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Mawj makes certain that his horse and his clothes are sporting as much purple as possible. "I'm guessing the aldermen will negotiate a peaceful surrender, in exchange for no looting or violence from the soldiers and no seizure of property. The King appoints a new Mayor, the city guard is replaced by a garrison, and lines on a map change. If they are smart, they will just change flags and continue business-as-usual." Mawj has no other preparations.
"I suggest we fly the colors of Cormyr on our wagons as quickly as possible. Also, find some handkerchiefs and tie them around your neck or arm. Now is the time to look patriotic. They may let us through with with minimal delay."
What does the fox say? *gurgling noises*
"Please elaborate on these 'other agents.' Their employer, numbers, abilities, et cetera."
"I doubt anyone couldn't benefit from a blessing of Sune." Mawj nods to Adon. "As for hiring blades, I am not in charge..." he looks toward Vorik.
Mawj's mouth makes a line as he thinks aloud. "Any other time I would suggest we deal with him. Quietly and quickly. But he has drawn too much attention to us. We may want to consider sleeping with the caravan to avoid complications."
Well, everything's relative. Cyric repaying a favor would most likely be the I'll-let-you-live-this-time variety.
My common sense is telling me, Don't get involved. My metagame is telling me, Having a proto-deity owe you a favor would be nifty.
Mawj is happy to accept the katana in exchange for the magical dagger. He feels refreshed from his alone-time away from the caravan. That many strong personalities cooped together is a recipe for conflict. He joins the party at the inn just before sundown. He drinks slowly and nibbles at the bread, still full from all of the mead he drank earlier. "You know," he began, idly drawing circles on the tabletop with a some spilled mead, "I heard some talk from the locals. Normally I'm not a rumormonger, but there is usually a grain of truth in most gossip -- and this rumor was running rampant through the crowds. They say the Purple Dragons will be marching into town and seizing the city. Chaos is bad for business. We may want to sleep with our shoes on tonight." When the angry merchant and the guards make their appearance, Mawj rests a hand on the hilt of his sword but does not stand. He overhears Dorn and Kyorruel talking. "As you say, jeweler. It might be gold, but he has the look of a man who just found out something unpleasant involving his daughter."
@Kyorruel - Why not just take Fencing Grace and stick with straight Magus? Granted, it limits your weapon options, but if you are specializing then you might as well.
With an ironwood guitar, you could be El Kabong. Alternatively, with a dagger/flute you could be the Green Power Ranger.
No, but I will take levels in the Landsknecht PrC after level 5.
I will be taking a level in Warlord from Path of War. Bushi template and specializing in Mithral Current maneuvers.
Mawj visits a tavern and rubs shoulders with the locals. He doesn't have any information he is looking for in particular, just getting the lay of the land and a breather away from the caravan. Afterwards, he visits some weapon stalls in the market. He is looking to sell his magic dagger. He also wants to buy a sword from Kara-Tur -- a masterwork katana.
Mawj motions beside him with his dagger. "Not a problem, just put 'em there, chief." He inspects the blade on his dagger. "Preparation is essential, but to be honest I do this to clear my mind more than anything. The quiet helps me think." He takes a closer look and tests the edge with his thumb. "Life shapes us like the whetstone shapes the blade. Adversity is adversity, regardless of its form. We decide whether it dulls or sharpens us, by how we approach the adversity." He smiles and shakes his head. "Well, look at me. Waxing philosophical. Go ahead, bring your tools. I can take care of them." He looks up at the tiefling. "So are you Pox, or The Pox? Either way, you could use a nickname. No offense."
Mawj continues sharpening and listening. Sharpening and listening. Caravans were rather dull, with staccato bursts of action. A part of his mind stayed aware to the conversations around him, but most of his attention was focused on the simple focus of the blade and the whetstone.
Mawj spends the evening in quiet contemplation -- sharpening his new magical dagger and staring into the fire. When will we find Harpers again? They already know the priests were planning an advance. This dagger's previous owner knew that. Attack during the night? Maybe. They are probably more interested in finding out what we're up to now. He looks at Vorik, then Dorn. If an attack comes, they may reckon the score. Not a stab in the back, too many people. But letting someone get killed by enemies? Probably their style...
Whoops. Fixed. