GM: Aldebaran Campaign's page

As quick as it left the light blooms bright again and there in the center of the cell across the corridor stands a towering three-dimensional figure of pure void; black tendrils of darkness trail upwards from the humanoids head and shoulders and disperses across the ceiling like smoke.

Behind the monstrous void a half dozen shadows like the one you saw before writhe, capitulate and prostrate themselves around on the floor and walls around the towering menace.

You see the shadow on the bed appear to recoil in fear but only to late as the void menace reaches with blinding quickness and what appears to you as if to peel the shadow from its surface. Bringing up the other hand the menace steadies the now formless shadowy mass in its hand and then begins devouring it in silence.

Even though none of the creatures have made any sound the action of watching the menace devour the shadow causes your head to fill with unearthly screams of utter pain and shear terror.

Will Save: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14
Wisdom Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

As soon as the menace finishes its terrifying meal and new shadow emerges on the wall behind it and is quickly set upon by all the others, tearing it to pieces, only to reform and be torn apart again.

The menace reaches down amongst the chaos and picks up the book the Marine was clutching in it cold dead hands and places it gently on the bed next to the unconscious figure. It turns its head slowly towards where you are standing. Your blood pressure drops and you begin to feel very sick...

A familiar sickness…one you have experienced before but you can’t quite place it. Ah, yes now you remember when you were younger living as a street urchin, fighting for your life and that boy…what was his name? Not important now…stabbed you with a knife you had helped him make out of a barrel ring. You sat there and watched the blood leave your side through your fingertips. Coldness moving through your body, weak and nauseous. That’s it like the life draining from your very self. The darkness closing in on your periphery then you pass out.

And just like that the menace and his shadow minions were gone.

You wake your not sure how long afterwards and slaughter is how you recall it from what you had hoped was a nightmare. Figure still unconscious in the bed.

Standing there frozen in wonder and fear Lochlin watched without breath as the shadowy creature moved its way slowly down the hall towards the Marines.

Impossibly slow! Time seemed to come to a halt as the creature stopped within a standing leap from its closest prey and reached out with that shadowy hand…impossibly long…if it were not shadow that is.. the taloned hand and arm extended like a shadow does during the long hours of the day to grasp around the ankle of the Marines booted foot.

As quickly as the grasp closes the Marine shutters, grip tightening on the book in his hands, his skin and hair instantly began turning white; the air grew extremely cold if you were able to breath and not just stare in horror you would see the steam of your expiration.

The Marine pivots towards the afflicted appendage, facing half-way towards your position and locks eyes with yours for just a few heartbeats as you watch the life leave them. The glare disappears and is replaced by a dull matte…a now inanimate object.

The other Marine senses the presence of the creature as he stops talking to himself mid-sentence and freezes in-place just as the creature sets it’s deathly grip on his brother-in-arms.

Not understanding his predicament he drops what he is holding on the floor.

Crack!!!

The Marine yells…

Get to the back of the cell! Now!

Although he looks somewhat confused as the darkness from the shadows presence and your Nat. 20 stealth roll means he can not quite be sure there someone in the cell or not as his eyes are darting around looking for a target/attacker to blame

The Marine steps forward towards the cell door to get a better look and steps right into the path of the shadow. This time with incredible speed the creature wraps its form around the Marines boots and up his legs to his mid-section. A gasp of hot steam comes from the mans mouth as he chokes on his words and his eyes grow sunken in and blood pours from his nostrils and mouth only to quickly freeze at his lips.

The body hits the floor in a heap. The shadow moves towards the prone figure wrapped in the blanket on the bed and begins it slow reach, the shadow slowly moving up the side of the footboard and across the bottom of the mattress pad towards the unconscious persons exposed limb…

The entire building goes completely dark…

Lochlin move forward and withdraws the skeleton key from his jacket with as swiftly as he can without drawing to much attention to his actions. As he approaches he sees a two dimensional, vaguely humanoid looking shadowy figure move across the floor where the body now lies start making its way, slowly down the corridor in complete silence.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (15) + 4 = 19

Lochlin watches in terror for a heartbeat then as he realizes the Marines still are rifling through the prisoners belongings and have not even noticed the death of the constable and the silent killer slowly maneuvering their direction.

