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I have thought about this all day, and have made the decision to end the campaign. I have lost the motivation to keep this game running. I apologise. I will be starting up two new adventure paths in the end of July, and you are all welcome to apply. I wish you the best of luck. Thank you for joining. I hope it was enjoyable while it lasted.
I fear I have to bring this up again: I am not satisfied with the slow pace of the game. I understand that everybody has to deal with real life, and that summer is a slow period - but the way things have been going throughout the last two weeks, I have lost most of my motivation to keep this campaign going.
Yantur From what you can gather, the ones closest to the fire would have been the four guards that are now stationed outside of Almah's tent. As you approach, they throw you a half-disapproving glance, though they reply. "The fire started just when you came up the hill," one of the men says. "Don't know how it begun." "We did see Dashki by the trees. It was clear he was trying to get a look into Almah's tent. The boy is obsessed with her." The great tree is a fair distance from the wagon... Alfred
The woman smiles sadly. "Don't know why anybody would want him dead, so we don't know about motive. Same with the expedition."
The wagons make for an interesting layout. All around tracks go from one end to the other, a mixture that is almost nigh impossible to discern the difference. Yet Hazem manages to follow the different tracks in different directions: one of a pig trails around two wagons - those of a goat walk around all over the camp... though in the end, you find nothing that aids the investigation.
I think the dicebot hates you, Sihdrin.
Just wanted to give you an update. I'm not quite over the aforementioned depression but I also have renewed vigour about the campaigns. I will be working harder to paint the stage from now on. I hope the result will show. Also, happy 4th of July to all Americans playing.
@Alfred: "Of course, dear friend. Good luck in your investigation." The halfling bows to you. The camp seems to have gone quiet as you walk towards the herders. The woman is cooking by a fire - nervous by the looks of it, as if the production of another open flame would be audacious - while the man is sulking on a stool by a wagon that must be theirs. "Oh, hello there! We got most of the animals, yes, except for Rombard..." She sighs. "My husband is a little lost, Rombard was his favourite goat. After the fire, he went missing... but that's not why you're here, is it?" As you explain yourself, the man turns to you. His eyes are puffy. "Sorry for the state I'm in... we were the ones who noticed the fire. Came outta nowhere. We called out for everyone, but then the animals somehow got out of their pens and we had to concentrate on wrangling them all back in. Don't recall seeing anyone by the wagon either." @Yantur: As you search around the wagon, you see little that stands out. The flames had begun to lick the scrublands around it, and it would have burnt down everything - yet it never did, thanks to your efforts. Checking the interior of the wagon once more in passing, you puzzle together everything that must have happened inside. From the position of the burnt body, the scorched chairs and the table, there are no signs of violence or struggle. @Hazem:
The exterior of the camp makes the area look a lot smaller than it is, yet trailing between the wagons, it feels like a very small city. .
@Yantur: Garavel nods and takes the pouch of gold from Yantur... before he gives it back. "You are doing a good job. Share the gold with your companions, and keep investigating the camp and asking question. I will check with the others." He is clearly impressed with your work and obedience. @Sihdrin: You find a spot nearby the tree, though your observation doesn't last long before he climbs into what appears to be his own wagon - and he slams the door shut.
@Yantur: Searching through the wagon, you find a small pouch in an unharmed compartment underneath the bed. Inside, you find fifty-five gold pieces. Trying to decipher why Eloais couldn't leave the wagon, however, proves to be a bit of an enigma. The door wasn't locked - yet you surmise he was in the middle of the space when the fire begun. @Alfred: "All I know of Eloais is that he was an intelligent, well-travelled man who happened to take up a distasteful profession." Father Zastoran looks at you with half a smile. "I for one don't believe in Harrowing - as far as professions go, Eloais was a bit of a charlatan, in my opinion. He was from Varisia, though, and Princess Almah was fond of him. Nobody else in the camp could discuss the poetry of Bellanais or the music of Absalom. Those intellectual debates will be missed." @Sihdrin: The man glares at you. His clothes are dirty and stained, and his hair is black and oily. A dagger hangs in his belt from the front. When he speaks, it is curtly. "Nothing."
