Dave McMaster's page

Thanks so much for recruiting Leya, I've been keen on playing through a RotRL pbp for awhile now. :] Unfortunately I've got to head off to work now, but afterwards I'll finish up Leya's sheet and get back to you on here!

I'd like to toss an old character of mine, Leya, into the mix of applications here, if it's alright with you Goblins! I can edit her sheet soon, but most of the stuff that's needed is there. :] Personality-wise, she's a very shy individual. Thanks for considering!

I'd like to get in on this with my cleric, Logen. I can edit his sheet to suit the campaign's needs. Thanks for considering! :]

I'd love to get into this game with either my male human cleric/fighter Logen, or a new concept of a female elven (or halfelven) sorceress/bard that uses her cantrips mixed with her almost ethereal singing skills to perform surreal visual feats for her bard perform checks. [If that's alright with the DM of course!]

I'll edit this post and put up more information for the bard later, but Logen should be in my aliases. I can edit his back story to fit him in better with this particular campaign as well. Thanks so much for considering. :]

EDIT: http://paizo.com/people/LytheaBeldusk <- That's the alias page for the bard, I'll keep updating it periodically, should be finished for submission soon. Personality-wise, I'm aiming to make her a very meek and shy character on the outside. But on the inside has a heart of gold and is very loyal towards people she considers friends. She'll mainly focus on buffing/debuffing and casting, and uses starknives as weapons.

The cleric looks great, thanks Kyrt. :D
Kalenos is pretty much done now, just need to write up his background and I'm all set.

I can pretty much play everyday around 9-12 PM, and like I said earlier, I live on the US east coast.

I have work from 5-9 PM some days... unfortunately the acutal working days of the week vary, so I don't have certain days to pin down and say I can't play during these times. This week would be Wed and Fri.

And I probably could play anywhere from 1 to 5 PM most days, just as long as I know ahead of time to make sure not to plan anything.

Here's my username:

Wonderful, thank you Kyrt. I love playing clerics. :] I'll have him statted up and with a solid concept by tomorrow evening, awaiting your revised mechanics.
Actually, come to think of it... I live on the east coast, GMT (-5). Will that make it difficult to play with you guys? I see we already have at least two members on the pacific coast.

I might be interested in joining this group if there's a spot - I've done RPGs over AIM and Windows Live Messenger before, they're quite fun. I've never tried a structured, meet-up-every-week type one, but summer's pretty much here already and I'll have a lot of free time. :]

If so, I'd like to play either a summoner or a cleric most likely. Just to offer up a concept for ya, Kyrt.

Personally, I don't mind at all that Zalen is doing a lot of the talking. You are the leader of the group of course. And there's the fact Nayr isn't much of an outgoing person anyways. So yeah, I'm alright with it, gives an entertaining read most of the time as well. =]

I agree with Khaladon, I think Majenko is a valuable addition to the party, and VERY useful. And cute, who doesn't like a little dragon. =]

The only problem I could see is that he could be too useful at times, and might ruin some surprises. Other than that though, I vote we keep him.

Yeah, that's what I was trying to get across! =]

A celestial bloodline, not divine bloodline - duh! My bad. :P

You could play a divine bloodline sorcerer that instead of taking spells from the wiz/sorc spell list takes spells from the cleric list?

Just a thought.

Posting to add the dot next to the thread title, sorry for the inconvienience. ;D

Okay then, I'll be making a gnome sorcerer - most likely with the Draconic(White) or the Elemental(Earth) bloodlines. Do they both sound alright to you?

Me as well! I'd love to do this, I've seen that site before and it looks very interesting!

Pathfinder or 3.5 would be fine, but I'd lean towards Pathfinder just because of the sheer awesomeness. I'm okay with either though.

And I'd like to be a sorcerer if Pathfinder, a druid if 3.5. Still deciding on races, but most likely a gnome if Pathfinder and a human if 3.5

After some thought I've chosen to go with a Halfling Seer, a caster with specialization in divination. When more information on either wizards or halflings is posted, I'll report on a concept. =]

I'd love to play - perhaps maybe a cleric, sorcerer, bard, or wizard. Halfling most likely for all three classes. This setting sounds really, really interesting! :D

Same here, I'd really like to do a Pathfinder or a 3.5 campaign with one of my newer characters. I'm DMing one right now so DMing two would be a bit much, but I'd love to play in a campaign. :3

Well Mr. Shiny, there's a request of mine up a few posts that I'd like to have commissioned by someone. =]

“So that’s it, huh? Doesn’t look like much of an attack base to me.” Firon spoke while looking at the building that was situated in front of us, empty-looking and full of unknown promises. The two of us were crouching behind a rock, scouting out the area that lay before the monastery. Most of the walls from the outside seem intact, but a few of the towers have apparently collapsed long ago. I consider quietly to myself that the inside probably doesn’t look much better.

“It’s better than what we have now... only a few wagons and some tents.”

The other man looks grumpy. “Yeah, whatever. If Almah says we use it for the attack against Kelmarane, then we use it for the attack against Kelmarane. I just wish it didn’t look so...”

“Rundown?” I had my own opinions on the place. It could be well defended if attacked, and it was a sizable building. But structurally, the monastery’s age might pose more problems than Almah had hoped for. ”Um... I do have a question. You know anything about Kelmarane? I’ve actually never heard of it.” It was true, as Almah had neglected to inform me in on the details of the town. Most likely thought I didn’t need to know until later.

Firon face is grave. “Yeah, a long time ago the village was one of several in the Brazen Peaks situated around a battle market. It’s a place that attracted merchants, gladiators, actors, musicians, and customers from throughout Katapesh and neighboring Osirion. Then, about twenty years ago… it fell, and the Pactmasters abandoned it to ruin. Rumors of plagues and evil curses abound, but in truth no one knows why the village died. About two years ago, a pack of gnolls inhabited the battle market and claimed Kelmarane as their own. The Pactmasters decided they want the village back, and it’s up to Almah to deliver it to them.” He gives an amused chuckle. “Or in other words, us.”

“I see…” So the village was overrun with gnolls. No wonder Almah had hired Dashki, an expert on the feral half-beast half-men. It would have to take a lot of power to take back a city, and just the two of them and some of Almah’s guards didn’t seem like quite enough.

