Wayward Wanderer's page

Let's give this a try.

5d6 ⇒ (6, 5, 6, 2, 1) = 20 = 19
5d6 ⇒ (1, 2, 5, 6, 5) = 19 = 18
5d6 ⇒ (5, 6, 4, 2, 6) = 23 = 21
5d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 3, 5, 5) = 20 = 17
5d6 ⇒ (5, 2, 4, 6, 2) = 19 = 17
5d6 ⇒ (3, 6, 6, 4, 6) = 25 = 22

To clarify, by "No Tax Feats", do you mean that the "feat tax" feats are included for all characters?

A despondent look grows across Kendra's face, "An investigation? I went to the sheriff after I realized Father was missing and after a quick few questions around town, he traced my father to the ruins of Harrowstone. It was there that he found him beneath a fallen wall, crushed, his climbing gear having dislodged the aging stones. It seemed very clear, and so there it ended. Or, so we thought." Tears begin to well up in Kendra's eyes as she finishes her words.

Sorry for the slow posting rate over the past two weeks. Was running two separate investigations at work into employee issues, which are now resolved. Thank you all for bearing with me.

Other than the slow posting rate, how are people enjoying things thus far?

Though she had asked Daviana for her questions, Kendra seems to drift off into her thoughts for a bit even as she is asked. As Nasrin and Drago offer follow up thoughts, Kendra's eyes wander to the window, as though looking out into the yard beyond...perhaps expecting someone to arrive.

"Sorry, umm, keys you say? Father was more of the scholarly type, with a curiosity for knowledge, artefacts, and the arcane. Tinkering was never a passion of sorts. He had a few keys, they are in his office off the study... but nothing overly elaborate. Father did have a friend though, back in his years at Lepidstadt, that had a knack for the mechanical. He made me a metal bird, a present for my twelfth birthday.... not sure what happened to it."

Kendra takes another sip of her coffee as a streak of sunlight cuts through the window and across her face. It reveals dark, ashen circles beneath her eyes, suggesting that sleep has been elusive for more than a few nights. "I never knew he was so interested in the ruins of Harrowstone, truth be told. When we first came here a decade ago and Father purchased this home, it was under the context that he was going to be retiring from Lepidstadt, only lecturing occasionally in addition to his travels and research, and he wanted a quiet place to compile his notes and work on his texts. I haven't really dug through his notes in his office, nor many of the texts held in the study, so he may have more scattered information on it hidden within."

"As for Harrowstone itself, it was a sizeable prison built about one hundred twenty years ago to house the worst prisoners in Ustalav, most awaiting execution. Ravengro was founded to support the prison, providing house for guards and the like, but evolved into a farming community after the prison was mostly destroyed in a massive fire about fifty years ago. Now, it is mostly a source of local superstition, childhood ghost stories, and adolescent dares."

the current year is 4713

As the party discusses their options at length, Kendra sits down at the table with a soft sigh. Sipping her coffee, she listens to the exchanges regarding their next step. "Well, you are welcome to explore Father's... I mean, my... library, as well as those books he entrusted to you - just be careful with them. As for around town, I don't know what you are hoping to find, so a place to start isn't very clear."

Taking a chunk of dried meat, she bites half before offering the rest to Nicodemus, who scarfs it down happily. "As kindly as he spoke yesterday, I would recommend caution regarding Father Grimburrow. No, he is not one of the overly superstitious locals, but remember that yesterday he was fulfilling his duty as a clergyman, rather than sharing his personal feelings for my Father. I know when Father bought this home and brought me here first ten years ago, he tried to build a relationship with with Grimburrow, but the priest remained distant and uninterested in my father's research into the dark and dangerous. He has mentioned more than a few times around town that my father's work would stir up trouble."

Having a sip of her coffee, Kendra continues, "As for those who would share my father's confidence at times, well, there is Jominda Fallenbridge, the town Apothecary, and old Alendru Ghoroven, who is something of a teacher, magical theorist, and purveyor of arcane trinkets. Beyond the two of them, really, there was only the Sheriff, Benjan Caeller, who was friendly with my father. The rest generally viewed him the same way the mob yesterday did."

Refilling her coffee, Kendra turns to Daviana, "Now, Lady Soldavaso, you have some questions for me?"

Locations updated on the town map

The morning comes, bringing muted sunlight and the smell of a recently started fire stretching through the house. The intensity of emotions experienced the day before seems to have faded a bit, and as you rise you realize the previous night's were not a dream, but rather a vivid reality. Still, the beds were comfortable and you are rather well rested. Coming downstairs you find Kendra moving about the kitchen, heating a pot for coffee and snacking on some of the bread and cheese from the prior day's spread.

"Good morning, all. I want to thank you again for coming from distant points for Father's services. It would seem you will all be staying with me for the next month while I attend to affairs. I ask only that you find the truth of Father's passing, so that I may let him rest knowing the truth of it all. Now, who is hungry?"