@Sihdrin: Examining the camp, you find that nobody is missing. There are four guards near Princess Almah's tent; Father Zastoran is tending to the two people that were burnt; there are four mercenaries close to the firepit; the elderly couple is still there; and a man with no relationship with hygiene is scuffling close to one of the wagons. By Garavel's count, that would be all of them. @Alfred: As you approach Father Zastoran, you see that he has prepared ointment and is carefully tending to the horrible burns. He is startled when you speak to him, though he turns to you with a smile. "Oh, hello again, Alf. Kallien's vitals are fine, though she won't be waking up in several days at this rate... Trevvis here will also be fine." @Saarah: "We were feasting by the firepit," one of the women says. She shrugs.
I apologise if my replies are infrequent or if my DMing is lacking currently. Summer brings back painful memories, and I'm struggling with nostalgia and depression.
Garavel easily dodges the elf girl's slap, only letting go once they are outside of the camp's perimeter. "Before I left the camp, we were eighteen. Six mercenaries, four personal guards, Father Zastoran, Eloais, Dashki, the camel drivers, Almah, me and Saarah." He glances at the elf woman when he speaks the last name. "I have no idea what the motive could be. Eloais was Almah's personal fortuneteller. A man from Varisia." When Yantur goes to the burnt-down wagon, he finds a charred body laying on its back, a cracked crystal ball in one of the corners, sooty ashes, and a pool of wax - candles, by the looks of it.
Garavel glares at Saarah as she runs to the tent, his frown incredulous. "And it is my fault that he is...?" He sighs and peers at Father Zastoran and Alfred. "I apologise for breaking your conversation short, but the Princess is no doubt impatient to get to meet you." With that, he marches to the tent. When you enter, you see Princess Almah with an absolutely furious glare in her eyes, towering over the elf. "Eloais is dead! And your first priority is running to me to get paid for your whoring!?" Contrary to her stern nature previously, she is visibly upset of the passing away of this man, and her eyes speak daggers. She turns her sights to you as you enter. "Garavel, you're slow. I have no patience for small talk now. I want you to investigate the camp. Find out why the fire happened. Question everyone. And I mean everyone," she glares at the elf. Garavel walks over to Saarah and takes her, almost forcibly, by the arm. "We will question you first, then." You have no time to talk to Almah as Garavel leads you all out, beyond the perimeters of the camp. "She assigned us to the task since we weren't there when it started," he says. "It could have been an accident - or it could have been intentional." Saarah: Since you have been in the camp for a while, you know who everyone is; you know Almah has four personal guards - they never treated you with any interest, and you haven't even caught their names. There's six mercenaries, also a bit of a detestable lot, but at least they let you feast with them - and more (if you so wished). There's Father Zastoran, too obsessed with his alchemy and books to discuss anything but that (and faith) with you; Hadrod and Hadrah, who prepares all the meals and tends to the animals; and Dashki, the alleged gnoll expert, who you also have had difficulties getting to know. When the fire started, you were sleeping - and Father Zastoran can attest to this.
"Aaah, that is a big scorpion! Is it... is it yours?" The halfling studies the scorpion, with a bit of caution. As Saarah approaches Garavel, he throws her an icy cold glare. "I am not responsible for Eloais's debts. No."