I find myself eyeing Firon’s weapons, the unorthodox design of the flails piquing my interest. For each flail there are three steel chains, and placed at the end of each length is a dangerous looking spiked sphere. Owning two of the weapons suggested using both at the same time in combat, but it looks like it would take considerable skill in order to just wield one of the triple-flails. The fact that Firon is a cleric furthers my doubts... though Almah had said he could take care of himself.

“Okay Aesur, looks like the coast is clear. We’re going to go into the hole in the wall on the far right, okay? Keep your guard up.” The front of the monastery has two open spaces where we can enter, one more to the left and one more to the right. Rubble and broken pieces of timber obstructs the left gap, so it is a good idea to travel through the right break.

I nod my agreement and the two of us set off at a slow dash to the monastery, wary of our surroundings. But nothing out of the ordinary or threatening is here. As we enter the nave, I notice the scrub brush and a light, patchy carpet of weeds that invade the monastery through the fallen section of the stone wall. We are in a huge hallway littered with bits of debris ranging from tiny rocks to enormous sections of collapsed masonry. Most of the roof above our heads is missing, but the pillars that once held it up still stand in their silent vigil around us.

“Well, isn’t this place creepy looking, eh?” The cleric's statement doesn't provoke a response, words failing me once again. Firon is absorbed in his environment, and starts slowly walking down the hallway. I follow, not wanting to be left behind. I have snuck around in the city of Katapesh and stolen what I needed, so I wasn’t completely new to exploring, but this… this was on a whole other level.

As we reach the end of the hallway, there is a short set of steps that lead down into a cavernous chapel in which congregants probably would have gathered for sermons in happier times. The vibrant red and orange burst of Sarenrae still stands behind a film of dirt along the far wall, overlooking a collapsed altar. Between the stairs and the altar stand dozens of old marble benches, many overturned and even more broken into pieces. A wide walkway bisects the pews, leading directly to the raised altar. Here and there a few clumps of the original red carpet along the walkway hang on against rot and neglect.

Above the center of the chapel, dangling about ten feet from the floor, hangs a cluster of gnolls skulls in various stages of decay. Strung together like a ghoulish candelabra of twine and bone, the boulder-sized ornament hangs from the wooden rafters. Just the sight of the rotting heads causes me to pause in disgust, and Firon does the same.

"Uh, Aesur? ...Why in the hell is there a bundle of heads hanging from the-" Firon doesn't finish his hurried whisper, as his gaze moves upwards along with mine. High up in the chapel's rafters, a layer of interwoven tapestries, tablecloths, and other pieces of cloth forms a cover for the wooden beams much like a wasp papers over its nest. Movement on the surface of the fabric causes me to cringe, small but rapid indents migrating across the makeshift floor.

"Firon. Be careful. I think something's up there." To compliment my words, a tiny little creature dressed in rags climbs out from inside the grisly bunch of skulls, giving an unearthly giggle and showing me the finger. A pugwampi.

The cleric looks furious. "Damn right there's something up there! It's more of those little runts!" Reacting to the man's shouts, the other gremlins above began to poke their faces through the cloth, their little beady eyes widening with surprise... and then excitement. Little, makeshift wooden bows replace where their heads were before, loaded with tiny arrows.

"By Desna's stars!" Looks like Firon is feeling the same way I am. His weapons wouldn't be of any use at this range. Even the lone gremlin on the candelabra has his weapon out and is aiming at the two of us.

Before I know what's happening, Firon has grabbed me and shoved the two of us under one of the few intact pews. Light thumps can be heard above us as the sharp projectiles embed themselves into the aging wooden bench.

Fear courses through my veins, icy cold and numbing. I can't think, I can't move, I can't breathe. I've never been backed into a corner like this before. Sure, back when I was a slave I had nowhere to turn in some situations, but I knew they would never kill me. That most definitely isn't the case with the pugwampis.

But a hand grabs my shoulder, and I'm being shaken into reality. "Aesur? Aesur! C'mon, don't freak out on me now!" I don't say anything, still stunned by the events unfolding around us.

Firon sighs, and then reaches into his navy robes. When his hand emerges from behind the folds, it is grasping a silver butterfly. It's wings are decorated with intricately carved stars, along with a moon and a sun. The holy symbol must be very valuable, and I start to get an idea of what he'd planning.

Another volley crashes into the pew right above our heads, and I can make out high pitched, shrill screams. It's not hard to guess what the pugwampis are screaming about, as none of their arrows have hit their intended mark. Yet.

"Graceful Desna, ruler over the night skies and stars above, grant us protection from these foul creatures' assaults." Almost immediately after Firon speaks, black mist begins to seep from his body, from underneath his robes, and from his eyes and mouth as well. The dark cloud envelopes the two of us, then the pew. One by one, little sparks of light burst into existance within the fog mass. I can't help but marvel at the mist's beauty, and my fear begins to seep away.

Moments later, Firon gives a relieved sigh and looks towards me. "We've got some cover now. I can't guarantee that their arrows won't hit us, but at least they don't have a target to shoot at." Almost to emphasize his point, another barrage of small thumps can be heard above our heads. The pew must be looking like a ravaged porcupine by now.

"Okay Aesur, I need you to listen to me. I'm going to summon some help, and create a distraction. That floor the pugwampis made in the rafters doesn't look that strong, and I bet we could tear through it with enough force. After I create the distraction, start shooting your arrows at them, and then if I can I'll help out. Hopefully we'll weaken the layer enough and the pugwampis will fall through." A grin creeps over his face. "To their deaths."

I'm stunned. I can't help it. How can someone create such an elaborate and well-constructed plan under these circumstances? I manage to nod, and Firon chuckles. "Don't worry, we'll make it out of here alright. You've already taken care of one of these beasts before, remember?"

The cleric is talking about the first pugwampi we encountered back in the cacti field. I suppose he's right. "Yes, I remember."

"Great. Alright Aesur, let's do this!" Another volley of arrows crash into the pew above our heads. The pugwampis don't appear to want to come down from their lofty heights, and I can't stop myself from thinking that it's a smart move.

Firon holds his symbol once again, but this time raising his hand up out from under the pew and into the mist. "I call upon your aid once more, Tender of Dreams, and ask of you to provide us with one of your loyal subjects for our cause." It's hard to see, but more of the black mist seeps out from the cleric's outstretched fist, and coalesces into an owl. With a bestial screech, the magically formed animal takes flight until I cannot see it anymore. But... I can hear it, as the pugwampis start up a frightened chorus and the sounds of flesh being rended echoes down through the fog to us.

