Hey guys, I'm in a show week right now and expected to be able to update during breaks between rehearsals and runs... >.> not sure what I was thinking.
So yeah, update's coming, probably tomorrow afternoon/evening. If not then on Friday.
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Hey guys, I'm in a show week right now and expected to be able to update during breaks between rehearsals and runs... >.> not sure what I was thinking. So yeah, update's coming, probably tomorrow afternoon/evening. If not then on Friday.
A voice from behind the Goblin peering out through the door's crack calls out, "Ooh ooh! Escort! escort good ideas!" The Goblin at the door groans in annoyance - he seems to be smart enough to get sarcasm, to a point anyways - and then opens the portal further, waving his hand frantically, "Come in come in! not safe outside." Entering into the cabin, the party is greeted by the Goblin at the door, as well as three others. The one who let them in appears to a leader of sorts. He's dressed in a rusting shirt of chain with an old cloak hanging from his shoulders, a pair of javelins strapped to his back, a dogslicer sheathed at his waist and - strangest of all - sitting on his bulbous green head is a frog, that lets out a small rib-bit. The Other three are similar - though not as well armed and without a frog. The leading Goblin speaks up, "Me is Poog of Zarongel. Cleric of Oh greatest Zarongel, Slayer of Scribbleface, Hero of Licktoad, Jouster of the gods..." One of the other three Goblins pipes up at that, "But Poog sucks at riding.." "ARAGH!" Poog spins around and thrusts out his tiny hands, spurting flames that burn into the ingrate goblin's skin, frying him alive. Suddenly, there are only three Goblins. Smiling widely Poog turns back to the party, "And Boss of Big Fire." he says his last title with pride and the other two goblins start applauding, their expressions seem more enamored than fearful. "Poog was one of four heroes who brought back firesticks and treasures for Big Chiefy! But Chiefy made a mistake, now Bones men come and want their stuff back but Chief says no, and many Goblins die!" His voice quivers in sorrow, "All Poog's friends dead now. Chief Gutwad brought bad bones men down on us! All for his stupid treasure!" Poog howls, as if everything he's saying should enrage - or even make sense - to these new comers,
Spoiler:
Seeing his odds turning against him, The Rat stumbles back a step, and then lunges forward and to the side, throwing himself into a roll to get past his opponents and take a dive from the ship's rail. But in his panic, the vermin's claws catch on a raised plank and he spills forward and a flail of limbs. Taken aback by the move, Donnell's own strike is a clumsy one, skimming just over the wererat's head.
The old man cocks an eyebrow at Edgar, and the expression seems to say 'You really expect that to work?' "I may, or I may not. I've no more information to give you though, only advice." His eyes scanning between the four of them he says, "As the young Lord is now beginning to fathom, the ones pulling the strings are not men to be trifled with. Reclaim your family's holdings in Magnimar. Kill your brother if you need to, but then set your father's ship adrift and pray your enemies are simply to concerned with finding it to bother dealing with you. Your lives will be longer for it." Without waiting for an answer, the old man leans over and blows out the candle - which somehow seems to make the room brighter - and claps his hands. At once his retainers re-enter. "Either way, you had best be off."
I'm unavailable this week, but like the others, I'm still keen to resume this game if it's an option
Wait Samurai 7 is a classic?... it came out in 2004! Damn I'm old.
Glad the move's going well for you Kove, Thanks for the support guys. As Yos can attest my schedules go from fairly consistent to wrath of god busy (we're in the latter right now) but as long as you can work with that, I'll be around and running this one. Andrin - Glad you liked it, it is phenomenal and I tend to watch the final fight anytime I need a bit of motivation for this game. I've been brushing up on my Samurai films for this game and have found some pretty sweet ones. Though I think Stranger's my fave so far.
Was Sin's last attack a ranged one? I'm confused as to how he loses his blade? And I feel bad for Eaton. :P
Sinders blade drives into the wererats gut, spurting blood. The rat shoves away from the ninja and swings in for another strike at the revitalized warrior, his blade biting deep into Sin's flesh, even as Donnell drives his blade forward, stabbing the rat near Sin's original cut, causing the vermin to howl in renewed pain.