As if on cue, the sound of a door opening upstairs can be heard. Rounding the top of the stairs is a sleepy-eyed Kendra, who leans down on the bannister and offers a soft smile. "I am glad to see you all back safe and sound. The hour is late, please, there are more than enough guest rooms upstairs to accommodate you all. Father often had visitors, and acquired this house specifically to be a refuge for researchers needing a quite place removed from the bustle of the city. They may lack the finery of a high class inn, but the beds are at least comfortable."

With a smile she returns to her room and closes the door.

Exiting the tomb, an air of foreboding hangs over you all. As Drago slips ahead into the darkness of night, you all stare out into the shadows beyond, seeking the force that silently awaits you... like a creature, stalking its prey...

Despite the deep sense of dread, you see neither witnesses nor monsters, and as you quietly make your way back across town toward Lorrimor Place, you notice not a soul.

Reaching Lorrimor Place, you find the building intact and the front door locked. Knocking, you are greeted by your new acquaintance Nasrin at the door.

@Daviana: Despite your focus, you are unable to determine any movement or source of Nicodemus' concern. As you come alongside him, his tension decreases slightly.

Slowly climbing the stairs Drago comes up behind Nicodemus, and keeping low, peers over the wolf's shoulder. The night is dark, and though the rain has lessened, the clouds in the sky still obscure any natural light, leaving only silhouettes of mausoleums, gravestones, and the like. Staring out into the bleakness of night, your eyes can't find any movement. Nicodemus continues to lowly growl, though you realize that the wolf's eyes are likewise searching the darkness, clearly uncertain as to what was setting him ill at ease.

Alana's lantern shuttered and torch tossed into the back of one of the burial alcoves, the tomb becomes preternaturally dark, which only adds to the feeling of tension. Up above, Nicodemus continues his low, quiet growl, but never does it escalate...

Despite Alana's best efforts, the lock continues to present her with a confusing puzzle. Likewise, Arthorius' attempts at using brute force to move what you believe could be a door prove without merit, as the stone does not give in the slightest.

Just as Daviana finishes her comment regarding the scarab, she feels the hair on her neck stand up, just as a subtle but distinct sound reaches her ears - the sound of a low, cautious growl from Nicodemus up at the top of the tomb's stairs.

------

[spoiler=back at Lorrimor Place]
Kendra smiles kindly at Nasrin, "I am glad you are okay, but please, be careful. My father's work delved into many dark, and dangerous, matters. You really think something, or someone, is after us? I know the way to the temple of Pharasma well, I have frequented their library throughout the years. Though I do not know how secure the building would be - it is a small, country church, not a great temple as is found in the large cities. Still, the priests there could provide support. As for now, I will be back to sleep." She gives Nasrin another hug before returning to bed.

You have previously found quite a few locks relatively easy to get through, and had been proud of the skill you had demonstrated. Yet this lock - if so simple a word could do it justice - is unlike anything you have ever encountered in your explorations. Despite your detailed attention to the mechanism within, you are unable to even begin to unravel the irrational logic of the lock. Either your skills will need to vastly improve... or you will need to find the key.

Alana spends several moments searching the floor and walls of the chamber near the altar. Despite her best efforts, she is unable to find any clues that might reveal some secret cache... that is, until the tip of her rapier catches by chance in a barely perceivable indent in the wall, just behind the edge of the banner. Pulling it back and examining it, it appears to be rather deep, possibly a keyhole? Checking the wall around it, you find the barely perceptible seam of what could be a door.

The good little Loot fairies conspired with my wife and parents deliver unto me today a brand new shiny laptop! My apologies for the delays over the last two weeks, I hope your all excited to get back into the swing of things.

Descending the stairs, you notice that they are well-worn, as though traveled frequently. Too frequently for a burial vault. The air is cool and damp as you reach the bottom of the stairs, where are Alana's Lantern casts a flickering light across 8 burial alcoves located along the walls of the chamber you've entered. You would find it strange for a family to invest in such an elaborate tomb then place the bodies uncontained in the alcoves, but you are more distracted by the fact that not a single one of the eight skeletons has a skull.

Located in the center of the chamber set back towards the far wall is a small altar, holding basic religious paraphernalia of Pharasma. Behind it hangs a banner, faded and threadbare, the distinct markings of any family Insignia long lost.

Good luck with the move!

Leaving the tombs and mausoleums they are each investigating, the company comes to Drago to examine the strange footprints.

Ishara and Drago bend down and work their hands around the heavy stone lid, looking to get a good enough grip to heave such a lid off. As you apply pressure to shove it back, you hear a strange click beneath and suddenly the intense strength you apply causes the lid to pivot quite easily on some mechanism set in the corner, as though it had been designed to be opened and closed repeatedly. The lid swings open to reveal neither a coffin or corpse within, but rather a stone staircase descending under the Restlands.