Sihdrin is not entirely successful in his endeavour to pen the last goat - though chasing after it, the goat is distracted long enough for the elderly couple to route it into the pens. The woman lets out a loud groan. "Ah cannae believe tha' goat. Stubborn like a child, yeh. Yeh 'ave our thanks, stranger." The man secures the fence and gate of the pen as he glances over at you with half a smile. "Yes, we're indeed grateful, but that fire is still roaring and the animals won't rest until it's out. You should help them." It takes half a minute of your continuous effort to douse the wagon's roaring flame, but when it is done the wreckage is a sad sight, burnt to the ground. With sweat dribbling down your faces, Garavel arrives and gives you all a pat on the shoulder. "Well done." "Indeed." Princess Almah strides up next to Garavel. "We might have had the entire camp wrecked if you hadn't arrived when you did. Of course, had you arrived earlier there would have been less damage in the first place." She gives Garavel a bit of a scornful glance. "No matter. Meet me in my tent shortly. I have orders." She strides past you; even with her stern tongue, her face was relieved from what you could tell. Before you have the time to head on over to the tent, the halfling comes waddling over to Alfred, taking his hand and shaking it with gratitude. "By the Dawnflower, you saved Kallien's life, stranger. I am Father Zastoran - will you honour me with your name?"
As Sihdrin counts down to three, your combined efforts with the other men and women grants results at last - you pull the wagon some ten feet forward before the weight is too much - but it is enough. It is well out of reach of the wagon's fire. Only one goat remains to be penned - and the flames still need to be doused.
The flame is doused, slowly but surely; Ruven's effort of tossing dirt before the flame can reach the wagon seems to give you more time - though if it will be enough...
I realise that real life takes precedence over online life. Though short of the internet imploding, I also cannot understand the difficulty of being able to communicate to the other people in the PbP that real life requires all attention currently. It's easier for me, at least, to adjust with the knowledge that "player A is currently struggling IRL or on vacation or going to a wedding or <insert real life reason here>" - but when I don't know why player A is absent, then I get a little upset. Poor communication kills. That's my experience with the internet, and life in general. I do want to continue, and if slowing down is what it takes, that's what I'll adjust to. I still would like to know when your posting capabilities are compromised, and if two weeks pass without any explanation and complete absence I will boot you. I won't demand to know why you can't post, though. I realise I may come off as harsh, but I have to be honest, I'm also frustrated, and if I cannot communicate my view of this to all of you then I'd be a bit of a hypocrite. But we'll slow down. As for Khasud, he hasn't been heard from since the 3rd of June, and I don't think he'll return. And about the healer problem: Alfred is a druid, last I checked. I don't mean to shoehorn him into a healer role without him wanting to be one, but you do have healing capabilities. If it'll be enough is a different issue.
Alfred rushes over to the burnt victims and finds that the woman that is unattended has severe burn marks in her face and on her shoulder. His soothing spell stops her convulsions, and from what you can tell she will live.
As Yantur runs into the burning wagon, he finds little but a corpse that is alight - the man is long gone. He is forced to flee when the roof of the wagon starts breaking down... With Hazem and Saarah's effort of dousing the flames, they do seem to weaken. Yet the fire burns strong, and will definitely require more water. Only one goat remains as the middle-aged couple succeeds in penning the other one. Death comes closer for the victim requiring help... DM Dice Rolls:
Alfred manages to wrangle in the two pigs next - the goats leap away as he attempts to get them back into the appropriate pen.
Alfred manages to pen the unruly sheep back into the pen - though the other animals are still stubborn and refuse to follow your lead.
Am sad to see you go. Good luck with your life, I hope you get everything sorted out.
I have updated my profile to contain the trek from Solku to Sultan's Claw, as well as a list (complete with interface spoilers) of NPCs you've met (and will meet).
Sihdrin and Alfred both manage to pen most of the wild animals, though two goats, a sheep and two pigs are still running wild - with quite the personalities, it would require a separate effort for each of these animals to be penned ... Yantur's spell causes some chaos and confusion - and ultimately, despite the increase in strength, there are no visible results. Four of them certainly isn't enough ... It looks to take a little under a minute to douse the flame at this rate - and it creeps closer to the wagon the others are trying to drag away ...
DM Dice Rolls:
Saarah:
You know the wagon is Eloais's, Almah's personal astrologer.