The para-lictor fumbles with the keys as he makes his way down the corridor. He miraculously finds the right one on the first try and twists it into the locking aperture. Swinging the door inward the two Marines barrel into the room with their charge in tow and unceremoniously deposit the blanketed figure onto the sleeping pallet.

The para-lictor steps back into the corridor minding his proximity to you and watches as they rifle through the prisoners belongings. After a few heartbeats one of them speaks…

I think this is it!

The two soldiers appear to be shaking and shaking something they pulled out of a backpack. They appear to be frustrated…

How do you get this damn thing open?

Your eyes too intent on the Marines going about their business you missed the para-lictor moving backwards down the hall. He stands about 10’ past your cell door towards the entrance to the main room. His face is white with fear. His eyes are as wide as they could possibly get and his mouth is hanging open in shock.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Suddenly, the bright-bloom in the lantern dims momentarily…or does it? Something filters across the floor maybe at the mans feet before he lets out a croak. His skin seems to grow tight his face gets sunken in and he collapses on the floor.

0-lvl-ray of frost,message,detect magic,light

1st-lvl-mage armor ,burning hands

Specialty spell slot magic missile

You got em all.

Lochlin ~ The Marines drag the figure under the blanket to the cell across from you and pause at the door. The one closest to you gives you a stern look not to make any funny moves. Both of their arms are wrapped up like a pretzel in the blanketed figures armpits and elbows. The para-lictor that locked you up earlier is making his way down the hall with the ring of keys, fumbling through them to find the one that opens the lock to the adjacent cell.

The hallway is narrow enough that the two Marines no matter how hard they try with a third person between them forces the Marine on your side close to the bars where you are standing. As they fight to keep the unconscious prisoner from falling to the floor the closest Marines musket that is sling over his shoulder and pistol hanging at his waist are rapping the bars of you cell right there where you stand.

Is now the appropriate time? Hard to say because a fight woulkd be inevitable to make a move now. But I would be armed and have the keys t exit the building. I have not seen anyone but these men come through here all day.

Ball's in your court to act or delay. Not pushing either way

Spitting to the worn dock boards in disgust, Callus then dragged a hand over his short cropped hair wondering where this job had gone wrong...oh I will till you old friend...its that damn broad that decided to leave her berth before the pick up...

He shook his head thinking about how his uncle had told him long ago that women were the cause of all the worlds problems unless they stayed pregnant and in the kitchen...cant wait to tell him just how bloody right he was...

Kallus wasted no more time reminiscing and lamenting ill wrought plans. He had to keep his head in the game and finish the job.

His ears perked up at the conversation he overheard and shook his head again hearing his package presented herself boldly to the guards...Dark and Empty this broad is trying to get pinched by the pigs!...I out to just cut and run but that aint how we operate...

The tracker made himself look busy as he kept listening to and watching the customs agents. If they didnt offer any more information soon he would bring Piebold up to speed before setting off to find the errant package.

After a few more moments of banter betwixt the Marines and the Imperial Customs Inspector the group disbands with no further mention of the mark.

Ahead, you spot Piebold finally clearing away the last of the spectators from the chaos around the horse’s outburst. He appears to have calmed the animal and a number of nearby merchants, pedestrians and dock workers are walking away from him counting piles of coins in their palms. Including two Marines that are tossing a fist sized pouch of coins between themselves and laughing, you can actually hear the *chink* of the coins in the pouch carrying from there to where you stand.

Still focused in from that Nat. 20 Perception Roll earlier….lol

All that remains is an older woman that appears to have lost her basket of produce that was trampled during the beasts’ momentary lapse of “reason”. Piebold is acting overly apologetic to the woman and is consistently pushing more silver sequins inter her hand as she complains and counts simultaneously.

Piebold only breaks character once as the woman is distracted to make eye contact with you and pantomime in Cantus.

Bluff Check: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (6) + 5 = 11

He appears to be motioning back towards the arch where he originally came from and simultaneously he tips the leather pouch of coins to show that he is empty with a sly sad expression…

Cceragia continues forward and heads back to her room on the ship. She pays no attention to where or what the man is doing

Ceragia returns to her quarters closes the door behind her grabs a deck brush from a nearby bucket and begins to sweep the floor clean. Afterword she paces the room in opposing circular motions while whispering incantations and stretching out her arms back and forth. Anon she undoes the brooch at her cloak, removes it and produces a blue wax treated leather pouch from under her tabard. Carefully untying it from her neck she begins to pour out its contents out onto the floor to create a complex geometrical pattern of sigils and runes. Two quick spells are cast to seal the marking on the floor to protect them from being disturbed and a second spell placed on a nearby stowing hook sheds ample arcane blue light upon the room.

