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@GM Doug H, Dunno if PFS 2e allows for pre-gen day jobs like PF1 does for Perform, Profession, Craft if on a pre-gen character's sheet. I'll make a roll for Lore (Farming) but please ignore if not kosher.
Finally, I have been considering changing Keats out for the Champion of Irori 1e PC I lost at ConCurrent (ie. same pre-gen stats sheet, different avatar + personality). I thought it might be fun to play her one more time. Her personality is very different from Keats', but she's NOT a 'fuss-budget' type Anyway, if anyone has thoughts on this, or if it breaks continuity and therefore immersion I'm happy to play Keats.
“The quality of mercy remains unstrained in your hands, counsellor. For that you have my gratitude.” With a nod to Pip, Keats moves back towards the battlefield fog. “Lord Lelzeshin, your motivations at this point make little sense.” Keats raises his blade. “Though I confess that has never stopped me before either.”
Keats holds his ground and raises his golden shield.
“Milady, I am indebted to you for the soothing.” “Running out of tricks, rest lethal.” “Dear me, Gurmie. Wouldn’t it be a shame if we were forced to put this donkey down?” Keats runs out of movement before he can put himself between the alchemist and Lelzeshin. “I can do this all night, Nick Bottom.” “But I fear you are running out of mirrors.” <pause> “‘Running out of mirrors!’ Did you smoke that one, Gurmie? My goodness, sometimes I kill me!”
Keats takes a 5 foot step to the north and engages clone #2. “Cry ‘Havoc!’ and let slip the bailiffs of law.”
:
Otherwise, Keats advances another 15 feet to make himself another target for Lelzeshin. "Cowards die many times before their deaths." “The valiant goblins, gnomes and halflings never taste of death but once.”
“Besides, I think what’s important now is that we unmask the mole who’s been masquerading as our friend, while working against us this whole time!” After a moment of disorientation, you realize that the vault walls are magically mirrored, creating an array of refractions that extend toward endlessly reflected infinities in all directions. “It’s time to drop the act … ZARINDLARA AVIAR!” Keats points a finger accusingly at the whisper elf. “I saw you attempt to sneak into Varret’s room with mischief on your mind, our first night here!” Or was that me? “So call off your hench-reflections, and maybe – just maybe – we’ll put in a good word for you to the king about your sudden but inevitable betrayal!” Keats draws his golden longsword and responds to the opening shots in the Clone Wars®
Another reflection of Lelzeshin leaps from the mirror and tries to stab Keats… “Et tu, Lelzeshin?”
“The evil that dudes with aardvark heads do lives after them! The good is oft interred with their bones.”
“The King said these traps are deadly for Bhopanese of non-royal lineage.” Hmm … She’s saying I could be Bhopanese royalty! Makes perfect sense when you think about it. "With my suspected ancestral ties to Bhopan, I'd better not be the one twisting it into Summer's lock." “Unless you’re Bhopan royalty yourself, Pip.” *bows* "No, Bhopan isn't perfect. There's class distinctions, and a King who is capricious at best.” Keats’ quest for evidence to support his latest self-delusion is suddenly abandoned, as a new thought strikes him. He puts a finger to his chin. “Non-royal Bhopans are in peril here, and the King wants nothing to do with the place.” “Doesn’t that suggest the King is a usurper and is using us for his own purposes? Perhaps the princess was the legitimate heir and discovered he was an imposter?”
“I’ve got Summer’s key right here, Packet.” Keats holds out his palm to show his team mates the golden key. His movements are measured and slow, like a recent riser trying to shake off the cobwebs of slee … It’s Hot!"
“You know, I can’t quite remember how I came to find the Summerland key …” Keats’ foggy monologue continues. “But the demiplane itself was cool … uh … hot. And I had the starring role! Wanna hear my thoughts and observations?” The actor studies the others’ faces. *Hmph* Maybe their brains are still addled? Their expressions say ‘Hells No’. “Pip, were you about to expound a theory regarding keys and opposite seasons?” Keats settles into a silent snit to listen. :
GM: Am I still in the same fey-touched room? Keats considers the body. Old Mate probably opened up Summerland with Jack Frost’s key, and I’ve slipped through the open door like a frozen, starving racoon looking for warmth. So the question is, how do I get back/turn off the illusion? If I am still in the dungeon with the others, maybe the keyhole is still here and the key is on Old Mate’s body? So maybe I try finding the key, the keyhole – disbelieving Summerland as an illusion if necessary – and find a way to open a Winter Wonderland with Frosty’s key?
