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Jakira is too distracted by the moonlit clouds to think of anything until suddenly the halfling and the gassy one are shouting and making the coach lurch wildly.
"Strange and terrible as the tales are, I wonder what they mean," Jakira says, thoughtfully. "If they are dead...."
Jakira looks curiously at Edrik, and then shrugs her shoulders. Perhaps daylight has a different meaning in this savage northern land. "The sheriff did say that the church was by the cemetery, didn't he? We could visit it on the way."
"Should we visit the church, or wait until the morning?" Jakira asks softly, finishing her drink before she stands. She looks around the tavern with a frown. If they didn't like his little spell, they'll really hate me, if they find out. Best to keep that to myself.
Jakira wonders at the significance of the story, but her thoughts are disrupted, first by the spilled ale and then by the dagger jammed in the table. "We are fortunate to have your friendship then, Sheriff," she said awkwardly. "I assure you, he meant no harm. We will do our best to prevent him from making any further mistakes of that kind." What was that about Harrowstone. A riot? Dead guards? Haunted? Was that what the professor was investigating?
Jakira gives the barman a nod to keep the drinks coming, and then turns her eyes expectantly to the sheriff. "By all means, let us drink and talk," she says. "We are lucky to have found someone so knowledgeable."
It is no fool's errand, so you should have no problem with our trespassing, Jakira thinks to herself, smiling at the tall sheriff. "Please," she says. "Tell us, if you would. It sounds fascinating."
"Maybe the graveyard is something better attempted at night," Jakira says. "I do not think we should be seen opening crypts in their cemetery after this morning's adventure." She walks into the Sheriff's office.
As she climbs out of the carriage, Jakira thinks of her friend's words, kept alive on the pages of the book. "We should try to discover what this whispering way is, and if they are in some way connected to the Professor's death. Yet with all the suspicion in town, we should try to be as discrete as possible." She looks at the flyers on the post for a moment before turning to go into the sheriff's.
"A quick look at the contents of the chest will not delay us long," Jakira says. "And if we can gain some insight into what your father's purpose was, it seems worth taking a few minutes."
Jakira puts a hand on the grieving woman's shoulder and gives a gentle pat, but she finds there is nothing she can say. The loss is fresh and raw for them all, and must be more so for the man's daughter. "We will all miss him," she says softly, and then turns, walking out slowly, nodding agreement to Shel's plan.
"I'll come along," Jakira says, and then to Kendra. "There's no record of what he might have been doing at these ruins?"
"More cynical, more frightened, maybe," Jakira says to the halfling. "I do think you're right that reasoning with him will be difficult. Maybe together we can appeal to his sense of honor ... or self-preservation."
Jakira shrugs at the halfling. "You're probably right. It's probably a waste of time. Drunk yokels hold grudges, though, and to tell the truth, I want to know where he got the idea the Professor was a necromancer."
Welcome, blustery one.
"I will need to send word to the Lady d'Baton, but she was a friend of the Professor's as well. She will not begrudge me time spent in fulfilling his last wishes." Jakira says. She smiles at Kendra, sympathetically, and gives her a graceful curtsey. "I am at your service, Miss Lorrimor. I will do all that is within my power to ensure your well-being." "Perhaps paying a visit to our friend from the cemetery would be helpful. Do you know where he might be found?"
Jakira lowers her head, listening while the others speak. She nodded her head at their remembrances, hearing in their words reflections of her own experience of the Professor. "I look around and see all the lives that Professor Lorrimor has touched and changed for the better, and though he is gone, I smile. I may never see his face again, but I see his hand in all of you. Though there are many differences among us, we have all come to honor a great man, who has inspired us. I think, if we told all our stories of his kindness, his courage, his genius and his passion for doing what is good, we would be here when the sun rose." She stops here for a moment, thinking of her friendship with the Professor, smiling as she remembered their first meeting. "His greatness remains in all of us," she adds. "As long as we who remember him honor his memory, his greatness will remain. Let his ideals be the stars that guide our lives, and let that be our monument to our friend. I will miss him, and nothing can change that, but I can choose never to disappoint him"
Pretty much, what Shel said.
That's a shame. I really liked what little we saw of her. Best of luck, though.
As the others peel off one by one, Jakira feels the weight growing heavier. She sets it down carefully. A quick look at the leader of the group threatening them tells her he is a brawler, possibly a soldier. Seeing the stronger of the pallbearers stepping closer, she gets behind them as best she can.
Works for me.
Her first friend in this cold, dank country was dead, and though the coffin was heavy, it was good to be able to carry him to his rest. Jakira was lost in her thoughts, her memories of the professor, and the short time they spent together. They were among her best memories, and she would miss his friendship. At first, she did not know why they stopped, but then she saw the rough men with hateful expressions on their faces. She could hardly believe what she was hearing as they made their accusations, and she felt a cold fury building in her, that these ugly souls would interfere with the burial of a man she only ever knew to be decent and kind. "You know nothing of this man, or you would not make such claims," she said, controlling her anger and speaking calmly. "Whoever you have been talking to has made a mistake. Do not deny a good man his deserved peace because of some vague superstition."
Jakira: I think the PCs should get their own rolls, after all- there are a dozen different investments a PC can make to improve their initiative. Having invested in a couple of them myself, I can appreciate that. Hi Gilda! Hi Shel!
Came across this today looking at another campaign. I'm not sure how different it is from what you're talking about, but it's the same concept, I think.
