report by a group of Pathfinders gives me hope that they have finally found the ruin, and I might finally recover my family’s treasure. I’m looking for an intrepid group to retrieve it for me, and I’m hoping that is you.
After making you entrances you gather together as a group observing the gala. The crowd mingles calmly, most guests clearly hoping to be seen more than actually paying attention to those with whom they converse, though the plum wine seems to have affected many who now move about the lodge’s grounds waving sparkling wands of fire and shooting whirring, whizzing fireworks into the sky above the koi pond.
Well met, Pathfinders, and welcome to the Lantern Lodge. I hope you find the Snapdragon Festival and my hospitality worthy of your time and energy. I have not brought you here for mere pleasantries, however, and wish to ask you to partake a dangerous mission on my behalf.
Your purses are now bulging with 351 gold coin from you previous day's labors. Perhaps the largest payday several of you have ever seen.
A bit of chatting with others at the Grand Lodge and a few local merchants has revealed much about tonights expectations. Pathfinders attending social galas are generally not expected to dress past there own social level. The minimum effort acceptable is a washed body, cleaned garments and combed hair. That minimum level is seldom seen however. The step up would be well polished and oiled armor and leathers with perhaps a bit of flourish added. From there the addition of full capes or single shoulder capes, sashes and a display of your countries or deities colors present an air of sophistication. For a more upscale presentation, fresh new under armor garments, new boots and fresh gloves are a sign of refinement. The highest level of savoir faire would be a totally new outfit, head to toe displaying your personal taste in fashion and worldiness. Additional information from asking about;
For a price of zero up to a maximum of one hundred gold coins, you can outfit yourselves as you each see fit.
After the morning and afternoons preparations, your arrive exactly on time at the estate of Venture-Captain Amara Li. The aroma of blooming orchids and flowing wine mixes with the acrid tang of recently exploded fireworks, and the sound of strangely discordant music comes from a duo of Tian women playing an unusual stringed instrument and a reed flute. The crowd mingles calmly, most guests clearly hoping to be seen more than actually paying attention to those with whom they converse. Approaching the main entrance, you see an announcer and his assistant performing their duties. As each guest arrives, the assistant collects the proper name and title relaying to the announcer, who in turn calls out in a strong voice to the assembled crowd.
After Uraisa speaks, Valsin freezes in place. His piercing gaze eyes each and every pouch of gold he recently distributed, then seek out any new additions or trinkets that may be visible from your recent exploits. His fingertips then outline the fine embossing on his wide leather belt. I just had this new belt fashioned. The leather smith was commenting on how good Pathfinders are as patrons. Having such great opportunities to acquire our own fortunes to purchase our own equipment. If there are no actual questi . . .hrmm. Toreador.
Who's body exactly would you like to guard? Amara Li? She'd wipe the floor with your arse. Or perhaps the other way around Harrrrrrhehheh.
He stands stern and impatient. Daring anyone else to speak.
After a well deserved night of rest, food, prayer, study, bathing, garment washing, armor polishing, weapon maintenance and what ever other assorted vices that are best left unmentioned, the dawn breaks. Right on time, when the sun reaches one handspan above the horizon, a porter arrives at the door to escort you to Venture-Captain Ambrus Valsin. Before departing, the porter indicates the rooms have been reserved in your names for another night, so you are free to leave miscellaneous items there if you wish. Reaching the administrative offices involves a brisk walk across the compound, giving your sore muscles a chance to warm up and stretch out. Following the familiar corridors you are led to a door adjacent to the VC’s office that opens on his personal reception area. Venture captain Vaslin greets you warmly and gesture to the break-fast items on the table and causal seating arrangements. After dispensing pleasantries, he says If you are maintaing injuries, I recommend a healthy draft of our resident healers fruity beverage. Consider it part of your payment for a job, well, done. Speaking of which . . .. Valsin moves to a side table where five leather pouches sit. He begins tossing one the each of you. Two hundred fifty gold each. Standard payment for your services yesterday. Yesterday, as the bards say, is history. Is that not correct Delbove? He grins at the others as he razzes the young teammate. Tonight, you go to an estate ball at the Lantern Lodge in the Petal District. Venture-Captain Amara Li has asked that I send my best new recruits to her for an assignment. I’m sending you lot. He pauses. Scanning the room for signs that his word play was cough. Tonight is the Snapdragon Festival, a traditional Gokan holiday featuring fireworks and rich plum wine. You are encouraged *coughfernis* to dress to impress, and instructed to seek out the hostess and head of the Lantern Lodge, Amara Li, upon your arrival. Event starts at sundown. He pauses a calculated moment. Are their any questions you can not figure out for your selves, or do I need to baby talk you through anything. I've got no other pressing business today, after all.
