Limnen_euron's page

Mihaela helps dispatching the remaining fungi, coldly and efficiently. A loud rumble in her stomach finally reminds her she hasn't eaten anything since she broke fast seemingly an eternity ago; eventually, the day's fatigue has caught up to her, rain and weariness washing over her shoulders in equal measure.

She speaks no words as the party makes its way back to the inn, only hugging Lys as the woman splits from the main group to go on her solo reconnaissance mission. "You saved my life down there" she warmly whispers in her ear. "Take care — and may Lady Luck smile on you." Every fiber of her being is screaming for her to accompany the crossbowwoman on her sortie, but eventually she forces herself to listen to the voice of reason: after today's close call, facing tomorrow's ordeals without a proper rest would make her nothing short of a hindrance, and besides, Lys's skills have been proven to be no second to hers.

After refreshment is offered and greetings exchanged, she quietly excuses herself and slips away, taking a seat by the fireplace where she discards her now soaking wet trench-coat and allows the comforting warmth to push away the cold from her bones. The memories of the day start to dance and rearrange in her mind, the unholy texts still lingering on the edge of her conscious self, the creature at the market, the fights...

The fights.

Though Kolthis and Maritine's magic have undone all the physical damage, she could still feel a dull pain in her ribs, one which resonated in her very soul. It was not just a matter of wounded pride — even though it was her clumsiness which put both her and Kolthis in mortal danger. It was the feeling of fear suffocating her. Her luck finally running out. A foe she couldn't outsmart or outfight. She tries to reach for her Goddess. Silence is the answer.

As she muses and broods, a familiar voice shakes her out of her melancholy. "Thank you, Maritine. My wounds are now fine" she answers gently, placing a hand on her skin-tight suit where the creature had hit her. "Though the lingering pain stands as a reminder I should be more cautious in avoiding getting cornered. We both know I don't fare very well in prolonged close quarter combat." She tries to feign a smile, which rapidly dies on her lips. "It's... I'm not fine, really. If it weren't for Lys, I'd be dead now. And the thing at the market... you heard Hyve. We've never been the hunters. Always the hunted. Even now, it's stalking us. I wanted to protect you, but I can't even protect myself." Again, that chill in her bones. It's as if it never left. Will it ever leave? she thinks, shivers shaking her frail figure.

Mihaela sits cross-legged by the fire, her diminutive frame standing out against the flames as she peruses through the notes, cataloging and organizing them before handing the relevant ones to Yelena for further inspection. Now that she's taken off her trench-coat, her slender figure looks almost frail in her form fitting bodysuit, a fact emphasized by the occasional fit of shivering and shaking. It wasn't the cold, or the damp, which the fireplace's warmth has blessedly dispelled by now, but something far more primal — her own brain striving against being rewired by the alien logic intrinsic to Aklo's grammar has her body twitch and spasm against her will as the misshapen characters seem to move and rearrange in front of her eyes, unspeakable whispers emerging from the bottom of her consciousness.

(She remembers learning the language as one of the hardest parts of her training; one which never seemed to end, as she wasn't allowed to dedicate to its study more than a few minutes every day lest her mind be permanently scarred.)

Despite frequently laying down her papers to stretch and meditate, a couple of hours later their job is mostly done, though alas the notes didn't seem to contain much they didn't already know or surmise. Penned by madmen and fools they were, indeed, yet madmen made of flesh and blood, and fools whose knowledge of the Unspeakable Tongue didn't seem to run much deeper than hers. So in a way, the distinct lack of valuable information was balanced by her mind eventually winning its struggle against insanity.

Whatever Walter has been working on, on the other hand...

She listens to the wizard's increasingly erratic ranting without making a move or uttering as single word. Consciously, at least. Halfway through the flow of consciousness, her shivers start again, more violent this time. A penchant for eccentricity notwithstanding, she knows almost nothing of the man, but Yelena's face tells her whatever's happening in front of their eyes is the opposite of normality even for one such as him. Bottle and jar. Madmen and fools.

Horrors. Horrors can't be bottled. For that is not dead which can eternal lie. But madmen. Madmen made of flesh and blood. With strange aeons even death may die. They can die. They will die, if she stalks them, if she hunts them, if she cuts them.

Breath in, breath out. She has to force herself to speak, and when she does, only a few, broken words come out. "Two it already claimed. Three we need to find, and then kill." Simple enough.

She could do this. That's what they've trained her for all of her life, after all.

The verbal abuse washes over Mihaela like a passing storm, yet its sting lingers. She wants to say that there's nothing they could have done, that he was already dead when they found him, but she suspects in his present state, any attempt at rationality would hardly find its way through the cloud of misery and despair which has fallen over the Mayor.

Indeed, she barely manages to bow and whisper "We will leave you to your grief" before they are dismissed. Under her stoic facade, she now feels like a fool for having made a promise she has no way of knowing she could even keep. The gruesome sight of the Commander's body comes back to her mind, only this time it takes turns wearing Kholtis... Maritine... Lys... Yelena... Walter's faces, silently accusing her of having failed them, of having left them to die. Behind them, a seemingly endless cacophony of familiar voices, each one a lost friend or companion, all repeating the same accusation: how dare she, the runt of the litter, the most insignificant of them all, live when all of us are dead?

She doesn't remember walking the way to the library. Once there, she finds herself instinctively drawn to the fire, and there she crouches, basking in its soothing warmth.

@Walter: well, you did mention burning things with fire, which as everyone knows grants a +20 circumstance bonus when interacting with inquisitors — so I'll consider your attempt at Diplomacy a resounding success :)

Mihaela smirks at Walter's promise of pyroclastic retribution, welcoming the man back into their fold. She proceeds to follow him and Yelena into the half-ruined house.

Once again, she's slipped back in the familiar role of the dispassionate inquisitor, analytically scanning the surrounding butchery; yet even then, rivulets of cold sweat mixed with rainwater slide down her back as she carefully makes her way while trying to avoid stepping on other human remains.

The search and rescue part of their mission proves to be awfully short as the corpse of a high-ranking Crow officer — which could have only belonged to Lord Garus — is among the first things to be spotted among the debris. Her sense of uneasiness grows upon recognizing the pendant and its meaning. Recognizing a fellow warrior of the Faith, she mutters a short prayer under her breath: "Farewell, unmet Champion of the Northern Star. We shall pick up your fight as She guides you along the Stairway, and preserves you from the Horrors Beyond.".