Ceragia prepares herself for the day ahead which may be challenging.

How much time passes is never a given thing when arcane rituals are invoked, regardless the warmth and excessive concentration and excitement from the day slowly makes Ceragia begin drifting off to a light slumber.

Or maybe it’s just the gas coming in slowly from under the door…

Fortitude Save: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8

Goodnight o' Princess of Attica

Lochlin sits there in the cell of his own design, head in hands and thinking to himself…

I am sick of this run down squalid, no count little coastal hive of slinks. I wasted my whole existence in this place. I’ve worn out my welcome. They all know who I am, what I have done and what I am capable of. First chance I get, I am leaving this place and never looking back.

Lochlin picked up his head and scanned the cell.

Three solid concrete walls, concrete ceiling and concrete floor, no means of egress, well not without a grenade anyhow.

Lochlin laughed to himself.

No that wouldn’t be good enough, that would just paint these walls with my entrails. I would need a half keg of powder to blow through one of these walls.

Lochlin placed his hands that were still held out in front of him where he was cradling his skull on his knees and pushed up with speed to stand. Moving over to the bars on the fourth wall he grasped the two vertical steel shafts on either side of the locking mechanism and gave a good tug. As expected it did not budge.

He peered up and down the hall and at the empty cell across from him before making any further moves. He was all alone. Looking above and crouching down to check the bars he could see they were set deep into the concrete above, below and on both sidewalls. No sign of corrosion or previous attempts to release them had been made. Lochlin stood upright and began to inspect the door. With one glance, he mouthed to himself.

Not happening.

Lochlin began to investigate the lock mechanism. It was a superior lock for sure. Nothing on it to manipulate with the exception of the aperture to receive the key. Lochlin reached to the edge of his jacket and felt for the Skeleton Key he had sewn in the material behind one of his jack coats metal clasps to help conceal it.

Sloppy for the authorities not to find it…but para-lictors were always sloppy.

Lochlin would have to wait for the right time to attempt to work the lock. Just because he may be able to get it open does not mean he would be able to get out of the building he was in and if he got the lock open he might not necessarily be able to get it closed should the para-lictors or lictors return.

Just then a commotion erupted through the door down the end of the hall. A pair of Marines with a Lictor came in with a fourth person that was covered in a blanket. Through all the commotion, Lochlin could hear very little about what was happening.

Sorry in advance for Ceragia. The plain truth is there is a four hour time difference between when the Iron Duke arrived in the lock at Batton Easton and when Kallus and Piebold arrived. So you guys can run around all you want but you are not going to run into each other.

The Fault may be my own however so let me fill you in:

-Ceragia you are in a haze of a lack of information that your Father either willingly or negligently likes to keep you in. You are aware that someone is going to smuggle you from Batton Easton to Batton Wycomb but you have no details of who, when or how. Literally anyone could come to you and ask you to follow them and you would have no idea whether to trust them or not. (Remember the magical carriage you guys delivered to the Zhents by accident?)

-Kallus, the organization you work for is well informed, well-funded and highly organized. You know exactly what she looks like, that she is a Female, Peshwan, Flash (Evoker) that may or may not be disguised, that she will be arriving by a merchant ram called The Iron Duke, that the Captain of that ship has been paid to keep her passage secret and to instruct her to stay on the ship, what slip it would be docked at and roughly (because nobody can accurately predict very well the exact arrival of a seafaring vessel, especially one that just travel the equivalency of a transatlantic sea voyage) what time with in a day or two as to when the vessel should arrive. There is no reason to expect that news of her arrival would be compromised, however your organization knows damn well to plan like it has been. So the conversation you just overheard should not be a surprise in the least. You also know that the only person that knows as much as you do is the driver Piebold. He knows exactly as much as you and is to continue the task should you fail to the best of his ability all the other that didn’t make it were pressed into service and just muscle should you need it. That being said you’re the Khano, Piebold is not.