"Now Aesur!" I scramble out from under the pew alongside Firon, and unstrap my bow. I quickly pull an arrow to the string and aim upwards, everything around me visible now that I am out of the strange black-yet-sparkling mist. I loose the projectile, the sharp point piercing through an elaborate but soiled scarlet tapestry. I aim and release my weapon towards the same spot again, but the arrows don't seem to be breaking through the cloth. So much for 'tearing through with enough force'. I'm reloading my weapon once more when one of the pugwampi's arrows lodges into my flesh, sticking into my shoulder.

I wince, pulling the shaft out of me, but luckily I haven't been hurt too badly. I've gotten worse on hunting expeditions. I look up, ready to run through whichever pugwampi had shot me, but take a step back as a rock the size of a watermelon, enshrouded in sparkling black smoke, crashes through the layer of fabric. Turning around in surprise, I see Firon laughing behind me, two other mist-covered rocks floating in front of him. "I told you I would help, didn't I?"

The servant of Desna extends his arms and causes the two other pieces of rubble to careen forwards, smashing through the pugwampis floor. A great ripping, tearing noise echoes throughout the chapel and a large section falls to the floor, along with the strung bundle of gnoll skulls. The disgusting heap lands on the pews with a wet smack, but worse is what follows. What appears to be half a dozen pugwampis fall to the ground, flailing and shrieking as they fly through the dusty air. A series of sickening thuds greets me and Firon, and then silence.

We did it. The two of us went from being completely cornered to successful and relatively unhurt. I expect Firon to be grinning and congratulating our victory when I turn around, but definitely couldn't have guessed the sight that would lay before me.

The triumphant cleric gives a barely audible sigh, eyes slowly rolling back up into his head. Firon's arms fall limply to his sides and then he himself tumbles to the ground, unmoving and as silent as the dead gremlins around us.

Just posting this for my reference and so I don't have to scroll up and down the page for the characters. ;D
.
.
.
.

Gerr - Sorcerer, James Martin
Jakari - Ranger, Calixymenthillian
Gregory - Rogue, Lord_Viper_69
Chance - Cleric, The B Guy
??? - Fighter, Michael D. Moore

The B Guy, after all of your characters look okay I'll put up an OOC thread and Play Thread, and the story will start. =]

I'll list the comments for each character under the spoiler tags, it's a nice way to organize them. :P

Also, Hero Maker 2.5 is a great way to visualize your characters, and I recommend spending a bit of time to create a figure for your and the group's use. :3

Alright, sent to both. And don't worry Mike, I'm sure it'll come to you.

We've got a cleric, a sorcerer, a fighter, a ranger, and a rogue-like character then. I'm liking how this all is looking. =D

Alright, no problem Wrath. Take your time getting back into things. =]

I'll send you the player guide if you want - just give me an email address. =]

Fighter sounds good, we definitely need one!

Yes, that would be fine for the character background and creation. I don't have that book unfortunately, so just include what the feat does in parenthesis after it. I'm very open, so I'm guessing the Cosmopolitan feat is fine.

And I have the Pathfinder Beta PDF file already. Isn't it a great resource? I love it. =]

Has my return killed the thread? D:

Or is it just the holiday weekend?

Hoping it's the latter. :P

In the exotic nation of Katapesh, a land of fortune and wonders, heroes are those with the courage to command their destinies. Such wisdom leads a daring band to the abandoned village of Kelmarane with the hopes of reestablishing the once prosperous community. But buzzards still feast upon the secluded settlement’s corpse: a savage tribe of gnolls and their bestial allies hold the town in the name of a merciless master known only as the Carrion King. Can the PCs retake the village from its feral conquerors, or is Kelmarane but the first bastion of civilization to fall before the hordes of the mysterious warlord?

That is the basis of the first session of the Legacy of Fire AP. Katapesh is a country that is filled with deserts, magic, and genies, think of an Aladdin type setting. You can either have a generic background with the above facts in mind, or you could make a character with the info of the RotRL set you have.

You could also look on the Pathfinder Wiki if you want more information. If you need anything else, especially specifics like traits, just say the word. =]

Level point buy will be 20.
HP is max at first, then random roll HD + Con bonus after that.
No restrictions on gear, except for no magic/masterwork items at creation.
Starting gold will differ with class/background.

Glad to see things moving along with this group, I'm excited to start soon. :D

Indeed we are. But... not so much as we were before now. :D

James Martin - Sorcerer
The B Guy - Cleric
Lord_Viper_69 - Rogue, Cleric, Sorcerer
Michael D Moore - Fill in class (Fighter, Barbarian, Paladin, Rogue plz? ;D)
Calixymenthillian - Ranger

Xyrophobic - Reserve

So we've got a cleric, ranger, and sorcerer. Looks to be a creative group already!

My face hits the sandy ground for what must be the fourth time in the past hour, a loud curse escaping from my mouth. Tentatively, I push myself up, looking around to try and find the object that caused me to fall. Unfortunately, the ground is frustratingly barren except for the sand strewn across the surface of the desert floor. Firon turns around ahead of me, a smirk playing across his face. “Having some trouble again with our balance today, Aesur Sandwalker?”

He had been poking fun at my ever increasing mishaps on our journey to find the being that might not exist. The cleric hadn’t fallen once, but my feet apparently didn’t feel like cooperating together in order to walk today. Maybe it was the heat.

I usually hunt during the night, for obvious reasons. Temperatures during the day were stifling hot in the areas around Katapesh, and without cover one could easily suffer from sunburn within minutes. But wrapping one’s self up in protective clothes just tends to make the heat more unbearable.

With a small sigh, I reach out and pull myself up, ignoring Firon’s jab at my sinking ego. The other man had asked to pursue the pugwampi in the dark, but Dashki had insisted that the beast would be much easier to pursue in the daytime. And it would; even my knowledge about tracking wouldn’t be sufficient enough to find one of the beasts in the dark.

Of course, it seemed awfully convenient that the gnoll expert had leave of duty, the order issued by Almah herself on account of his fears. I may not agree with Firon on some points, but I do agree with him on the worrying subject of Almah’s over-trusting nature towards Dashki.

“Tripping’s... nothing I can’t handle.” Dusting myself off, I try to avoid eye contact with Firon and continue on, following the trail of small footprints. The prints look like tiny puppy paws, but the nature of the creature is most definitely different than an average canine. The tracks had led us three into hill country, along with another set of tracks, these the hesitant tread of what appears to be a goat. Seemingly pulled away against its will.