She doesn't linger long. Among the faithfuls, there are those who have dedicated their lives to bring help, support, and comfort, those charged with the tending of the flock, the wandering preachers, and then many, many more. She, however, was trained for a singular purpose: to bring retribution upon those who would harm any of them. She clings to this belief with all the willpower she is able to muster, even if her expression betrays one singular concern: Lord Garus had the favor of Desna. And Lord Garus was slaughtered nonetheless.

Venturing deeper into the house, she offers to help Walter with browsing through the tomes; as menial a task as she can find to distract herself from the gloom thoughts clouding her mind.

@DMLC: tag Mihaela entering the room and investigating the books in areas A4 and A5. Also, would the Black Goat Yelena mentioned ring any bells to her?

Perception (guidance): 1d20 + 12 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 12 + 1 = 29

Heal: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Nope

Spending a couple of rounds of discern lies to check for intentional falsehoods (GM's discretion — but enough to scrutinize the whole recounting of the events). If none is detected...

Mihaela listens impassibly to a tale which, in any other circumstance, she would have dismissed as wildly implausible but that, in the light of the recent events, she's forced to accept as another piece of an increasingly disturbing picture.

Under her stoic demeanor, however, her agitation grows. For all she knows, the thing could still be right there in the alley, lurking unseen, with no-one being the wiser. "Ex invisibilibus veritas" she whispers, beseeching her Goddess to grant her vision of the invisible world.

Casting see invisibility.

Her eyes briefly flash purple as she abruptly moves to positions herself to get a better view of the alley.

Assuming she's not triggering a boss fight here and now by discovering the monster...

Moving closer, she can finally make out the gruesome sigil in finer detail. She raises her head, her cowl sliding down and hanging limply behind her shoulders, and...

Knowledge (religion) (guidance): 1d20 + 6 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 6 + 1 = 20

...she freezes, shivers running down her spine, a feeling of unnatural cold having nothing to do with the rain, which is nonetheless now pouring all over her, standing motionless at the alley's entrance, her short brown hair rapidly getting soaked.

Will: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (19) + 9 = 28

Eventually, she manages to swallow down her fear. She averts her gaze from the wall only to see Elize walking her way, the exact same feverish looks in her eyes — an implicit acknowledgment of shared realization.

We could run the whole gamut between somber gravitas and

"Oh Goddess. That's Ravenigro all over again, isn't it?"

"The part with the demonic gnomes?"

"I was thinking more about the part with the albino charau-ka jesters."

"Oh yes, that part. It was all fun and games before the halfling clown arrived." shudders

If you're on board, I'm leaning towards letting some sort of noodle incident henceforth euphemistically referred to as "the Ravenigro incident" organically develop on its own through in-game references and interactions and see where that leads us.

Like "That reminds me of Ravenigro..." "Remember how we did that in Ravenigro" etc. etc.

So — I finally completed my Character sheet! It took me a while longer than expected as even though I've been meaning to play one for a long time, I had never actually built an inquisitor before. If you find any mistakes, don't hesitate to point them out.

I'm going to put together a short background for her and then try to catch up with you guys. As for her reasons to be in Carrion Hill, let's say for the time being the she, much like Kolthis, has received nightmares of something unsettling about to happen there and promptly moved to investigate (as a good hapless soul about to be devoured by madness inquisitor should).

By the way, I am in Central European Time (UTC+1), so our posting windows might align weirdly sometimes.

"Right. Let's" Írwen snaps back to reality after spending more than a few precious instants following Momo's head back... and forth... and back... and forth, her own eyes darting left and right, mirroring her movement.

She puts one hand over the young catfolk's head, as if to block it in place. "We're one step ahead of them. Let's press our advantage" she says as she swiftly moves out of the alley and into the nearby street.

Lore (Zobeck): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (14) + 5 = 19

So it's decided? Into the Cartways we delve?

The first thing that Írwen does is to throw herself on the nearest bed, where she placidly lies spread-eagled for a while, contemplating the roof. To her, it feels like a home, and she savours this small moment of peace amid the storm which has risen around them. Maybe the last.

It's only after waging a losing war against Momo for the ownership of her cushions and blankets that her mind snaps back to the current situation. She arches one eyebrow at Iskra's suggestion of them being members of the Cloven in disguise, a sardonic expression on her face.

"Nah. They don't smell like sulphur, I checked. Plus, an elf, a catfolk and a fox-man? Not your average camouflage when you want to avoid unwanted attention, if you ask me" she states, flatly. "You know, I have many fond memories of you, Iskra, rampant paranoia not being among them. Still, I would even be tempted to indulge you, if it weren't my ass on the line."

Diplomacy (aid another, Nik'olo): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

Lore (Zobeck): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (5) + 5 = 10
Lore (Zobeck): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (17) + 5 = 22

She looks uneasy when the Cartways are mentioned. "The Cartways huh? We should thread carefully. The laws of man don't extend down there... and sometimes neither do those of nature."

Sorry, I'm here and not going anywhere, but I went skiing for the weekend and came back to find a bit of a backlog waiting for me. Still, I should have given at least some degree of forewarning! Sorry again!

Sorry this has been a terribly busy week and still every time I was about to chime in there was something going on which I was afraid of disrupting were Írwen to intervene. Consider this my catch-up post as we get down to business and to the Silk Scabbard :)

Írwen barely has time to react before Momo darts away in front of very eyes. The clacking sound of heeled boots on cobblestone echoes though street and square alike as she races behind the catfolk, trying not to lose sight of her as she leads their ragtag group behind corners and past alleys in a wild chase, much like a curious cat chasing an invisible, unravelling yarn.

When the trail finally ends in front of the Broken Seal, Írwen quietly slips inside with only the softest of smiles and a silent nod addressed at the hulking, non-human bouncers. The crowd gathered inside immediately elicits a pang of nervousness in her, though. I don't feel like I'm a chasing a prey. Quite the opposite, in fact. She's wondering how they'd be able to find the velvet-cloaked demonmarked among such a peculiar congregation, and even if the did, what they'd intend to do with him when she spots Momo already inconspicuously sneaking through the crowd.

She seems to know what she's doing the elfmarked courtesan muses as she nonchalantly mingles with the crowd gathered around the gambling table. Perhaps I should worry less.

With that, she pulls out all of her well-practiced repertoire of characters and personas, discreetly moving from patron to patron and listening to every word they utter as she seamlessly slips into the part of the naïve newcomer and the inveterate gambler alike, one moment a lost young girl and a flirty seductress the next.

Bluff: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (20) + 11 = 31
Stealth: 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (11) + 9 = 20
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27
Sense Motive (get a hunch): 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (16) + 5 = 21

It's only when she sees Momo scurrying away with Morrigan that she wisely excuses herself and follows the two women out of the tavern. Írwen wonders what the young catfolk might have heard to make her rush away so abruptly and towards the Silk Scabbard, and her apprehension only grows when it's clear she doesn't want to discuss it openly.