Garavel is about to question Hazem at the reference of smoke, though halts after the first syllable when Alfred confirms. He glances up at the great tree. "You're right! This is not good! Hurry!" He spurs the camel onwards - after five minutes of constant elevation, you come to a small plaza, with the great tree standing in the middle. Half a dozen wagons are all scattered around the base - while a great white pavilion stands by the tree. Some dozen men and women are rushing around on the site, carrying pails filed with water - and there are screams of pain. A wagon is on fire. The flames drape the entire wain from top to bottom - its painted features are difficult to discern through the red. From what you can see, it is a sun and moon. As you approach closer, a breeze blows past the wagon - through it - and a spray of singed cards all come in your direction. One card lands on Mark's chest, in a burst of orange cinders. It depicts a cyclone. Momentarily afterwards, the flames blaze stronger, roaring up intot he sky. The flap of the white tent bursts open, and a dark-skinned lady comes into view. She is clad in white silk robes. "Douse the flames!" she barks at the men and women rushing around the campsite. This must be the Princess Almah. She throws a glance in your direction. "Ah, Garavel. And just a moment later than the nick of time, as usual!" Garavel doesn't respond. He jumps off his camel and hurries over to aid the men in dousing the flames. The Princess turns to you. "Find some way to help!" She then rushes to help Garavel and the others.
There is a huge barrel of water by the great tree - several pails of water have been filled and placed by it. Six people, Almah and Garavel included, are carrying these pails to the burning wagon attempting to douse the flame. All the water in the barrel would be able to douse the flames in one go - yet it is full of water, and heavy... A couple of feet away from the burning wagon are another lot of people, desperately trying to push away another wagon from the flames; they seem to be struggling immensely. Strong arms would certainly help... Nearby the burning wagon, a red-headed halfling is kneeling over two heavily burnt people. While the halfling is busy tending to one of the victims, the other one seems to slip into the cold embrace of death... A middle-aged couple attempts to wrangle the expedition's animals back into their pens - there are quite a few of them, and the fire has caused a great panic betwixt them...
Saarah: You joined the expedition from the very beginning, as a consultant of the arcane. While the days have been slow, you've been pitching in on occasion, though Almah hasn't asked much of you yet. It's been two weeks since Garavel set out to find more people to help with the reclamation of Kelmarane. After napping today after a rather sleepless night, you woke up to find the camp in chaos. The animals somehow got out of their pens, and one of the wagons appear to be on fire! You hear Princess Almah shouting orders - and as you step out into the camp, you see Garaval has returned with newcomers...
When morning comes, there have been few disturbances - the howling of wild dogs occured several times throughout the night, and the buzzing of some loud insects did disturb your slumber when it did occur. Yet no danger came upon you, and when Garavel wakes you all up he has already fed and prepared the camels. "Let us be on our way shortly. We will arrive at Sultan's Claw, and the expedition, within hours." After breaking your fast and dismantling the pavilion, you head on north. The scrublands make for interesting terrain, with its hills and dry, rustling grass. The wildlife is also different from the desert. After four hours of shifting up and down hills, you stand in the shadow of the great tree you saw yesterday; here, it is clear why it is called the Sultan's Claw. It stretches far, far up into the sky, with five bare branches that arc upwards, like talons. The bark seems withered and gnarly - its age is unquestionable. Perception DC 15: Betwixt the great talons of the tree you see smoke - black and thick. It seems to be coming from the top of the hill, though it curves in such a way that you cannot see what it is.
Alfred only:
The journal is rather mangled - pages have been torn oout, and blood coats the spine of the book. The few pages that are readable tell the story of somebody interested in hunting - for pride, by the repeated mentions of pelts and trophies. Every time a name would logically appear, though, the page appears to be missing... The night goes by quietly...