“Well, it’s not the first time you’ve tripped over your own feet. Do you always lumber around like that?”

Shaking my head, I stop and turn around, an edge placed onto my voice. “I’m a self-sustaining hunter. Do you really think I’m clumsy?”

Firon holds up his hands in mock defensiveness, and I realize too late he was joking. “Hey, hey, no need to get angry. And you shouldn’t be getting so mad at me, because I’m the one keeping an eye on you.” The cleric runs a hand through his short, but wellkept, dirty-blonde hair. “Almah might change her mind about the whole execution thing if I give her a bad report.”
T
hat shut me up. Slowly but surely, Firon is getting on my nerves with his attitude. It only figures that he’s the one that holds my fate in his hands. “I’m sorry… it won’t happen again.” Once more, my inbred passiveness kicks in. It’s not so bad sometimes, when it happens when I really need it.

An exasperated smile creeps across the cleric’s face. “Aesur, I’m just kidding. I wouldn’t do that to someone, I don’t think-“

Before I get a chance to angrily retort, both of us freeze, a heavy tension settling over the immediate area. It’s as if the natural stress in the environment skyrocketed all of a sudden. I find myself expecting something terrible to ensue even though nothing obvious around me has changed in the slightest. It appears Firon feels the same way, his features obviously worried and anxious.

A brief cry comes out from behind the crest of a hill ahead, not unlike the scream of a child. Firon seems to be thoroughly spooked, but I know better. It may sound like a human, but the cry actually came from a young goat. Which would match the tracks that I found earlier. But why would a pugwampi want a goat?

“I know what you’re thinking Firon. But... that howl was from a goat, not a person.”

He looks visibly calmer. “So whatever kidnapped the animal is up ahead?”

All I can do is nod in affirmation. Moving quickly, I reach the top of the hill in a rush, worried for the well being of the baby goat. Stretched out before me, and Firon after he succeeds in arriving at the hilltop as well, is a large field of cacti. The spiny plants are surprisingly tall, and one could almost call the grouping of fauna a small, but legitimate forest.

“Wow.” The cleric’s words echo my own thoughts, but then a flash of gray fur and another bleat snaps my attention back in focus. This time, the shout had a timbre of pain to it. Without another word, Firon begins to sprint down the dusty, rocky hill and into the cacti forest, disappearing from view.

I follow, but am careful not to trip and fall on any of the rocks around me. The aura of unease still hangs in the air, and suddenly the information that pugwampis are supposedly unlucky creatures chooses to resurface within my mind. If I was only falling on the ground earlier, and if this odd feeling in the air is their ‘unlucky aura’, who knows what could happen.

As to exemplify my point, a yell of frustration, definitely human, comes from within the cacti. Dashing into the conglomeration of plants, I try to be as careful as I can in maneuvering through the cacti. It doesn’t quite work. As cautious as I am, numerous scrapes and scratches line my face and hands, the pain infuriatingly distracting.

I reach a small clearing in the forest, where an angry looking Firon and a small goat tied to a scrub brush are located as well. On the other side of the clearing, there is a sharp drop off to a deep ravine. I don’t even want to get close to the edge, not with the pugwampi in the close vicinity.

The goat is tied to a scrub brush by a hairy, knotted length of rope, and cactus quills cover the length of his body, blood oozing from numerous puncture wounds. The cleric bends down and tries to free the animal by untying the knots, but the goat responds in turn by squirming and bleating in terror. Firon falls backwards, and promptly begins to let out a long stream of curses directed towards the goat’s immediate family. Looks like this will be a little more difficult than we thought.

Still crying out in fear, the goat begins to run in panicked circles around Firon, entangling him in the knots. “No! Stop it you! Aesur, help me with this damned creature!” His robed arms are flailing in the air, trying to keep his balance. With a jolt, I realize he is dangerously close to the edge of the ravine. This isn’t good.

As fast as my legs can take me, I race to the remaining length of rope and unsheathe my dagger, the blade glinting in the midafternoon sunlight. It only takes one strike to slash through the rope, the metal of the blade cutting cleanly through the frayed spot I chose to target. Firon falls over onto the ground, and the goat speeds off back into the forest, disappearing from view once again.

I extend my hand out to Firon, and he grasps it and pulls himself up. His face is grateful, and something else I couldn’t quite read was present too. Was it appreciation? “Thanks Aesur. That was some pretty damn quick thinking on your part. Otherwise I’d probably be lying at the bottom of that cliff over there.” The cleric begins to laugh, but how he can look at the situation in a humorous light, I can’t quite understand.

Before I can answer, the rustling of cacti causes us to whirl around in surprise, and something small and quick darts out from the foliage. Firon backs up, careful not to fall in the ravine, but my trained eyes spot what the creature looks like before it gets too close. My body involuntarily shrinks away from what it sees. Like the world’s most revolting lapdog learned to move around on its back legs, the sickly canine creature darts forward carefully, filmy white eyes darting this way and that. It is clothed in filthy rags; the nasty little thing snarling and yelping as it spots Firon and me. Then it notices the goat missing, and brandishes the oversized dagger in its tiny hands with a vengeful bark.

“It’s a pugwampi.” Firon’s words once again echo my mind’s thoughts, and for a moment all three of us in the clearing only stare at each other. And then, with a shriek of rage, the pugwampi lifts a hand and points at my held dagger. In seconds, the weapon begins to shake and wobble, falling apart at the hilt and tumbling to the ground in useless pieces. I look up at Firon, and his incredulous expression mirrors mine. Things are getting worse every second.

In a practiced movement, I unstrap the bow attached to my back and hold it in front of me, drawing an arrow and nocking it in place. The pugwampi giggles in glee and retreats back into the forest, a dirty looking arrow careening over Firon’s head just seconds later. I notice he still is unarmed. “Firon? Don't you... well... have a weapon? Almah said you could take care of yourself in a fight.”

His sheepish expression surprised me, until he said, “I didn’t think I’d need them... I didn’t believe Dashki that this thing was real.”
Another arrow flew through the air, this time directed towards myself, promptly cutting off my remark. Now wasn’t the time to chitchat. Aiming at the place where the pugwampi had disappeared, I waited for another arrow to emerge. There! I duck as another arrow is fired from the brush and release my own at where the projectile had appeared, and hear a satisfying yelp. I don’t take pleasure in my kills, but I recognize that sometimes it has to be done.