"Group Huddle." “Sorry, Varret. I thought she said ‘Group Cuddle.’” Keats decides BOOM Boy has served his purpose and changes into new Bhopan-tailored fighter Cosplay duds. The success of the dance and his residual sweaty make-up combine to make the choreographer feel like a new man! Though I didn’t have the chance to explain why I turned my weapons and armor into gold <pout> "Let's spread out, see if anyone's here." “I’m up for it.” On arrival, Keats looks southward, delighted to see Varret and his bow. “I’d suggest keeping at least one other person in sight for mutual support.” “FYI people, I don’t ◈ stride. I ◈ Strut.”
"Keats, can you help us with the injured?"
"There's a fair chance of that, Milady!" Keats bounds over from from where he had been locked in a sweaty dance-off with a hirsute, cigar-smokin' wolverine-faced cove. ♫ Let the rhythm ride you, guide you
“Surely, you did not slip — it must be some strange Pathfinder dance move.” “I appreciate that, My Lord.” Keats smiles. “I have a reputation for brashness, but you know if I had one piece of advice for the teenage Boom Boy it would be this: “You tend to see others as completely foreign individuals. But everyone you meet, regardless of how impressive their title or expensive their clothes, is looking for relevance.” “They’re locked in their own particular battle with life. They are trying the best they can – and they fail regularly:
“So without compromising your values, why not cut them a little slack?”
Keats recalls the many hours he spent outside the Head Teacher’s office at recess, after being sent there for disrupting his elementary school class, mainly because he was bored. From his vantage point, the only entertainment was the girls jumping rope and playing a leaping game called ‘elastics’ set to the tune of their own singing. With time, he came to admire the grace and timing required to excel at these games. And while the strict separation of the genders demanded by pre-pubescent social norms prevented him from joining a game, young Keats spent many an hour practising the skills alone and in secret. Practise that paid off several ways a few years later when co-ed dancing was introduced to the Breezy Creek High School’s physical education curriculum …
Always one for flashy displays and drawing attention to himself, Keats nonetheless decides to sit this one out However, he does try to inspire his team-mates with another cultural artefact from the printing presses of Shelyn’s ∞ celestial monkeys. The ranger hath disgraced me and hindered me, slayers laughed at my losses, cavaliers mocked at my gains, barbarians scorned my station, paladins thwarted my bargains — and what is the reason? I am a bard. Hath not a bard perception? Can a bard not climb, swim, bluff and intimidate? Fed with the same trail rations? Pierced, slashed and bludgeoned with the same weapons? Subject to the same ghoul fever, healed by the same CLW, warmed and cooled by the same endure elements as a magus-gone-nova is? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? Prick us, do we not bleed *sparks* flame and goblin fireworks?
He whispers to Boom Boy “This look bad idea. Not think it worth risk.” "Gurmy, no-one shall judge you for taking the wise course of action, without answering for their transgression to BOTH OF US!" Keats takes a deep drag of *giggle* gas. "Unfortunately, nobody has ever accused me of having an over-abundance of common sense." Boom Boy shoves in his hand, and flips Ol' Snappy the Bird! "Don't mind the gnome's pinky, Prune-puss. Suck on this!"
“YOU, SER!” Keats rises to his feet and places forked fingers below his masked eyes before pointing belligerently at the plant. “Are no doubt here to demand satisfaction for your elder brother, who sought to taste Might made flesh & blood, but found only his DOOM!” The actor removes a leather glove and *slaps* the plant gently. “I accept your challenge, and ask Gurmire, Son of Zarongel to be my Second!” <aside> “Dear Gurmy, if it pleases you, might I trouble you to hold this for a moment?” Keats hands the pyro-inspector his duelling glove, draws his golden longsword and runs the edge across the palm of his off-hand, before holding it aloft in clenched defiance above the plant’s open pitcher. “Taste the bitter tang of Defeat!”