Momo would recognize the Silk Scabbard as the place Írwen brought her when they first met to change her soiled clothes.

Momo is uncommonly silent the rest of the way to the Silk Scabbard. Once the group reaches the Silk Scabbard. Momo tugs on Nik'olo's short sleeve. "Ask if we can get a private moment. At a table or maybe in a spare room. For just a couple minutes." Momo contemplates how to explain the conversation she overheard to her companions.

"Let me" chimes in Írwen. "I used to live here, that ought to count for something."

Írwen nods to Momo as the catfolk quizzically looks at her, then at Nik'olo, and then back at her. He's a friend she implies. If not by familiarity, then by circumstances.

She listens carefully, a bit to the side, as Momo's decision gradually finds resolution and shape, careful not to utter a word as she wants her choice to be hers and hers alone. Eventually, she speaks.

"Then we are decided" she says, smiling subtly yet having an increasingly hard time not to get infected by the playful girl lively attitude. "It is not the decision I would have taken if I were you. But I am not, and we could have asked for no better company than the youngest warrior the catfolk tribe has produced and her elven mentor." There's a maternal hint in Írwen's voice, mixing pride and apprehension the way only a mother could.

"But I want you to promise me" she goes on, kneeling a little so as to put her eyes on the same level as Momo's. "There are people who are worth suffering for, dying for, and I pray one day you'll meet them. But I am not one of them. If something goes wrong, if we're caught, if it's all a ruse... run. Go back to the Margreve and never come back to Zobeck, forget about this night, of me, of Nik'olo, of Alfen. Understood?" She turns to Morrigan, as if to search her support as well as her complicity in making sure no harm will come to Momo tonight.

In a corner, a young elfmarked woman sits alone, slowly sipping a cup of steaming hot tea. Her eyes wander lazily around the hall, gliding over every patron yet lingering on none; the only thing that seemingly manages to captivate her attention is the sweet music an exotic-looking bard is providing for the customers' enjoyment.

He is late she frowns. That means I'll have to charge him extra.

Her clothing, like her composure, seems to be perfectly tailored to either draw or avert the bystander's attention, a subtle distinction which obeys her whims and her whims alone. Presently, it's latter: her tight fitting leathers, usually accentuating her slender, athletic physique, now seem to help her blend in the background, a shadow of flesh and bone among the other, incorporeal ones the fireplace is casting on the walls. Her long legs she keeps crossed under the table, those too wrapped in leather save for a thin strip of bare skin between a pair of thigh-high boots and a dangerously short black silken skirt.

If it pays your bills, never give it away for free.

Sense Motive: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (20) + 5 = 25

She turns a distract eye to the commotion by the bar, but she quickly realizes there's nothing worth her attention going on there. Only the truly powerful – or someone harbouring a death wish – would pick a fight at the Wheatsheaf. This guy doesn't look the former, and now we'll probably never know about the latter she muses as her gaze follows the man across the room and out of the tavern.

Made the alias. Now I just need to fill it in with her background, appearance and personality and then find a proper picture. The former is the easy the part, the latter... probably not so much.

Even though it looks like I'm late to the party, Momo's background is so inspiring I wanted to try my hand at it just for the sake of it (even though Alfen and Christian have rightfully gotten first dibs on it).

Wow I just noticed... so many non-good alignments! This will be interesting.

I know some GM's are scared of CN but I have a feeling this group can RP that in a mature way and still find reasons to co-operate with each other.
I just might need to get you guys to touch a bit more on your motivation so I can make sure I have suitable plot-hooks to draw you in. One of the big plot hooks at level 6 sort of assumes you want to save the city.

Írwen is CN though leaning on CG, and I pictured her as a worshipper of Lada, though not a particularly devout one, with emphasis on the love and might aspects. She simply believes that people should save themselves rather than look for heroes to fight their battles in their stead, though that obviously doesn't apply to those who are too weak to defend themselves with their own strength – children particularly come to mind.

So this is Írwen at level 2. She's around 22 years old, and it's been three years since she left the Silk Scabbard with the gold she earned from her fights to work independently as a Courtesan. By now, she's been known to associate with some of the most daring and audacious young scions of Zobeck's elites, and people are beginning to whisper about a young elfmarked Courtesan who not only requires her suitors to issue and accept challenges in her name (as it is customary in such things), but also eagerly and personally takes part in Zobeck's duelling scene, sometimes even challenging would-be suitors herself – a deliciously scandalous disruption of tradition, so all the more enticing to the avant-garde Zobeckian youth.

By the time she's hit level 6, I picture her as having established herself among the more prominent Courtesans in Zobeck, not quite a Consul's semi-permanent companion but probably quite close to it. She's also become quite a famous duellist in her own regard, sometimes even acting as a powerful patron's champion when matters of honour are to be formally resolved – as well as using her infiltration and espionage skills for other, more personal goals.

Full background and description coming soon. I usually tend to be significantly timelier in my posting, but the more material I read and learn about the setting, the more I get drawn into it, so this is taking a bit longer than I had foreseen :)

here's the link.

FTFY ;)

Added the calendar and planets to campaign info tab. Let me know what else you would like to see along these lines.

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@Limnen_euron, this explains why I couldn't find your exotic fighting style:

Midgard Campaign Setting wrote:

Two additional regions are not covered in this book. The first are the Kingdoms of Gold and Salt, also more commonly called the Southlands (including Cindass, Saph-Saph, Roshgazi, Omphaya, Lignas, Morreg, Terrotu, Narumbeki, and Kush). The second is the East, including Khandiria, Sikkim, Beldestan, and Far Cathay. Each area is extensive enough to merit its own catalog of wonders.

Indeed, the more information I gather the more I realize there is to know.

Perhaps I've found a way to sort of circumvent this point while having all pieces fall into place: Zobeck's largest bordello, the Silk Scabbard, is also its most prominent fighting pit, apparently. My character (still looking for a name!) could have been born there from the union between an exiled elf and a resident courtesan, and perhaps been taken under the wing of on old fighter hailing from one of these lands you mentioned – someone who realised a brothel is a dangerous place for a girl to grow, and taught her all he could about self-defense and the martial arts. Soon, she decided she liked his lessons better than the prospect of following in her mother's footsteps, and left the establishment altogether while still entering the occasional fight to keep herself sharp. I'm incorporating those details into her background right now.

