I've taken a look at your maps, racial cultures, and story, and I think I have some sense of the world at present. As I understand it, all societies are striving to keep the dark at bay. There is intermingling among peoples, but distinct differences (ancestor worship among the oreads vs. emphasis on rational investigation with the sylphs) would cause them to naturally separate along racial lines politically.
One question I have: How do non-ifrit generally feel about Volcano? Is there a sense of envy or resentment they aren't as "close" to it?
Presently, I'm orbiting around the idea of creating an oread tribal leader of some note (perhaps not the utmost leader of one of the pockets depicted on your map), who's taken up the cause against the dark as he sees it's what's most beneficial for his people. Losses of life over the years and threats to their lifestyle would be motivations for his willingness to travel to Hearth, and ironically - once there - he'd have his worldviews challenged much more by the comparatively cosmopolitan nature of the place.
At the moment, I'm not sure if a ranger, Inquisitor (monster tactitian), or packmaster Hunter would be the best way of going about it. I want him to be connected strongly to the spirits of his tribe - which they believe are embodied in the "animals" (earth elementals) of the lands. Whether or not this best manifests as a summoned creature in the cast of the inquisitor or a more permanent set of creature(s) in the cast of the others is something I've not yet determined though!
I've played a few games which may have been similar to this in the past, depending on how you go about it. The hardest thing both for players and the GM (me in one case) was to assess player knowledge out of game as distinct and different than player knowledge in game when the meta-realization was clear for them. This also led to some mechanical questions (such as wouldn't most people have some level of knowledge(engineering), nature, etc. by default).
I'd like to toss my hat in the ring to join in your quest!
At present, I'm looking to create an elf who's long-lost wife has caused a change in his personality, emboldening what used to be a more non-aggressive worker into a brazen adventurer! Mechanically, he would be a transmuter wizard - utility spells, little/no direct damage.
That said, I have some questions which may help me complete his story if you don't mind!
1. Are the languages in FR different than those in Golarion? I'm not as familiar with the former, though I did play some games in it years ago! This is somewhat relevant for bits of his story but also for skills as linguistics is probably going to be one of his masteries.
2. I can give you the requested arsenal of knives. Many of them may come in the form of past/present known/unknown family members. Do you mind working with people written into a characters story to wield as those blades?
3. As we are being called to handle this problem, are we being summoned from simply within the town, or has a herald gone to the surrounding areas to make people aware? At level 10, there's a likelihood we'd be notable figures in our locales.
As asked above, I'd have a mild preference for having some interweaving of the characters' stories prior to the start of the adventure.
Having applied to your original recruitment, I was disappointed to not have been selected, though I am happy to see the depth and longevity your campaign took. No sour grapes about that; if anything, the year+ story you've developed indicates you choose well.
With only one slot, making the cut this time won't be easy either, but I will read the appropriate information you've posted and do my best to provide a quality application tomorrow.
do you guys want to all know each other beforehand?
Hard to say without knowing a bit about your setting; the parameters of it may lead to some characters having a distant entry point while others are well-connected.
DM-Salsa wrote:
Do you want to start at level 1 or a little higher than that?
I've no problem with level 1. Nothing above 6 to start please.
DM-Salsa wrote:
Do you mind starting off a la Morrowwind, Oblivion, and Skyrim?
Again, with how the setting does prisoner treatment, it depends, but I probably wouldn't mind. Familiars/animal companions are a consideration here though.
DM-Salsa wrote:
Also, does anyone have a major beef with the automatic bonus progression or background skills from Pathfinder Unchained?
Nope!
Have you used this setting before? Where could playpodes be involved?
1. I like the idea of homebrew &/or sandbox games. I also happen to like Skyrim, though I understand that is not necessarily the setting here. However, if that sort of open-ended follow-what-you-will aspect is what you're referring to along with the void of dragons, I'm all for it!
2. Spheres of Power, from what I've read of the text, seems to make casters weaker and more flexible. As it's commonly-accepted their power levels need to be lowered at high tiers of play, I think that works well mechanically. For flavor, I like the idea of mixing & matching different spheres as opposed to Vancian-style magic. The more fluid progression should go well with the open-ended style alluded to above.
3. Roleplay > Rollplay, in my personal opinion. I'm a fan of more intrigue-driven games, so I would be interested in applying if such aspects could be a part of your world.
GM, is the plague of the land in question a natural hazard for it or some calamity man has wrought? I'm considering creating a druid that wants to put those in their place who blighted the area if that's the case.
DM, thank you for your prompt replies. Thunderbeard, thank you for the suggestion; I was not half-elves / half-orcs were eligible for the feat, for I didn't think a feat was classified as an "effect" from race.
To follow-up:
1. That continuum was intended to see how subtle/explosive you were in your intrigue, so it was more a question of mechanism than ability.
2. I agree it is unhealthy to have a fixation on such gruesome descriptions for a character's functionality.
3. The watersinger and Hanspur questions go hand-in-hand; I won't be delving into those options.
4. I can't click those multitude of links of of concern they're NSFW right now (I'm at work on break), but I'll be sure to at home to see if there is a joke / sarcasm within. Partially, the reason was in consideration for the platypus being a familiar for my shaman. Do let me know if that's a deal-breaker!
1. For your own writing / personal preference, how where do you fall on the Machiavelli vs. Howard Dean scale in terms of volatility with intrigue?