I can hardly wait. Hi Professor. Hi Garin. Hi everyone. Off to try to make my stats available.
Makes popcorn.
Good luck everyone.
Yikes ... exciting.
Checking my story and readying the nervous fidgeting.
I'd play an alternate.
From the GM: Being up to the hardest task in gaming. Providing the look and feel of the world so that we (the players and GM) can tell an awesome story. Keeping things moving. Playing fair. Managing the chaos of the PFPbP game without letting things bog down. Reining in munchkins, even when it's me.
From the players: Respect each other and especially the GM, he's working hard. Don't whine when every little thing doesn't go your way. It's a big campaign. Work together (OOC) to tell a great story. Be descriptive and creative.
She would be a small, low table, of simple design but flawless craftsmanship. I am a noob to PbP in the past few weeks, but I believe I'm getting the hang of it.
I suppose I'll be taking the average then. story:
Jakira was the child of a nomadic Kelesh sorcerer in the Meraz desert. From a young age, it was clear that the girl had inherited her mother’s gifts. Magic made the tribe stronger, and Jakira’s mother wanted to keep her daughter’s power a secret from the other tribes that they traded with. Then none would have reason to entice her to leave, so Jakira stayed hidden in the tents when they met other tribes or stopped to trade in the cities along the coast. The girl’s natural curiosity would have been the end of this plan one way or another. She always thought these other things were being hidden from her, rather than she from them. As soon as she was able, she slipped out of the tent while the rest of the tribe was trading in the spice market. She climbed a hill and saw something that seemed a miracle to her. A vast plain of blue and green spread out below her, moving endlessly and smelling of salt. The idea of the ocean was too foreign for her to imagine, but she climbed down the hill to investigate it. The pirates didn’t know she was the daughter of the renowned Samara al’Shiraz. They just saw a pretty Keleshite child wandering alone by the beach near one of Golarion’s biggest slave markets. She stared at the ocean, so amazed and mystified that she didn’t notice them at all, until the bag was pulled over her and she was thrown, kicking helplessly, into the ship’s launch. When the ship was out of sight of land, she was able to persuade the captain to allow her freedom of the deck, so she could see the ocean as they sailed. By the time they reached the slave markets in Corentyn, the crew was so friendly they were near to adopting her as a cabin-girl. The captain insisted, however, and gold was gold. The girl passed into the hands of a broker, and then to a trader heading overland, for Kerse. This man had little interest in the girl, except as a commodity, and she spent most of that journey in a cage. From Kerse she was traded to Caliphas, and here she was sold for the last time. The woman who bought her kept one of the most notorious houses in the city, and intended to put the girl to work as soon as a client could be found who would pay the exorbitant price of taking the first bite of the exotic fruit. Jakira proved too slippery, though, and escaped before such a client could be found. Ustalav was quite alien to her, its people strange and the accents nearly incomprehensible. She did recognize one aspect of life there, when she saw an old man being threatened by a gang of ruffians. With a little magic and the threat of more, she was able to make them flee, and the old man was grateful. He learned of her circumstance and introduced her to a noblewoman who was pleased to count the foreign sorceress among her retinue. A little more than a year has gone by, and now it seems that the old scholar is dead, and she has come to bury him.
character: Jakira Human (Keleshite) Sorcerer 1 NG Medium Humanoid (human) Init +8; Senses Perception +2 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 12, touch 12, flat-footed 10 (+2 Dex) hp 7 (1d6) Fort +0, Ref +2, Will +2 -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. Melee Dagger -2 (1d4-2/19-20/x2) Ranged Light crossbow +2 (1d8/19-20/x2) Sorcerer Spells Known (CL 1): 1 (5/day) Magic Missile, Grease (DC 17), Magic Missile, Toppling 0 (at will) Open/Close (DC 15), Message, Detect Magic, Dancing Lights -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 7, Dex 14, Con 10, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 20 Base Atk +0; CMB -2; CMD 10 Feats Eschew Materials, Spell Focus (Conjuration), Toppling Spell Traits Chance Savior, Magical Lineage (Magic Missile) Skills Diplomacy +6, Knowledge (religion) +5, Perception +2, Sense Motive +2, Spellcraft +5, Use Magic Device +9 Languages Abyssal, Common, Kelish SQ +4 to initiative checks, arcane bonds (Hush, dinosaur, compsognathus), bloodlines (arcane), empathic link with familiar, share spells with familiar Other Gear Dagger, Light crossbow, Ring, 150 GP -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- +4 to Initiative checks You gain the Alertness feat while your familiar is within arm's reach. Arcane When a spell level is increased by a metamagic feat, it gains +1 DC. Chance Savior Fate smiled on you and Professor Lorrimor one day in the not so distant past. Through a matter of pure chance, you were in a position to save the late scholar's life and did so. His gratitude was effusive, and he promised that he would never forget y Empathic Link with Familiar (Su) You have an empathic link with your Arcane Familiar. Eschew Materials Cast spells without materials, if component cost is 1 gp or less. Magical Lineage (Magic Missile) A chosen spell counts as 1 level lower when metamagic feats are applied to it. Share Spells with Familiar Can cast spells with a target of "You" on the familiar with a range of touch. Spell Focus (Conjuration) Spells from one school of magic have +1 to their save DC. Toppling Spell Spell with the force descriptor knocks targets prone. |