@Momo Duline: got your PM and thinking about some possible links as I'm fleshing out a background (sorry if I'm answering you here but since it ties closely to what I've just written, I find it conceptually easier to wrap everything up in a single post). I'm visualizing her as a urban half-elf, so very few ties with Old Margreve, but from what I've read elves and half-elves might be uncommon enough for her to stand out as an oddity in a predominantly human city like Zobeck. Momo could have been naturally drawn to her among a sea of stranger faces, and being so young, she could have been taken under her wing or something similar? Their skillsets are also pretty similar and tending towards the stealthy/acrobatic, so some sort of "partners in crime"?

Ok I think I've got the crunch (mostly) done. I've built her as a 6th level character as I usually like to plan ahead with my builds, and I'm going to downgrade her to a 2nd level one in the following days.

Now on to the hard part (that is, getting acquainted with the setting and flesh her out as a full-blown person, rather than just a bunch of numbers adding together).

Limnen_euron wrote:

Still, at the same time my complete lack of experience with it is what makes me insecure about embarking in such a Campaign: I don't know if I'll be able to build a character with enough ties to Zobeck and Midgard as a whole to truly stand out and come to a life of her own, and even if I do, expect a steady stream of questions about the setting's peculiarities and quirks as I try to make her fit as seamlessly as possible in the overall narrative :)

I am learning the setting myself. This module doesn't range far across the scope of the setting. It is mostly Zobeck, the Margrave, and the fey. The other regions I listed are there for those who want to be from someplace exotic, but a character who only knows a small section of the Crossroads region will work well. I am very happy to have a dialogue about the setting. As the questions come in by PM, my attention is turned to different corners of Midgard in an organic way which I am really enjoying.

Perfect. I'll follow in your steps, then, and get acquainted with Zobeck first, and then expand from there. So far, I'm seeing things which remind me a bit of Exalted (the Imperatrix court, the flat world), which is good. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't trying to build a character who would have no place in this world. On that note...

Quote:

I understand elves are held in a somewhat high regard in Zobeck – or is it a Fey thing? I would probably make her a half-elf, the aftermath of an illicit tryst between some important elf and a courtesan disavowed by her own father: would that make sense (other than being a bit too cliché – but I might work on that)? Also: would there have been a way for her to learn her fighting style (some sort of very swift, DEX-based martial art) in Zobeck I could integrate into her background?

Thank you for bringing up elves, another player has asked about them via PM so I will speak about them below.

Your idea is not cliche and I wouldn't mind if it were. As long as you can get inside that characters head it will be worthwhile. Please let me know which elves are appealing to you most so I can read up further. There has been a character submission which is looking for an association with an elven group in the Margreve forest which has yet to have been fleshed out. These would not be aristocratic elves but depending how your concept evolves there could be a tenuous opportunity for a connection to be explored.

Is anyone planning on being an elf? I wouldn't mind having Momo know someone else who lives in The Old Margrave. Alternatively, maybe someone who is a local in the city of Zobeck. PM me if you're interested and maybe we can work a story out!

Even though the concept I was fiddling with was a bit more of an urban one in nature, I'm definitely interested in establishing links. I understand most elves living in this forest just north of Zobeck would be of the River variety, so perhaps Momo could know my character's father, who sired her during his exile?

Quote:

I personally like a strong, enticing narrative, and if there's no obvious one in sight, I thoroughly enjoy working with my GM to create one myself.

This one does have a narrative it just isn't linear. There is an inciting event, there are antagonists, but there is not a clear path to proceed on at all times. Things can be done in different orders and in different ways and with different outcomes.

Just what I wanted to hear.

I'll be statting her up shortly, and then flesh out her background a bit more in depth as I learn more about the setting.

EDIT: to determine starting status as defined by 4+CHA, is that supposed to mean one's CHA modifier or his raw CHA score (i.e. would a 14 CHA character start with a Status score of 18 or 6)? (the latter would make more sense IMHO, though as they say, when in doubt, just ask...) Would multiclass character take the best, worst, or average of their individual modifiers?

What caught your eye about this campaign? What was it about this particular game ad that made you want to apply? Also, is there anything about it from the description that concerns you?

The first thing which caught my eye is the solidly written, strong introductory post, detailing in great depths the campaign's structure and flavour as well as the GM's obvious penchant for powerful role-playing. It also showed his willingness to pour a lot of effort into his work, which, coupled with him linking Painlord and Doomed Hero's excellent guides, bodes very well for this PbP's longevity and enjoyability. Truly, I saw (and have myself been part of) many PbPs wither and die during my permanence on these forums, and not once due to poor system mastery and/or a TPK – it was always a long process of apathy and stagnation marked by a conspicuous lack of "pushing posts" and synergized roleplaying towards a common goal; exactly the kind of issues the guides address.

The second aspect which intrigued me is also the one that partially concerns me: a fresh setting notably distinct from Golarion. Though I enjoy Paizo's work, I've always felt their own Campaign Setting as a whole was more of a patchwork of different ambiences each one tailor-made as the stage of a specific AP rather than a coherent, immersive Fantasy World. On the contrary, the material the GM posted under the Campaign tab speaks to me of a suggestive, complex and vivid world, one I'd be eager to explore with a completely fresh outlook. Still, at the same time my complete lack of experience with it is what makes me insecure about embarking in such a Campaign: I don't know if I'll be able to build a character with enough ties to Zobeck and Midgard as a whole to truly stand out and come to a life of her own, and even if I do, expect a steady stream of questions about the setting's peculiarities and quirks as I try to make her fit as seamlessly as possible in the overall narrative :)

What are you thinking of playing? You don’t have to wait to have a finished character before you let us hear about your concept. It’s fun to talk about ideas and it might spark something for someone else.

I was thinking of playing some sort of Courtesan-like character, quick of wit and pleasant to the eye, who could nonetheless turn into a deadly martial artist at a moment's notice. Mechanically, she would be built as a Rogue/Brawler DEX-based martial, using her high Bluff modifier and battlefield mobility to pull off as many sneak attacks as possible. High AC and DPS, average HPs, plenty of skill points in both social and infiltration skills (Bluff, Diplomacy, Stealth, Acrobatics etc.).

Her primary motivation would be social advancement, though she would not lack a softer side, especially when children are involved. I understand elves are held in a somewhat high regard in Zobeck – or is it a Fey thing? I would probably make her a half-elf, the aftermath of an illicit tryst between some important elf and a courtesan disavowed by her own father: would that make sense (other than being a bit too cliché – but I might work on that)? Also: would there have been a way for her to learn her fighting style (some sort of very swift, DEX-based martial art) in Zobeck I could integrate into her background?

What is your posting availability like? What pace do you prefer, what can you commit to, and what’s the max you can do if things take off?