2. Are there any topics or tropes which particularly bother you in character creation / in-game discussion we should be aware of? For example, does tough-guy-with-a-soft-heart feel too cliche? Does detailed description of torture bother you?
3. You've stated you're ill-inclined towards non-core races for this campaign, and I understand the reasoning behind that. Would you consider permitting the watersinger archetype for Bard to be used by a core race instead of an Undine?
5. Would you consider a follower of Hanspur to be too unwieldy for the aristocrats of the River Kingdoms to entrust on such endeavors as would be embarked upon in this campaign?
6. Though prices for goods have set starting points in the books, would you be open to markets responding to excess supply / shortages in goods to adjust their prices accordingly?
Apologies for the double-post. Laundry took longer than expected, so the edit window closed!
GM, I appreciate your detailed description of this new campaign. The clarity enables readers to easily see what they like about it. It my case, I like the contrast of nature with artifice (as initially seen with the gnomes in Kyonin) as well as the idea of exploring what true Elven heritage entails.
For the submission I intend to make, the duo in mind would highlight those themes from opposite sides. Right now, I'm thinking of a clever, idealistic, but somewhat naive collegiate initiate to be paired with a rustic, intuitive, and easily-antagonized ranger. The freshly-graduated arcanist would provide a vista of hope to contrast with the (at least initially) pessimistic woodsman. Given you are the one behind the screen, I think the ranger would be the "sidekick", letting you share some setting information through the guise of his background knowledge. As the player, my inquiries about Kyonin's developments in your setting would be quite genuine coming from the mage as he is just now returning home.
The couple games I'm in have declined in pace since the summer. Given your posting pedigree, it seems there will be no problem there! I'm a teacher, so I will mostly post outside of the school-day on Eastern time.
Let me know if the ideas mentioned sound workable. I can create the crunchier forms if that's the case.
Nice story, but I am a little confusing.
Who are the characters you are going to submit?
The idea of farmers going into the Stolen Lands is good, but I was planning on having adventurers, and not pioneers, as characters.
Don't worry about it, we can make it work.
Eleanor is the primary character, Pallesh the cohort, and Cedric one of the followers. Each had done some adventuring in years past, prior to their now-calmer lifestyle. I just felt this write-up gave a better idea of their personalities. I can flesh-out the backgrounds further if you like.
Here is the background for my submission-in-progress. Criticism is welcome from GM and players alike:
Eleanor:
"Well, isn't that a wonderful thing!" Elenor Exclaimed upon sampling some of the tart cherry pie she'd baked with the first of the year's harvest. "It would seem a touch of liqueur didn't hurt the texture at all!" She'd been trying to add a bit of the exotic orange sweetness to such a pie, but the Southern fruits spoiled too easily from Garund. In an alcoholic form, the flavor was preserved.
She turned to her dutiful husband, himself gobbling down a piece, his silence approval enough. "Your polypurpose panacea really does the trick, Pal!" She set her fingers on his wrist. "But don't get too used to it! Most of the fruit is headed to the crown for the festival."
Pallesh washed the pie down with some tea. "Elly, they're not going to eat it all! Besides, you'll be keeping some for your students. As chief sampler, I - "
"You," she said, playfully poking the plump inventor in the chest with a finger, "will be busy securing us paperwork for our survey in the lands to the East. That opportunity - which you insisted on, let me remind you - will give us more crops and livestock grazing fields. Then you can have twice as many slices ... not that you need them."
Pallesh chuckled, his copper skin and dark hair blending into the natural colors of their well-stocked yet modest interior. "I'll take the coin and prestige as a first course, but a few sweets never hurt anyone. Especially this one." The well-dressed gentleman gave her a kiss. "All these preparations have really taken it out of me thought. I'm turning in. See you when you come upstairs."
Eleanor didn't mind fame or riches either, but she did so want to break out of the mold she'd been in; after her culinary talent catapulted her into the local spotlight years ago, tradesfolk and other visitors had incessantly sought her our of their little town on the fringes of Restov. Meal production and baking soon made her bacon instead of tilling their farm. Pallesh hired extra help so Eleanor could work full-time honing her skills, and his profession as an alchemist and hobby as an innovator gave her additional possibilities to explore.
She cleaned-up the dishes and took the pie's remains down to the cellar. Her eyes swept across the rows of wine casks and beer kegs, bags of grain and cheese wheels. "Thank you, Erastil, for providing for us. May all kin of Golarion respect the land, and may we extend your bounty to each other."
When she'd moved-in with Pallesh at his farmhouse, she'd moved away from her elven mother, Aria Brightstar, and her human father, Drake Miller. An only child, she was much loved by them, but she was anxious to step out of her mother's shadow. Aria had an otherworldly voice, and visitors to their more-furnished home always focused on the alto to the exclusion of Drake and his daughter. Her father didn't seem to mind being overlooked, though he batted a few lewd cads off from his wife with his work-strengthened muscles. Eleanor, on the other hand, did. She felt invisible and could attract the gaze of no man - except Pallesh. The Taldan then had been quite catching, but it was with words, not muscles; he always had his face in a book of some sort. Out of place in such a town, he only came to their village to distance himself from his overbearing parents, Ibbi and Edran. The two were part of the blue-bloods in Oppara, and they weren't pleased with their son's independent spirit pushing-back against their arranged marriages and insertion into the bureaucracy. He set-out with a piece of their wealth, bought the plot they were on now, and they soon eloped.
