Sorry for my absence this week. I've been on vacation, and I thought I had more time online - but days just go by...
"I do sense some strong magic in them..." Sherman mutters, concentrating on reading the finer details of the auras resonating from the items. "The gloves wound snatch arrows from flight, before they would hit you. And the diadem will enhance the powers of a kineticist." he explains the results of his reading. "The latter would surely be of interest to you, Ceven."
Sorry, had a couple of busy days... I was checking the thread, but couldn't come up with a post containing multisyllabic sentences.
Senemheb had been following along in silence the whole morning. Occasionally mumbling by himself and casting odd glances towards his shoulder bag - but otherwise largely ignoring what went on around him. Until the well. "Darkness between the stars? Yes, yes.. I feel something terrible down there..." he says and presses his back against the wall, keeping his distance to the well. And he certainly breathes easier once the thing is behind them. "Dame," the young man huffed, "they're Pharasmins and we're tomb raiders, no matter our pretty justifications. You think they have the least respect for us?" "Regardless of the mutual feelings, it is usually unwise to further antagonize the law enforcement. Is this different in your lands?" Thus far Senemheb has been mostly amused by the foreigner's antics, but mocking the Voices seems pure folly. And a risk to the whole group. "We are lucky most of them do not understand Taldan. Feel free to criticize our ways in private, but guard your tongue around the Voices."
Senemheb, would you say Grandfather Rashid gets a vote too? Maybe, but he’d vote against anything we’d agree :P I kinda like Vulture Court, so one more vote
Weird, the campaigns-page didn't show that there was posts in the discussion. But I can't really blame the technology I didn't check until now :P So I'm late to the character role discussion... But looks like you got it covered. And I also missed the background skills on character creation, need to fix that. So Jolanka took Artistry? I do have some spare gold for sketching supplies. Oh, and I came here to say I'll be travelling from wednesday to the following wednesday. Roaming costs, jetlag, and lack of keyboard might take a toll on my posting. But I'll try to check daily.
"Praise Ra!" Senemheb says calmly, with a nod to Djedefre. "I pay my respects to the old gods as well. Although Thoth is more likely to guide me my pursuits." Finding himself faintly amused by the young northerner's rudeness. That is, after all, how the white people are. "There are, by my counting, only four different words for fermented milk itself in Osiriani. But of course many more for the different beverages made from it. But no more than Taldan words for fermented grain, I'm sure." Surprisingly, the rude foreigner was reprimanded by another foreigner. And a scholar, no less. He turns to Jolánka. "Pleased to meet you Dame Jolánka Graydon of Ustalav's House Graydon-in-Exile. Alas, I am not part of any institution of learning. My knowledge comes from endless hours perusing tomes of wisdom, collected by fore-fathers. Self-learned, if you will." He takes a long look at the woman, wondering how much one with such white skin could know of his ancestral lands. But these oversea universities could hold greats amounts of knowledge. "Perhaps we can compare notes."
"Just. SHUT. UP!" the Garundi hisses out of the corner of his mouth. He reaches into his bag, and stuffs some clothing on top the skull there, as if it would help. Now, closer to Marwanun and the others, he forces a polite smile onto his face. "I am Senemheb, a scholar," the man says in parched voice and bows. A close-cut beard hides a good part of pox-scarred face, and his eyes dart from one person to the other, full of curiousity and intelligence. "I am learned in the ways of our ancestors. I am fluent in both modern and ancient Osiriani, as well as other tongues. And..." he points to the weapons on his back. Those, the armor he wears, and his muscular frame doesn't quite give the scholarly feeling. "...I can defend myself from the dangers of the tombs and desert. Pleased to meet all of you."
Well, I just couldn't transform the hunter from concept to build, so came up with something different. Necroccultist. Early levels mostly melee, then moving to controlling undead and debuffing. And knowing stuff, of course. Same idea would work as a standard occultist if necromancy focus would cause conflict in the party (notably with paladins and servants of Saranrae and Pharasma) --- It all started when grandfather Rashid came back from Wati. He never spoke what happened or what he was doing in the city. But the once-lively young man came back pale and brooding. As time went by, even his body suffered - skin turned grey and muscles wasted away until he was but skin and bone. But Rashid survived, got married and had children. Unfortunately, the children shared his wasting disease, one that no doctor or priest was able to heal. And still, Rashid spoke nothing of Wati. He merely secluded himself with the books he had started to collect later in his life. Decades later, Senemheb remembers little of his grandfather. A wizened, wasted man muttering to himself, now long buried. But he knows he was the source of his troubles. While his body suffers less compared to the previous generations, the malady is in his mind. He hears whispering no one else hears. Sees things that he shouldn’t see. The dead are calling him.
One voice in particular had become louder. From his lone grave, grandfather Rashid whispered the secrets of the underworld. Fearing for his sanity, Senemheb knew he had to put an end to this. He dug open the grave of his ancestor, took off the skull, and put it into his back. Now, with some tomes of ancient wisdom and the skull of grandfather Rashid, Senemheb sets out toward Wati to seek out the source the family’s curse. Build:
Senemheb Human (Garundi) occultist (necroccultist) 1 (Pathfinder RPG Occult Adventures 46, 100) LN Medium humanoid (human) Init +3; Senses Perception +5 -------------------- Defense -------------------- AC 16, touch 11, flat-footed 15 (+5 armor, +1 Dex) hp 9 (1d8+1) Fort +3, Ref +1, Will +3; +2 trait bonus on saving throws against curses and curse effects (including mummy rot and spells with the curse descriptor)., +2 trait bonus on saving throws against a mummy's aura of despair. -------------------- Offense -------------------- Speed 30 ft. (20 ft. in armor) Melee bardiche +3 (1d10+4/19-20) or . . silver light mace +3 (1d6+3) Space 5 ft.; Reach 5 ft. (10 ft. with bardiche) Implement Schools (5 generic focus) . . Necromancy (Skull, 0 points) Resonant—necromantic focus; Focus—mind fear, necromantic servant Occultist (Necroccultist) Spells Known (CL 1st; concentration +5) . . 1st (2/day)—inflict light wounds (DC 15), ray of enfeeblement (DC 15) . . 0 (at will)—touch of fatigue (DC 14) -------------------- Statistics -------------------- Str 16, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 18, Wis 12, Cha 8 Base Atk +0; CMB +3; CMD 14 Feats Heavy Armor Proficiency, Osiriontologist Traits mummy-cursed, pragmatic activator, reactionary Skills Acrobatics -3 (-7 to jump), Knowledge (arcana) +8, Knowledge (history) +8, Knowledge (local) +5, Knowledge (planes) +8, Knowledge (religion) +8, Linguistics +8, Perception +5, Spellcraft +8, Use Magic Device +8 Languages Aklo, Ancient Osiriani, Common, Infernal, Kelish, Osiriani, Sphinx SQ implements 2, mental focus (5/day) Combat Gear alchemist's fire, vermin repellent[UE]; Other Gear scale mail, heavy wooden shield, bardiche[APG], silver light mace, backpack, bedroll, belt pouch, chalk (10), flint and steel, hot weather outfit[APG], ink, inkpen, journal[UE], occultist's implement[OA], occultist's implement[OA], pot, torch (10), trail rations (5), waterskin, 67 gp -------------------- Special Abilities -------------------- Implements (Su) Gain a series of items which grant access to schools and powers. Mental Focus (5/day) (Su) You have a pool of points that activate your focus powers. Mind Fear (DC 14) (Su) Target creature is frightened 1d4 rnds. if it has your HD or less, shaken if more (Will neg). Necromancy (Skull) Implements that draw power from necromancy can control undead and harm the living. Implements: Bone, coin, doll, drum, robe, skull.
Description: Middle-aged Garundi man. Pox-scarred face, dark skin with a slight grey tint. Close-cut beard.
Slightly hunched posture. Wears a hooded burgundy robe on top of his armor, with a turban of matching color. Parched voice, and a bit boring conversationalist - but knows what he is talking about.
Ah right, I missed the closet and thought A7 was the smelly room. Yes, A7 next, then.
Will Tarphrex take the wands? The spells are not in oracle list, so I'll pass. And where next? Start going to the rooms? A7 first, A3 next?
Hearing the ogre chant magic words, Sherman deems that one to be the greatest enemy they're facing. And what a better way to hamper spellcasters than to prevent them chanting. The reverend casts a spell of his own, the magic drawing out all sound from the room.
"Unfortunately the divine light did not do much good for the poor man... But let me try another spell."
With another prayer, Sherman uses his connection to the divine to revigorate the unconscious man.
Sherman sneaks closer to the others, something is clearly going on. "I have no idea what you are doing, but you have my blessing in doing whatever it is you'll be doing."
Zug takes a serious thought about the conversation that is going on, and nods. "Yes, very little money to risk life. Too little for me. But maybe others poor and hungry. Will do anything." But enough of that. Best to turn away such grim thoughts. And what a better way to that than music. "Me write song about last battle. Folk song. Yes, yes, very good." And the goblin bursts into song, with Gorgonzola chiming in. "We be goblins, green and grim and quick,
With a smack and a crack, we give 'em a whack,
No sword or spear, no fancy tricks,
With a smack and a crack, we give 'em a whack,
Zug starts to play his cowbell, creating an annoyingly inspiring tune. The effect his if boosted by the goblin starting sing with his pitched voice. I stepped into the ring, graveyard bound,
I took on the mourners, I took on the crew,
By the power a the goblin's song, a lump of hardened mud rises off the ground, and speeds toward the purple foe.
FYI: leaving on a business trip tomorrow, and I doubt I'll have a chance to post until sunday/monday.
With the cougar out of harm's way, Sherman shares a blessing of the divines to help out in the moment to come.
Then he follow the example of the others, and tries to hide in the bushes. No small feat with his aching joints.
Heh, foodie talk highjacked the thread. Also, I’m in the cilantro fan club these days. Didn’t like it in the beginning, but now can’t live without.
"Mister Valdemar, pleased to meet you." Sherman offers his hand for shaking. "Since I trust both Ameiko and Miss Andosana will vouch for you, we are more than happy to have you join us." Again, he takes a turn looking at his companions whether they object or accept. "But I must warn you - if the Ogres' attacks are linked to the events we've encountered so far, there will be considerable dangers ahead."
Happy Midsummer, if you celebrate it (and even if you don’t)!
"Magic all you like, but your death draws near..." The Shrike feels a cold shiver running down his spine - a heavy weight of fortunes changing. But he is near the enemy, so he keeps striking at him.
@Loth, I remember playing with at least one flagbearer character in some PFS games (not my char, but in the team). I think he was a bard with bodyguard feat - quite effective buffing.
Hopeless... The snake woman has cut them down, effortlessly. What is the point in fighting anymore..? Sherman tries to think of a way, of a spell, anything to combat the creature. But his body refuses to obey. He cannot raise his arms against the enemy. His heart falters. The reverend takes one last look at Quinn, still refusing to die in the barrage of strikes. But there is no helping him. "I'm sorry..." he whispers, and turns away. He runs towards the roof's edge, and closes his eyes. "Desna..." he begs, his voice barely more than a whisper still. And then... Then he jumps.
"Tell me Darius Radulescu, why do you alone still live on this ship?" "It seems - to my fortune - that I lacked certain qualities between my legs to be taken as part of the ritual. Don't really know if the magic really cares, or if the hooded types were just old perverts." Darius shrugs. "But if they needed virgin sacrifices, they really chose wrong types of girls..." he adds, rolling his eyes. ---
All this buzz around him makes Darius go on a slow gear for a while, but then some of the words from the journal strike him. "Merdu... Tar-Baphon! The maldito Whispering Tyrant! Are the robed peeps part of the Whispering Way, then? Did you see any gagged skull symbols anywhere?"
-- Hearing his name called from the other room distracts Darius from the thoughs of doomday-cults. And he hustles over. "Oh, yes. These are my humble belongings. Thank you ever so much." He goes through the items quickly. First and foremost, he grabs a leather-bound book with the greatest care, and pockets it. Then, he takes a satchel with assorted scrolls and potions. And last, he arms himself with a crossbow.
"All right, I'm good to... Wait-wait- Burn the ship!? Are you crazy? Ship this size and make is worth good money. We could be rich! Spend the rest of our days drinking fine wines and getting foot massages from madame Viola! I am absolutely against such waste!"
"That one slipped past! Can you deal with him?"" Sherman cries.
Looks like the cult is on to him now, no escaping that. It could be trouble, but then again he only needs to worry about it if he survives this day. "Of course. Father Skinsaw is known for his mercy." Sherman sighs with a tired smile. "But I do not know you lot. Are you even true devouts, or just amateurs with silly masks?" "You there!" he points at the cultist behind Ironbriar. "Show your devotion to the Lord of Murder. Strike down you leader - his back is turned!" The Reverend's voice get deep and commanding. Magical, even.
"What? Where pigsie-things come from?" Zug cries out in alarm. But then, the pig-creatures bring a song to his mind. A song that deserves to be sung and accompanied on a cowbell. "Day of judgement, gods are calling
Foolish pig creatures appear in a room full of soul-stealing things. Zug reaches out with his telekinetic spell and throws a book (yuck!) at the green pig.