As a teacher, my afternoons are usually pretty free barring special inconveniences. As a disclaimer, however, my time-zone is GMT+1, so that might not work too well with a mostly US-based group.

Are you ok with encounters that challenge the player as well as the character? That is to say, do you mind if you need to suggest a course of action in order to use a relevant skill check to get a result?

I ask because this issue divides some gamers. My position is somewhere in the middle, and I adjust somewhat based on who I’m playing with. I believe a reticent player should not be precluded from playing a dashing character, so no one should be required to actually make a stirring speech in order to succeed on a diplomacy check. On the other hand I don’t like dry dice rolls, particularly in PbP. This is a written medium and you must make some effort to describe what you are attempting to do.

Though I empathize with the argument that goes "I'm not supposed to be an Olympic fencer IRL in order to make an attack roll against an orc, then why should I be expected to be some sort of rhetorician before I'm allowed to roll for Diplomacy?", I also think that if something adds to the game rather than detracting from it, it shouldn't be considered inherently bad, too. On the contrary, just like a vivid description of someone's attack makes for a more enjoyable combat post, a good speech or a cleverly illustrated stunt would be the perfect preamble to a skill check.

Where does your preference lie on the spectrum between railroad and sandbox gaming?

To be clear I don’t mean railroad as a pejorative. This campaign will begin a little rail-roady (although if you take it off the rails I will do my best to go with you), and it develops into a very free-form location based sandbox. It’s important that you enjoy that kind of gaming, because the action will stagnate if the party is not engaged in self-directed exploration and investigation. There will not always be an inciting incident making it clear where to go next.

I personally like a strong, enticing narrative, and if there's no obvious one in sight, I thoroughly enjoy working with my GM to create one myself. As a general reference, I poured hundreds of hours into the various Elder Scrolls games, but eventually never pushed myself to fully complete even one; on the other hand, I found the first Dragon Age a very good compromise between narrative-driven and free-roaming gameplay (as well as the various Obsidian games, from Baldur's gate to Pillars of Eternity).

Generally speaking, I'm with Painlord and Doomed Hero in that I fully expect the onus of pushing a game forward should fall on both the GM and players alike and in equal measure. I mean, why putting all those ranks in Diplomacy if one never uses them to Gather Information from time to time, right?

Wow, it's true that the afterparty is when the coolest things happen! That was a good read to find upon returning to the thread, guys!

I'd be intrigued to explore additional options to get as many people as possible on the bandwagon. There's FAR more than just four amazing roleplayers here (I mean, we can all agree everyone has had a couple of great moments here – many, more than just a couple).

"Discreet, inconspicuous and not too eager to volunteer information we weren't explicitly asked for" Tiferet says having thoughtfully pondered Morgraine and Inire's advice. "And a half truth is always better than a full lie. Got it" When she stepped through the Portal, she did so ready to face a full-fledged contingent of trolls and guards – even the Witch herself. But this – this climate of deceit and mistrust everyone, from the Jadwigas to the humblest peasant, seem to be part of – this somehow manages to be even worse: more frustrating and probably quite as deadly. There's a far reaching shadow looming over Irrisen, colder than Winter itself. And now it threatens to grab the whole world in its clutches.

"Nadya has graciously offered her residence if we want to have a conversation far from prying eyes" she then chimes in, elaborating on Nathara and Eirikr's remarks. "Might be a good place where to decide on our next step without attracting unsolicited attention."

During her watch, Tiferet used her whetstone to hone Eirikr, Inire and Nathara's weapons (they get +1 dmg. to their first hit).

"There's always some degree of risk involved, whatever option we'll end up taking" says Tiferet joining Eirikr in front of the portal, the hint of bags under her eyes testament to her tumultuous night.

"If there's no-one guarding the other side, as Illarion's words and the fact no-one tried to cross the Portal to check on Teb's silence would suggest, it really makes no difference – other than the very real possibility Inire suggested" she reasons, arms folded. "If there is some kind of presence, on the other hand... then we'll be better off facing it all as one than in dribs and drabs." Coming through a supposedly guarded Portal from the other side of Golarion would hardly qualify us as merchants, after all.

"I say we all enter the Portal, together."

With a point buy floating around in the mid-thirties, Morgraine's cursed to have very few things she's bad at ;)

Tiferet also shifted somewhat. She was supposed to be more paladin-like and austere the way I envisioned her, but in the meantime I've picked up watching a webseries (RWBY, if that means anything to you), so I've been getting inspiration from one of the protagonists (Yang, the big blonde one – not really coincidentally) and making her more brazen and hotheaded as things go by (WIS is her dump stat, after all).

"But neither are brave men dissuaded from their path by the lure of easy power. The best intentions are worth little when the end starts justifying the means" Tiferet replies, silver staring into brown.

"And perhaps, there will come a time when, because of the power gained today, someone would suffer. Because it's the Witch Queen's mark we are talking about. It's all so... hypothetical. We both have fears, Inire, coming one day to regret our decisions not among the least of them." Her voice is soft and broken, as if looking for empathy rather than trying to prove a point.

"Can you promise me you're only doing this so that you can better protect the innocents? That you won't let it corrupt you... or me, by whatever means necessary?" Her question is almost a plead, as her eyes shift between Inire and Nathara.

Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (4) + 9 = 13 uhm... It's magic Missile right? I bet it's Magic Missile!

"It seems we've already decided we need this power in order to succeed. I wonder what would have happened if we had never fortuitously stumbled upon you, Illarion." She makes a point of calling the Dark Rider by his name. If what he said was true, he originally was one of Irrisen's Ulfen... just like her. Let us both be reminded of that.

"I say we would have probably pressed on nonetheless. It seems you, or Fate, have conspired to make cowards of us all" she jokingly says – though how much of it was actually a jest she has left purposefully unclear. "And if we have already accepted in our hearts that our own powers won't be enough to face the challenges ahead, where shall we draw the line? Will we always crave for more, strike more deals, and rationalize that such sacrifices are inevitable for the greater good to triumph?" She's still looking at the Rider, but it is clear she's addressing her companions instead. And yet, only she and Morgraine remain who haven't partaken of the mantle's power. Even my Dark Sister has embraced it.

"It is a dangerous road to tread upon" she laconically concludes, but with the spent voice of someone who knows she has already lost.

To never compromise would be highly impractical and condemn one to hardly ever act all. The old image of the circle of philosophers.