The night watch captain seem quite amused, but not at all surprised by Voltas inebriated request. He has, after all, lodged his fair share of Pathfinders over the years. He points out the washboards and hot water located at the end room. At the washer woman comments, he holds up Volta's hands before his face This lass is Bree waving his left hand This be Maybell waving his right. They'll please ya with any chore 'ya got in mind. He says, barely containing a mighty guffaw. Departing, he addresses the group. Good rest to ya all. Someone may wana check on em come daybreak. The VC takes not kindly to this Pathfinders being late. Dont want Bree and Maybell keepin' em up all night. With that, they hearty bellowing laughter breaks loose and rumbles throughout the halls as the watch-captain returns to his other duties.
Tied and bound, Larkin sobs softly. Something about unrequited love and She never knew. He offers no further trouble. Battered, bruised and weary you arrive at the Grand Lodge well before midnight. After handing off your prisoner, the night watch greets and escorts you to the evening dinning hall. An advantage the Grand Lodge offers over most others is the late night service staff always on duty. As a repast of meats, breads, cakes and ails is brought forth, the duty officer collects a brief overview of you days activities and hurries off to inform the Venture Captain of your news. Before your meal is completed, the officer returns relaying the gratitude of Venture Captain Ambrus Valsin on your return. The VC bids you take a full nights rest and join him an hour after sunrise in his personal dining area for break-fast and a debriefing. You are then escorted to a set of quarters especially for traveling pathfinders. The modest sized square rooms line one side of a hallway, each with fresh clean linens, pillows and a wash basin. At one end of the hall is a larger "war room" with chairs, couches and a large table. The opposite end contains a wash room with two large tubs, basins of heated water, garment washboards and two private stall privies. The entire wing of eight sleeping quarters and amenities is otherwise unoccupied. The night watchman bids you good evening, states a porter will collect you in the morning then heads back to his duties, closing the door to your private row of suites.
Encumbrance. Love it * Hate it * In between. Volta brought up a good point about taking on too much gear.
Do we want to track total encumbrance?
Generally speaking, I'm a fan of the following; Ignore coin weight. I just assume everyone is trading up to larger coin values when in town. Once you get over 1-2k, you'll be purchasing bags of holding, making investments or whatever. Weapons and armor. Common sense rules here. When you start carrying around 3 extra sets of plate armor and 5 great swords I might question things then. (before then actually) The normal armor penalties for movement, dexterity etc are enforced, of course. What I do like to be a stickler about is equipment list. If it's not listed, it's not available for use. I like the mental challenges it provides. Let me know and we'll go with the majority vote so everyone is equal. I vote= No weight tracking. Use good judgement, work any oddities into the story. For those using HeroLabs, there even an option button for "No coin weight" DM-ID
Experience Points Time 4,4000 total awarded the group to date 880 each for the five of you. If you guys want to go on the fast progression chart, then your more that half way to 2nd. A bit faster than the one level per three modules in PFS.
Unanswered questions; Fernis, while following the four thugs that were following the six pathfinders, some events occurred before your eyes that the other Pathfinders amy not be aware of. Please feel free to impart this (or not) any way you see fit.
What Fernis saw: Outside of Zarta's townhouse, while stoping for a leg of roast beast and some brewed libation, you observed the hyper gnome and his golden mechanical cat run franticly into the street. The construct was speaking to the gnome in a strange mechanical language, you strained to grap snippets as the gnome responded feverishly. * dimensional doorway at risk * total collapse * your people dying * scientist dead * oh oh oh! * go go go ! * no time to tell others * These were some of the confounding words you heard in the exchange.
Jumping onto the back of the golden cat, a shimmering ball of golden floating energy appeared, and the pair leapt into it, causing it and them to disappear. At a different time of the day, a messenger of the society delivered a scroll to the dwarf of the group. Upon reading it, his face turned pale and his focus urgent. He lookd around franticly for his companions, but they were scattered about shopping for cloths and fineries. N' tyme, n' tyme ta tell um. Ah gata goo now!
Later, not able to break your cover watching the thugs, you could hear the questions of the Pathfinders about their wayward companions, but were not able to impart the information you had.
Thanks for the kind words about storytelling. I'm having loads of fun seeing how you all develop personalities and fighting styles etc. Kudos to the group from the GM! I kinda look at rules as the "gravity" of RPG's. Like gravity, rules should be constant and predictable, so when something breaks the rules, the PC's look for in-game reasons, not a GM that keeps changing things all the time at random (I hate that as a player). Keep the rules advice flowing in, so we're all on the same page. Let's do try to keep longer discussions on this thread please, so I don't have as much to sift through when posting story advancements.
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