Does seem a little bit sad, but I understand GM burnout all too well. Perhaps Grahm shall ride again in some other campaign!
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I've noticed a resurgence in the original recruitment thread! Are we coming back, or is it more of a one table thing? Totally fine either way.
Thank you for running it! I enjoyed what we got!
"And you came to get me? An excellent choice, but now we must make haste. Sir Eustus! May we borrow one of your horses?" Knowing that Eilpho is blind(ish), Grahm offers to share a horse.
When Grahm finds himself a chance to detatch himself from Sir Eustus for a time, he will go and find Virgil, to feed him the now rather smelly fish that he bought from Thraag the Younger. He'll spend some time with the young cat, playing with him to relieve some of the stress of adventuring, and try and put the thought of his first kill from his mind. He doesn't spend too long though, otherwise he knows he'll be found out.
Grahm is moderately embarrassed by Varian's story, but he tells Sir Eustus the unabridged truth after the bard has had his fun. Hopefully the old man isn't too angry with him.
"Um..." Grahm begins before finishing lamely. "Yes."
"Are there any in particular with a hatred for dogs? Something strange is afoot here." Grahm, torn between a desire of not wanting to worry the old man, and wanting to share all the information he has mutters, "I had to stop a wagon from running a man down just now in town. I didn't know I was that strong, but what if I'm not around next time?."
"Sorry Sir, about being gone for so long Sir. You could certainly say that it's been a bit of an adventure. Would you know anything about creatures that live in this area that might thrive off of pranks, both harmless, and harmful? Turns out more dogs than Tricia have been vanishing, seemingly with no trace, and a wagon brace broke for no explicable reason on the way back home, nearly mangling poor Elipho!"
"Thank you for the kind offer coachman, but some day, I hope to join my father in adventuring." Still intrigued by the offer he adds, "But perhaps while I'm here, I might be able to take some time to join you?"
"I'm not from around here. I just moved in a little bit ago, I'm staying with Sir Eustus until my father comes back for me."
"I really should be getting back..." Grahm shifts guiltily, like a child who has stayed out after curfew, and not at all like the knight who stopped a runaway cart. "Oh! Kieran! You wanted to meet Elrithrathiel, right? When you go, can I come? I've always wanted to meet a wizard."
"Could this be the work of the same entity that we're tracking? Fey are known to be capricious, but this... this could have killed someone. Or maybe it wants us to stop investigating... It might be for the best if we remain together, or at least in pairs for safety."
"I didn't know I could do that." Turning towards the coach workers, he'll apologize profusely for the damage that he caused. He listens attentively for the worker's response to Thraag's question. Normally, he'd be basking in the attention, but right now, that seems not to be a priority, instead focusing on the task at hand.
"Brace for impact!"
Grahm jumps in front of Randal, and digs his heels into the ground, getting into a wide stance, hoping to at least take the brunt of the wagons force, if he can't stop it.
"Ah." Grahm realizes that he's been out late, later than he had been told to be back by Sir Eustus. "Mansion?" he says weakly. "This way."
"A thief perhaps?" Grahm ponders out loud. "My father always told me that dogs were the bane of sneaky individuals. If I was going to rob a place, I'd make sure that I'd get rid of the dogs first..." He comes to, suddenly aware of what he had just said. "Not that I'm planning on robbing anyone here! Why would I bother stealing from you? Wait... I don't mean that you have nothing that I want, but more why would I want to take anything from you fine folks!"
"Perhaps we should consult Sir Eustus? He is rather knowledgeable about both monsters and the area."
I'm so sorry to hear that AGM. I will keep you and your family in my thoughts.
I've unfortunately come down with a relatively mild case of Covid, but it's still doing a number on me, and I may be somewhat subdued in posting for a little bit.
"Hm?" Grahm looks up, seemingly finally taking note of where he was. "Oh. Yes. The boar didn't hit me." Much more quietly he adds, "It's much different than using a wooden weapon and dummies."
Something flickered over the face of the swordsman, an indescribable emotion. His shoulders sag with a weight that had not been present before, even when he wore his heavy armor. He begins cleaning his blade methodically, and somewhat mechanically.
Grahm stands there, staring at the boar that he had just fell, his face inscrutable. The sword falls from his hand. In this moment, no armor, no weapon, he looks like a young boy, not a squire.