@Dragomir: yes, Lore (Pharasma) works in this case.

Despite not a single one of the company having entered this cemetery prior to the morning's funeral, your combined knowledge seems to strip through its esoteric pattern of organization swiftly. Ishara and Arthorius both offer their intimate knowledge of burial practices, while Alana's smattering of legends and lore regarding this area of Ustalav, and Drago's keen attention to detail draw the party's attention to two different tombs worthy of investigation.

Alana finds an older mausoleum, several of its carvings and gargoyles worn down by the hard winters of Ustalav. It was rather unremarkable in comparison to several of the larger and more ornate mausoleums nearby, but amidst its carved scrollwork a small detail catches Alana's attention - a scarab with an eye at the center of it.

Drago, for his part, had examined a few mausoleums before noticing of something strange, heavy bootprints moving repeatedly around a single tomb on the ground. The effigy atop the tomb is that of an armored man in the regalia of bygone days, but it is the mark of boots digging into the mud as though from someone pushing open the heavy lid of the tomb that is the mark of something amiss. Most interesting perhaps is the fact that the name on the tomb has been damaged beyond legible, though whether by accident or intent remains to be determined.

My apologies everyone, my laptop decided to Brick on me last week. I have cobbled together a desktop using an old system I had in my attic and some spare parts from friends. I am now back up and running. Sorry for the delay.

...damnit, i was wondering why you had not replied, my post yesterday morning never went through...

Seearching the Restlands, even with Alana's theory in place, will take a good deal of time. Everyone that is searching roll 3 perception checks. In addition, you may make a single knowledge check (either religion or local, not both), to utilize some information of burial practices to focus your attention during the search appropriately.

The company guards itself as best they can against the elements before heading out into the storm. Though its wrath and fury has diminished some since its worst, the storm is still quite fierce. Bad enough that no one, at least no one in their right mind, would be out in such weather. While not the most clandestine of individuals, the night and weather combine to offer a great deal of cover as you cut across town. Only a few hints of light peak out of the shuttered windows of the buildings you pass. Still, you move carefully, knowing the likely judgement should your mission be discovered.

It takes longer than you recall to reach the Restlands, almost as though the storm-torn night actually stretches the distance between Lorrimor Place and the graveyard. Eventually though, you reach the gates through which you carried the late Professor on his final journey. Standing there, looking down through the darkness at the sprawling shadows cast by the tombstones, mausoleums, vaults, and graves, you realize for the first time how irrationally large the cemetery is in comparison to the town. And in the moment, the question strikes each of you - where would a hidden cache be within such a place?

------

Slipping her tools into and around the mechanisms of the lock with precision and skill, Alana realizes this may be the most intricate lock she has ever encountered. Strange to find affixed to a book. With each tumbler you manage to move into place, another falls back out. Unfortunately, despite your best efforts, you are unable to defeat the lock.

Just as Alana admits defeat from the lock, Daviana returns to the common room of he house.

Daviana's comforting words seem to ease the pain raging inside Kendra, even if only a little. With Lady Soldavaso's assistance, Kendra rises weakly from the ground and moves toward her room silently, not a word slipping from her mouth.

Back in the sitting room, Dragomir flips through several other pages of the journal but finds mostly simple entries chronicling moments in the Professor's life. Interestingly, you come to realize that the pages placed in the front are composed of different papers, torn from different journals used over time, yet obviously placed here for your finding. The rest of the journal was little more than a way to group those pages together. Closing the journal, you notice the four other volumes mentioned in the will stacked within the chest. Reaching in, Dragomir picks them up.

The first book is bound in some unknown kind of jet-black leather. It feels cool and damp to the touch, yet your fingers are not wet when you release it. Seemingly blank on the covers, in holding it close to the candlelight you can just make out the title at the correct angle, "On Verified Madness".

The second book, entitled "The Umbral Leaves', is a far simpler text, bound in simple brown leather and not much larger than a journal.

The third book is a weighty tome, bound in tan canvas with oak reinforcement. A simple leather thong swings from the back to the front, hooking around a small iron bolt, and in a stylized font, the title reads "Serving Your Hunger".

The first three books are all addressed to Montagnie Crowl, a professor of antiquities at Lepidstadt University. The fourth book is wrapped in a cloth, and placed below the others...

The final book is rich purple in color, and a brass scarab with a single eye in its center is embedded on the front cover. Attached to the back is a note, signed by Lorrimor, asking that it be delivered to Embreth Daramid, a judge in Lepidstadt. The note gives his exact address, and asks that the deliverer be discreet about returning it. The book is bound with polished steel and closed with a small but intricate lock. The keyhole is unique, as if it was made for a triangular key. It is clear the iron key that opened the chest does not fit into it.

Kendra stands beside you all as Drago reads the selected journal entries, a cold look on her face. As Drago draws into the last passage, her face goes pale and her body still, save for the shaking that is evident in the goblet of wine she holds. At her father's last written words, tears begin to stream down her still petrified face.