Sandikar misinterprets Gwynethiel's glare, comes closer, and offers her a cup as well. "To esteemed travel companion also. A cup of tarag, holy drink of the Jaruud. It is great honor to share a drink."
Sandikar wakes up suddenly from his slumber, alerted by the noises of the guards. He jumps up, fumbles down from the wagon with his gear. But somehow manages to land on his feet, and starts marching towards the guards. He is a sorry sight, wearing just ragged furs and sandals that barely old together. Around him lingers a faint aroma of dung, unwashed skin and booze. He rubs the sleep off his eyes as he approaches the guards, and once there he bows politely and presents himself. "This one is Sandikar. Holy warrior and bridegroom of Sandar-Daichi. This one is here looking for work." From his back he takes a large wineskin, and uncorks it. He pours some into a small cup in his hand, and offers it to the guards. "Customary toast of friendship, offered to esteemed guards." The other caravanners immediately the eye-watering smell of strong alcohol and rotten milk, they've been smelling for the past days.
"Two silver for a boat ride!? That's a fortune! How is everything so expensive in the city?" But them, Pytho remembers the found the bag of platinum coins and that they are practically filthy rich now. And rich people don't walk. "Right, boat ride it is."
Darius wasn't heavy-built, nor he was wearing anything that made noise. It theory, he should have no problem moving stealthily. The only problem was his mouth - it was impossible to keep it shut. "Oh that mudak of a seagull! It almost shat on me!" he yells, leaping away from the bird droppings that landed just next to his boots.
"Thank you, ma'am! Bread and cheese will do fine!" Pytho replies, with equally loud voice. Then, a large gulp of ale from the mug to give himself some time to think what the bartender just said. Something fishy going about, all right. He slams the mug down on the table, and speaks again to the woman, this time with a quieter voice. "The expensive stuff? What would that be?"
Moment after Jolus had left the room, Darius sighs heavily. He hadn't realised he had been holding his breath for some time now. But the situation is over, for now. No beatings today, it seems. "You don't have to tell that idiot anything, you know." He turns to Jakinda, slightly disapproving look on his face. "Besides, I don't think it was our blue he was talking about (whatever that was about). So, we're clear. And, good thinking with that Harrow card..." Darius reaches out to accept the mysterious card. "...only now it smells like your bum." But as soon as his hand touches the card, he finds out it certainly doesn't smell like Jakinda's bum. So startled by the sudden scent and the voice, he almost drops the card. He looks at the girl, but she doesn't look like she heard the voice - no way with that bored look. "Hrm..." is all he manages to say, and he pockets the card for future reference. Time to move out. He grabs his coat from the rack on the wall. Greatcoat of burgundy leather, long and flowing. It's his favorite. And to be honest, his only. Makes him feel like one of those wizards in their robes, except better match for the looks one wears in the dark alleys of Korvosa. Also, it has plenty of pockets to hide things in. He walks by the bookshelf, picks a small, nondescript book right next to Dreamspiders: An Ecology. His spellbook. While he is a firm believer of hiding things in plain sight, this was a close one today. He shakes his head, stuffs the book into a hidden pocket inside his coat, and heads for the door.
"Ce pana mea!!? Look what you're doing! It's glass, svolach! It breaks!!" Darius cries, and sprints to catch the falling beaker, but is too late. He sighs in relief as the glass beaker hits the floor with a mere thud, instead of splintering all around. The Varisian drug-maker picks the beaker up, inspects it for damage, and places it back on the counter. "Is this why you here, idiot!? Break things, and make my work harder. Make boss Lamm lose money?" Darius is fuming, but keeps his tongue under control and his insults mild. He knows far too well where Jolus' limit is, and he doesn't feel like receiving a beating today. "You want to break things, mudak? Come to kitchen then, make best damage there..." he says and starts ushering the brute towards the lab. At least he'll be further away from the secret door there... "...scale of a pseudodragon... How the hell you would know what one looks like. You haven't ever seen a pseudodragon! You couldn't even tell the difference between one and a mudliz..." there's a small pause. Darius just spotted the Harrow card on the chair. What the hell is that? Why is it here? His eyes dart towards Jakinda. But no, it isn't hers. More importantly, whose is it? "...ard..." he finishes the sentence, not-so-very-smoothly. Jolus doesn't seems to have noticed card, so Darius takes great care to look at anything but the chair - the gently bubbling alembic, the pile of discarded spider husks, the drying vat at the other side of the room. Anything but the chair and the card... "Have I cooked blue shiver?" Darius finally returns to the topic.