Kallus preferred order and plans that went off without a hitch and this job was turning out to the exact opposite. The made man had a cousin in Batton Wycomb by the name of Gryft who worked for some rich merchant. He hadn't heard from him in a long time but he remembered him mentioning a Piebold ...but that Peibold was a bloddy idiot by his count and Gryft don't wrong ever...this Peibold though, he's earned his share and then some...

Taking advantage of the well timed chaos, Kallus thundered down the gangplank with his heavy tread and pushed his way through the frightened people in his ever continuing hunt for his cargo ...well that captain said it was a woman...so best to be finding the one that looks lost...hah!.. don't they all?.. If he happened to accidentally push more people into the drink he didn't look back to worry about it.

[dice=Perception]1d20 + 5

Kallus finds himself at the end of the slip in a few heartbeats and long strides. The area is a little better for the moment to transverse. Scanning the area you can take everything in alright. You can pick out a great deal of women in the crowd however none of them seem to fit the description you have been given.

However, with a natural 20 wonderful things always happen!

A few shouted words from a nearby conversation taking place between what looks like a disheveled imperial customs inspector and pair of Marines peaks your interest...

"Bold she wuz! Jus' stepped forwud'and removed her hood en' said her I am? A bloom blightin' Peshwan Ashmonger! In the flesh. We knew she wuz' a cumin' see we bin' canvassin' the place pretty tough! I thought ta ma self she may slip through da cracks...but to jus offer her self up like dat? Its kind got me worried!"

One of the Marines extends a hand and tries to calm the man down.

"You've had enough excitement for one day there pal. You did the right thing by coming a getting us first. Don't worry she not a threat to anyone now. When the Septons and the Grand Inquisitor get through with her, she will be begging for mercy."

[dice=sense motive]1d20+3

ceragia moves to the base of the gangplank going up onto the ship. keeping a smile on her face and her cowl pulled back she looks around at the chaos on the slip and starts to walk up on to the iron duke.

[dice=perception]1d20+4

Clarification...the interaction with the gentleman from the previous post took place on the deck of the ship at the top of the stairs/ladder that leads down to you quarters. Is your intention to follow the man off the ship as he has motioned or are you now ignoring him and going past him and down the stairs...I think you are picturing a different scenario.

Okay guys sorry for the delay again. The last week went by entirely too fast! Here we go.

Hey, it's the new guy. I think i have everything ready to go if you want to look over it

Noice!!! I love th backstory! Bravo! Gonna update post here soon and plan on getting it rolling more regular.

Just few moments hesitation after your signal, Piebold send the beast on it way. It makes a straight run down the edge of the dock...knocking some people, other animals (pulling carts) and causing cargo to be pushed or into the water, others on the interior are forced to pile on and start trampling each other as they make way for the beast to past the unfortunates just get run over by the horses clod hooves.

As soon as the horse make it forty paces from Piebolds position he immediately starts running after the beast pulling his cap from his head and yelling after it with all manner colorful curses!

"Get back here you stupid nag! What is wrong with you! You flea ridden, half-cocked jack-ass! Look at what you've done!"

The Overall Effect

Piebold timed it just right... as the horses movements created a cascading pile up as people rushed to clear the animals path not just to where the Iron Duke was located but past the first, second and third slips before the beast finally could go no further without climbing onto the backs of the welling crowd of human flesh before it.

The animal stops and starts running in ever increasing circles inside the crowd continuously forcing more people to lay down and be tramped or make the choice to pitch off the edge to take there chances in the water.

The Good Part

Because of the positions the Marines took up at the edge of the slips; in all three locations the sentry's were the first to be pushed off into the water or forced to take cover under the pushing crowds of people.

The dock area and the slips are now a little more open and accessible as people try to get there wits about them. It won't be long before chaos returns as people start to tend their wounds and take inventory of the damage.

It will take Piebold a few more heartbeats to get down to where the animal is located and try to calm him down and start his phony mea culpa to the crowd...

Meaning you have time to do whatever you intended to do.

The mans eyes get wider and he looks obviously disturbed as some of the red color drains from his face. Slowly he begins to raise up from the deck to his feet.

"Oh, ya I see...shur thin' could ya just come with me fer a minute? No complains der missy. I jus wanna make sur' yur no lost."

The man starts walking towards you and towards the gangplank. when he get there he turns and motions for you to follow.

A grumbling Kallus strode up the steps two at a time to the main deck...four hours head start...damn...this could get sticky quick...