Daviana's question snaps her back into the moment, and she manages to choke down the pain enough to feebly respond, "My father, he... was exploring... the ruins of Harrowstone Prison... and was... oh Pharasma... crushed by a loose stone while climbing. At least... that's what-" Unable to deny the unfathomable truth of her father's fate, she buckles over sobbing violently.

As if the world around shares in her pain, the mist that had lent to the grey ambiance of the funeral quickly swells into heavy rain, and strong winds begin to slam against the shutters of Lorrimor Place. For the first time since arriving, the house feels smaller, dark, and more than a bit unwelcoming.

Kneeling beside the chest, Kendra hands each of you the item named to you in the will. As she does, she speaks in response to the tasks requested by her late father. "Thank you all. I do not know you as well as my father did but already I can understand why he counted you as his friends. I will be staying here, at least for a few months. I had always thought to travel, though had remained here these last few years since my father formally retired. Perhaps now is the time for such endeavors. Until then, you are all of course welcome to stay here as well, if you wish. Things may be slightly crowded, but with a bit of adjustments, but I'm sure we will be able to make do," says Kendra, rising and straightening her dress as she speaks. She then reaches for the bottle of wine and pours herself another drink as Dragomir summons everyone to join him at the table over the curious journal.

The journal is an old, weathered leather-bound book. Several similar volumes reside on shelves in the house, yet this one, with it's cryptic message, was placed atop the mysterious tomes in the chest mentioned in the will. Thumbing it open, at the front are several loose pages, all containing journal entries that have been circled in red ink. Dragomir slowly reads them aloud:

Ten Years Ago:
The Whispering Way is more than just a cabal of necromancers. I see that now. Undeath is their fountain of youth. Uncovering their motivation does not place me at ease as I thought it might. Their desire to be eternal simply makes them more dangerous.

Seventeen Days Ago:
Tomorrow evening I return to the prison, more properly equipped. It is imperative the Way does not finish. My caution has already cost me too much time. I fear that I am already too late... if my theory is right, the entire town could be at risk. I don’t have time to update my will, so I’ll leave this in the chest where it’ll be sure to be found, should the worst come to pass. Kendra, I love you.

Sorry for the delay in there. Got hit with a bad migraine with ocular auras Friday afternoon, it had me incapacitated for until this morning, as bright light (including computer screens) only make things worse. Luckily, I get them very rarely (1-2 a year), so we should be back to normal.

In contrast to the whispered words and steely gazes of your previous journey, or the confrontation that occurred in the Restlands, your return journey across the town in quiet… almost eerily so. Not a soul is on the street, and a feeling of dread seems to hang on the mist that permeates the air. Still, the lack of critical confrontation is a welcome change.

Arriving back at Lorrimor Place, Kendra once again thanks you all as she pours you each a goblet of wine. Shortly thereafter a man arrives at the house. You recognize him as the older gentleman Kendra had spoken with briefly following the funeral. After greeting Kendra, and glances over at the party, his eyes going a bit wide before producing from his hip a scroll case.

”Greetings, everyone. I am councilman Vashian, and I have been entrusted to read the late Professor’s will to you today. I did not know the professor particularly well, but I am sorry for your loss,” he says, before taking the scroll from its case. He shows the party the wax seal--it is unbroken--before cracking it open--as he does, you all watch as a single iron key falls out of the scroll, which Vashian ignores before proceeding to read the will.

“I, Petros Lorrimor, being of sound mind, do hereby commit to this parchment my last will and testament. Let it be known that, with the exception of the specific details below, I leave my home and personal belongings entire to my daughter Kendra. Use them or sell them as you see fit, my child.

To Mathias-- I was deeply affected by the loss-“
Kendra clears her throat, ”I am sorry, but our attempts to reach him were unsuccessful.”

The councilman continues. ”Very well then. Let me continue…

I, Petros Lorrimor, hereby sign this will in Ravengro on this first day of Calistril, in the year 4712.”

”Thank you councilman,” says Kendra to the councilman, who nods his head before departing, giving the party one final glance before heading out the door. Her face is stone, though you can tell that hearing her father’s will has shaken her--to her, it must have been like hearing him speak one last time.

”I believe I know the chest my father was referring to,” says Kendra, heading to one of the many piles of books in the room. Quickly pushing them aside, she produces a heavy oak chest which she pulls to the center of the room before unlocking it.

Inside, there are the items mentioned in the scroll, as well as more books--at least five, from the looks of it, and on the top book you can see someone has crudely scratched READ ME NOW into the leather.

Kendra softly smiles at each of you as you share your kind words. Taking a deep breath, Kendra steps forward while fingering a single pale rose she picked up from a nearby bouquet; trembling for a moment, she straightens her back before speaking.

