Khuvaan's page

While the others bicker, Khuvaan keeps his own counsel, thinking he'd already said enough for one day. Keeping busy, he does his best to recover what arrows he can, both from the corpses and from the nearby foliage. During this, he starts moving the bodies of the wolves away from the camp. They'll just draw in other scavengers, and I don't have time to properly handle the pelts.

Khuvaan does give Silvio a comradely pat on the shoulder, however, when he sees the halfling working to do exactly that. The half-orc doesn't try to take the wolf that his friend is working on or interfere, however, unless asked.

Perception/Watch: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19

Khuvaan sheathes his blade, then stands silently, listening to the others. It was not usually his way to be so vocal with others, as he had just done. But the young ranger was concerned about the possibility of failure on this expedition.

The half-orc waits as Median speaks her mind, and then nods when she finishes. He moves to stoke the fire as instructed, gathering nearby tinder as needed.

After a short bit Khuvaan says, "I'm ok with Gretchen...that's your name, right? Gretchen coming along, so long as she pulls her weight. Can't be fighting with Sledge the whole time, though..."

Personally, I don't think Sledge is being THAT obnoxious. It's just his personality.

Khuvaan makes a face when the wolf cries out, and gives his head a little shake. He drops one of his hands to the creature's head, offering a compassionate touch as the wolf slowly passes.

Glancing up at the others, the half-orc is struck by the fact that none of them had acted together in the battle with the wolves. They'd each acted independently and it hadn't gone all that well. "You're not wrong, Silvio. We were arrogant and didn't coordinate. We were simply reacting...while the wolves acted as a pack...and we're lucky no one died." A pause, and then Khuvaan adds, "Winter, too."

"We need to change all that if we're gone to survive all this...let alone complete the mission." Khuvaan looks first at Sledge, then at Silvio, and finally at Meridan before turning his own gaze on Gretchen as well. "Like they said, What ARE you doing here?"

Scanning the area for more wolves, Khuvaan makes his way to Median's side, shouldering his bow and drawing out his machete. Quietly he says, "Here, Median. Let me. It's too far gone, if it's attacking people like this. It'll be quicker and less messy than your mace."

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
If there's nothing else coming, Khuvaan will use a full round action to perform the Coup de Grace. Not trying to step on your toes Med. Just seems to make more sense for the ranger to do it. However, if you want to object, speak up and ignore this next part...

As humanely as he can, the young ranger goes down to one knee next to the slumbering wolf, says a silent prayer to the elven goddess of the hunt, Ketephys, and then slices the creature's throat and sends it to the after life.

Hearing Sledge's call, Khuvaan lines up a shot with his bow, taking his time Sorry for delay and fires, muttering, "On it. and then whistling at the beast to try and get it's direct attention.

Ranged Attack on Green, Bow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (14) + 4 = 18
Arrow Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 2

"Hey! You! Over here!

"People...we can DO this. C'mon!" Khuvaan calls out, seeing the fight was not going well for the young adventurers.

Bolting forward, the ranger considers dropping his bow and drawing his machete, but seeing the nameless wizard taken off her feet by one of the wolves, he instead launches an arrow at the beast.

Ranged Attack, Bow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Arrow Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 7

"Well...crap." Khuvaan mutters before bellowing incoherently at the wolf he was targeting, trying to get it's attention.

Cursing under his breath at his last inept arrow shot, Khuvaan moves through the brush, closer to the melee as it erupts into chaos. Drawing another arrow, the bowman targets...eeny, meeny, miney, moe = Red dot...one of the wolves still attacking the sheep dog.

Ranged, Bow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Damage, Arrow: 1d8 ⇒ 4

Seeing the arrow strike it's target, Khuvaan allows himself a moment of pride...and then blinks in awe of his two companions as they loose a barrage of magical energy!

For a brief moment, Khuvaan considered the wolves' plight, with their haggardly bodies revealing their starvation. But the moment flickers past when Winter is dragged to the ground and the half-orc ranger knows he has to choose the safety of his friends before compassion for these sad beasts. Now that they think they've found their prey, the wolves are unlikely to give up the hunt.

"Rrrarrrah! Get off of him!"! Khuvaan bellows loudly, grits his teeth in frustration, and fires an arrow at the wolf clamped onto the sheepdog.