He made a bee line for the gunwale hoping to find a good vantage point to scan the docks.

[dice=Perception]1d20 + 5

Popping up onto the parapet and with your height you get a commanding view of half of the entire lock from your position. From this vantage point you can see that the amount of people in the area aren’t that numerous as previously thought. The problem seems to be that the areas where the Marines are stationed at the end of the slips are creating bottle necks at all the wrong locations, blocking ingress and egress along the main dock and the slips.

Why? The Marines seem to checking every single person asking for travel papers, searching people, carts and wagons. It’s obvious that they have posted in these areas to canvas everyone coming or going. From here you can also see the Captain of the Iron Duke making his way along the slip to the dock.

From here you can also see Piebold standing outside the archway with the post-lentum and horses. As soon as you see him he motions subtly that he sees you making quick eye contact and a simultaneous nod. He turns away from you, slowly reaches under the fore-horse and unbuckles the breastcollar from the harness, grabs the lead and steps back placing his hand on the beasts rear and gives another nod.

The dingy mans face contorts as his processes your reply and request. He begins mumbling to himself, which forces him to bite down on the pencil between his teeth...

”Hurmph, Passinjer? Wha passinjer? Passinjer on da mannifust a lass, der nah that I reckon cyan her....grumble...gibberish...inaudible...

The man almost pitches forward as he fumbles to pull out the ledger under his arm and hold the abacus at the same time. He begins riffling through the pages of the book and gets to a stack of loose pages in the center that he begins leafing through.

He takes the chewed up, spittle covered pencil from his mouth kneels down on thecdeck and starts marking up one of the sheets.

”A jus spoke wit da Capn’ sed he was makin’ way tada harbor master ta pay duty an report da ship mannifust. Don member him tellin of any lass passengers ta me doh.

He stops writing, punches the hat further back on his head with his fist and begins scratching his head. A few heartbeats pass, he picks up the sheet and looks at it hard in thought. His face suddenly gets a little more slacked as he looks up at you. Taking in your appearance for a moment and inkling of understand pops into his eyes,,,

”Di ya say where ya wuz hailin’ from der lass?”

Kallus...the world is yours

The Captain shoots up the ladder after your interactions and leaves you standing in the throughway of the passengers deck.

Ceragia makes her way back onto the plank and up to the deck. She takes a step towards the stairs when she when she looks up to see a man blocking her way, he immediate starts yelling:

”Oy! Where duh thin yer goin?”

The man stands at the top of the stairs wearing a dingy green jacket and even nastier brown or possibly white pants. A pill-box hat sits on his head hap-hazardoly a large ledger is tucked under his left arm an abacus in his right hand and a pencil is clenched between his teeth...

The way back is just as clear as the way forward. Meaning it isn’t and won’t be for sometime. You can make your way back to the vessel by pushing and shoving like everyone else.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9

Ceragia dropped to avoid being seen and to combat the push of the crowd. Each side of the slip was stacked high with pallets and carts being steadily loaded and unloaded.

The only options that seemed to be available was to either; slip off the edge of the slip and hang above the water. Roll under and hide or grab onto the bottom of a nearby cart or try to hide between a stack of pallets.

None of these options seemed great but they were the only ones that came to mind in the short amount of time she had before being trampled or causing enough of a stir for the Marines to get interested.

The man squinted his eyes for a moment as his head cocked to one side. After a few heartbeats the man shrugged. He quickly unleashed the rigging, tucked his thimb under his belt at his waist, jammed the spike under the belt and hopped down of the pallet in one motion landing right on you feet. Regaining his balance he looked down at his feet on top of yours and slowly, head raising lifted his gaze to your face...now a foot higher than his.

”Well...erm, this way then!”

He side-steps off to your left and begins barking orders for the workers to make way.

He makes his way quickly down the stairs one level to the passenger deck turns left at the bottom and takes a quick few paces to stand in front of an open door. His jaw drops open and he begins shaking his head. He pulls his hat off his head and begins wringing it in his hands.

”She was in this cabin. I told her I had done what was required and got her this far. Those were my instructions get her to the lock, nothing more. I told her if she new what was best for her she would stay put until nightfall. Well, I guess she’s up to no good then...”

The man threw both arms out to his sides indicating that he gives ups and doesn’t care anymore. He walked back to the stairs and placed his hands on each side rail, turned and turns to look back at you.