"Hey - does 'each other' include me?" A teenager gathered himself off the floor from behind the stairs and pointed at the pie. "Smells pretty good, Mrs. Izoba."
"Cedric! What did I say about walking about shirtless? It's not even that hot out!"
"Well, I was taking a nap. Magda's got the little ones today, and I finished my chores early." He smiled sheepishly at her. The disarming gaze melted Eleanor's usual resilience.
"Oh, fine... ah-ah!.. where's your spoon?! Elysium knows where those fingers have been!" She pulled the dish out of reach until he retrieved his spook from the side table.
Cedric was a sad story. His parents had originally been residents of Restov before moving to the outskirts and starting a life of their own, much like Eleanor. However, their child had been born with hair that remained blond - a color neither parents possessed. In addition to eyes and bone structure more aligned with his mother's, Cedric began to manifest magical sounds and colors with but a focused thought. While his mother found the talent a blessing, Cedric's father thought it a curse. The father accused the mother of infidelity, and shortly thereafter, two arrows were found in her skull, the body by a riverbank. Her husband had vanished.
The first to stumble upon her, Cedric wept at the sight, and he and his mother's corpse were alone until Eleanor arrived, hearing the sounds as she foraged for berries. Consoling him as best she could, she brought the boy to her home, only 6 at the time, and fed him. Truth be told, he's what pushed her into the culinary arts; the desire had always been with her, but the drive to bring a little joy through taste and help dispel Cedric's sorrow with sweetness sealed the deal.
Pallesh was a bit resentful of the attention Cedric drew away from him after a while, and he wanted Eleanor to take him to an orphanage in a more major town. Torn, Eleanor looked to the gods for advice. That night, she had a dream of an idyllic forest with a doe and a stage. They walked through a wall of shrubs into a meadow of unimaginable beauty, critters of all kinds sipping from a crystal brook and feeding on allmeal. From behind a tree walked a stag-man. "Provide for the land, and the land will provide." The following day was her first as an eager priestess - then an acolyte - of Erastil, one of only two clergy in the town.
"Mmm... Mr. Izoba wasn't kidding - this one is going to get you a lot more notice than you already have!" He licked the crumbs off his lips.
"That's very kind of you. I'll probably send a slice to Magda to see what she thinks."
"Umm ... she might not be feeling up to it."
As the wife of an alchemist, Eleanor knew the young woman would've come to her were she truly ill. "Pal would've made her an elixir. What's the real reason?"
"Well ... she's pregnant again." Cedric blushed.
Eleanor blinked, her lips pursed. "Yours, I presume?"
Cedric laughed, breaking his tension. "I'm pretty sure!"
"This isn't funny, Cedric! Who's going to look out for them while you're out and about in the Stolen Lands, hmm?"
"I kind of thought Jill could help out..."
"You think the OTHER mother of one of your children is going to want to help?!"
The sorcery in Cedrick's blood was evident, but the onset of puberty made him even more of a wild child. He was very handsome to many of the girls in the town, and he had no reservations about attempting intimacy with as many as he could. During an encounter with Jill when he was 16, his first child was conceived, and two months later, his first of three with Magda took hold. Magda and Cedric later married, but Jilly was understandably bitter about the situation. Four years later, Cedric and the two on talking terms, but they were still only as close as acquaintances. The three rotated from living in Cedric's parents' house to Eleanor's from time to time.
Eleanor had a soft spot for Cedric though, and for a few reasons. First, try as they had, she and Pallesh could not conceive children. She was more disappointed than he was, but that made Cedric all the more precious as he was the son she never had. Secondly, she knew he had a good heart. After raising him fro thirteen years, he had few secrets from her. Lastly, she had inquired of the gods why Cedric struggled to control his passions. He had been unfaithful numerous times overt the past few years, but he often seemed as torn-up about the trysts as the mothers of his children were. The goddess Desna offered an affirmative to Elenor's inquiry if his unusual blood was a cause. That response did not completely absolve Cedric of guilt in his behavior, but it did give her an out to empathize with his struggle.
As Cedric looked embarrassed, Eleanor sighed. "At least it was with the right girl. May her belly grow as big as your hearts for each other."
Relieved, Cedric hugged her. "Thanks, Mrs. Izoba!" He stepped back, a look of fresh memory on his face. "Avery wasn't around when I went to feed her today."
"I know," replied Eleanor. "She was out scouting around for her own food, I'm sure. Take your nap - but don't touch this pie!" She set it on a shelf in the corner before climbing back up the stairs.
Avery was a bond between her and Erastil, given shortly after Cedric had his second child. The eagle watched over them as Eleanor couldn't be everywhere with this upcoming adventure into the new land. She had Avery poking into the attached pieces of land nearby. Something felt uncertain to her, perhaps danger, perhaps a thrill...
That feeling would have to wait until tomorrow though. For now, the farmhands had finished their day-labor. They needed a more savory confection. "Come inside, boys. Shepard's pie tonight." Their murmurs of agreement made her smile...
Of the things to be allergic to, cardamom isn't too bad! Easy to omit in the uncommon case you come across it.
Corsario wrote:
That doesn't sound to the character you are proposing at all. I would say you are proposing a Cleric of Erastil.