Ranged Attack, Bow: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (3) + 4 = 7

Arrow Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 1

"Yeah, we do. Can't be sure what's a test and what isn't, but if that was someone in need of help, we should check it out, either way." Khuvaan nods to Median and Sledge, then squints a bit when each casts light.

Blinking he is spurprised as the sorceress goes running off on her own. Frustrated, he shrugs at Silvio and Sledge before shaking his head and setting off himself, grumbling. "Dammit. We need to do these things together."

Listening for more noises and bow in his left hand, the tall half-orc jogs after Median, trying to catch up to her.

Khuvaan has a base move of 35'

Perception to find the source of the noise: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24

When the wolf appears, Khuvaan almost bolts up, but then catches himself, and instead slowly rises to his feet with his bow held in his left hand. Not ready to fire just yet, but close enough he could notch an arrow if needed.

"This is not how wolves usually act... the young ranger states needlessly, speaking as much to himself as to the others.

Keeping his eyes on the wolf, but listening for pack movement out in the darkness, Khuvaan lets Silvio take the lead, as it's obvious the clever halfling knows what he's doing.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

Khuvaan offers to take the third watch, knowing his own tendency to wake early, oftentimes before sunrise.

Ok, our family is back in town, a day later than we planned, but with the holiday smacking up against losing her uncle, it just is what it is, I suppose.

Will post SOMETHING today (haven't even read the thread yet) and be hopefully back on track tomorrow. (Monday)

Thanks for understanding, guys.

Apologies. My wife's uncle passed away suddenly yesterday, and things quickly got hectic over here. We're helping out, and so I might need a day or two more for things to settle down. Sorry, can't be helped.

Was primarily trying to figure out where the smoke smell was coming from.

"Does anyone else smell...pipe smoke?" Khuvaan says just as Sledge erupts with his outburst. He arches an eyebrow at the young Potterson and asks, "Is that even fair? I thought this was just a delivery job...Does Holgast even smoke a pipe? I've never seen him with one, I don't think..."

Khuvaan has Survival +6. Anyone else close? Or should we each do our own?

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20

"What the...?"

"Median!" Khuvaan barks out the sorcerer's name, though whether it's more due to concern for her horrible wound or out of frustration at her reckless charge, even he is not sure. But what he is sure of is that he can't allow the orc to finish her off! He aims at the orc with the greataxe and fires!

Bow Attack, Ranged: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (1) + 4 = 5
Arrow Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 3

Cursing in elvish as his shot somehow goes wide, (possibly from being shaken when his new comrade falls?), the half-orc bellows out, in orcish: "NO! You fight ME! Leave the woman where she fell! Face me unless you are a coward!"

Intent is this: If the axe wielder actually charges him, to drop his bow and draw his machete next round for melee. If he doesn't charge, Khuvaan will continue to fire arrows.

Knowledge, Local: 1d20 ⇒ 1

Orcs? Now? Is this some part of a test? Am I being tested for loyalty or something? Is this how it is always to be? Khuvaan is surprised by the level of rage that immediately rises up within him at the thought that somehow he was being mocked during this whole ceremonial journey.

The half-orc knew his concerns were unwarranted and probably irrational...but still, there they were. And here were three orcs, threatening his companions and their quest, almost before it had begun.

With a snarl of his own, Khuvaan draws his bow and immediately notches an arrow. Aiming at the orc immediately in front of him, he calls out angrily in orcish: "One chance. Walk away or I shoot you like lame dogs and put you out of your misery."

Intimidate: 1d20 ⇒ 18

Holding action until the orcs or the others attack.

As the quartet leave town, Khuvaan glances upward to where he last saw Arnama, and is unsurprised to see her already gone. The fact that she had showed at all was encouraging to the young ranger. He had her blessing, and that was enough.

Tall, even for a half-orc, but lean, Khuvaan did his best to remember to shorten his pace a bit so as not to quickly outdistance the others...especially Silvio. Still, he tried not to be obvious about it, so as not to offend the halfling, and so he made a show of readjusting his bow across his back a couple of times, as if it were hindering him a bit.

Beyond that, however, he mostly listens to the chatting of the others and only comments when needed. Not that he was feeling aloof or distant...it was just his way. All in all, however, Khuvaan quickly realizes that traveling with the other three "heroes" feels surprisingly...natural.

Arsonist? Then maybe they gave Khuvaan rope to tie you up so the rest of us can sleep soundly... ;)

Survival: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (1) + 6 = 7

Ruffling through his pack to check his new provisions, rope, and especially his new grapple, Khuvaan glances up at Silvio with a very articulate but distracted, "Huh?"