Firon stands up, and begins to congratulate me. “Good work Aesur! You’re surprisingly skilled with that bow there… going to have to teach me a trick or two. I couldn’t handle one of those if my life depended on it!” His lighthearted laugh and attitude confused me again, but it was nice to see someone looking on the bright side of this situation for once. I suppose Firon wasn’t really so bad when you got to know him.

We brought the pugwampi back to the camp, and arrived at dusk. On the way back, Firon triumphantly found pieces of burned Harrow deck cards within the little monster’s rags, tying its involvement to the fire. At least now my name was cleared, and Dashki’s as well.

Almah had accepted the pugwampi with a smoldering yet satisfied look in her eyes, and I had understood that she was looking at her friend Eloais’s murderer. After a few moments she ordered Garavel to take care of the corpse, and turned towards Firon and me.

Almah’d thanked us for our work, and her tone was genuine. I could tell she no longer suspected my part in the crime and actually commended my actions to a certain degree. That much was clear when she asked me to join Firon on the task she had hired him for. She was planning to retake the village of Kelmarane, an order issued to her from the Pactmasters of Katapesh. Pactmasters are the governing body in the capital city of Katapesh, so one is both wise and honored to do exactly what they tell one to do.

Nearby is an abandoned monastery, and Almah wanted to have it serve the role of an attack base on Kelmarane. It was good thinking, and it definitely swayed my choice in her favor. Not to mention that I might get on the Pactmaster’s good side for participating in the whole scheme. The two hundred gold offered to each member of the party was a convincing sum as well.

In the end, I decided to stay with the caravan and help out with their assignment. It was better than just hunting and living off the land with no purpose other than for survival. And I had a chance to make the lives of others better, something that was a goal of mine ever since I had escaped my binds of slavery. Firon seemed happy enough; a grin a mile wide had been plastered onto his face. And Almah no longer possessed that scowl of hers when talking at me, in its place was a welcoming smile. As I look up at the twinkling stars from my bedroll beside the night fire, I can’t help but think how nice it is after so many years to have friends once again.

So we'll have a character in the order of Pathfinders, eh? That'll be a great addition to the storyline!

The background looks good, especially with the early conflict with the gnolls. That'll be perfect for this story. =]

Will Jakari be a wizard, bard, or ranger?

Alright, you'll be the first I'll contact then. :)

If any of you need clarification, we'll do our character planning here.

James Martin - Fighter/Sorcerer
The B Guy - Cleric
Lord_Viper_69 - Rogue, Cleric, Sorcerer
Michael D Moore - Fill in class (Fighter, Barbarian, Paladin, Rogue plz? ;D)
Calixymenthillian - Wizard, Bard, Ranger

Xyrophobic - Reserve

That would help if you played a Ranger - but I don't mind if you take a Wizard or Bard instead. Whatever you feel suits you the best. And it's alright if you haven't plyed PbPs before, they're quite easy to learn how to play. :)

James Martin - Fighter/Sorcerer
The B Guy - Cleric
Lord_Viper_69 - Rogue, Cleric, Sorcerer
Michael D Moore - Fill in class (Fighter, Barbarian, Paladin, Rogue plz? ;D)
Calixymenthillian - Wizard, Bard, Ranger

Yes, I think it would be a wise idea to be using the campaign traits - anyone who doesn't have the player's guide just tell me and I'll provide them for you. =]

So that's five! I'll definitely be running the campaign then. Also, I'll be taking things out of your backstories and placing them in the campaign, so when making characters be sure to flesh out the history. :D

James Martin - Fighter/Sorcerer
The B Guy - Cleric
Lord_Viper_69 - Rogue, Cleric, Sorcerer
Michael D Moore - Fill in class (Fighter, Barbarian, Paladin, Rogue plz? ;D)
Calixymenthillian - Wizard, Bard

So we have four people interested so far:

James Martin - Fighter/Sorcerer
The B Guy - Cleric
Lord_Viper_69 - Rogue, Cleric, Sorcerer
Michael D Moore - Fill in class
OPEN - OPEN

Looks good so far, if we're going to have a well rounded group we should go for more meatier classes for the last two slots to take some blows.

EDIT: Ninja'd by Moore! :P

Sure! I always liked the idea of a fighter/sorcerer type character. =]

I've GMed on a couple other forums in PbP games, and I think it's about time I consider running one here. I've been reading the Legacy of Fire adventure path and think that it is absolutely stellar in design and story elements.

So, I've been thinking about running a game but want to see who is interested out there first. It'd be most likely a five player game, but I'm willing to have characters in reserve if someone drops out. Which will most likely happen if history is to be repeated.

If I get enough replies to run a game, then the first five will be given a game slot, and the posters after that given reserve slots. Would anyone like to play?

Ruleset: Pathfinder 3.5 Beta
Adventure Path: Legacy of Fire
Racial Restrictions: Open to any really, even those outside of the Pathfinder rulebook. Talk to me and we'll discuss how to balance it out. Outlandish races must have a viable backstory and must not be of the evil alignment.
Class Restrictions: The core classes in the rulebook.
Players: 5

I'd love it if someone would draw a cleric of Shelyn - it would be much appreciated! *does a please-draw-my-character dance for Hugo* ;D

There's a picture of his face on his alias page accessible through my profile, and if anyone is able to create the hair and scruff to look pretty much the same as that astheically, but with a softer expression, I'd be a very happy man. =]

Information

I take a step backwards in shock. Kill me? Would she really order someone to do that? As Garavel begins a steady gait in my direction, the answer quickly becomes apparent. I open my mouth to try and stop him, but nothing comes out. Years upon years of staying silent unless ordered hasn’t helped my social skills very much.

Panicking, I raise my hands out in front of me for defense. A split second later I realize I should have drawn my bow and arrow, but Garavel now is too close for that.

A clear, deep voice rings throughout the clearing, stopping the woman’s servant in his tracks. “Almah, I think we should hear this guy out. Who knows, if he didn’t do it, maybe he has the knowledge of who did.” It was the man in the navy and silver robes, his face looking at me expectantly to answer.

Understanding his tactic, I quickly nodded. “Yes. I could help find the culprit.” Never a person having a way with words, I closed my mouth before I said something that might change Almah’s mind.