"My father was many things: a scholar, an adventurer, a diplomat, an explorer. It was he who first translated the Arodenite Fragment when it was discovered in Absalom. He helped unearth the Tomb of Akhmet in Osirion. His treatise on the origin of healing magic in Geb revolutionized the field. His accomplishments are many, but to me, he was one thing above all others: he was a good man. In every place he visited, he left a mark on people's lives, and I hope the presence of so many people from so many places here today proves that."

Looking at the assembled crowded, numbering only 10 souls beyond herself, the priest, the gravedigger and his assistant, Kendra continues, "The world is a darker place with him gone. But I hope the light that he brought to each of us will still shine on, in the actions of those people who's lives he touched."

With her speech concluded, Kendra returns to the crowd. The priest makes one final prayer to Pharasma, calling on her to guide the professor safely through the afterlife, and then the coffin is buried, deep beneath the ground.

As the funeral party disperses, an older man who had followed in the funeral procession speaks briefly with Kendra. He first places a consoling hand on Kendra's shoulder, then points to the pallbearers briefly before departing.

Turning to the still assembled pallbearers, Kendra addresses you once more. "I want to thank you all again - for coming, for taking part in the funeral, for standing up to those backwards fools. I have been aware of ramblings here in Ravengro for some time, about both my father and myself, but I always took it as isolated, and never thought anyone would act on those crazy tales. I don't know what I would have done had I been alone when confronted by that mob..." she says. As she speaks, she bites at her lip, and you can tell she is still fighting to hold back her tears. "Anyway, I have spoken with the Elderman and he informed me that each of you is listed in my father's estate. He is to meet us at Lorrimor Place within the hour, and I would greatly appreciate if you would return with me to my home for the reading of his will."

Despite the town's cold demeanor earlier and the attempted blockade of the burial, the trip back to Kendra's home is uneventful. The town seems to have accepted that the outsiders are not here to cause trouble or raise the dead or whatever foul motives they had suspected, and the windows of homes are mostly unshuttered and the shop doors open again--though the streets are still fairly empty, even if that is only because of the cold chill blowing down with the wind.

Drago's firm, direct words, despite their clarity, seem to make little impact on the angry mob. Likewise, Lady Soldavaso's intellectual rationalization draws little response from the townsfolk, though perhaps that is moreso because of her noble background in a region that has cast off the shackles of Ustalav's feudalism.

No, it is the harsh scolding, delivered by a small lass, barely reaching toward womanhood, that ultimately shames the foolish townsfolk into dropping their paranoid theories and dispersing. Several offer angered, spiteful glances as your procession and they fall back across the Restlands, with a few muttered comments, but no further interference will be met.

Kendra turns to Alana, tears in her eyes, and grabs the girl in a big hug. "Thank you, thank you so much." Looking at the others, bearing her father aloft on their shoulders, Kendra continues to sob. "Thank you all so much. I will never understand how these people could think my father would ever do them any ill. He was a kind, gentle man, whose studies were focused on helping people and righting the wrongs of this world. Thank you."

Continuing on, the procession continues down the avenue for only a couple minutes more before arriving at the Lorrimor burial plot. They are greeted by a trio of individuals, an aging, bald and heavily wrinkled man in the black ceremonial robes of a priest of Pharasma, a weathered man in his middling years with an unkempt beard and a shovel, and the lad who ran off when they first arrived at the Restlands. Stepping forward, the pallbearers lower the coffin into the already dug grave.

The aged priest steps forward, and in a surprisingly strong voice, offers a simple sermon. "As the sunset follows the sunrise, so too does death inevitably follow birth. When that time comes that Pharasma beckons us back into her waiting arms, we are called to answer. Thus the noted scholar Petros Lorrimor has heard the Lady of Graves summons, and passed on from this life into the next. Petros was a dedicated mentor to some, a loyal friend to others, and a doting father to one, but above all a champion for the weak and innocent of Golarion. He did much in his time, much more than this little town of Ravengro will ever know. I see assembled here a good many-" the priest scans your assembled company, a bit of surprise in his eyes as he takes in your broad and varied backgrounds "-friends of the late Professor, and now offer each of you the chance to share a kind word or memory regarding our dearly departed."

Making your way across town north toward the Restlands, the air has grown cold and damp. The decline in the weather has reduced the wandering eyes of the townsfolk as you pass back through the square, and your assembled numbers has kept any possible comments restrained. Still, those outside certainly stare.

A fine mist has begun by the time you reach the cemetery. Several townsfolk and a young lad waits at the gate, standing vigil beside Professor Lorrimor's coffin. Seeing your company approach, the boy nods to Kendra, then runs off into the Restlands, likely to notify the priest that the procession will be coming shortly. Kendra quietly greets those waiting, and thanks them for their presence. She then bends down, placing her hand on her father's coffin. As your company takes up positions around the coffin, Kendra finally responds to Daviana's earlier question, "Lady Soldavaso, if Nicodimus would walk beside me, I would be most appreciative. If you'd all do me the honor of lifting my father, let's be on with it."