** Earlier **

Khuvaan woke earlier than he had originially planned, with only the first dim glimpses of the morning sun appearing on the horizon. Excited, and only feeling slightly silly for it, the half-orc acknowledges that he was indeed looking forward to the upcoming journey.

He rose quietly and collected his belongings that he would be taking with him and headed outside, and then out of town and into the woods. Not far, but far enough that he wouldn't be seen or interrupted.

And as the sunrise erupted into full bloom, Khuvaan began to meditate and center himself, focusing on the wilderness and the forest around him. And in the center of his thoughts, unbidden, he sees...feels...the image of a silver hawk. And it just feels right.

** Now **

Everyone is looking at us. Khuvaan stood with his shoulders squared, listening to his new companions each answer the mayor's ceremonial question, and felt his own insecurities rise up, unbidden. He was an outsider. Neither human, or even fully orc or elf. He wasn't one of them. Brought here to Kassen by his mentor, directionless and angry. Would he ever truly fit in?

However, a quick glance at the others...Silvio, Median, and Sledge...seeing each so proud their and brave and so completely caught up in the moment that he found the courage to speak, "I am Khuvaan...and I too will see this done."

He nods at Median when the young sorceress takes the lantern and then moves with the others to collect his own pack.

I'm cool with moving forward, for the record.

Khuvaan raises one of his thick, pointed eyebrows at the sight of the stranger, but says nothing. "Maybe we should go back inside and all have a drink...we're likely to have a long day, tomorrow."

Khuvaan chuckles in his deep voice, "Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me that we needed to do research on the crypt. Didn't actually think I'd even get picked."

The lean half-orc shrugs.

Hey, Median, quick question: Sorceror or Sorceress? Which do you prefer?

Perception to notice Median: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

"Well, Silvio wanted to know how hard it was to learn both Elvish and Orc...whoa!" Khuvaan welcomes Sledge with a nod, but then suddenly trails off when he sees the sudden flash of flame from the bar, the reaction of the inn's patrons, and Median's disconcerted retreat from the tavern.

A moment of indecision before the lean half-orcs stands and mutters to the others, "C'mon. Median needs us." With that, Khuvaan leaves his drink untouched and starts moving through the rowdy crowd towards the door, regardless of whether the other two follow.

Offering only the slightest of acknowledgements to any well wishers as he angles himself to the entrance, the half-orc catches his mentor's eye and simply gives her a shrug before making his way outside, as well.

Stepping outside and nearly colliding with a sober townsman in search of a drink, Khuvaan takes a few strides into the street, scanning for the young sorceror.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (3) + 6 = 9

Looking up and down the lane, however, the apprentice ranger doesn't see her, and so calls out her name. "Median!"

Khuvaan makes a face at the mention of seawater and liquor, and calls over to Jimes, "A flagon of mead would be great."

The half-orc cocks his head slightly at Silvio's question, chuckles and then looks for a table where the two can sit. "There's a tale in that, Master Errico, and I'm in no mood to share it 'til I get my drink and a place to settle."

After a moment of looking through the crowd for a spot, he adds, "We should make sure we have room for Median and Sledge. Y'know, in case they show up too."

I have in the past, though not often. I'd be willing to use it for this, though. :D I'll need a fresh invite, please. The one in this thread is now invalid.

Unfomfortable isn't quite the word for what Khuvaan was feeling. All the attention...positive, at that...it was almost overwhelming. While watching his mentor wander away, Khuvaan nodded and smiled at people in the crowd, some of whom patted his back, while others shook his hand.
It felt like chaos as the young ranger heard his name called out several times, from various directions, all at once.

Eventually the tall half-orc makes his way to Silvio, meeting the halfling with an honest grin. "I'm glad we'll be going together. You. Me. Median. And Sledge? THAT should prove interesting. Besides, you're the most honorable, trustworthy person I know..." he then chuckles, adding, "...other than Arnama."

Khuvaan offers his hand, and says, "I seriously need a drink, though. This whole situation is stressing me out. What are you having?"

Btw, still here and active. Just don't want to disrupt the flow of the Sledge scene. Really good stuff. :D

Busy family night. Will post tomorrow.

* munches on popcorn * Need some swedish fish or junior mints!

"Go get 'em, Sledgie!"