The woman took a moment. Ages seemed to pass. Then she slowly nodded. “Fine, Firon. But I’m not taking care of him. He’s your responsibility now. Don’t come crying to me when he’s gone and you have a dagger buried in between your shoulderblades.”

The robed man, Firon, laughed loudly. “Don’t worry Almah, I can take care of myself. Otherwise you wouldn’t have hired me, right?”

His words sent a chill down my spine. So apparently this Firon was dangerous. Not that it would matter, I wasn’t going to try and run away anytime soon. Even with my skills of living in the wilderness I wasn’t crazy enough to leave the promise of company in these wastes.

“Hmph. I suppose so.” Almah’s gaze was sharp, and I have the distinct impression that she dislikes me. Which is ridiculous, since I technically haven’t even done anything wrong. She’ll see that there isn’t anything to worry about eventually.

Then the woman speaks again. “Garavel. I’d like you to investigate as to whom exactly started this fire. And you too, Firon, you arrived just as the fire started, so you’re not the culprit.” He nods.

Almah’s eyes pass over me, lingering for a moment before flicking back to the cleric. “And take him with you. Don’t want him sowing seeds of suspicion in the other members of this caravan.”

Anger flares up inside of me. “I didn’t set the wagon on fire! I wasn’t even here when it started!”

Garavel coughs and says, “Well, young man, I never saw you until after the blaze was put out. You could have easily slipped into the camp, lit the wagon, then hid until now.”

I give an exasperated sigh, and rack my mind of who could have done the crime. My gaze drifts over Almah, then Garavel, Firon, the wagon where Zastoran was in… and…

There he is. That scraggly looking man behind the tree, looking at us with such scornful eyes. “Him!” I point my finger desperately, my voice wavering with emotion. The man quickly straightens up, clearly not aware that anyone could notice him, and his face swiftly transforms into one of fear.

Garavel smirks, and Almah only laughs. “Him? Dashki? He’s our gnoll expert, and despite his appearances… I doubt he’d try something like this.”

Firon however, looks thoughtful. It looks like he doesn’t quite believe Almah. I can’t help feeling happy that there’s someone present that doesn’t blindly follow the apparent leader of the caravan’s opinion.

I rack my mind, trying to remember information about gnolls. All I can come up with are images of hyena-headed creatures with sharp teeth and blood running down their muzzles. Wouldn’t someone who calls themselves an expert on those savage beasts be capable of such a wicked act?

As if on cue, Dashki runs up to the group of us, a look of frantic worry on his face. “I did not set the fire, I was not even near it when it began to burn!”

Then it’s Garavel’s turn to speak. “So then, where were you when the fire started?”

“I- uh- I was finishing up my dinner by the campsite, when I saw the wagon go up. I ran over to the water barrel and helped put it out. I swear it!” Dashki’s eyes are panicked, and I find myself feeling a little sorry for the man.

Almah shakes her head. “I see. This man here says you may have done it. What do you say to that?” Immediately I regret pointing my finger in his direction, in order to save myself from a most likely brutal fate.

Dashki shakes his head violently in refusal, his long black hair whipping around in the air. “No! I had nothing to do with the fire! How do we even know the fire was set on purpose? That idiot burned a hundred candles in his wagon. Perhaps he just got unlucky. We’re in gnoll country, so it was probably pugwampis.”

Firon took a step forward, livid anger lining his features. “He was no idiot, and you better have more respect for those who have departed from this world, Dashki. Or else.” I’m surprised by his sudden anger. Perhaps he had been a friend of this Eloais.

The gnoll expert glared at the navy-robed man, and his fury was almost palpable. “Or else what, stargazer? Will you send a swarm of butterflies after me?” Understanding dawns on me. The robed man must be a cleric of Desna, the goddess of luck, stars, and travel. Her sacred symbol is a silver butterfly, and to use it in offense is particularly insulting.

First shock, then pure rage transforms Firon’s striking features. “I’ll personally make sure that you-“

Before I know what’s happening, I find myself standing between the pair, arms outstretched. I don’t like the fighting. And it’s most definitely not what we need to be focusing on at the moment. “Stop it, you two. Dashki. You said something about pugwampis, what are those?” Hopefully, with a change of subject, this particular fire will die out before it causes any damage.

Dashki’s expression is grateful, and he plunges into a detailed description. “Terrible critters who crawled up from below the earth long ago. ‘Jackal rats’ some folks call them, on account of their pointed little heads. They worship gnolls as gods and infest their communities like rats. Wherever pugwampis go, bad luck is sure to follow. The gnolls hate the pugwampis because of this, and try to kill them all the time. But they always come back. Perhaps their bad luck caused the fortune-man’s candles to start a fire? Yes. Pugwampis. I’m certain it was because of pugwampis.”

Almah looks intrigued. “A pugwampi? Never heard of it before.” Garavel shakes his head as well, appearing to be a bit interested. “Neither have I. But Dashki is our gnoll expert, and if he says they are real, then…”

Firon interjects his opinion into the conversation. “Or he could be making all of this up in order to lead us off his trail.” It seems that the sting of Dashki’s previous insult hasn’t worn off quite yet.

I quickly realize that time is running out. If it was indeed one of these pugwampis, then it must be running away this very moment. “I don’t think it’s Dashki’s trail that we need to be worrying about. Do the pugwampi leave footprints behind?”

The gnoll expert nods in affirmation. Excellent, just what I needed to hear.

“I’m an exceptional tracker. I can go out and find the little monster for you. Then this mess will be done and over with.”

Firon looks at me, his face unreadable. “Or you might not find it and everything just gets a lot more confusing.” Gods, this man dislikes the thought of following Dashki’s plan. Perhaps he thinks that he could come up with a better one.

Almah throws her hands up into the air and shouts loudly, “Just go! Bring me back proof of this pugwampi beast and I’ll forget about this little incident. But if you come back empty handed…” The woman trails off, her eyes cold. I receive the message loud and clear. Find a pugwampi, otherwise Dashki and I are in trouble. Big trouble.

With an almost regal twist of her figure, Almah turns away and stalks off to an elaborately cowled wagon, draped in pink silks. Garavel follows, even as the woman enters the cart and into her private quarters. I raise an eyebrow at Firon, but he shakes his head. “No, it’s not what you think. Garavel is only her loyal servant. There is nothing romantic about their relationship. Believe me, I’ve been traveling with this group for quite some time, and there isn’t anything going on worth taking note of.”