At face value, I would agree with you. Let me make my case for the reverse though:
1. Erastil is sometimes at odds with Abadar, per the wiki, not due to being on opposite ends of the good vs. evil spectrum, but because Abadar is too "progressive". The character I have in mind will be a leader, but heroines across the environments in Avistan are progressives at least in a basic sense because of the XX chromosomes in an overwhelming patriarchy. In essence, she would step out of the norms of his clergy. His church seems conservative in regards to gender roles/family values.
2. On a similar note, her cohort, who will be a rather innovative inventor in regards to various beverages and appetite apparati, also sticks-out from what I interpret Erastil's limits to be. Were she an adherent of Erastil, she would be less inclined to take him on, let alone experiment and gain - the utilize - her fame in very civilized areas.
3. She wants people to respect the beauty in nature and grow their lives in tandem with it, not in limitation by it. She wouldn't hate, for example, the idea of a place like New Orleans as long as people recognized the power of the tides to be greater than their levees and didn't trash (not the same as alter) the balance in nature. If they did, such as pouring concrete in a wetland to build yet another mall, she would be angry but assurred in the confidence nature always wins; the people would merely struggle in futility to trump it. Erastil's clergy would take direct devout action against the construction. He keeps the status quo, but she is willing to evolve to a point.
4. I see the flavor description of the archetype as a common way to read into it. My character would not quite adhere to that, instead understanding those water and air systems were crucial to production of great vegetation and stable animal life, not feeling the storms were important in opposition to them.
To be fair, she would get along well with the clergy a good portion of the time, and these differences are small steps in my mind. If the idea bothers you much, I can make her into a priestess who pushes the envelope. It's not the end of the world, but I would worry about her breaking the bounds of the church.
GM, please allow me to toss my hat in the ring! Your concept sounds more conducive to character interaction and setting building than most, and those are two things that really have teeth for me in campaigns.
Now, I see the deadline is at the end of the month. I am a teacher on a MUCH-needed vacation until then end of the week, but I can prepare a properly-formatted submission at that time.
For the idea itself: I'm thinking of an individual whose contribution to the kingdom was a frontier farmer, working the land into a malleable agricultural state for massive food yields, much-needed in the stark Northern climates of the River Kingdoms as well as the disorderly lands to the East.
You'll notice the past tense used above. Well, this is where the mechanical side comes into play. The Storm Druid archetype seems to align itself well with harnessing the elements, and the more natural basis of a druid gives the character a motive for pushing into the edges of civilation. Though once a simple farmer, intoduction to the reverance of nature's purity took a paragon form: culinary expertise. This wasn't what the woodland sages had in mind, but it made the character a must-see for visitors in close proximity to the farm, and that is the beginning of her scalong the rungs of society from its fringes. It's amazing what great food will do to get once to grace the atriums of the aristocracy!
Only the frshest ingredients will do for this character! Squandering nature's bounty in non-appreciation is a cardinal sin. To that end, it's imperitave to her the wilds be cultivated to a level all can respect. This means making the joys that can be found obvious - wineries, orchards, flowering gardens ... overt representations of venerable value and vitality - even to commoners.
Note the Storm Druid does not receive an animal companion and is instead focused on the potential that can come from nature as opposed to saving every squirrel or flower. As such, I believe the archetype will not run into the standard conflicts steadfast wildlife lovers may present, but rather provide for a question of man working in tandem with the elements as opposed to eclipsing them.
Once her popularity grew, she needed someone to facilitate operations and provide mechanisms with which she could expand her delicious dominion. This would be the cohort, which is looking to be an alchemist if you will not permit shaman.
Personality-wise, I'm toying with a cross between Julia Child and Miss Frizzle. I hope the idea of that voice doesn't give a penality to the leadership feat she will take for her staff!
Questions:
1. You did say no professions skills sans alchemy at the start, but I'm wondering how to model the various areas of expertise she and her staff would have without them. What do you think?
2. How much acreage of land are we talking? Important for crops and livestock, it is.
3. Do you have any allergies? She uses a wide array of ingredients and cannot guarantee gluten-free or vegan options.
The exposition you paint is intriguing, GM, though I must second Zahir's point; where would you say the atmosphere is juxtaposed between the various examples laid-out?
Personality-wise, I'm thinking an individual out-of-place in society yet not disparaging of it who looks at this shift as more of an opportunity for a new beginning would be a rewarding experience to play. Mechanically, I would like to try the spheres of power as I've not done so yet. Weather incanter, I believe.
I can specify more when I better know the mood approximation of the setting as mentioned above!
How out-of-the-question would seeds of slightly more temperate climate plants be to acquire in town? Haskell would likely have gone after some as an experiment, and their fare may give him a boost to self-confidence (which he could use) at the start.
As far as skills and a few other things, here's what I'm planning for Haskell:
Skills focus
Survival - more for reading the signs of the environment than for hunting, though that is an IC byproduct for hostile and civil purposes
Profession(Farmer) - it's what he does most of the time
Spellcraft - I forget if this applies in Spheres of Power, but he is looking into his mother's texts
Knowledge(Arcana) - see above
Knowledge(Nature) - His focus on weather through spellcraft needs to be directed by knowledge of its effects on the environment
Perception - to notice the effects of various happenings around his stead and of his spellcraft
Sense Motive - as one regarded as an outsider by many, reading the faces and intents of people he met has become second-nature over the years
Alignment
NG or CG. Haskell's heart is kind, but with the narrow path to walk, his word may become not as solid as steel in the future if the rights forks in the road present themselves.