Hoisting the coffin onto your shoulders, you follow Kendra down one of the avenues that cuts across the Restlands. The few other townsfolk who had been waiting follow slowly behind. Rounding the corner past a familial mausoleum, the procession comes face to face with an angry crowd of townsfolk, perhaps numbering a dozen in total. Stepping to the front is an older, graying man, who's gaunt frame still portrays a menacing strength.

”That’s far enough,” says the man, an angry scowl across weathered visage as he twists the threshing flail in his hands. ”We’ve been talking, and we've agreed, you're not burying Lorrimor in the Restlands. You can take him down river, or back to Lepistadt, but you aren’t burying him here.”

”I don’t understand,” says Kendra, on the verge of breakdown, tears streaming from her eyes. ”I’ve already arranged this with Father Grimburrow--the grave has already been dug--”

“Happy is the grave in which no warlock hath lain, and happy is the town whose wizards are all ashes,” hisses a woman standing behind the man, carrying a sickle.

”We don’t want a necromancer buried here! It’s an abomination!” Shouts another farmer, brandishing a pitchfork in his arms.

Kendra's lip quivers a little as she sheds just a few tears. "Thank you all, so much. I know my father would be truly honored to be escorted on his final Journey by such fine people. I know you've all only just arrived and are likely tired from the road, but the day is getting on and Father Grimbarrow awaits our presence at the Restlands. If you've had your fill of refreshments, might we be on our way?"

As the both the unique living offspring of undead and the fact that they are injured by positive energy and healed by negative, I feel it would be safe to assume that knowledge about undead (which falls haphazardly under 'religion') would likely encompass the enigma that are Dhampir.

@Daviana and @Alana: could you both please add your vital statistics to the character header, similar to the rest of the group? Thank you.

Caught offguard by the firey Keleshite's empassioned pledge, Kendra pauses fora a second. "why thank you Nasrin, you generous offer is most welcome. That said, I doubt I have have much need for your arm, or your soul, in this quiet hamlet. Still, it is a blessing to know I have one as talented as you at my side. Please, come in." Leading Nasrin into the common room, Kendra sees Ishara and Daviana conversing. "Oh, most excellent to see you are already familiar with each other. This is Nasrin, of the southern realm of Qadira. Nasrin, I would like to introduce you to Ishara of Geb, and Lady Daviana Soldavaso, a noblewoman native to Ustalav. Oh, and there's the door again. Ladies, please, enjoy the refreshments."

As Kendra hurries back to the door, the excitement seems to be softening her mood some.

Kendra smiles at the awkward young lass. She reaches forward and embraces Alana closely in a friendly hug, then she smiles at Alana. "Ah, yes, Alana. Father had assisted your family with some troubles, if I recall? He had hoped you would come stay with us, but obviously everything worked out and you are well. Thank you so much for coming. Please, won't you join the others?" Escorting Alana into the common room, Kendra chuckles slightly. "It would seem the ladies have all exhibited punctuality in their arrival. Now, to the gentlemen." Hearing yet another knock, "Lady Soldavaso, would you do the honor of introducing young Alana to the rest of the guests?"

Returning to the door, Kendra greets Arthorius as Dragomir arrives on his heels. "Gentlemen, thank you both for coming, and for your thoughts and prayers. Master Ravenholdt, you were a scholar and apothecary in Varisia, if I recall? And Drago Novikov, we have seen neither you nor none of your kin in these parts for some time... though, I suppose that is a good thing, for there has been little need of your services. Gentlemen, please, this way."

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The frequent arrivals having slowed, Kendra remains in the common room with all of you for a bit. Pouring herself a goblet of wine, she picks up a small piece of Chelaxian prosciutto and approaches Nicodemus. Looking to Daviana, she enquires, "May I give your companion a treat? What is his name?" As she asks, Kendra pets the sizeable wolf, both seeming at comfort with one another.

By the time Kendra has slowly emptied her goblet, Kendra stands and looks around the room. Taking a moment to compose herself and straighten the black dress adorning her, she sighs then begins. She is clearly trying to maintain her composure, but the emotions have clearly resettled in her heart and her voice is weak and uncertain. "Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues, friends, and confidantes of my father, the late Professor Petros Lorrimor, I want to thank you all for joining me here today to see his final wishes met. I regret that several others could not be here to join us, but the range of Golarion is far and wide, and I doubt the messengers dispatched were able to reach everyone in time. Still, thank you six for being here. Before we head to the Restlands for the funeral, I must ask a favor. I am without bearers to carry my father forth from the gates to his grave. I could commission a cart, but in the traditions of this land and our church, it would be seen as most appropriate that those closest to him bear him aloft for his final journey. Would you do me this honor?"