”That was about four hours ago. She could have gotten into a heap of trouble by now. Good luck finding her. I hope she’s okay. She was a good passenger. Been paid way less for way worse.”

Kallus made his way through the crowd with the ease of a oxen walking up a raging river with a piece of canvas dragging behind him. People bounced, rolled and slammed straight into him. The only thing that was more comical was the steady flood of curses that poured from his snarling grimace.

Sorry, couldn’t help it after I read your description…lol

Eventually he made it down the dock, on to the slip and on to the deck where he stood just below the Captain. The man squatted on a pallet of stacked sacks of grain. One hand had a marlin spike in it and the other was full of rice that he was grinding into a young longshoremen’s face and yelling:

”This!? This is f&+@ing rice! We just came from the Far East with a hold full of rice! Why do you think I don’t want it in my hold you idiot!”

As you approach the Captain turns his head towards you and says out loud, first under his breath and then louder as you get closer…

”By the first man! What the hell do you want?

Dropping the rice and standing upright he is at least three feet higher than you on the pallet as he reaches back with his free hand and grabs a handful of rigging above and leans back with marlin spike between the two of you.

Moving across the deck to the gangplank was a feat. Ceragia must have been pushed and pulled at least a dozen times in the short distance and yelled at at least half of that. Every step put her in the path with another sailer, stevedore, rigger or wench-man.

Trying to find anybody in this mess was going to be difficult. She swore she could hear the Captain yelling at her but she wasn’t sure. By the time she made it to the top of the plank, it’s all she could do to get off the ship as fast as possible or get run over by another dozen workers making their way on deck.

Ceragia understood now why the Captain said to stay clear of the deck. Making her way down the slip she rounded the end of the slip.

Perception: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15

Even though it was a crowded throng of people shoving both ways to get to the dock, she spied two Imperial Marines posted up at the end of the slip not more than 20’ ahead. She stopped in her tracks...but to no avail as the group of people pushing past continued to edge her forward.

The Marines we’re creating a bottle-neck grabbing people and forcing them to face them before pushing them behind to the docking platform. They were obviously canvassing the people coming and going. Looking for someone.

Piebold (the driver) looked down at his boots and and let out an audible sigh of exasperation. Then looking around for a few heartbeats he looked back at Kallus and said:

”Don’t worry about me. I’m going to be just fine. I will pull the coach closer to the lock entry way near the main access incase we need to make a hasty exit. It should be easier for me to see where you are in the lock from there anyways.”

Piebold seemed much more relaxed. He grabbed the reigns and immediately began barking orders at the team to move.

You both get to the entrance at the same time. He stops just outside the massive archway in the wall between the lock and the outpost proper. As you continue inside you see a total of six slips in the lock. The massive outer grates have been closed and the water pumped in to raise the ships to docking level. You never really realized before the drastic security measures that have to be put in place to protect the outpost from monstrous infiltration by sea.

Three of the six ships have vessels moored to them. The very first one as you enter is a long ironclad ram with mercer markings and flying Mylassan Pennants dubbed the The Iron Duke. The lock area is bustling with people. Two Marines with scatter guns and shortswords are stationed at the end of each slip. Stevedores swarm over the slip and ships deck loading and unloading cargo from the holds with block, tackle, pulleys and cargo nets attached to large booms.

Perception: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (1) + 5 = 6
Ouch...Damn, sorry about that...

What appears to be the ships Captain is on deck barking orders at everyone.

After pacing with anticipation through the night and into the morning the situation had not changed. There was a good deal of commotion as marines came on board to do an inspection of the ship.

Ceragia overheard the conversation outside her cabin between the Captain and the Imperial Harbormaster that entailed a bribe to avoid reporting what contraband may be onboard.

Moments later the Captain unlocked the cabin door (Ceragia realizing that it had been locked to begin with) and stepped in with a tall, slender, close-shaven white haired man wearing an Imperial Naval Uniform; a dark blue Jack Coat decorated with brass buttons golden embroidery and piping, a tall dark blue thrice-high cap sat upon his head; which he immediately removed after seeing that Ceragia was a woman.

He coughed suddenly, extracted a kerchief from his chest pocket and coughed for a few more moments before clearing his throat and saying:

”Ah, I see everything is in order here.”