There's a moment of silence, and then the scratchy voices continue in hoarse whispers, "Oh gods... it'ses longshanks!" "Maybe they kill bones men!?" "Longshankses hates us, they jealous of our vi...viri...vi-ri-li... Our skillses!" "They can helps!" Again quiet and a soft padding sound, before the door to the house latches open and slides open with a scream from rusted hinges. Only opening about an inch, the party sees the eyeball and half an oblong head of a small stunted goblin peers out, "Is... is you with the bones men? You here to hurts us??"
His eyes quickly darting between Eaton and Edgar, Old Wazir lets out a harumph or exasperation. "Just when I thought you were beginning to catch on." Casting his eyes heavenward he makes a small whimpering sound before looking back, "Where's the fun in a puzzle if I give you all the pieces, eh? Fine then I'll try again. These men and women, they are not simple thieves or criminals - although those could be counted among their lot. They are Kings and Queens, Lords of commerce and barons of industry. Scholars Arcane and Cardinals of Faith. they have agents everywhere, on every land. They are as global and as strong of a society as The Pathfinders, and yet they have managed to remain as invisible as the wind. " Looking directly back at Emilia he says, "The North Star is a fine ship I'm sure, but it's just a boat. Men such as the ones who directed the pirate crew against you could buy a fleet of them in a fashion that I would buy a bag of oranges. And your father was not a man of industry like your grandfather and uncle..." "He was a Pathfinder." Emilia finishes the infuriating old man's sentence, her brow furrowed, looking for the connection she hadn't seen yet. "Tell me my dear, when did you last see your parents?" "I was six. He and my mother left because of some discovery they had found a clue to.." her eyes go wide as she looks up to Wazir. "That's what they're after. Whatever it was my father found?" "I would assume," Wazir replies, "Getting revenge on your brother - or justice or whatever - may bring you satisfaction but it will not bring you peace. Whatever it was your family learned. The Kraken will not rest until they have it." And with another smile he adds, "And because I'm so generous, a name: The man who conspired with Eredin to bring the pirates down upon you. Gavroche DuPrinum." Eaton: While the name would mean little to the others it means everything to you. Gavroche DuPrinum was a close ally to your father before the man's senility began to take hold. A longtime advisor and friend, Gavroche was one of your tutors in the arcane growing up and now he overseas the family's main business of Absalom.
For a moment, Emilia doesn't move. She stands there chewing her lip, her eyes darting between her three companions before taking a deep steadying breath. She turns back to Wazir, "Alright" she says, speaking for the first time since entering the shop, "Tell me what you know." At that the Old man grins, his head slowly shaking, "Oh no dear. Nononono, I would never tell you what I know. But I will tell you more that you don't know." He nods to one of the women to his side, "Jaryshia, bar the door and light a candle. The rest of you, leave us." Without a word of protest, the servants and sycophants of the strange old man exit the room through a back door that his promptly locked by the sole remaining woman garbed in diaphanous red silks. She bars the front door as well - behind Edgar and Eaton - and then she produces a candle from a box. It is a little less than a foot long, with a strange, rainbow slicked look to the waxy finish, like oil drifting across a lake. When she lights it, a green flame springs up and sizzles from the wick. Knowledge Arcana/Spellcraft DC 14:
You recognize the emanations of divination magic. The candle seems to make a magical haze, invisible to the eye, but one that would protect the room from any unwanted eyes." "To keep our conversation between us. You never know when some unscrupulous rival may be trying to gain an advantage of the market." He motions to the empty cushions arrayed on the floor, "You'd best make yourselves comfortable." Emilia takes a seat on one of the cushions, and when the others are ready, either standing or sitting, Wazir begins. "Your brother fancies himself a new scourge to the seven seas. Armed with sword and spell he sees a way to cut out a name for himself among the wreckages of pilfered plunder. To his mind, he was approached by a fearsome band of pirates who call themselves The Kraken, who have pledged to make Eredin a name to be feared across all the waters, for the price of your family." Choking back tears, Emilia asks "Why? Why would he do that?" but Wazir only shrugs, "I'm