In real life? Sure. In a game? We could pick the uncompromising, non-mythic route and still save the day. That's probably how the AP was originally written. The perks of heroic fantasy is that there's always a black-and-white, escapist vibe to it (though Wrath of the righteous is probably the right AP for that). Mind you, I usually like my fantasy to be grittier, so getting to role-play Tiferet being gnawed by self-loathing for having betrayed her ancestors and now serving their bitterest enemy is a plus!

Of course, we signed up for a Mythic campaign, so the first route is already barred. This restricts our alternatives considerably, at least in the short term.

Well, there's also the fact that there is a very low probability that Baba Yaga will be our only source of mythic power. After all, there are only three riders to draw from, unless we eat her house, too. And then her mortar, and her pestle, and then it just gets wacky when we eat the russian tank in her living room...

Shouldn't Mythic "level ups" be achieved through Trials? Basically, you need a source to become Mythic, but then it just takes doing cool things™ to get more Mythic?

Unfortunately, Inire has the same morality that I had a decade ago. That the good choice is to choose what benefits me least, but does not directly hurt others.

Talking about game theory, your stance would allow you to beat the prisoner's dilemma. So... nice job?

Spellcraft: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25

A veritable river of obscenities pours out of Tiferet's mouth. "Tsathogga's putrid buttocks" she curses. "That glorified mosquito had the brains to magically protect himself from fire!"

I liked them better when they were stupid.

"What makes a man accept his lot in life? Hope, of raising himself above his station one day, and fear, of losing everything he has were he to abandon his duty" Tiferet muses in response to Inire's observations, waxing somewhat philosophical. "Still, if one wishes to rule only through the latter, he needs to display exceptional power and cunning – and the Witches are known for having both in abundance. The ease with which we've been penetrating through their defences troubles me too."

"And yet" she goes on, raising her gaze upwards as though a new-found hope pervades her, "they say we're living in the Age of Lost Omens, when Prophecy fails and the Fates are erratic and inscrutable. Those who have been deciphering the tapestry of Destiny claim that it appears worn out, increasingly frayed around the edges. Might it be that we're slipping through one of its cracks, an unforeseen variable even the mighty failed to account for? That an icy kraken has spread its tentacles far and wide, only for the least and furthest of them to meet an obstinate resistance which now threatens to cleave a fissure spreading all the way back to its frozen core?"

"Something is shifting in the ways of the world. And in the end, Inire has the right of it. A society ruled by fear is frozen and immutable – but change comes, sooner or later; and when it does, it's like a flood that feeds on all the resentment and mistrust that's been piling up for centuries. By trying to extend their icy grasps into the outside world, the Witches might have very well inadvertently invited it in."

Ended up picking saving finale and read magic in the end. The latter because I realised it's a must have, and the former because I noticed it can be cast as an immediate action (and allowing someone to re-roll a failed save can be a life-saver).

"I must confess, I've never been the most methodical student of magic" Tiferet says to Eve as she slowly gets back to her feet, still a little stunned from the energies that were released as the soul finally found her freedom. "Having spent most of my youth getting in trouble all around Oppara, I've kind of learnt that hitting things sometimes solves problems subtlety seems all but impotent about. And if that doesn't work, hit them harder."

She attempts a half-smile, as if to exorcize the gravity of the moment, but as Inire whispers her question her demeanour turns sombre again. "No idea" she says. "Only guesses. One more horrific than the other." She shrugs, but she's actually trying to conceal a shiver which just went down her spine. It's clear this is a matter she can't bring herself to linger upon for too long. She watches wordlessly as Eirikr's impromptu funeral comes to an end, whispering a prayer for the girl's soul to safely reach that better place she spoke of. Pharasma knows where her real body is. What the Witch did with it. For the first time since their adventure began, she feels her emotions threatening to overwhelm her as her Celestial blood screams for vengeance.

The Witch dies.

Knowledge (Arcana): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19

So this is how it works.

Despite all her researches, Tiferet has never been able to pinpoint the exact mechanisms through which a soul is syphoned into a doll. Luckily, it appears Morgraine's knowledge of all things Irrisen runs deep indeed. As usual.

First horror, then rage mounts up inside her at the thought a magic so foul could exist. Without uttering a single word, she tears the gem off the doll's face and repeatedly stomps upon it, attempting to crack it under her heel.

Strength Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Strength Check: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

If a natural 20 fails, she's going to resort to hitting it with her axe until it breaks

I'm pretty sure – though I might very well be wrong since I can't seem to find it – there was a FAQ somewhere that explicitly states that if Class X gives you an ability from Class Y which depends on how many levels of Y you have, Y is for all intents and purposes to be substituted with X in every instance it appears – should you have levels in both classes, you don't get the ability twice but you use the sum of X + Y (one could even argue Improved Uncanny Dodge sets a precedent in that regard). I say that because with many Archetypes hybridizing different classes, this is a very widespread issue. I played a Daring Champion Cavalier who had the swashbuckler's Panache and Deeds extraordinary ability coupled with deeds which depended on her 'swashbuckler level'; in that case, the RAI was so clear that at first I didn't even notice there was a potential problem.

Pathfinder is such a rules-heavy system that at times trying to master it feels like studying Law. Though in the Kensai example, getting twice your INT bonus to AC requires forcibly misinterpreting the obvious RAI (and getting none simply makes no sense at all), while the 'Irori + Arshea' is more nuanced in that regard – you don't have to exploit the fundamental ambiguity of natural language for it to work, for instance. It's just an unforeseen consequence of an unforeseen interaction.

The Mogwai, on the other hand, are a glaring example of bad monster design ;)

Knowledge (arcana): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (20) + 8 = 28 lol nice squandering of a potential crit

Tiferet remembers when she was little, and the stories her mother used to tell to scare her. Do you know what happens to young misses who don't behave? she would ask after one too many escapades through Oppara's alleys, getting into fights with her male cousins. The Witch comes, and syphons their souls away, leaving only empty, withered husks behind. Many dolls the Witch has in her hut far, far North; and each one contains the soul of an unruly girl who wouldn't listen to her parents. They scream and beg, but no-one can hear them, oh no. And sometimes, the Witch picks up one doll and carries it away into the dark, cold wilderness, and she's never heard of again.

So terrified had Tiferet been of this horrible fate, that once she'd grown up, she dug up every information she could about Irrisen's Soulbound Dolls. The truth, as it happened, turned out to be even more chilling than the tale. I should have thought about it when she mentioned the doll. Hers must be the soul fuelling this abomination. She was trying to lead us here so that we could destroy her prison.

"They're imbued with cold magic and only vulnerable to weapons infused with arcane energies" she elaborates on Morgraine's warning as she channels her own eldritch power into the arrow she's nocking. "Their powers are both telekinetic and psychic in nature, and what they see, the Witches know" she adds, the unsettling memory of the Irriseni mirrors coming back to her mind.