"Deep preparations?" Khuvaan's deep chuckle fills the room. "A drink or two at the Seven Silvers IS deep preparation."

And just like that, with this small bit of conversation between the two...touching on what was important and what was not...the half-orc's mood lightens. Just as Arnama knew it would.

Arnama listens to Khuvaan's boiling anger, nodding. Her face flickers into a light smile when he refers to her as a parent figure.
"Exactly that. Forge your own path. Whether you stay here or go elsewhere, that's your choice. This could give you a reason either way."

Arnama leans back and laterally shifts the conversation. "Are you religious, Khuvaan? You don't exactly strike me as an Erastilian, nor an Iomedean crusader. Some folk do what their gods command. Some find their gods through their work. There's any number of paths they might try to guide you towards, if that's what you're looking for. But you've got to find your drive, one way or another."

---

The young man purses his lips, contemplating the question, then says, "I suppose I honor Erastil...my mother does, I know that. You can't grow up around Kassen without at least acknowledging him, what with all the farmers and all."

"I don't follow any of the Orcish gods...most of them are just mean and cruel, and none of them really value nature, other than maybe Iraznog, and he's just kind of gross. My mother doesn't follow any of them. Can't say I understand why anyone would want to worship any of them, except out of fear." Khuvaan continues, speaking on a matter that he had been giving a lot of thought to, recently.

The tall half-orc meets his mentor's eyes and offers, "My father used to invoke the name of Desna all the time, though I'm not really sure that he worshiped him or anything."

Khuvaan seems at a bit of a loss for words for a moment, almost embarassment, and then says, "The orison prayers come from somewhere...if I'm to progress in my training, I need to offer honor to someone...or thing. I know that."

"Maybe it sounds odd, but a few times when I've been out in the woods before sunrise, on days when I remember my meditations, I've seen this hawk through the canopy of trees above me, and I..." Khuvaan shrugs, "I kind of like the thought that it was looking out for me, you know? Anyway, I've been using it...or the thought of it as my focus."

A small pause, "That's not too weird, is it?"

Honestly, I think Sledge is a great character so far.
Interesting, and has real depth to him. Well done.

Can I just say, I just finished rereading the whole thread, and seriously, this is a GOOD story. Not just the overall backdrop, but the characters, both player and DM driven.

Kudos, Poly, on setting up a game that feels like a novel or a movie. And Bravo everyone else for creating characters that I, as a player and reader, want to root for!

In otherwords, I'm really enjoying this. :)

Arnama half-grunts, half-sighs in a vaguely "Mhmm" sounding response. "I guess I am that old," she says with an eye roll. "Right. The Freedom War started 61 years ago, as you know. This," she gestures around them, "was my parents' house then. But I wasn't born here. I was born in the South, where they were soldiers."

Arnama stretches, groaning as some of her joints crack. She sits down in a chair, looking weary. "Neither of us are from Kassen, Khuvaan. But we're still here."

She looks at Khuvaan, struggling to find the words to express herself. "We're here, hmm? We're a part of this place because we choose to be. If people accept you, it's cuz you show 'em they can trust you. Folks remembered my parents when I came here as a grown lass, but none of them knew me. I could have rested on their reputation, but that would have done me no good. So now I am my own. I make myself belong."

She fixes her piercing gaze on Khuvaan. "That's what you've got to do. Never mind...you know." Your father.

A surprising plume of rage instantly springs up in the young man, and it is all that Khuvaan can do to reign it in. He lowers his eyes and doesn't speak for a moment, then mutters, "What I do or do not do...no longer has any bearing on...that man. It might not be true, but as far as I am concerned, my father died in an ambush several years ago fighting bandits, and someone using his name is now running around hurting people, and deserves the harshest justice that comes his way!"

Defiantly, the half-orc stares back at Arnama...and then falters. He lowers his head, holding back tears that come unbidden. "Arnama...my father may have sired me, sure, but he was never around. Not much, anyway. It was always just a quick little visit...never coming home to stay. Hell, in some ways, you were more of a parent to me than he ever was."

Khuvaan seems stares off for a moment, "I stay here in Kassen, because it's your home, Arnama. Here, everyone knows me, but they know about my father as well. What he did. My home was at the inn with my mother. I learned a lot there, about all the wrong things...gambling, drinking...washing dishes. But it was happy. And it was home."