Kanka.io would be the logical choice for tracking inventory and stuff, if it's handy enough. Let's try...
Can you guys edit those? Only after adding those I noticed every entity has "Inventory" option. I don't know if that would be better way to do the tracking (seemed a bit clumsier in a glance)
"A new nickname? How clever you are, cousin. A true master of language, indeed"Darius rolls his eyes. Svolach..., he adds, muttering under his breath.
Darius is wiping his hands to a cloth (nasty stuff that pre-cooked dream spider venom), when Jolas voices out his question. His first reaction is to motion Jakinda to sit still and stay out of this. No point of getting her involved in whatever Jolas is planning. "I can cook shiver in whatever color, red, green, blue. Why you so interested in blue, cousin? Did your little brain just discover a new color? Or is it a fashion in your circles? Want to impress your boyfriends?" Strange thing is, Jolas never pays much attention to business. He's a blunt instrument, albeit an effective one in that. So why this question.
"Family time sounds good, pleased to meet yours." Pytho agrees.
The half-orc looks puzzled, scratching his head. Then another puzzled looks towards the baubles and chocolates in his hands, before realising he might be a bit rude now. "Oh, thanks. For these. Gifts"
Happy Easter/Ramadan/Passover!
@Sarah, Wandering Waster: Hello! Right, we probably haven't met. Great to be gaming with you! I just realised I didn't read all the info very carefully... So slight adjustments needed for the background ideas, so that the character is still connected to Lamms' And +1 awe to the gameplay intro. Man, that was great!
Lots of civilians about, and in risk of getting killed by those mosquito creatures. They need to be driven away from here. And that is a job that requires some cowbell. Zug takes his instrument and playing and singing. Soon a small bat crawls out of the goblin's sack, jumps onto the cowbell, and starts hammering it with its wings, adding it's own rhythm to the strange musical performance.
"Go away, go away
The goblin sings, swings his cowbell, and dances around the people, pointing towards the exit. It shouldn't be too much of a task. After all, he usually manages to drive the people away from his musical performances even if he wasn't trying to. And while he is at it, Zug changes the undertone of the 'music' to inspire his comrades to fight the monsters.
The past few days have been rather odd. Newcomer to Midland, and to any big city in general, has filled Pytho with awe, wonder, joy, and anguish - all in turns. So many people! And he knows none of them. The foods, the stores, the sights. So much to see - and sometimes it's too much. Like now, he rather withdraws from the bustle of the main streets to find some quiet. The half-orc doesn't know if he really enjoys it here, but after losing his tribe, the best chances to make a living should be here in the city. There's others here as well, minding their own - a human and a sprite. He already knows greeting others isn't a custom in the city, but he can't help a small nod to those two. Then, a scream! Pytho has learned shouts and screams aren't really rare in here. But this one was different. Something is very wrong about that scream. He can sense the pure terror in it. He looks again at the other two present. They don't seem like ordinary townsfolk. Weapons, armor, certain attitude. They look capable enough... "Uhh..." he clears his throat. "Hey there... I know in here in city people should mostly mind their own business. But..." he points toward the alley. "... should we check what is going on there?" Pytho feels he should go and check. But going alone feels like a bad idea.
For the past weeks the work's been crazy, so I'm quite slow on posting. I wouldn't want to stress about the game during the holiday's, but could post if I find the time. So maybe keeping this quite relaxed pace? And this is quite fun, actually. Nice to build a character out of storytelling instead of just optimizing the heck out of it (which is of the case with PF) So I'm very interested with continuing (if you can stand my slow pace).
@Cueta: I'm sorry for your loss :(
"Where to, next?" Prospero-4 asks, feeling surprisingly empty inside. He isn't sure if this is because of Cueta's passing, or the sudden lack of purpose. For the first time in while there's no need to chase cultists or corpse fleet. And there is no real home to return to, either. The Sunrise Maiden is probably the closest thing to home he has. What next - that's a very good question, indeed.
Do we need to deal with the enemy ships at all? Is it enough to stay in one piece and make it to the gateway/degenerator? If we just want to go full steam, pilot action: Full Power (1.5x speed) doesn't need a roll, just RP. I think I should make the divert to engine for +2 speed.
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