So I've been playing for around 11 years now, which incidentally means I started around 5th grade. A bit of a newcomer to the hobby by that metric :) None of my pathfinder characters died unless it was by virtue of my own stupidity, and I certainly made a lot of stupid decisions! I won't say that Pathfinder is more forgiving than AD&D, but... I just wrote a paper for a class which heavily drew reference from the 1980's Inferno module, and my word things are heavily skewed against the players, even at higher levels. Before they even get into hell proper, they are hit with flamestrike, exposed to the waters of Lethe, and attacked by gargoyles that are immune to damage from nonsilver or magic weapons with AC 2. In a setting where things like that are commonplace, I can see never surviving until second level, especially if you're playing an AD&D wizard!
We're still low level. A lucky crit from anything could lay one of us low, and that includes our ranger friend!
"Indeed!" Grahm, free of his overly burdening armor moves with a speed uncommon to him, and moves to the other side of the boar with a 5ft step.
Holding his longsword in two hands, he strikes a powerful blow.
Grahm, who would not be sleeping in medium armor, grabs his longsword. He may not be as well armored as he'd like, or be able to see, but he's ready to fight.
"I wonder what Sir Eustus will think. And I hope Virgil is doing alright."
"Seeing in the dark is not something I can do, I'm afraid. But I would be happy to take a watch. My father always said it was important for those who can cast spells to get better sleep than the warriors."
"Also, might be dangerous to go tramping about in the woods by oneself at the moment, what with the madwoman and all." Grahmm adds helpfully.
"Right then! Onward and outward! Let's put Elipho near the middle of our formation so that those more heavily armed can keep any wild beasts, or crazed dogs away from him." Grahm sets off confidently, and clankily.
"Very good. Grahm frowns for a second. "Well, not very good. Bad actually. But you know what I mean. Please, show us where this happened. We have in our company an honest to goodness elven blooded magical warrior, even if his eyes aren't quite as good at seeing normal things like you and I, I'm sure he can see things that we can't, and he's already proven himself to be an excellent tracker."
Grahm, who wasn't quite sullen about not being the center of attention, but decidedly unused to it, and disappointed that his battle formation had no use, perks up at Marcus's suggestion. "Of course! An excellent idea." He tromps metallically towards Eudox and Verus. "Excuse me sirs, but I couldn't help but overhear you saying that you've lost some dogs." Before they can respond, Grahm continues talking.
Surprised at the quiet orc's sudden display of skill, Grahm nevertheless attempts to help him. "That's right, we know that it bothered you, and honestly kicking up such a fuss about a little runty dog seems like a bit of an overreaction, don't you agree? Still, it seems important to the old lady, so tell us what you know, and I'm sure we can get something figured out.
"Something is fishy here, and it's not the venison. The dog shouldn't have just vanished, there should be tracks of something here. Or tracks near the venison dragged on the string." Grahm frowns. "No, I don't like this one bit." He looks up, to see if it was possible that perhaps a large bird had grabbed the small dog.
"Indeed, that seems wise. Keep an eye out for additional prints that might lead to danger. Thraag, I'm sorry to put you in front, but you seem to have the best skill at tracking. I'll be right next to you to protect you if anything comes running at us. Kieran, since you've got a spear, take the second row, it'll give you front and backline offensive pressure. Varian, I need you as his eyes, help guide him. Thraag the elder and Marcus, I'd feel safest if you took the back, I doubt anything is going to feel comfortable sneaking up on us if the two of you are the first things they see, but if they do, you'll be able to make short work of them." It would seem that Grahm has either put some thought into this formation plan, or that he picks up quickly on strengths. Nevertheless, it seems a bit extreme if all we are expecting to find is a dog...
Grahm, who seemed conflicted between Varian's obvious flattery, and his own stubbornness, turns gratefully to Kieran. "Ah a spearman! Using an elf weapon to boot. I've never had a chance to hold one before, but they are supposedly notoriously difficult to master. And I am not yet a knight, merely an esquire. Grahm is my name." The internal conflict within him resolves, and he continues to respond to Kieran, but with a wink to Varian as he speaks. "We are "looking for a pet." If the two of you wish to come with us, I would be honored. If you want to give credit to someone for leading, let us give it to my new compatriot Marcus, it seems he needs it far more than me." "Shall we away?"