sorry my flower. there are some things even I do not know. But I do know that while your brother may think himself a prince. He is nothing more than a pawn to The Kraken." Hunching forward and taking a long draw off of the coil of his pipe, Wazir continues with cloud of swirling smoke trailing from his lips and nostrils. "The Kraken is not a simple pirate fleet. They are a covenant, a secret society to her higher members, a brotherhood. It is a beast whose tentacles reach across all of Avistan, perhaps even farther. They dwell in Absalom, and their reach stretches nto the lowest gutters of the streets and up to caress the tallest towers of the kings of the world. Their actions orchestrated but unseen masters who keep each sect oblivious of the others, until they are needed as a whole. So if one limb is ever discovered or destroyed. Another simply takes its place." "This sounds like a fairy tale!" Emilia exclaims, "If this 'Kraken' is as powerful as you say, why would they worry about a varisian merchant like my uncle!" Old Wazir smiles a long, thin smile and nods, "Ahh but that's just it. Power. The Kraken has no need for riches or plunder. Coin is surprisingly easy to come across... but power? And the attack on your ship had nothing to do with your uncle, and everything to do with your father." "My father's been dead for years, what could he..." As Emilia trails off, Old Wazir nods slowly, seeing that she understands. "It wasn't about my family." Emilia mutters, "It was about my father's ship. They wanted the North Star." She looks up at Wazir, "Why?! What are they after?" But the old man can only smile, and shrug, "That, I do not know."
DM Rolls:
As Tellar's soothing touch watches over Sinders, Donnell lunges forward with his blade, stabbing out as the wererat twists himself away from the blade's reach, before slashing back with his own blade, drawing a line of red across Donnell's chest, forcing a grunt of pain from the rugged sailor's gritted teeth.
Lirrathan climbs the steps to the nearest hut, his footsteps not even drawing the lightest squeak from the rotting wood of the old porch, while the others group in close to the foot of the huts stairs. Perception Result - DC 20: Through one of the hut's broken windows there's a flicker of shadow! After a moment they here squeaky, almost grating voices from inside. "Is... is theys goneses?" "Don't know... don't know!" "Is.. is it the bones men agains?"
I would like to thank everyone for their patience with me this week. We're working on scenes from American Realism (Playwrights such as Tennessee Williams, as an example) and are current working through character improvs, The idea is to construct a scene from our characters lives before our actual scenes, so we have a history and actual emotional events to build upon. While we are all in two person scenes, these improvs can range from a single person cast to as many of the central actor desires. (Largest so far will be about 12 in a scene) And every student in the class chips in. Because the focus is realism, we have to be extremely detailed. In our biographies, histories, physicality of character, costuming and set design. This takes a lot of coordination and prep work, both for our own scenes we need to construct, and for the work we need to do for any scene we're helping, involving character studies, discussions about what an actor wants to accomplish in their scene study (Plus reading the plays so we have an understanding of the characters we're playing. All of this is on top of our regular course work. So this is why I've been so out of it this week. My average day goes from 8 am to 9 pm, and today finished at 11. I'm frustrated I can't get updates up for you guys, but in this state they would be pretty shoddy work anyways. Weekend soon though, and then sched changes, so we should be back up to speed in a day or so. thanks for your patience.
If it was a PC making the decision I wouldn't have asked for this. But just deciding what the NPC does is just me picking what I want. That said, and I'm only saying this because group consensus will have you asking Wazir; to quote the core "The GM might rule that some topics are simply unknown to common folk." I can guarantee he knows more than the locals do.
Busy week continues, long day today. So no update tonight. Sorry guys. (I was looking forward to writing Wazir to. :p
The busy week continues, and after fifteen hours straight, the last thing I can do is look at a statblock. Should have an update for you tomorrow. Sorry for the slow pace this week.
And thus, Old Wazir has fulfilled the role for which he was made. :p I like him, a lot actually, and as the game goes on you may learn just how much he has his crafty little hands in.