"But now I'm here, and I guess...I know that if I accept this honor of going to the crypt...it'll mean that I won't just be here because of You...I'll be choosing Kassen as my home. And frankly, while I said yes, I don't know if I'm ready for that. All I do know is that I have to be a better man than he was."

Once she and Khuvaan are alone, Arnama Lastrid sighs and removes her bow. The thylacine Cyrano turns in a few circles on a modest rug in the main living space before settling down in a happy rest. Hunting seemed to be done for the day.
"You'll do well," she says at last. "I wish I had been able to go when I was your age. But...well, I wasn't living here yet."

She looks uncomfortable, like she may want to open up about something to Khuvaan, but uncertain whether their relationship extends that way. Khuvaan knows that Arnama was part of the Mayor's honor guard last year, but this discomfort doesn't seem to be related to that. It's up to Khuvaan whether he wants to press his mentor or move on to discuss something else.

---

The tall half-orc watches Cyrano settle, and then looks over at his mentor for a long moment, unsure as to how to proceed. Their quiet moments were usually just that...quiet. Learning to move stealthily through the forest, or through the ruins of a city was always an exercise with silence. Generally Khuvaan had grown used this fact.

Other times, Arnama would bellow at him for some failed task or simply to challenge him to push himself when he was feeling exhausted and unable to go on...and usually it worked, sparking the fire within the somber apprentice to do just that.

But this didn't feel like that. It felt like a moment...of change.
Something new, between them, a moment to grow or to pull back...but change in one way or another. Khuvaan knew he could choose to let matters lie, but for once, he knew that would be the wrong approach. He ponders this and then shrugs before asking, "Was that during the time you were off training with the rangers? During the war with Molthune?"

Thanks. She's fine, overall, just needs to see a podiatrist next week to cut the nail back from where it's dug in. For now she's soaking her foot and taking antibiotics. The big thing was the almost 4 wait and stress dealing with the ER. They were nice, but...

"..I'm pleased to inform you that you have been chosen to go on the Quest for the Everflame this year. You've been at the ceremony enough times, so you know more or less what to expect. Be in the center of town at noon tomorrow. Travel light and carry only what you absolutely need: weapons, armor, spellbooks--that sort of thing. We'll provide rations and other equipment for the journey. And that's about that!"

To say that Khuvaan is surprised to be invited for the annual ceremony is an understatement. It wasn't often that he felt actually part of the community at large...more of an outsider. The tall half-orc's jaw literally drops, and it's a long moment before the ranger's apprentice can reply.

"I, uh...Of course I'll go, your honor. It'd be an...um, honor." Khuvaan makes a face of frustration at his own lack of diplomatic flair. "I'll do my best to make Kassen, and Mistress Lastrid proud."

With this last bit, he offers a small head nod...almost a nervous bow, then glances over at Sledge, and gives him a nod as well.

Apologies. Had a run to the ER last evening with my 14 yr old daughter and her ingrown toenail/infected toe. (She hadn't told any of us about it. Nice surprise, huh?) Will post later this evening or first thing in the morning. Npc if needed before that.

Knowledge: Local(Untrained): 1d20 ⇒ 8

Khuvaan remains quiet, chagrined by the fact that he had indeed forgotten to do his morning meditations, and hadn't offered more than a "Yes, Ma'am." or No, Ma'am." towards his mentor. But that was the way of things, often with Arnama. Out in the wild, just the two of them, Khuvaan would feel more than free to speak to her and speak his mind. But get them back near town, and around others? The tall, young man sighed.

His mood darkened, the half-orc said to Sledge, "Lets just drop this off with Master Boddenkke, and he can add it to whatever food's being prepared for tomorrow..." Without waiting for a real reply, Khuvaan heads to the butchery, heading to the back entrance as he'd done many times before with fresh kills from hunting. He set the heavy beast down on one of the tables with little effort...his mentor's spell was really quite impressive...and then gave Sledge a nod and a simple, "Thanks." before heading back to Mistress Lastrid's home.

The half-orc hrmphed, shaking his head and then chuckling. Typical Sledge. Finds a way to complain about...well, just about everything.

This thought was fleeting, though, and Khuvaan dropped back into silence as the duo continued on. Well, I tried...

Khuvaan trudged along, straining a bit under the weight of the boar, though his burden was definitely made easier due to Sledge's assistance. The silence as they traveled, however, concerned the half-orc in a way that it usually did not. More than comfortable traveling through the forest by himself, it was rare that he had a companion, and even rarer that it wasn't his mentor.