"The group I have just gathered seems to be somewhat overqualified for a simple retrieval of a dog, when there are far more pressing matters at hand. You seem to have it hand, no?" Grahm's tone is far more dismissive than it had been when speaking to the orcs, this man is obviously no warrior. A fencer, yes, perhaps even an excellent one, but not a warrior.
Grahm sighs slightly. "But I suppose you can join us in our search if you want." Almost but not quite as an afterthought he adds, "As long as my compatriots are fine with it of course."
Grahm looks over at the man that Marcus gestures to. "Him? I'd rather have companions of stout heart, who are honest about their failings than 100 fops. I do not know what you may have done in your past, but you are honest, frank, and strong. If others do not see it that way, then I shall be all the luckier for having such a powerful ally to myself." He brightens. "And who knows? Perhaps this is what you need to get your name out there as a force for good. But perhaps the Thraag's should be our recruiters. They seem known, unlike me, and respected enough, unlike you. I shall of course be within viewing distance, as will you." Grahm waves to Randal. "What about you, are you interested in glory, and rendering service to the public?"
"Hum." Grahm seems somewhat put out that you are both unable to rage, and that you have little training with large weapons, but brightens again at the thought of more magic. His handshake starts out strong, almost viselike, but very quickly loosens up, as if in the middle of the act he remembered what his own strength was. "I'm afraid I will be in Lyon's Brook for the foreseeable future, so I won't be able to immerse myself in your land's language as well as you did. But I have plenty of free time, so perhaps I might hire one of you as a tutor in it." Although the emphasis on his speech indicates a statement instead of a request, there is an obvious undertone to it, an ask without actually wanting to ask. --
Grahm sniffs. "Dad-I mean my father said that some of the people he adventured with could barely lift an axe, but their speed and precision more than made up for their lack of strength." It is obvious that although Grahm enjoys seeming like he knows a lot about different types of combatants, he doesn't really believe that finesse is a substitute for strength, and a stout blade.
"Can you wrap it or... something?" Grahm says, obviously not thrilled about carrying a raw fish around all day, and somewhat put out about the lack of an answer to his question. Looking around, he notices Marcus watching nearby, and beckons him over. "Excuse me, but I have to wonder; are you an orc? I had heard they were strong, and often quite skilled in blades or magics." Leaning in to Marcus and Thraag the younger, he says quietly, "Just between you and me, I'm thinking about making my own team to go after the escaped madwoman, and I could use some folks who are good at blades or magic with me." Waiting a second, he holds out a gauntleted hand to shake. "The name's Grahm. I'm an esquire."
Nazard, I know we have a discord in the other game that we are in together, is that something you/we'd like to implement here?
Must be an orc. Never really seen one up close before, but Grandfather talks of fighting them. Dad says they aren't all bad though. I don't understand what the big one said, maybe it's in Orcish. If I'm lucky, he'll teach me a few words. And didn't grandfather say something about them being freakishly strong? Maybe he'll be able to help if I form a group to go hunting after the madwoman... "What?" Grahm stares blankly at the man for a moment before coming to. "Oh right, your friend here bumped into me, but never mind about that. I was hoping to buy a fish." Grahm pauses for a minute, and then leans forward slightly. "And forgive me if this is rude, but you're an orc, right?"
Alone? In town? Finally! A chance to get out! And with an allowance no less! And a chance to prove myself by bringing this criminal to justice... Grahm's indignation at being pushed past disappears from his mind, as he realizes that a fish for Virgil would make an excellent gift. He barely remembers to thank Sir Eustus for his kindness before running off. But where had the malodorous fishmonger gotten to? -- Ah. Over there. And it seems as if he has a limp. Talking to someone. Grahm strides up to the fisherman imperiously, but right before putting a hand on his shoulder, remembers that interrupting someone while in a conversation is unbecoming of a knight, and taking a step back, waits for the man to finish his conversation. The smaller one seemed to be in charge anyway, and although he'd never admit it, the bigger one made Grahm feel slightly... intimidated. Grahm is a large man, just barely into his human adulthood and already standing at over 6ft. He is stocky as well, and a longsword hangs at his hip. The breastplate that he wears is very well polished, and seemingly undented. He is not entirely unpleasant to look at, but certainly not a great beauty by any stretch of the imagination.
Is there anything we can do here while we wait? I know we don't know each other yet, so RP might be difficult.
Howdy folks! |