OOC chime in. Too big a decision for me to make. So vote in! Which choice should Emilia take?
A look of annoyance and frustration on her face - sure that Eaton's botched any deal that could be made - Emilia turns to leave alongside Edgar. The two of them reach the doorway as Eaton retrieves the sword and briskly moves to leave alongside them. "Four Thousand." Wazir's voice breaks the silence. Looking back at him, the old man's wide smile has returned. But his eyes - once dull and senile - are as sharp as a hawk's. "It really is my final offer this time. And it will end when you leave. Actually..." He pauses for a moment and his eyes briefly flick to Emilia, before looking back to Emilia. "This... is my final offer. You may either take my four thousand gold. Or you take three thousand gold, and I will provide you with information on the oh so horrid bunch that Miss Valdemar's brother has gotten himself tangled up in." He snaps his fingers and within a matter of seconds one of the serving girls drops a heavy pouch of coins into Old Wazir's waiting hand. "You sought me out, Lord Starse, not the other way around. You asked and you prodded and you know I'm the best chance you have of turning coin on that blade. Otherwise you'd have saved your afternoon and gone to the Gasworks or some regular smithy of pawnsman. Keep in mind, I've already made my profit off of that blade. Anything else I earn from it is a bonus, so I see no reason to spend my last profit to make a smaller one. So the only question now is, what is more valuable to you, coin or information?"
Old Wazir cocks a skeptical eyebrow at Eaton, his smile disappears from his wrinkly features. With a deadpan voice he replies, "I don't give two figs of Gnoll dung what family whelped you boy, You are an amateur to this trade I don't appreciate having my generosity thrown in my face." He casually leans back into his cushion, taking a drag off of his hookah. Nodding to the doorway as he lets the smoke exhale, "We both know I've given you a fair deal. Now you're welcome to take your business anywhere else 'in a thousand leagues,' maybe you can turn this sword in eight thousand gold. But I can swear it won't be in Riddleport. My offer stands." His smile returns - but unlike before there's no laughter in the old man's eyes. "Until you walk out of that door. Then it drops to two thousand. One thousand by nightfall. I'm sure you see where this is going."
DM Rolls:
As the blade flies over its head, the montrous rat draws his own shortsword and steps in fast under Sin's shoulder. Life in captivity and at sea before and after has rusted Sin's skills - maybe fatally so - The wererat's move is fast enough to get under Sin's arm and the blade of his sword slips into Sin's armpit like butter. d. "Hells he's fast!" Donnell cries out, Leaping to his feet and drawing his out scimitar.
The party crosses through the cracked and broken threshold in the wall to enter into a town that's seemingly deserted. There aren't any sounds of animals or life, just a strange and chilled stillness that rests on the village. Entering deeper into the village, the party passes a large pit that's empty - save for a number of skeletal remains which appear to be partially cremated goblins.
Sorry for the fade away folks, I had some personal issues to deal with over the weekend that took up more time than I believed they would. I'll have updates for you tonight.
Sorry for the fade away folks, I had some personal issues to deal with over the weekend that took up more time than I believed they would. I'll have updates for you tonight.
Old Wazir wags a finger at Phaedra, making a 'tut tut' sound. "The thought that I would freely discuss any of my other clients living or deceased is simply preposterous. Now my time is precious. Do we have a sale or not?"
We haven't heard from either Eaton or Phaedra in a bit, I'm getting slightly concerned by it, to be honest.
Sounds good, I'll ghost you as needed, thanks for the heads up.
Old Wazir cocks an unimpressed eyebrow at Edgar, his expression going deadpan, "Hmph, This isn't Magnimar boy. It's Riddleport. You want to find a better price than I've got, heh good luck. You're right, I'm offering you a deal that does better by me. You can take it or get out of my shop. But if you think you'll find better. Well.. then it wasn't your wits that killed Thrakao, that's for certain..."