Party Role
Haskell would be heavily invested into the weather sphere. As such, he would be more useful for utility than raw damage. The choice is for flavor over combat crunch, for as far as I can tell, enemies won't be taking much damage from anything he can do at lower levels in a short period of time. Wind & precipitation can provide some useful combat maluses for them though.
I imagine the focus given by incanter would lend Haskell to explore another sphere or two if desired at some point. This desire would be IC, driven by story development though. It wouldn't be for a while, in any case.
It seems to fit his story well to have Haskell take the channel energy variant for incanters at the exchange of some magic talents. Due this, he could provide some healing to the group
Question
With Haskell's focus on runes, I need to know the role they play and context they have in your setting. Is knowledge of the script's uses common? How many people know of it? Are they written in ink, stone, blood, etc.?
I have seen some people use the role they serve as symbols of power, some as words of power, and others simply as an alternate language. Knowing which applies would influence Haskell's casting traditions and exposition of his ability, when necessary.
Alright. When you would like the remainder, just let me know. I'm a teacher, so I'll be out until tomorrow afternoon (and at the appropriate worktimes).
Sorry for the double post. The long background without an alias needed a more solidified split here, I felt.
Background(end):
With that day of decision behind him, Haskell began writings of his own. He deviated from his mother's studies to focus on manipulations of the weather in lieu of manifestations of flame.
Though he had been fully honest with Ulf in spirit, there was a potential duplicity in the end of their conversation; weather could also be destructive. Miniature squalls, cold snaps, and stifling heat could be sustained by Haskell, though it took more effort, was more obvious, and wasn't what he had in mind. In a pinch though...
The talent was very useful in tending to his agriculture though. Compensating for problematic weather led him to have better crop yields. The town said he'd been blessed with a bountiful yield for having endured such loss.
Perhaps in a roundabout way, they were right.
Olaf Henrikson kept a wary aloofness about the young man though. Though the town had mixed feeling about Haskell due respect for his plentiful yields yet trepidation for the sorcery that begat him, the jarl simply distanced himself. There was no explanation for his behavior.
Unless he knew what was said in those runes... and perhaps the others...
So it was the talented orphan sought to curry favor with Olaf. I will give him a harvest of such surplus, he can't make me a figment to blink away anymore. Though perhaps an additional favor would help solidify trust for the man to reveal what else he knew about Haskell's heritage...
Mechanically, I'm thinking Ranger and Incanter (from spheres of power). I know you said you weren't keen on high-casting, though I feel Haskell's manifestations would be very thematic (storms & the like). More importantly, let me know if you think the flavor and level of depth of the character would work and if you have other questions.
This goes for the GM as well as possible companions in the campaign!
The days passed as the child forced into early adulthood read rare information about his mother's history, experiments, successes, and failures.
She was smart. But so much time into this ... until she met my father.
The writings started abruptly, completely business-oriented, working on describing the underpinnings of words, gestures, and substances used in controlling ... temperature? The language was hard to understand as a novice, but with a few passes of the seasons and much help from Ulf's increasingly resistant father, Haskell's aptitude with the script became masterful. After many failures, the lone son produced a flame to light a candle. Elated, he continued the reading, feeling content to continue what his mother started. Yet as he continued, it seemed she focused her practice for purposes beyond common practicality. No longer was she interested in keeping warm only, but defending herself from groups. Was she hunted in her past?
Ingrid had never spoken much about the time before she met Brynjar, calling it "long ago". Shrouded in mist, Haskell began to wonder himself. It looks like the townspeople were partly right; mother was capable of great power. Yet in his heart he knew she was a good person. Who would drive her to hone such harsh forces? He made a point to look into her past.
After practicing a few of the various basic techniques she mentioned, he reached the end of her writings. They seemed unfinished, and the text was notated in such a way to indicate forthcoming writings. Without more space, it would make sense for Ingrid to have started another manuscript ... but that writing was not left for him. And surely this does not contain instructions powerful enough for the flame she summoned that day...
Ulf stopped by after a hunt for dinner one night. He'd become a fetching man, strong and skilled. The two had dinner as they sometimes did. It is time. I have to show him.
"Ulf, remember my mother?"
The hunter returned his question with hesitation. "She was a honorable woman, Haskell. She died in combat protecting the town."
Haskell nodded. "Do you think I should be like her?"
He looked shocked. "And got slashed?! No -"
"That's not what I mean." With a bit of concentration, a flick of his hand and a word, the candle doubled its pyre.
Ulf pushed back his chair in shock, coming to his feet. "My father warned you not to give into that witchcraft!" Haskell's magic also caused fire in Ulf's deep eyes.
Ingrid's orphan protege sighed. "Ulf, I had to know. She was my mother. If your dad died, you would want to know about him, wouldn't you? She never told me much..." The outcast's confidence wavered.
"She had the sense to keep that damnation from you!"
"It saved the jarl's life! You forget who was burned."
The huntsman grimaced. "That doesn't make borrowing power from the dark spirits any better! You must stop this."
He is turning as stone as his father. Feeling defeated, Haskell felt tears welling up in his eyes. There was truly nobody to turn to now, his parents gone and his one friend pushing him away like the others. The only triumph he'd felt recently was connecting to the memory of Ingrid through her work. Sharing in her ... art, destructive as it might be. "Fine ... go. Go!"