I feel a bit ashamed at thinking the worst. But it was a rational assumption of course. Right? No matter, I need to concentrate on the task at hand now.

The gnoll expert begins to slink away, but I catch him before he gets too far. “Dashki! Your knowledge of these pugwampis is important. I’d appreciate it if you came with me and Firon.” The man looks a bit surprised, perhaps at being spoken to in such a kind fashion. I’m starting to get the sense that not everyone is particularly pleasant to the scraggly man.

“I… I will show you what the tracks look like. And where they might be hiding. But I won’t get near those tiny demons. I’ve seen enough of those for a lifetime.” The knoll expert’s face is serious. I wonder if the story about these creatures’ unluckiness is truly real.

“Right. These ‘unlucky tiny demons.’ I’m shaking in my boots.” I have a second to see his frustrated expression before he turns around and stomps off.

Dashki looks depressed, and I definitely feel bad for him. “Hey, just ignore what he’s saying. I believe you, so his opinion doesn’t matter.”

The gnoll expert’s face brightens, and then lessens once again. “Yes. But he must not underestimate the pugwampis, they are more troublesome than you know.”

My head shakes in agreement; I tend not to like to underestimate problems anyways. With a nervous laugh I replicate what Firon had said previously about me. “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to keep an eye on him.”

Dashki only gives me a blank stare, and retreats back to his wagon, disappearing from view. An exasperated sigh escapes my lungs; looks like things weren’t running as smoothly in the caravan as they had first appeared to be.

Wow. Thank you for writing all of this down, I'm favoriting this straight away! I'll be keeping an eye on this campaign, you are doing a wonderful job of running it. I love all the little things you added/changed, like the fact that they met Braddikar several times before fighting him on the boat. It made him seem less of a random boss encounter.

Looking forward to the next entry! :D

When I wake up, my body shivers in the cool desert air. My fingers stretch out, reaching for my pack that holds a small satchel of firepowder. Which happens to be the only substance that has been capable of warming me up during the early-morning daybreaks of late. The sun heats things up considerably during when its light out, but in its absence, only the bitter cold reigns over the desert nights.

Sitting up, I untie the small cloth pouch and pour a small amount of its contents onto the sand a good foot away. As I retie the satchel back up, I carefully watch as the powder and sand begin to smoke, and then a fire bursts into creation. The person who invented firepowder must have been a genius, to be able to make a substance that instantaneously combusts upon contact with any variant of sand. Not to mention the fortune he or she must have made off the stuff.

Yawning, I pull myself out of my sleeping bag and begin to pack up my things. The heat from the fire helps immensely, and before long, all the stiff joints in my body have warmed up and work well again. Sometimes I find myself wishing that I could have bought a better insulated bag, but then again, it would have been much more bulkier to carry. And it would have been a hindrance when hunting.

Hunting in the desert is difficult, but once you learn which kind of animals live in what kind of burrows, it becomes much easier to do. And the sporadic patches of cactuses often prove themselves to be good sources of water and effective places for cover. Which is exactly why I am sitting in the middle of a large cacti patch this very second. Wouldn’t want to fall asleep out in the open and be carried off to be devoured by some nocturnal predator.

I place all my meager belongings into the middle of the sleeping bag and roll it up tightly, until the cluster of objects only measure a good foot in diameter. Small enough to carry on my back but not too large that it would become unfavorable in the case where I’d have to move quickly.

Next I move onto my quiver and longbow. Not one to have many friends, these two are the closest things to that. My hands are so used to the curved grip of the bow and the soft fletching of the handmade arrows. Gifts from my previous master when he set me free those four years earlier.

Not many people could guess it, but for most of my life I, Aesur Sandwalker, have been a slave. When I was six, my small village on the outskirts of Katapesh was raided, and my parents were killed. I don’t really remember much, so the pain in thinking of them isn’t too great. Sometimes I think that’s a blessing. Still… I do miss them, and some nights I dream of what it might’ve been like if they weren’t killed and I captured.

I moved from master to master during my early years, learning how to cook, clean, and serve. Then, when I got old enough, my chores gradually shifted from the menial household work into the more laborious kind. I wasn’t well fed, and all my owners were cruel to some extent, most wholly uncaring and brutal. I learned to keep quiet until I was told to speak, and to obey orders at the snap of a finger.

Then, at the age of seventeen, I was bought by a kind, caring old man. He worked even at his ripe age to earn enough money so he could buy slaves and set them free. I never did ask why he went to so much trouble to do so. I only stayed with him for a day, and then the next morning he was gone. Only the bow and quiver were left behind. Not so much as a note. I still don’t know his name.

Next I traveled back to Katapesh and lived on the streets for the most part. As much as I hate to admit it, I did steal food and supplies. But only what I needed. And the guards never once caught me, so some benevolent god or goddess must have been watching over me.

After awhile, I realized that living outside the city might prove more productive. I was sick of stealing food for myself. I thought maybe I could acquire some in a more honest way. I hired a guide who taught me how to survive the drastic temperature changes of the desert and badlands, and where food lay in wait for me to hunt it. Before long I learned how to live in the wilderness alone, and I had no need for a guide any longer.

I close my eyes and put my hands over the warmth radiated by the artificial fire. Living alone has its advantages. I never have to share. I don’t have to worry about whether another person is being too loud on the hunt. I only have to take care of myself. But once in awhile I find myself feeling a bit lonely. These periods of time always pass.

Standing up, I strap on my leather armor and many black harnesses, protective armor that keeps me safe from the dangers of the wild, whether the threat is living or natural in temperament. I slip my bow and quiver into the many bindings, feeling them enter snugly into their confinement.

And then I smell something strange. Something familiar; an almost acrid scent. A few moments pass and I recognize the odor with a shudder. Smoke! I look at my dying fire, and see that there is no foggy gas rising up from the flames. Of course, there wouldn’t be, as the conflagrations were started by firepowder that produces absolutely no smoke at all due to its unique chemistry.

Looking around, I see nothing but spiny, glossy plants blocking my view. But something is burning. I’m sure of it, and I want to find out what. I carefully edge between the many cacti lining my small camp, and emerge from the forest of dangerous fauna. And there, on the horizon, is the telltale sign of fire, the flames licking high against the brightening sky. An ugly cloud of black smoke hovers above the blazing image like a foreboding omen. But I’m not one to believe in silly superstitions.