The bronze sea ends before the day; as the sun begins its descent into the horizon, you come upon the northern scrublands. The sand turns into dry, brown grass. Hills are scattered all around, some tall and some small. Brushes and bushes are everywhere. Far, far in the horizon you can see a great tree stretch to the sky. To the west the Pale Mountain looms. "We will make camp soon," Garavel says. "And we will reach the expedition tomorrow." After an hour of travel, you come to a small lake - Garavel orders the camp to be set up, and within half an hour the pavilion stands tall.
Garavel glares at Hazem for almost impaling his foot, though it is with a rare laugh in his eyes. He shakes his head as he returns to his own camel. As Yantur voices concerns, he glances at the halfling, and the others. "It is not unheard of, but we must exercise more caution now." "Check their corpses if you wish - otherwise, we go north immediately." If you check the corpses...: Each of them had a battleaxe, in poor condition, and leather armour, in even worse condition. There also appears to be a journal on their person - one horribly mangled and almost absolutely unreadable - but a journal nonetheless. Skimming through the few pages that are whole, you find that it is written in the common tongue. There is also a fat purse with well over seventy pieces of silver. A quick counting puts it at 77.
Hazem manages to sneak up to the gnoll, locked in combat with Sihdrin; the gnoll's exposed self ends up being victim to two great attacks. The gnoll freezes in place, his body jerking for a couple of moments before Hazem pulls the blades out, and it keels over. Blood coats the bronze sea. Garavel peers around warily before sheathing his great falchion. "We appear to be safe. Hazem, I am impressed."
DM Dice rolls:
Garavel attack: Garavel damage: Garavel delivers a fierce overhead sweep, and with another spray of blood, the wounded gnoll stands headless. It sways, in a way that instills a minuscule amount of nausea in everyone looking, before it collapses. The other gnoll threatening Garavel backs away in horror, only to get run over and stung by Ruven - a fatal sting that ends the gnoll's life in one last tremor. Sihdrin and the other gnoll enter another skirmish, though the gnoll is clearly disheartened as the head of his friend lands next to their clashing arms.
Garavel dashes through the sand, side by side with Sihdrin who also charges. In the cover of Yantur's fire, Sihdrin's strike proves to be nothing but a distraction for the gnoll - Garavel, however, delivers a fierce slash straight through the gnoll's armour, blood spraying across the bronze sea. In fierce retaliation, Garavel suffers a strike to his side - though the man does not seem to suffer much. DM Dice Rolls:
Garavel's charge attack roll: Garavel's damage roll: Gnoll 1 attack vs. Sihdrin: Gnoll 2 attack vs. Garavel: Gnoll 3 attack vs. Garavel: Gnoll 2 damage vs. Garavel:
Initiative Order
Garavel throws an angry glance at Hazem and his camel but does not scorn either of them as he rushes forward to meet the gnolls - there's still 30 feet between him and the gnoll assailants. One of the gnolls deflects Alfred's thrown fire, though Yantur's target suffers a strike right in the shoulder. Sihdrin rides forward with his horse to join the fray.
DM Dice Rolls:
Gnoll 1 Initiative: Gnoll 2 Initiative: Gnoll 3 Initiative: Garavel Initiative: "Get off your camels if you intend to fight in melee, Hazem!" Garavel shouts as he dismounts off of his camel, next to Marketus. He gives the short-sighted man the reins to his camel before advancing thirty feet. He then sets in a defencive stance with his blade. "If the camels flee, make note of the direction so we can catch them later - for now, we fight. We will live." The gnolls advance further - and as they are a hundred and twenty feet away from you, Alfred and Yantur unleashes their flame and bolt. While the gnome's fire hits the gnoll right in the face, Yantur's attack is a clear miss as it flies several feet over their heads.
Well, I already found a replacement, so say hello to Saarah. I'll introduce Saarah in due time, she won't spontaneously appear where Khasud is. When you reach the main expedition, she will be there. So please wait with posting in the topic until you're meant to be introduced, Saarah. I am sad to make this official, but Khasud is now no longer part of the Crown of Dawn Legacy of Fire group due to his two week absence without informing us as of why. I hope to hear from him, though, as I was quite happy to have him with us.