________________________________________________________________

Free Action: Knowledge check, speak

Move Action: move 2 sq. NE

Free Action: draw bow

Swift Action: activate Arcane Strike

Standard Action: shoot at the doll
   Longbow: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6 Damage: 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8

Perform (sing): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (17) + 8 = 25
Perform (percussions): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (15) + 8 = 23

Tiferet's response to Nathara's desire is a languid, nocturnal tune which whispers of ancient things wandering in the dark, cloaked and unknown; suddenly, a joyous crescendo, as those who once were lost have stepped into the light, and bask now in its glory.

Then, the lyrics begin, a song of sadness and betrayal as the darkness longs for her missing children. A song of jealousy, of yearning for the tiniest fleck of her sister's light, so that her creatures would learn to find their way back to her, and no longer walk astray into the night. A song of madness and fury, twisted beings engaging in a frenetic and beastly dance under a cruel light, a mutilated chiaroscuro which longs to sculpt monsters out of men.

And lastly, a song of love, for that shining beacon which used to be whole and now is whole no more, and for a man, a single man within the beast, for him to turn his back to the fury, and once again embrace the peaceful stillness of the night.

Funnily enough, Morgraine has the highest CON score among the whole party (tied with Eirikr) :)

As the last shovelful of frozen dirt falls upon the mound, Tiferet drives the spade into the ground and whispers a silent prayer to Tolc to commend his soul to His guidance into the afterlife. Eventually, she wraps the journal in a piece a cloth she took from the hunter's belongings and places it on top of the grave and beneath a rock, so that anyone happening to stumble upon it would know the identity as well as the unfortunate fate which befell upon the courageous man buried underneath.

"It pains me how your bow is the only thing I was able to mend" she says as, with a few whispered words and a movement of her hand, the broken weapon becomes whole again. "I'll borrow it for one last hunt, and hope you would have considered me worthy of this honour."

The day's weariness finally catching up with her, she sits down on the cold snow to catch her breath. She listens raptly as Eirikr recounts the tale of the two maidens; the young man has a melodious, melancholic voice which adds to his rugged yet youthful charm, a stark contrast with the feral creature she has fought besides but a short time earlier. "It is a wonderful story" she says softly, still half-lost into it. "Gives one food for thought."

I wonder which of the two sisters holds the keys to his heart.

You call it an ordinary longbow – I call it doubling our ranged attack capabilities ;)

"His name is... was Dryden Kepp. A hunter from Heldren" Tiferet says as she reads on, without averting her eyes from the book. "This must have been his campsite. It says he was hunting some sort of giant weasel, but it managed to escape him. Explains those arrows. Also, he probably laid down more traps, so we should be watchful."

She falls silent for a while, frowning a little as she tries to make sense of the last entries. "Huh. That's weird. Apparently, there's a cabin deeper in the woods, surrounded by a maze of ice. He claims he heard the wail of a child coming from inside. Normally, I'd call these the delusions of a man cut off from civilization and lost in unfamiliar woods, but given the present circumstances, I can't bring myself to discard them outright."

"That's all" she declares, closing the journal and handing it to the others to inspect. "Alas, it seems he fled from the frying pan only to fall into the fire."

@Eve: without changing anything you've done, would you be willing to add a Swift Action to your turn and use it to cast Hypnotic Stare on Izoze?

At this point, I feel it's either that or liberal use of Alchemist's Fire, as our ranged capabilities are too scarce to out-dps a regenerating foe with Damage Reduction (though Tiferet's Arcane Strike bypasses it, she has no way to hit her other than the flashy stunt she put under the spoiler).

@Nathara: you were thinking of catching the mephit with a grappling hook? Is all of our equipment loaded up on Lily, or is someone carrying some of the stuff on his person? I also agree on the fact that it should be the two of us going toe-to-toe against Izoze, due to cold resistance...

Watching what's basically a charismatic demi-goddess with quite a few connections among the upper planes rallying her troops against an enemy only for them to completely ignore him must truly be a hilarious sight... Like 'guys, my CHA modifier has been in the double-digits for a while now, WHY AREN'T YOU LISTENING TO ME?!' *flails

My preferred format is also discussions OOC, consequences and/or acting out the decisions IC.

Two characters talking with each other can be easily dealt by means of spoilers while the game flows on, it's when six people are trying to speak at once that the whole thing tends to become unwieldy (but I believe we've already discussed that ;) ).

No, you're right I didn't commission the breastplate because a. I didn't know if I had enough money and b. I didn't want to impose a schedule on the whole party without discussing it first.

Thought the same (OOC of course).

It's a Sense Motive check vs. DC 25 to see if she's acting under magical compulsion (but a more achievable 15 if dominated). Alternatively, a lowly Protection from Evil could stop any form of mind control long enough for her to tell us if she's under the effect of such a spell.

Sigh. We were ready to go and now we're neck-deep in paranoia. Well played, GM. Well played.

I agree with Inire, indeed, I believe that poisons (bar the incapacitating ones) were probably meant more as a tool to be used against the PCs (who usually survive their encounters and then have to deal with the subsequent Ability damage) than NPCs (who usually... don't). Of course, one can be creative. Still, Greenblood oil would potentially make one lose 2 hp/HD over the course of 4 rounds if the target fails 4 DC 13 Fort saves in a row... but at that point, such a target would probably already be dead anyway.

As for the killing thing... I basically agree with you, GM. The way I see it (in an RP game – obviously! – and very schematically)

• Killing people for fun and profit => Evil
  
• Killing in self-defence, or summarily killing bad people for the greater good without trying other options => Neutral
  
• Killing the irredeemable, such as demons, or capital E Evil people who have no intention of forsaking their ways and whose protracted existence would in all likelihood bring pain and suffering => Good

Tiferet I believe carried most of it (those items that hadn't been claimed beforehand, that is, like Rohkar's cloak) since mechanically she would have been the one least influenced by encumbrance. Consider it unceremoniously dumped near their pallets before they went to bed (add the bandits' weapons to the mix as she disarmed them).

We also still need to give Yuln his sword back and look for someone to claim Dansby's bow (at least, it's the thought that counts...).

Quick question: how are we handling consumables? Everyone buys their own or are they purchased with communal money and then shared? The former option is fairer in a free-market kind of way (no-one is forced to spend gold on things he doesn't feel he'd need, no need to have lengthy discussions about what is reasonable to buy and what is not), the latter might allow us to more efficiently allocate our resources (e.g. Tiferet advocated the use of Alchemist's Fire, but wouldn't hold one herself; or healing potions which should be imbibed by those who need them the most rather than just bought them).

bump

"Agreed" Tiferet says as she's tying up the last remaining standing bandit.