Sin's dagger flies through the air like an arrow - and while it isn't a direct hit, the blade cuts deep into the rodents side. The little rat lets out a squeak! and writhes on the deck in death throes.... Or is it? The rat's getting bigger! It shifts and grows with a weird popping and cracking sound as skin stretches and bones break and reform. Standing there - clutching a wound in its side - is a bipedal rodent as tall as a human, a wererat! With beady yellow eyes his glares at Sin and lets out a hiss of anger, "I'll gut you for that."
Hawk like eyes scan over the somewhat ramshackle compound - at least as much a ruin as a real fort and probably not of goblin construction - but no movement can be seen, from your vantage point, everything looks deserted.
The Old Wazir Grins even wider, and slaps his knee once more, "Hoo hoo! I'm still a crafty devil... But you seem like nice kids. 3000, final offer."
Normally I completely agree with Jlord (Heck still do) but I'd been reading Barcas' Kingmaker of Korvosa and went poking through their OOC when you dissapeared. A friend relayed the Info to them, so I knew it was not just a neglect thing.
DM Rolls:
Donnell shrugs to Tellar, not looking up from his carving. the knife flitting across the wood in small quick strokes, taking away a sliver here or there. Honestly Tellar was having trouble seeing what differences the man's alterations were making, but he seemed to know what he was doing, "My family fled from Galt during the revolutions - and no I've no clue which one - and to feed his kids my grandfather signed up with a crew. We've been on the water ever since, hells I was born at sea. There's just something special about the feel of the waves." he shrugs again, "I enjoy shore leave as much as any man, but I'd go insane having to live on land." Donnell casts a sidelong glance at Sin, then says to Tellar "... He knows he isn't a Tian... right?" Perception DC 15: A rat scurries across the deck - in itself not a very unusual sight for a ship in port. But this rat acts a little strange. Stopping for a moment, it stands to sniff the air, before turning and making a beeline... For Emilia's cabin, working to squirm under the doorway.
Old Wazir rolls his eyes at Phaedra and Edgar, scoffing derisively, "Honestly now I've no time to deal with amateurs in the field. I do not sell pig stickers and rock slings. I sell masterpieces I sell the weapons of kings and the armors of emperors! The stuff that legends are made of. Can any one of you tell me the history of the sword, eh? Its...gravitas? hmm.. With a wide grin he lays a hand on the blade's pommel, "I mean, if it were just as simple as you tell me the magic word, then sure we'd be all set. You would say 'Frindathas!' and I..." All of a sudden the blade springs to life, glowing a deep blue as the film of frost quickly crawls up its base. "Oh well look at that..." Wazir gasps in obviously mock astonishment, "I guess our negotiations just ch..chan... haha HAH haha Ha HA hoo heee hee hooo ho." wiping a tear away from his face with a crooked finger the old man tries to speak through his laughter, "I'm sorry, that was just too enjoyable.. hoo hoo hee... now I've gone and given up the game. Ah well," He lets out a deep sigh before looking up, smiling, "I know the sword well, I sold it to Tharask. I take it he's dead then? very well I will buy it back for 1200 gold, and no more. I'm already going to have to inflate its price to make a profit from it." Appraise check 15:
It's a good deal, probably over half of what the sword would sell for. perception 12: He seems to be on the level about this, but with how effortlessly he just strung you along... well who knows.
Bidding farewell to Walhus, you head back out into the muggy swamp. You can see the sun trying to break through the tick canopy of trees and guess that it's already almost mid day. The party treks back through the swamp the way they came, emerging back on the Lost Coast Road and there's a moment of relief at the chance for open space and a bit of clean air. With that the party sets off southward, wrapping around the swamp's edge until you discover the Old Fishing trail. The trail itself hasn't been used in years and has overgrown, making the journey a dificult one, even more so then before. But after hours of walking, you round a bend in the path and come to your destination. A filthy village-fort surrounded by a crude wooden palisade sits
It depends on your opinion of most direct. *technically that's straight through the swamp. But the terrain will slow you down. Looping around to a different path may be a longer route, but has better stability.
Projects done, post coming tomorrow, Though an answer to the question above would help.
Oh, and not saying screw the apology, that's happily accepted. just the you missing the game part.