Just to make converstaion, the lanky ranger offers, "So...what do you think about the ceremony tomorrow? I'm pretty sure Median's gonna go..."

Who was that on the road into town? Sledge's mind tried to recall the name. Khuvaan was it? Probably best to avoid saying the name if he could. The orc/elf had helped him train before, once or twice, but they really hadn't had much interaction. Noting the man's struggle with the meat he had, and sensing an opportunity to ingratiate himself, Sledge called out, "I see you're struggling with your load friend. Would you like some help moving it?"

Khuvaan sighed inwardly at the sight of the frequently difficult Kassen resident, but gave Sledge a nod of welcome anyway and said, "Aye. An extra hand would be welcome. This old beast is heavier than he looks..."

The half-orc paused where he was, temporarily lowering his load, and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. To be honest, he was surprised by the offer of assistance from the other young man, but he tried not to let it show.

1. Stumble away, Median. The interaction could be fun.
2. Maybe you could ask your mentor?

"Unbelievable..." Khuvaan muttered to himself, grunting with effort as he dragged the wild boar carcaus behind him along the old hunter's trail. It hadn't been his intention to go hunting this morning. Quite the opposite.

Having a rare 'day off' from his usual duties and responsibilities to Arnama, he'd intended to do some fishing and perhaps swimming if the weather stayed warm enough. But instead, the tall, lean half-orc had come across an aging, obviously wounded and utterly savage boar. The beast had awkwardly charged out of a tangle of trees and shrubery, hobbling on three legs and a fourth that all but dangled at an odd angle. The young ranger tried to turn the situation, but despite his efforts to calm the boar down, it decided to pick a fight.

Not that it had been much of a fight, to be sure. Khuvaan knew better than to engage the snarling beast in combat, but instead had moved quickly to stand behind a tree trunk, and proceeded to use it as cover while firing arrows at the creature from a distance. While it tried to charge him, it was hobbled by its injured leg, and he was more than fast enough to move around the tree trunk to evade the wounded boar.

Perhaps less than heroic, but definitely it was an effective strategy. The boar was dead without much of a fuss...but this left the young ranger with the obligation to haul the body back to town. Too much meat and fur to waste, such as it was.

Again, the half-orc grunted with effort, changing his grip on the rope he'd used to bind the boar's legs together, then continued plodding back towards Kassen, and making much slower progress than he wanted. At this rate, half the afternoon would be gone before he settled this matter, and his opportunity for a relaxing day would be gone...

* stumbles in * Hey!

Khuvaan--the fact that you have family connections to Lastwall is quite interesting to Silvio. Silvio is at a tipping point where he's seriously considering leaving town to adventure in Lastwall, something that Sir Dramott is encouraging. The journey we're about to begin will probably shape that decision. Hearing more about your story might do so also.

THAT should be an interesting conversation, Silvio, considering Khuvaan's interesting ties to the place...but I'll save it til we do it in character. :D

Side Note:
Something you'd all be aware of is that Khuvaan has "humans" for his favored enemy. He doesn't hate them all on sight per se, but being half-orc and half-elven, he doesn't have an instictive bias towards humans, and frankly, the people who bullied and looked down on him most in his young life have been humans. Also, and more importantly, a good deal of his combat training with his mentor has been aimed at planning to fight bandits...who tend to be primarily human.

I am moving to Galveston, Tx in a few weeks and am looking for the nearest Society group I can join. I don't know how consistently i can play, but would like to get in as often as i can. I don't mind driving up towards Houston, but not more than like 45min or so.

We are in need of a lvl 12ish cleric to run with us in the Dragoncon special on sept 1st. Will anyone be there that can join us?

A few friends and I are trying to start a Pathfinder Society game at the NDC store in Cranberry twp, Pa. We have been playing for a year or so and are looking for a few new faces. Feel free to contact me here, or look up New Dimension Comics cranberry on facebook. Or just show up. We are trying to play Thursdays at 6.

I have a gnome summoner with a serpentine base summon. In the core book it says the chart for carrying capacity is for biped creatures, and quadrupeds are x1.5. where would my eidelon come in? I would assume it would be the same or more than the quadruped being that it always has full contact with the ground thus using its full strength capacity and not relying on a few limbs. I mostly need to know this so I can find out if my eidelon can actually carry my gnome or not.