I am sad that Khasud vanished. I will give him until I go to bed (around 5-6 hours) to get back here - otherwise I'm afraid I will have to boot him from the campaign. In the unfortunate circumstance that he is removed, would you prefer to carry on as 5, or should I find a replacement? If he is removed, I will merely retcon it so that he was never there to begin with rather than come up with some half-arsed excuse as of why he isn't there.
You all stop your progress, carefully watching these golden-furred creatures or what appears to be their backs - and Garavel was right on the mark as three of them, huge hyena-esque beasts with great fangs and armed, rise from beyond the dune. They let out large barks and snarls, and make their advance towards you. Alfred:
Since you know the Gnoll language, you can hear them screaming at you: "Off with their heads! Let us feast on their bones!"
"Hazem, stay," Garavel commands, his expression stern. He throws glances at the rest of you as he unsheathes his falchion from his back. "Draw your weapons. All of you. If your description is accurate, we may have encountered gnolls. If they see us armed for battle, they may leave us alone." It's a fair distance from the alleged spotted animals to where you are - about two hundred feet - yet it wouldn't take anyone too long to cross it.
Alfred: Golden fur and black spots does sound like hyenas - though for all your extensive knowledge of the creatures, this does not seem... right. While hyenas are cunning predators, they rarely skulk behind a dune like this, not for this long...
Garavel nods, gesturing to the pavilion's floor. "Very well. I will take the first watch." The night once more runs its course - Sihdrin is woken up by Garavel only after a couple of hours, and in turn the elf wakes the gnome by time the morning light rises in the horizon. When the sun makes its appearance, the same routine begins: breaking your fast, dismantling the pavilion, and the road goes north. After half a day, the sun is burning bright above you, and the green of the bronze sea has already begun withering away. Perception DC 15:
In the distance, to the north-west, you can see something - or someone - lurking... Perception DC 20: Whatever it is, it boasts golden fur with black spots, and there is more than one.
"This is true," Garavel addresses Sihdrin. "Tonight the watch may in fact be necessary. Sihdrin, I believe your elven heritage has blessed you with better eyesight. Could you take second watch, and you, Mr. Windbottom, the dawn watch?"
Sorry, I'm out of town on business, and internet is shoddy at best (my iphone is my best option, and it winks out every 5 min). How long until you return?
Alright, so Khasud hasn't posted in ten days, and Hazem hasn't posted since Friday. This is not good.
"It seems nobody complains. Yantur, you take the first watch. I will again take the middle watch. Marketus, you will take the final watch." The night barely has time to set in when you are all awoken by the rare crack of thunder, and as from nowhere a continuous drizzle begins to wash over the desert. It doesn't take too long to adjust to the change of environment and the sound of pouring rain. Eventually Garavel relieves Yantur of his watch so the halfling can sleep; before long Garavel wakes Marketus for his watch. When morning comes, the rain has yet to stop. The rain is faint, though almost endless as the skies stretch from one end of the horizon to the others. "It seems we are lucky," Garavel muses as he wakes you all up. "Certainly we can make vast progress today if the rain does not grow heavier." After breaking fast, the pavilion is dismantled and you head north. The desert is pleasantly cool, yet still warm. The bronze sea is now decorated with a myriad of foliage and plants, all freshly sprouted. Before the day ends, though, the entourage of clouds reaches an end, and the sun peers forth for a couple of hours before sinking into the horizon. By the time of the night chill, the pavilion has been set up on top of another dune. "At this rate we should reach the expedition in two nights. Excellent pace."
The weekend. It happens occasionally around here. I wouldn't stress it too much. Just double-checking. Still not sure what pace the forums keeps.
Almost an entire day without posts... What happened?
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