Kendra looks down at the sizeable wolf then back to Daviana, "You must be Lady Soldavaso, my father spoke of you both fondly and often, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. The years must truly have been kind to you, for you do not bear the marks of age that I would assume for someone who has factored for so long into my father's tales. I hope I might age as kindly as you have. And of course your... companion is welcome. Father did mention you had an affinity to the native wilds of Ustalav."

Letting you and Nicodemus into the foyer and leading you to the common room, Kendra diverts for a moment, placing the bottles of wine in the larder. "Please, get comfortable by the fire. I have put out some things to snack and drink - they were father's favorites, I thought he would appreciate it." Arranged on a table nearby there are several cheeses, cured meats, a hearty bread, and two decanters of a deep brown-red liquor awaiting consumption.

@Arthorius have you downloaded the new Google Slide app? If not, you are likely accessing through Google Drive, which allows you to view but not alter. The newer, standalone app allows more access.

TO ALL: GAMEPLAY IS NOW LIVE! MAY YOUR FORTUNE BE BETTER THAN THOSE POOR SOULS LOST TO THE FLAMES OF HARROWSTONE!

Your presence is requested at the funeral of Professor Lorrimor

One foot falls in front of the other as you travel the barren road north. It is a grey, windswept day, though that was not uncommon in the land of Ustalav. Yet neither the wind, nor the gloom had an impact on your mood. No, that came from the news you had received, news that the reason you traveled this road in the first place. A man of intrigue, lore, and legend, Professor Lorrimor had certainly been getting on in his years, yet you would be hard pressed to think that age would claim a man such as him. A friend, scholar, and confidante, he had touched you deeply, in a way few others had. Still, you could not refute the simple words included in the letter, and thus you had abandoned your previous task to venture to the small town of Ravengro to offer your condolences to his kin and sit for the reading of his last will and testament.

It had been most peculiar, the rider arriving to deliver the letter. You had been abroad, nowhere near the last locale the late Professor would have known you to reside, yet the letter reached you only days after his passing. Thinking on the matter, few details of the rider himself are clear in your memory. Or, was it a woman? You can't recall. Strange.

Your wandering thoughts are abruptly interrupted as the woods give way to small, well maintained farms, and you realize the presence of these homes must indicate the town of Ravengro is not far ahead. Reaching a fork, you can see more residences to the right, while the left leads to a covered bridge over a small river and to a town center visible beyond. The letter had indicated that the Lorrimor residence was just on the far side of the center, and thus you turn to the left.

Stepping off the bridge, you notice the locals' eyes are all fixated on you. It is likely travelers are not common in this rural, farming village and any new faces would be a source of excitement and gossip. Yet though they stare, the townsfolk do not approach, far from it. Mothers grab their children and dart inside buildings, men pose menacingly at a distance, shopkeeps shutter their doors, and more than a few whispers of "necromancer", "demon worshipper", and "murderer" are heard as you pass.

And there it stands, the dark oaken frame and red shutters of Lorrimor Place. You take a moment to straighten yourself from the effects of the road. Knocking, you are answered quickly with the door opening, and the welcoming warmth of a raging fire pulsing from within. Stepping into the doorway is a tall, lithe woman in perhaps her mid twenties dressed in a black dress, a faint smile sitting beneath her tear-stained cheeks. Kendra, Lorrimor's sole child and heir, you acknowledge to yourself. She reaches out and embraces you, "Thank you for coming, my father would want you to be here." Letting go, you see the smile has genuinely grown on Kendra's face. "Won't you please come inside and meet the others. Everyone is almost here."

I just shared with each of you access to the Google Slides file I will be sharing battle maps in. For convenience, I have also placed the link at the top of this page. Everyone please access the map and move your character's avatar to a different location.

Used a Fae creature in their experiments? You notice the GM's evil grin from behind his screen.

I like the idea. Gives me further backstory to play with, and adds a complicating factor to your blood line, which may be why you have such a difficult time purifying your blood and instead ultimately end up in your prestige class. Also presents a good argument for our Alignment discussion regarding your alternate persona.

@Arthorius

Hmm, Fey Foundling, so you'd be a Fey Dhampir? Do you have more backstory you want to tie into this? Or were you looking for an undead version of it (heal 2 additional HP from inflict wounds, take +1 damage from silver weapons).

As for Glimpse Beyond, your written background would qualify as the "Raised Among the Dead" background.

Yes, yes it does.

Hope everyone has had a great weekend. Generally I am a weekend poster, so I apologize for the perceived absence this weekend. I hope my many PMs over the last two days addressed everyone's various questions. Now that those are settled, let's recap the concensus on each topic:

#1 We will predominantly use battle maps, shared through Google Drives, to adjudicate combat. Occasionally, small, quick skirmished may, however, be resolved in theatre of the mind.

#2 We will be using the alternate magic/wealth system of Automatic Bonus Progression, with some minor tweaks along the way.