Screw that noise, Sin's still on the ship and I've yet to fill your spot with a replacement player. You want back in, you are in. On a side note, presentations done. I'm going to sleep now (glorious sleep) But you'll be updated tomorrow morning my time.
I'm not trying to be a jerk, just a thorough DM, so please take it as the later and not the former. But directly under what you quoted: Righting a few pieces of furniture, Walthus searches out a plate of biscuits from his pantry and sits himself down at the table, and explains while slowly nibbling on one of the snacks; "That monster attacked me while I was tending to my pet snakes in their garden and beat me savage. I got him good a few times to though, and managed to escape to a safe room upstairs. I think he thought I ran into the woods... I'm not sure how long I'd have survived had you not come along. I owe you men my life." Walthus did explain where he was, I suppose you could take him to be lying. But as far as what the creature was doing, you'll have to ask the creature. :p I'm wiped out right now. On wednesday I was assigned three research presentations, two were due today, one on monday, all need to be an hour in length, so I've spent a good 22 hours on school work in the last day and a half. You guys were actually the only group to get anything at all. That said, I may not update tonight because of it, depends if I get a second wind. right now I'm just gonna go run around Skyrim or Arkham city (or maybe a galaxy far far away) That said, we will be taking advantage of Fluid Time next post, moving you on to your next section, while giving you the chance to tie up any ends with Walthus. Any preference on which way you're going?
Sorry guys, I was assigned three research presentations yesterday, each an hour long, two due tomorrow and one on Friday, so no update today (maybe tomorrow to, we'll see.)
Walthus looks at Daemon with a puzzled look, "It wasn't holding me hostage. I was hiding! I told you it attacked me while I was caring for my stock! Damn thing tried to eat me! I fought back and I hurt him to, stabbed him right in the gut and one of my snakes - Bessie I think - gave him a good bite!" He takes a calming breath after clearly riling himself up, "All that said, I'm not an idiot and when I'm bleeding so bad the world's going fuzzy, the smart thing I did was to run. I made it back to the house and hid in a safe room I'd built upstairs. I heard the creature prowling outside of the door but it never found me. I snuck out once a day later to see if it was safe and spied... well... me! guarding the door into the house. I think he thought I'd run to the swamp..."
Hope everyone had a happy new years!
Walthus shakes his head, his little brow furrowing, "That....thing! was not my twin. It changes its shape." taking a deep breath he answers, "And she's no one. Literally. She was a witch who lived in these woods. A right old bag really. Only thing lift at that shack is Skitters, her familiar. Nasty piece of work that one." shaking his head solemnly Walthus concludes, "You've more chance of finding the Soggy River Monster than of finding old Megus."
Watched Sword of the Stranger today, the film is fantastic and I highly recommend to anyone who likes animation or period action/drama pieces. It's done by Studio Boom, who (among many other high class things) are responsible for the Full Metal Alchemist adaptions, which have a similar level of quality to their animations.
The gangly little man grins widely as he takes another long drag off his hookah, And surely you wouldn't be trying to cheat such a well known hawker as myself eh? perhaps you think I'm losing my eyesight in my old age?" he taps his gnarled finger on the sword, "Hardly worth calling a finished product, the coin I'll need to put into researching just how to engage its magics, not knowin' the history of the item. And this isn't the frozen north with a bunch of Ulfen brutes looking for their next fly swatter! this is Riddleport, my customers prefer finesse." He leans back in his pillows, "five hundred, best I can do." perception 18:
Something in the pitch of his voice changes, clueing you in to his lie. He doesn't need to research the swords magics. He knows how to activate it... and he knows the weapon's history as well. Meanwile, back at the ship... Tellar sits in his spot on the deck, working away at a tangled line. He hears the creaking of the boards behind him and a moment later Donnell pulls up a crate and sits beside the old man. A small knife in one hand and a block of wood in the other. Emerging from part of the wood seems to be a bird's face... smiling a little Donnell puts the knife to the wood and starts whittling away, "If you don't mind my asking, you don't seem the usual type to find on a ship..."
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