“Pip, how does Bailiff know his cues?” is Keats’ curious aside as he waits in the wings. 🎭 … Enter a ghostly undead who now chases a shrieking Keats as Lord Ulthun of Lastwall. The Eternal Rose hath given me one face, yet I make myself another! To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Keats turns and fires a ‘suction-cup’ arrow at the pursuing ghost.
Arise, fair Sarenrae, and kill the envious Groetus,
🎭 “Hard to spot the changes I know, Gurmy. But it is possible for some of us to improve upon the works of the Bard.” Keats takes a bow. “I’m glad you liked my nod to the Dawnflower.” “Have you ever mentioned the honorific ‘burning lady’ to an Imam of the Faith? I’d love to be a firefly on the wall if you did.”
The actor’s face adopts a look of concern. “I hope I didn’t frighten you too much. Humans says cats have nine lives. I should think goblins would need more.” “Is there a similar saying in Goblin?”
Once outfitted Keats sneaks up on Gurmire and taps him on the shoulder. “It is I! DOOM BOY!” ♫ Raising jazz hands in the air and calling in a high pitched spooky voice: ♫
Keats has squeeeezed himself into a tight, spidersilk catsuit, which while ab/pec-hugging reveals little skin. His cape, and high-heeled boots are matching black leather, and he has had a servant brush out his dark ringlets for hours before tying back his thick mane in a lustrous ponytail. His breastplate, longsword and shield have all been dipped in a bath of molten gold, which when applied to their strong, jet background … “Give the impression of Sarenrae’s golden face rising from the cold horizon, heralding Spring’s return from the dark, frozen days of Winter.” Two items seem curiously amiss on Keats’ outfit. First is a pair of furry, silver ‘head-band’ ears. “To honor the Bhophans, I present my own spirit animal – the Squox!” “I was introduced to this critter by some South Arcadian Islanders on a private demiplane in Katapesh called Ayahuasca.” The second is a leather mask of scarlet, which doesn’t quite match the outfit. “Lord Lelzeshin, in contrast to Selmius Foster, I wear this outfit to honor a contemporary Pathfinder Hero, named Doom Girl.” “Among her many admirable traits, Doom Girl is kind, selfless, persuasive, honest, hard-working, diplomatic, evangelical, efficient, courageous and caring.” “It is an honor to be admitted to a world-spanning organization that includes such inspirational people.”
She looks to Packet and Keats. "Can you help me figure out why this is a good idea? What am I missing?" “I don’t know that I am right, my dear.” Keats stretches in his chair and arches his back. “Whatsizname, the king’s spy said the clue is in the vault. So logic says we should go in and find it.” “Bravo Tybalt Whiskey, I stand by what I said about the Bhophan king. If anything, I thought my language restrained. But I accept we all have different perspectives and I am nothing if not adaptable.” Keats screws up his eyes and searches his companions’ faces. “Surely you all noticed the king’s behavior to us, in comparison to that of his stewards?” Then he shrugs and makes a thin smile. “Though I concede, my natural suspicion of authority may be coloring my perspective.” “Anyway, Pip.” The actor crosses his legs and places his hands in his laps. “I am certain this is supposed to be a moral dilemma. The key being that if whatever action we decide to take turns out to be wrong, we adapt and make the best of things.” “Perfect plans and perfect performers are hardly the norm, right? What is important is that we stick together and mutually support each other.” “Now, if there’s another way to achieve our goal, I’m all for discussing it.” :) ☺
Keats <giggles> as he views the sketches of the outfit being made to his directions, though he refuses to show the others. “I don’t want to spoil the surprise.” Having acquired a delicate bell from somewhere, he raises the item from his vanity and ♪ tinkles ♪ until a servant appears. “I’ll want the closest shave possible, and my toes and fingers painted scarlet, thank-you.” “Tell the tailor I do NOT approve of the waist-trainer. I mean, what is he implying? And besides if I decide to wear my armor over the top, the effect will be completely lost.” The party pro gives a dismissive wave. “Now off with you, darling! My friends and I have things we need to discuss.” ”I’ll break into the vault. I love a good challenge.” “It seems to me the King of Roses is a bit of a dick.” Keats kicks off his sandals as he sits with the others. “His behavior mirrors that of Prince Stavian’s, in the abominable treatment his own daughter, our beloved Princess Eutropia. Poor Selmius appears to have cast himself as the willing hero, who didn’t quite make it to the final scene.” “Tango Lysander/Delta Romeo, my friends. I agree with Packet and vote to give Webhekiz IV’s nut a jolly good cracking.”