#3 I will roll initiative en masse for both the party and any NPCs/monsters at the start of each combat. Actions will be posted in "grouped" segments, and I will wrap up each segment with a consolidating post.

#4 We will be playing with Option #3, so everyone has an additional feat to select for their starting character.

#5 We will be using the adjusted shield stats I posted above.

All house rules I will add to the campaign page for easy review.

For the map, I have played with Google Slides a touch, and I will likely be able to use one ongoing file. As such, once established, I will have this linked at the top of the Ggameplay thread.

Story will launch today. Please add your newly gained feat, and mention what it is here in the Discussion thread.

@Alana, please send me a PM with an email address (preferably gmail), so I can share the mapping file.

ARMOR
As historical examples of both leather scale and leather lamellar have been found in northern and eastern Europe, I want to point out to everyone that Lamellar (leather) is an acceptable starting armor and costs 40 gp less than chain shirt.

@Nasrin Hahaha, these knit-picky feat details are exactly why Option #1 occurred in my party back in the old 3.5 days. You are spending three feats to wield a Scimitar with Dex, yes, house rule it.

...Of course, back then I created a feat called "Finesse Strike", which required weapon finesse and a base attack of +3, and simply allowed you to add Dex to damage in place of Str for any weapon that qualified for Weapon Finesse...

Daviana Just PMed you, preemptively addressing some of your Archetype concerns. :D

@Nasrin Given that you took Weapon Focus (Scimitar), you can forego the Perform skill and instead take Slashing Grace, which does the same thing, but substitutes Weapon Focus for Perform 2 ranks, and removes the religion association.

And yes, the third option opens up all the goodies you mentioned.

#4: Feat Taxes and How to Deal With Them Having earned my gaming stripes through years of 2nd edition as a teen, I have always enjoyed the customization granted by the feat system introduced with 3rd edition. Pathfinder upped it from 1 every 3 levels to 1 every 2, but still it feels restricted at times, most often because of feat taxes. These come in one of two forms: irrelevant feats requirements for decent feats, or feats that are all but required for classes to be effective.

Over time, I have played around with a few different options to combat this.

The first option (back in 3.5) was a rather lengthy list changing the prerequisites for many feats - this helped to some degree, releasing some of the "forced trees of progression", but then I had to field endless requests that one feat or another should be changed (always in a manner that benefited their current build. Side note, this, plus the previous development of my own more balanced classes, ultimately lead me to building an entire point-based classless system for d20 in the twilight hours of 3.5 edition... perhaps an update is in order at some point).

The second option (explored in Pathfinder) is to have a cluster of feats that everyone gets for free, along with the introduction of a single Trait. This theoretically allows players to develop more diverse characters, but is mainly focused on helping martial characters, as all of the free feats are combat related.

The third option is very simple and perhaps the most balanced, as every character benefits from it equally. Increase feat progression to 2 at 1st level, and 1 every level thereafter. Sound like a lot of feats? Perhaps, but it allows for some very flavorful characters, as well as allows for feat-intensive builds on otherwise feat-starved classes. I played a couple games with this after Monte Cook proposed it in his Book of Experimental Might back in '08 and '09 (3.5), but had not used it since until a recent TT game, that was very fun for all (and we saw a lot of situational and fluffy feats taken as well). The trait introduced in the second option is likewise available in the third option.

I would like to offer the Second or Third Option (with preference for the third).

#5: Shields
Given their massively significant role in historical warfare, shields come across as a rather underwhelming afterthought in most RPGs (Pathfinder included). Rather than a massive rebuild, I have been using a couple simple adjustments, listed below:
Buckler stays +1 AC
Light Shield increases to +2 AC
Heavy Shield increases to +3 AC
Improved Shield Bash - counts as two-weapon fighting when wielding a melee weapon in one hand and a shield in the other
* successive 'shield' feats - remove Dex 15 and Two-Weapon Fighting from prerequisites.

#1: Maps, an Addendum Can everyone please PM me an email address for sharing battle maps. We will be using Google Docs for maps, so a Gmail email address will grant you the most functionally.

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I THINK that is the last of my topics regarding game mechanics. I hope I have not discouraged anyone with these questions, I am just trying to create a game that everyone will get the most enjoyment out of. Please let me know your thoughts on topics #4 and #5.

Hmmm, so perhaps "group/block initiative" with a recap after each group placing things in order?

@Daviana you control your AC under your Alias and at your Initiative (generally). When separated from you, you will still control him but at his own Initiative. That said, I will RP him periodically to start, and likely more as he gains higher levels of intelligence. At that point, we may make and Alias for him. We shall see.

#3: Group initiative. Rather than call for initiative then wait for everyone to post (sometimes loosing up to a day at the start of combat), at the point when we reach combat I would like to roll initiative for all characters (PCs/NPCs/monsters) at once. We will then take actions in phases (all PCs before any NPCs/monsters, next group of PCs, etc). Thoughts?