He pivoted quickly and took one step past the door back into the throughway before arching his head back and saying:

”Captain, please don’t forget to come by my office and pay the required mooring fees and to have your manifest recorded.”

The officer nodded quickly to Ceragia, placed his hat crookedly back upon his head and departed back up the throughway and up the stairs to the main deck.

The Captain watched him leave then turned to Ceragia:

”You should be safe on ship from here on out. I would avoid the main deck during the daylight hours where people might see you. You may want to steer clear anyways as the stevedores have begun to arrive and start unloading and loading cargo before our next voyage.”

He paused for a moment before taking his own hat off, folded it in his hands and saying.

”I’m not sure what your plan is from here on out. My part is finished. My instructions were to get you this far, nothing else. You’re welcome to stay on the ship until nightfall. We won’t be getting any more Imperial visits until we cast off.”

He looked worried and continued to stare at his hat in his hands…he was wringing it…knuckles white with tension…

”Not sure why you would come to a place like this. Most people would pay that kind of money to get away…not to come here…of all places. Good luck, miss”

With that he walked abruptly out of the cabin and disappeared down a ladder to one of the decks below.

Kallus’s profession often required him to work alone. Damn, most of the time he preferred it that way! It was much easier to plan how the job was to get done when you take out all the “unknown” variables associated with other people’s inclinations to be unpredictable, or fool hardy or just plain stupid. But when the job requires you to travel into the Wylds, you usually don’t mind taking on a little help.

Kallus new he had to get to his cargo from that ship without the Empire being aware. The cargo a who and not a what. A young Peshwan female whose family paid a great sum of money to a powerful group of people to make sure she be smuggled into Batton Wycomb without incident.

The journey had been for the most part monotonous until it turned treacherous. Weeks in the belly of an ironclad ram undulating across the open sea with not a hint of land on the horizon. The previous night a sea monster twice the size of the ram decided to get friendly with the Iron Duke and took a quarter of its deck crew to the dark below.

Although Ceragia had freedom to move about the ship the entire time during the sea-faring journey; as they entered the fortified lock at Batton Easton the ships Captain came to her and requested that she remain in her quarters until contacted…

Ok, I am complete! Might purchase an item or two but otherwise I am ready for review and feedback

You are good to go sir!

Gm - can we use alternate racial traits?

I want to take... Military Tradition: Several human cultures raise all children (or all children of a certain social class) to serve in the military or defend themselves with force of arms. They gain proficiency with up to two martial or exotic weapons appropriate to their culture. This racial trait replaces the bonus feat trait... for flavor. Would any exotic/martial weapons work or is there a limited list for Batton Wycomb?

Absolutely...The Callumbin Empire reigns. As per the lexicon many military fighting traditions known as Evolutions exist aka “Hand Strokes” is the vernacular (Domum, Escalade, Hi-Lo and Fight with Hawk & Pick...Tomahawk and long knife).

Others exist for the different ethnicities and cultures as well. Let me know what your thinking and I can help flavor it to the setting.

Please make those adjustments soon as I’m probably going to be kicking off the story with you since it all I’ve got to work with.

I’ve given you some background changes already. Need any more info on flavor context or character set up contact me either PM, on Messanger or call or swing by.

Here is some helpful info on how to post on this site. Skip down to Messageboard Questions

Messageboard Questions

and here is a great online guide to the Pathfinder rulebook

d20pfsrd

Thanks for the help Will!

Once everyone creates character avatars and I get the opportunity to review everyone’s character sheets and backgrounds we will get the game ball moving.

Pathfinder Campaign: Character Generation is a 20 point buy system for abilities and one free non-heroic character class level to start. Max out first level for hit point values both non-heroic and heroic classes.

Please generate some background for your character this can be as general or as in depth as you like. Keep in mind the more you leave for me to determine, the more I may be able to make your background tie into the story itself.

Darkness fades as a thin silver line begins to break the line between the pitch black of the urban landscape and the darkness of the void. The light of the stars begin their retreat.

Based on the campaign stylings of DM Cornish (Lamplighter Series) & Steven Erickson’s (Malazan Book of the Fallen Series).

Rakshasa’s campaign setting is scaled in a a darker more sinister world grounded in humanities struggles to survive the wylds as well as each other. Gunpowder, alchemy, dark rituals and gorey experiments abound.