His head in his hands, the half-Nukaldic man wept quietly. His hearing didn't aid him, and his eyes were closed but for the tears in their corners.
Neither of those senses were necessary for him to feel Ulf's embrace though.
The hunter's hug came unexpected, but the feeling was beyond welcome.
"You are clever, Haskell, but sometimes dumb. Your sky eyes miss what is in front of you. Do you not remember you shot the arrow and gave the warning? Olaf would be dead if not for you."
Ulf was direct in his words, and the brutal honesty didn't hide itself in his speech that night. But ... then if I hadn't said anything, she would be with me today. This kernel of thought would be the beginning of a great legacy of self-doubt Haskell had for himself. But the jarl would have surely died. His ever-working mind was his own enemy now. I did what was honorable, but was it right?
If only my shot had been truer...
After what seemed like hours but was closer in actuality to a minute, Ulf's familiar musk snapped Haskell back to reality. The bearded man pulled Haskell from his shoulder and looked him in the eyes.
"I cannot lose you to that dark magic."
And I cannot lose you, Ulf. But I can't lose her."Ulf ... she was practicing her fire-art for defense. Her writings ... she had been hunted in the past..."
His companion's eyes narrowed. "Ingrid? I never saw anything like it."
Haskell nodded, sniffing his way back to composure. "Neither did I. It was from the time before she met my father. He did have a watchful eye around her in town though, now I think of it."
"Does the writing say who the people were?"
"No. But it looks as if there were more writings. I never received them though."
Ulf shook his head. "It is for the best..."
Having been brought back from the brink of self-ruin, Haskell felt a sprout of new confidence. "I, I have to seek out the truth."
"You can't - "
"Ulf, I don't plan on following the same path as my mother. She let the hunters drive her into living around their threat. That is why she became skilled with fire - to drive them out if she was attacked. I will continue her legacy in a different way."
The skepticism on the rugged man was obvious. "How?"
Haskell closed his eyes, focusing as best he could. His mother began with a focus on heat, but she left it at intensity, severe spikes of hot. With a much gentler ictus and gesture, a warm breeze swirled about the room, taking away the hostility of the arctic air. Ulf looked around with wonder as his hair was rustled and his face was warmed.
"This?"
Haskell nodded. "She could have done such things were she not worried about her stalkers."
Ulf looked worried. "You know the town won't accept this..."
Reversing the current, the new man smiled. "They don't have to. Just you. The weather changes so much, they would not suspect me. And what harm would a warm breeze do?"
Let me know what you think, GM and applicants alike:
Background:
Olaf Henrikson. The name echoed in his head as Haskell gazed towards the outskirts of Halfstead. His Nuklandic ears afforded the farmer keen hearing, but at this distance, a northerly wind was all that was heard. Will you break bread from my wheat? Will its bounty earn your favor?
Though the wind was biting, the teeth found no purchase in the man's pale skin. Held at an arm's distance by both the town and holding the temperatures at arm's distance, the setting sun indicated time for working the land that day had come to an end. With a final thought to his crops' boon, the commoner walked back to the small structure he called him. Before opening the door, he paused for a moment, laying his eyes upon the memorial he'd created. Crude in creation, it evoked his emotions just the same. Fear. Rage. Sadness.
Mother...
Years ago, Ingrid had come to Halfstead under questionable circumstances. Never fully revealing them, she was ostracized as one of weirding ways secrets. While it was true there was mystic talent in her mind, she held no ill will towards the town. They were her refuge form a stormy life left behind. To thaw the relations with the townspeople, she bedded a local man, Brynjar. It came to be he thawed her heart though, the shorter-lived human appealing past her centuries of wisdom to the core of her emotions. The fruit of their love, Haskell came to be in the confines of their den near the winter solstice.
He grew healthy, learned quickly, and struck true with axe, spear, and bow. Yet for all the accolades a normal child should have, the cloud of his mother's race and motive for settlement kept him from common association among commoners. This town's rejection of his son angered Brynjar, who ensued many a fistfight on behalf of the youth.
One son in the town did not reject Haskell though; the skald's boy, Ulf, kept close with him, the two going on hunts together in their adolescence. Blood separated them after a few seasons though, the burly Ulf aging quicker, becoming stronger and faster than Haskell. He could not keep up with the more developed teen's athleticism.
This deficiency went from being a disappointment to a point of depression on the night of his father's death.
As many in the town, his parents served Jarl Henrikson in the unwritten contract of tradition. A feud broke-out between families in the then-young jarl's domain. At this time, were he counting in human years, as Ulf was, Haskell would have wielded arms with enough skill to provide meaningful aide in close combat. Instead, he could only lend his bow. In close fights among the commonly-dressed, shooting into the masses was as likely to injure and ally as an enemy. The young halfbreed took the few open shots he could, but he was unable to be in the midst of conflict near his father. Ulf, on the other hand, formed a back-to-back dance of death with his father, the two holding their own against dozens - or so the skalds would sing.
As the battle dragged-on, Henrikson's forces found themselves pushing the mass back. Satisfied, the jarl allowed himself a cheer, perhaps in pride, perhaps in a boost to morale. In doing so, he failed to notice the dark-cloaked assailants sneaking from behind. Shouting a warning the jarl did not hear, Haskell let an arrow fly to the shoulder of one. The remaining two pressed forward without hesitation though, their shortswords at the man's back.