I break off at a light sprint, dashing across the barren landscape around me. Sand has become easier to run in, as I’ve grown accustomed to the extra force needed to be able to run through the light, ever-shifting soil. Not to say that it’s a breeze, I grow tired just like any other person attempting this particular feat.

After about a several hundred feet, I cross over a large dune and become still at the scene before me. I’ve never seen anything like it. In the middle of the clearing, a giant tree fashioned in the shape of an outstretched talon is fiercely ablaze, the flickering flame emitting an impressive amount of heat even standing good fifty feet away.

One wagon is on fire as well, and seems to be the center of attention for those in the camp. Elaborate painted moons and stars on the cart are slowly devoured by the encroaching flames, and people frantically rush back and forth trying to douse the blaze. A gout of smoke pours from an open door, and appears to be the source of most of the large cloud hanging over the ill-fated site.

I dart down the other side of the dune towards the campsite, and as I get closer I see that the members of the group are traveling between two wagons. One is loaded with a large water barrel and the other is the burning cart, dumping bucketfuls of water onto the crackling fire. I quickly move to get in line, and am handed a spare bucket by a middle-aged looking woman. At first her face is suspicious, but she nods and points me on my way to the water barrel. I don’t blame her, they probably need all the help they can get.

As I reach the cart, I scoop my bucket into the vat of liquid and fill it up, dashing back to the burning carriage as fast as I can without spilling my pail. When I splash the water onto the fiery wreck, a small section is put out and charred, black wood is revealed underneath. The crackling of the fire and shouts around the camp are getting to me. I’ve lived in the silence of the wilderness for so long, an event of this caliber is making me jumpy and nervous.

I tell myself to calm down, and I stalk away from the blazing cart. My heart is pounding in my ears, and my head feels funny. There is a shout, and I only have a split second to react as a pair of middle-aged farmers dash past me, chasing a herd of runaway goats, which probably escaped in the confusion.

The inferno is starting to die down, the combined efforts of those in the camp putting the flames to rest. I stand up to try and help again, but by the time I reach the wagon, the fire has all but disappeared. A murmuring crowd surrounds the burnt husk of a vehicle, looking at each other distrustfully. It seems as if this wasn’t an accident.

There’s a beautiful woman kneeling by the wagon, her head bowed in what appears to be deep sorrow. No one is speaking to her, but close by is a cowled man with a peppered beard, a pitiful expression splayed across his angular features. Standing behind the burnt tree is another man, with long, black, tangled hair and ragged, but draping clothes. His face is unreadable; the only thing visible is a dark scowl penetrating out from behind his greasy locks.

One by one, the crowd dissipates until there are only six left, the woman, the sharp-featured man, and the suspicious looking figure still cowering behind the tree. There are two others, a broad-shouldered man draped in blue and silver robes, alongside an old man with a long white beard. And then there’s me, silent as ever, apparently not noticed by the others just yet.

Pepperbeard takes a step forward and places his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Almah. I’m sorry he had to go like this… I know you two were close.”

The woman, apparently named Almah, slowly stands up and faces the man, her face as blank as a statue’s. “Thank you Garavel. But Eloais’s death cannot cause us to slow. You know our goal.”

Garavel’s face betrays his shock, but it is soon replaced by a look of concern. “Yes, Miss Almah. How could I forget?”

The woman nods and then turns towards the old man. “Father Zastoran, please go and take care of the wounded. Your skills will be much appreciated in speeding their recovery.”

Grumbling something about prices, Zastoran hobbles off to a wagon on the other side of the clearing and disappears into the folds. For a moment I wonder what he could do to help, and then remember that Almah had used the title Father with him, and surmise he could be a cleric.

But before the elderly priest remerges from his tent, I am suddenly noticed. It is Almah, her finger pointing directly towards my body. “You there! How did you get here? What is your purpose?” Garavel fingers his hilt of a dagger that had previously been concealed in his shrouds. I need to convince them I mean no harm, and fast.

Too bad I’m not much of a talker. “I… uh… I’ve been hunting in the area to the east, and saw the flames and decided to come help. I’m not going to hurt any of you, believe me, that’s the last thing I want to do.” I eye her friend Garavel’s weapon as I speak the last part.

Almah narrows her eyes at me. Then barks out an order. “Garavel. I think he started the fire. And now he’s spouting us lies in order to gain an opportunity to sabotage us further later on.”

Fear arcs through my mind. She doesn’t believe me, and now I’m in trouble. “N-no, really, I-“

The woman shouts over my protests, glaring at me while calming ordering, “Kill him.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

This is a runthrough of the Legacy of Fire campaign with two of my own characters, written in a first-person form. Some parts may or may not be altered a little bit to add a "novel feel" to it, but nothing major. :)

The person who is in the first-person view is Aesur, a ranger who you will learn more about later on. The other OC is Firon, a cleric of Desna who was mentioned briefly in this installment. Eventually there will be a romance between the two, so if anyone is squicky about that kind of stuff you can skip over it. ;D

I'm hoping to continue this story through the entire adevnture path, picking up an NPC here and there to add into the two-man party to bolster it to a healthy number of four. If anyone is interested in this story, I'd like suggestions. ^^

Nayr just entered behind the other four, with some surprisingly good rolls (for me at least, the unlucky one at most of my other PbPs ;D). Hopefully he's quiet enough...

And I'll have internet for a while more, then as I switch hotels for the remainder of the vacation I might have it every day. I'll just have to see.

I have a feeling there'll be some action soon. :)

Nayr's fine with whatever position he's in, more of the noisy type though so it's well suited that he's with the backup group.

Also, I thought I should say, I am leaving for California tommorrow and will be gone for the next week or so. I'll have my laptop with me, and the resort I will be staying at should have an internet port, so it shouldn't be a problem.

In the case I don't and combat starts without me, feel free to NPC Nayr.

Just wanted to say, I think the roleplaying between characters has been stellar, and I just want to thank you for making it an exciting experience so far! I'll be back soon, ready to get that dastardly Lamm~

Ack, seems I'm the only one with no backstory. Sorry, I've been very busy the past few days. D:

I'll have one up by tonight! ;D

Good idea TN, I'm all for it.

Hey, that's a great map. Better than anything I could do handrawn. v.v

I'll get to work on the backstory. ;D I do have a question though. I always thought druids kinda chose to live with nature and learned from that, how would Loghen be 'trained' as you suggested before? Like by a conclave of some sort?