Thankfully, Keats settles on a white linen toga, edged with a narrow band of purple and simple leather sandals. “The formal dress of the Knight class of the Iblydosian Republic. Worn when their Upper House called ‘the Senate’, sat.” The stage warrior’s dark ringlets are crowned with a wreath of red roses. “In honor of His Majesty, King Webhekiz, Fourth of His Name, and the Eternal Rose, who may be one of you ladies in disguise.” Keats *bows* and is bold enough to kiss the hands of Lady Moth, Matron Owl, Pip and Zarindlara! 🌹 To the Foxy fellow, the rapscallion gestures at his precariously balanced flute. “Is that champagne? Do you call it ‘champagne?’” “In the Inner Sea, that wine variety originates from a part of Galt that threatens to file suit against anyone using ‘their’ name! Have you ever heard anything so absurd?” “I’d like to see them come after me! Especially if I’m hiding behind Pip at the time.” 🍷 ⚖ He is unabashed in his efforts to bum a cigar off Matron Owl. “I assume they’re hand-rolled? I’d love to try one – though I’d hate to deprive you from extending your wicked pleasure.” “Though if you’ll take my advice ... Hide them when dear Gurmie’s about.” ♨ While flirting with Lady Moth, Keats injects his own view of the Pathfinder Society in the event conversation steers towards the shortcomings of Selmius Foster et al. “I’m not about to defend everyone in the Society. It contains some real asshats – that’s for damn sure!” “You see, Milady. The difference is …” Keats’ eyebrows knit as he considers the best way to explain. “I adore the works of the Bard. However, I wouldn’t dream of lecturing Gurmy on the virtues of a formal education. (Though such a thing would not have done Varret any harm ;)” “You see, as a Pathfinder, one can believe whatever one likes. Just don’t try to shove it down another chap’s throat.” He gives a lop-sided smile. “We are taught to Explore, Report, Cooperate, with tolerance and political neutrality underscoring that creed.” “Which makes this episode involving Master Foster most puzzling. Most puzzling indeed.”
Keats pats his friend’s hand rapidly. “Gurmy, beauty is pain. If one feels the need to be attractive, a little sacrifice is unavoidable.” “Otherwise, one runs the risk of becoming … well … a goblin.” “Wouldn't it be better if you just lit the hair on fire and allowed it to burn away?” “That’s a most … efficient way of looking at it, my dude.” Keats’ eyes flit up and to the left as he considers an appropriate reply. “Unfortunately, as I wish to continue luxuriating in this spa, I fear any spark may be extinguished before it has time to do the job.”
“Mush, mush, my faithful friend!” With his arms around Bailiff’s neck, Keats urges the dog to drag him round-and-round the hot-tub until a mini-whirlpool forms, allowing the pair to separate and drift about like autumn leaves, in a stream keen to reach the sea before it freezes. “Tonight’s little soiree sounds like a chance to scope out the real movers-and shaker… In between having strips of chest and back hair removed, Keats’ tone turns serious. “While the real biznis gets done tomorrow night.” "I think our outfits are meant to reflect the generous, selfless or … … scholarly nature of the Society." Keats b“OWs!” to Pip. "Our tolerance and willingness to embrace new cultures." “Perhaps with a Society slant on a religion, Inner Sea hero, event or artefact.”
@Boss, I suspected that was the case, and decided to have some fun with it to make it seem like you set it up that way for some intra-party roleplay ;) Can I haz a No-Prize?