It was then Ingrid's mysticism, for which she had been alienated, brought her and her family into the closest of bonds with the jarl. She, with her Nuklandic hearing, had responded to Haskell's call. Nearing the men from the flank, she had woven a web with her hands in the air, the gestures materializing as flame. With a word from beyond, a searing squall ripped into the assailants. Though the blast steamed the jarl's face as he turned about, he made quick work of the twin burned bodies behind him. As Ingrid rushed to his side to check his status though, the man who'd fallen from Tancred's arrow threw his sword at Ingrid, piercing her rib. Olaf was every ounce able-bodied though, and his vengeance quickly ended the transgressor.
This didn't unwound Haskell's mother, nor did it revive his father, who was later found among the dead. The town and jarl at first honored Ingrid for her service, but she was quickly shunned again as whispers surfaced of what other powers she might unleash upon them.
As the weeks passed, she fell ill, the injury from the assailant festering with something beyond disease. Looking old and defeated, the last Haskell saw of her, he had left her at home with a fresh poultice as he headed to hunt.
Upon his return, she was missing. After searching about and asking the townsfolk, he discovered Ingrid had gone to town with a final wish from the jarl. She requested Haskell be formally denoted to the social class of free commoners, something that had technically never been done for her. It was prudent she did, Haskell realized, for the town's suspicions of her had begun to morph into rumors about her child. She also supplied the jarl with an account of the warning he never heard. Olaf himself personally recounted this revelation to Haskell, somewhat in uncharacteristic deference. It was on this day he asked for the young man's pledge of service, which Haskell accepted.
Though the jarl saw Ingrid leave, she did not mention her destination, instead vanishing from observation. Shortly thereafter, Haskell created his shrine to her.
Mystery wasn't all that she left him though. The jarl mentioned a package awaited the new pledge. His mother had left him a very concrete set of runes which he had to get help from Ulf's father to decipher. It turned-out these were a set of "blasphemies", but the curious man honored his wish to learn about his late mother.
So that's how she mastered the heat. Not blasphemy, mother. You saves him...
Hrm. Dotting with extreme diabolism. Would you happen to mind a friendly neighborhood Kuthite? I know that Asmodeus is the official god of Cheliax, but considering the ties to Nidal, I think it'd be interesting to make a Chelexian who's fallen in with the Midnight Lord.
There are lots of religions in Cheliax and they are generally widely accepted. The church of Asmodeus is the official religion and the only priests given official positions come from that church but other priests, as long as they register, pay their taxes, etc. are fine.
Good evening, GM.
How official is the group meant to be, and how prestigious? I was perhaps thinking of playing an Asmodean Advocate as it seems to fit the theme, but I wanted to know how to work the barrister angle into the campaign.
I would like to make a submission, GM. Please see the information below to see if the concept is to your liking.
Concept:
I am thinking of making a Negotiator Bard, mechanically. Story-wise, the manipulative but beneficent bard would be well-respected for elegant and effective elocution ability by those of status, yet avoided for her disregard for conduct towards her "betters". After rubbing an individual the wrong way, she was "offered" this opportunity to serve as a way to jettison her. Yet she not only saw this thrust, but accepted as a riposte to turn a personal advantage out of the situation.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
A moment passed while Harakhty made sense of the words. "Then so it must be. One hundred and thirty. I will be the one to bring their deaths and blood upon my armor, calling your name as I do."
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Arista Milocathe wrote:
If you like your sauces to have a certain amount of spicyness to them why don't you experiment with making some of your own and make a habenero sauce? I probably butchered the spelling of that particular hot pepper. LOL But....you know what I mean.
Well, I butchered more than the spelling when I first made it - nearly burned my tongue off! I was 11 then though.
The main reason I'm not making my own sauce this time around is because the tomatillos are a pain to work with and are significantly more expensive at the store nearby. If I am in the mood again next week though, I will hear to the better market when I'm out that way and get some.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Harakhty took a few deep breaths, unable to respond for a moment. "I ... yes. I was born to ... to follow that road. That is why I am here in ... Zhavroma. To destroy people and things"
Only then could he think about what he'd said. It was accurate ... but is that what I have become?
He took a few breaths. "What would you have me do to show my worth?"Why did he take an interest to respond to me personally? Harakhty was not one of immense martial or magical power, nor was he one of Gorum's faithful. At a loss, his eyes darted between the blade and the helm.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
I'm a monkey. They had to expect it!
In other news, people who hide the few remaining cans of HOT enchilada sauces behind the million+ loose cans of MILD enchilada sauces, AND slide them to the side under the cover of a MILD enchilada sauce box really need a fingernail or three removed.
I'm sure I looked extra special doing gymnastics trying to get them out...
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
"You ... you are right, Lord Gorum. Forgive my insolence!"
Tears came readily to Harakhty's eyes in fear as he gazed upward at the metal slits in the helm of the entity holding the sword. I just told him of the happenings .. why did he come?!" It was a question he could not answer in his current state of fear.
Though his mental mettle was resilience, threat of divine decapitation was a true trump card.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
As the others began to turn-in, Harakhty followed suit. The day ahead of them was clear, and his lungs felt clean now; sleep should come easily.
Entering his room, he shut the door behind him. He set his things on the floor as he looked to the sleeping Niccolo. I'm sure he has quite the stories to tell. Their line was cursed it seemed. Then again, so was Harakhty. The man was fitting company.