Escape artist DC24 to get free

With everything being said and done, she makes her way to the lodge's porch, where Eirikr has been sulking since Rohkar's been dealt with. For a while, she sits besides him, in silence, her eyes intent on piercing the darkness ahead.

"It was during my puberty that my ability to alter my shape first manifested. I only remember seeing an elven girl and wishing I were as pretty as her. My clan took it as proof of Celestial blood still running strong in my veins, in my lineage. Everybody rejoiced."

Again, silence. Then she resumes her speech, a pensive expression on her face. "The point is... I'll make no pretences to know what you could possibly have been through, back in Ustalav. I can only assume your experiences have been diametrically opposite of mine. But there's one thing I can tell you. You hunger. But you're not responsible for your hunger, it wasn't you who created the beast within. It is what you are, but not who you are. Where you choose to direct that hunger, however... that's what defines you. And as long as you point it at guys like Rohkar, it will be a honour to share your hunt."

For what is worth, I believe you made the right choice. I've seen plenty of campaigns die off on these forums, and not one due to a TPK. It was just them slowly fading out because of people gradually losing interest – I believe your choices have made sure the latter scenario won't happen any time soon :)

I'm on GMT+1, as I believe Nathara is. As for hooks, I'll try to lay down more of them as well. For now, this is how Tiferet sees the rest of the party:

Nathara: her sister through a blood pact. So different, yet so similar. The dusk to Tiferet's dawn, the grace to Tiferet's brute power. And yet, merciful and passionate, a mistress of both blade and magic.

Inire: shy and demure, yet competent and deadly. There's so much more of her than meets the eye, and Tiferet believes she doesn't give herself enough credit. A petite half-elf almost half her weight, and yet the Ulfen woman would be afraid to meet her in battle.

Evelyn: a conundrum. Having witnessed first-hand how easy it is for her to lure people into the weave of her lies, Tiferet doesn't know what to make of every word she utters. Still, she suspects trying to read the darkly beautiful girl would be a futile effort – something she's reminded of every time her eyes meet her magnetic, penetrating gaze.

Morgraine: a mysterious yet charismatic woman of northern features wielding no small arcane power. Many things about her past are vague at best, and if the crow spoke the truth, for a good reason. Still, she has proven a valuable addition to the party, and Tiferet suspects her heart is in the right place.

Eirikr: a green boy who probably hasn't yet seen his eighteenth spring yet, despite what his stature might suggest. Handsome, strong and tall, he forces Tiferet to raise her eyes to look at him – a very welcome change. And yet, there is a ferality in him she's seldom seen elsewhere, as if he were torn between two natures (as his words at the Silver Stoat would suggest). She'd hate to see such a powerful young man slip into darkness, and she would probably go to great lengths to prevent it.

As for the lodge, it's both bigger and closer than I thought. We might be able to fight our way through each room separately if we manage not to raise any alarm. Tiferet might cast vanish on Nathara, so that she could at least catch a good glimpse of how many people are in the closest one. If it's <=6, a surprise attack might prove quite effective.

"Well said!" Tiferet erupts into a hearty laughter.

"Oh don't give me that look, Ashen. I bet bandits aren't much better" she says, crouching to pick up a nearby twig. "You got to feast on rabbit, so you can't really complain." She throws the twig as far as she can, prompting the young wolf to dart away in its pursuit. As he comes back with the stick in his mouth, she showers him with compliments – and discreetly hands him some leftover rabbit she had saved for later. Most of the remaining afternoon she spends in a similar fashion, throwing objects for him to fetch, till both beast and woman are eventually content to simply lie down in the snow.

Handle Animal (teaching Ashen the Fetch trick): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17

Handle Animal was really just a side benefit of me picking Versatile Performance (percussions), but it's nice to be able to put it to good use. It also gives Tiferet the perfect excuse to spend 3 hours a day playing with Ashen!

This ^

I believe we all share a bit of guilt for this one, and you actually being the first to reach out and say you're sorry makes you probably the one who has the least to feel apologetic about.

As for dropping the ball – with Alysandra being a passive observer, I continued checking throughout August if there was something happening she could react to, and then outright stopped without even bumping, for which I'm really sorry. I don't think it was a matter of posting being too onerous, though; as intricate and sometimes long-winded everybody's posts might have been, they always were a pleasure both to write and to read. For me, it was more having hit a wall made of molasses, in the sense that everything we discovered spawned more interrogatives than it solved. With paranoia running rampart, I didn't know which information to trust and which to doubt, and I soon felt lead to second-guess everything.

Which, let it be clear, was absolutely terrific in its own way, and surely a testament to your ability as both a writer and GM. Given its strong narrative structure and the complexity of characters such as Callista, Cawmirth and Sebi, I still believe that this campaign would have worked supremely well as a F2F game, and the only reason it floundered is due to it suffering because of the constraints the PbP medium imposed on it. So yes, if you were to run another AP, do absolutely count me in!

P.S.: now I'm curious though – was Aurion Thorn a Chelaxian mole? Who was the mastermind behind everything? PM me if you comprehensively don't want to spoil a very good plot you might want to re-use some day :)

P.P.S.: Sebi, just let me state that I subscribe to everything Phil said about this particular moment you're living through. Congratulations, I wish you and your newborn daughter all the best!

Tiferet would probably just take a short nap towards the end... It's only midday after all. The only ones who must actually sleep are those who have to study their spellbooks; which means, well, basically just Nathara :)

It's actually almost noon (somewhere between 2 and 3 hours walking and then conversations and the fight), but yeah, it's a bit early to sleep.

Tiferet is back at camp just as Nathara is finishing setting up the fire. She sits silently for a while, but when the ash-skinned elven maiden takes her leave and beckons her to follow, she manages to shake some of her indolence off.

Intriguing she thinks as Nathara explains the meaning of her performance. The story of two different creatures, irreconcilably alien in outlook and sensibilities, who manage to develop a mutual understanding of each other in spite of everything. She wonders if Vosi is able – or willing – to take the hint. In a way, she hopes so; for otherwise that kind of stories have the tendency to end with the dragon dying.

She quickly banishes the thought, however, and tries her best to relax. For once, she's just there as a spectator. As soon as she unravels the intrinsic rhythmic structure of her performance, she starts banging it on her drums, following Nathara's movements as they get more and more frenetic before humming a cavernous, syncopated tune to accompany the truncated nature of her dance.

Perform (Sing): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (14) + 8 = 22
Perform (Percussion): 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (11) + 8 = 19