Before we talk further … Too late! Without a hint of modesty, Keats strips off his gear, pinches his nose and takes a running leap into the closest granite tub. After luxuriating beneath the hot water for perhaps a minute, the Bhophan King’s guest breaks the surface, creating a small tsunami on the floor, before flipping his long hair off his face like its ebon seaweed. “Your bathroom is dreamy, Gurmy! Sorry about the little puddle on your floor. I think it was there before I got in.” With his arms against the tub’s edge, the swordsman leans back to do a little mental arithmetic. “Five bedrooms into six of us (plus Bailiff) doesn’t go. Seems some of us are going to have to share …” “Bags NOT Varret! (No offense) Though, Gurmy ... you and Pip make a cute couple. Mind you, Master Spoonshine also works. I’d wager you’d all fit in one bed.” tap, and Lelzeshin opened it, revealing a troupe of servants. “Excellent timing! Stylist in here, please! I should like my face shaved, my hair ringletted, my fingers manicured, my feet pedicured and my chest waxed!” “Oh! And do change the water and add some mango leaves, if you please. For tonight I shall frolic under the moonlight as Kurgess the Strongman, my good Lelzeshin!” “A tale of an impoverished Taldan youth, saved by a Worthy in an Avocado carriage, and paraded before commoner and noble alike as a Competitor and Winner, might amuse the Good and the Great.” “While your tailors set to work on my creation for the Main Event tomorrow night, my outfit for tonight’s dress rehearsal is simple enough.” “Do you know what a toga is? I understand they’re very popular in Iblydos.” “If not,” Keats flexes a bicep and invites a servant to test it out. “A pair of sandals and a LARGE fig leaf will suffice.”
The beauty of the fey-realm inspires Keats to recitation!
In Bophan did the Red Rose King
The artiste pauses and bows to Thadie and then Pip. “My apologies. My human senses do not currently convey the appropriate majesty of our surroundings.” “That may change if I can find an appropriate melody to set the lyrics to.” At the checkpoint with the grim-rose sentinels, Keats attempts to find his own rose bush within the cordon, pricks his index finger ... Before returning to spill a single drop of mortal blood between the ironshod feet of Hoba Dukuza’s guardians. The actor stands unbowed before the Guard. His tidings are a simple assertion, spoken with neither malice nor aggression. “Winter is cᛰming.” 🐺 "Good Thadie, is there anything in particular that preoccupies the Seelie Court at this time?" Keats *bobs* and smiles. "Please understand, I enquire as a friend and potential ally willing to perform a service for our noble hosts."
“Good day to you, madam. How are you, ser? LOVE your outfit! Isn’t this humidity simply horrid? How do you stand it?” A beaming Keats sheathes his weapon and straps his shield to his back before stepping forward with genuine warmth in his greeting and glad-handing of people not immediately intent on harming him. “I’m Keats Erikssòn. Originally from Breezy Creek in Taldor. I guess you’d call me the party’s minder.” Whether the choreographer’s disarming smile and obvious naivety win him fans or not, his sincerity is authentic. “I take the licks, so that Packet and Varret keep their leading man good looks. Speaking of which … are any of you healers?” “As for why we’re here -- haven’t the foggiest, ol’ Bean! I’m just along for the ride, you see.” “You’re better off asking Pip or Lady Aviar those kind of questions. They’re the brains of the outfit, you see.”
It’s a blessing that Keats must keep his mouth shut, in order to hold his breath. With his shield equipped, the amateur swordsman attempts to use his long blade one-handed to slash open the belly of the begonia.
If he cuts a hole wide enough, he’ll use his remaining actions to crawl out and stand in a spot where he won’t provoke an attack of opportunity from the Sons of Sobek. “Cayden tossed out in the Street!” : “I despise gardening!”
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“What did I ever do to you, wretched plant?” Keats is appalled at the thought of being consumed by a beanstalk. “I was overlooked for the role of the tooth-fairy in Little Audrey’s Shoppe of Sorrows, you know.” “I'll have you know I’m neither vegetarian nor vegan. If you want to take revenge on those that prey on your brethren exclusively …” He points at Pip. “Try chowing down on her!”
Kinda fancy, t’ain’t it? "I vaguely remember a mention of dog people back at the Crow’s Nest. Are they our contacts?” Keats draws his sword and raises his shield, scanning the area with a tinge of fear. “I quite like dogs, as long as I don’t have to share their food.” “Do we know anything about our fellows’ pedigree? I mean, are they more pug or mastiff?”
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