Laying down, Harakhty felt still the spot where the blood had been drawn on his chest from the necklace. It had healed, but the memory remained. His dream, catastrophic and mysterious as it was, seemed to adeptly predict a coming conflict: The argument among the gods before them was quite appropriate. Yet not all had been present.
Nethys was aloof, as would be expected. Like the vanara, he was very focused in his concerns; things outside the vision didn't matter. Yet plenty of others were absent. Out of choice or out of omission though? Norgorber could certainly have stirred-up some mischief, and the Prince of Darkness surely would have enjoyed making them suffer to spite their progress. Iomedae and Torag were also not present though, and Harakhty doubted they had a nefarious plot in the works.
There was one god whose absence particularly baffled him though, especially as the divines seemed on the drink of war by Asmodeus' own admission. And he cares for nothing if not that.
Thus it was Harakhty prayed, focusing his mind as best he could in both his communique and telekinesis of his necklace:
"Lord in Iron, hear my prayer. I am not one of your priests or warriors, but my message brings tidings of strife to you, mighty Gorum. The gods are at odds with one another - so much so a new contract has been signed with the Lord of Hell to render one bereft of form and power for a time. Yet it is my suspicion while Asmodeus will honor his word, some others may not. Whoever commits a treachery to exploit the agreement will surely invoke a massive war. As the most skilled tactician of the heavens, you are wise in strategy and decision; when battle-lines and alliances form, I merely beseech you to choose the side whose combat will be honorable, not cowardly backstabbing and illusions. Glory be to you."
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
I'd thought the party treasurer thing was an OoC role, Arista.
In this case, it didn't matter to Harakhty as the difference is the refugees getting a lot vs. a LOT of money, but did Arista scrape together all the coins to herself? That would influence how he sees you.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Harakhty returned to the inn, curious to learn the game or see what discussions were going on. "We have every reason to trust you," the blunt vanara replied to Aliethia as he came back to the group. "A goddess has given you life. Squandering it in a manner that would anger her would invoke wrath both here and beyond the grave."
He sat down. "But I don't think you need that fear to be a good person. I don't see evil in you."
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Thanks, Cayden. That was just the response needed.
"I'm going to get some cool air from outside and look at the clouds to see what the weather tomorrow might be. It's beginning to feel a bit hot in here."So much better than being below ground though.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Harakhty's ears perk up at Ylrhea's suggestion. "I cannot play, but I would love to learn one of the card games." Such leisure pursuits of civilization were not well-understood by Harakhty; people played games, but how they worked was something he'd not had the chance to learn.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Sādhanā Risbane wrote:
Escalated? Who sees what just happened and thinks....we need to turn it up?
Harakhty is of the mind the gods opposing Sarenrae there, lesser in number though they were, would be a greater threat than the complaceny seen from others like Shelyn, Erastil, Gozreh, etc.
The scales need to be balanced - or decalibrated at the very least.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Harakhty was dumbstruck by the sequence of events. It was almost as if he were having another apocalyptic dream - the world seemed turned upside-down.
First, the gods intervened again. Why does our group warrant such attention? Sarenrae clearly overstepped her bounds. As much as it was disappointing for her to be reigned-in, Harakhty saw now his own patron's prudence in omission from these happenings.
He is biding his time.
Others were absent too, but he didn't have the faintest impression what their angles were here.
Next, what he did know is Arista's emotions were likely to get them killed. She is otherworldly in brazen stupidity or impulse of emotions. With the kindness she showed, Harakhty felt it the latter, but they all could've ended up dead. His breathing took minutes to come back to normal.
Then Sarenrae amazed him - did she become mortal? Surely, it couldn't be true mortality. Could it? It wasn't until they had began moving again he'd regained control of his thoughts enough to ask her.
"Goddess," began Harakhty, bowing before her in the new, diminutive form. "Good Arista is right - no matter the form you are in, you remain a goddess to us, a divine beacon of light. But forgive my slowness, for such affairs of the heavens our not meant for our eyes: are you mortal for a year in more than form? I do not mean to pry, but we must know how best to serve and protect you in these times."
*******
As they approached the inn, the monetary squabbles seemed beyond the scope of them now. "I have two of each coin in case we are light of payment." His thoughts were elsewhere though. Ylrhea's presence in his field of vision made him smile a moment. At least she will be distracted from her nightmare now.
And then Cayden appeared. "It seems today's wonders are without limit. You grace us with your presence, Cayden Cailean - you are no accident to us." Harakhty's attempt to relate the lord's nickname to lighten the mood was a necessity for him. Wouldn't such interferance disrupt Asmodeus' agreement? If there was anything the Lord of Hell did, it was keep his word. To the letter - and extract terrible compensation for those breaching it.
M Vanara: AC 19 /15/14 / HP 30 / F +8* R +7* W +11* / Init. +7 / Perc. +13/ Sense Motive +16 Inquisitor (Spellbreaker) / 6
Harakhty wheels around to a jot away from the golem's flank, hoping to fence it in with their superior numbers. Before he did so though, he transfered a divine force to Arista. She seems to be that witch's chosen target in all of this.
"Surround it! Together, we can destroy the monster!"
Activating Judgment of Protection, for a total of 21 armor. Casting Shield of Faith on Arista, giving her a +3 deflection bonus to AC. Drawing quarterstaff and moving to E5.
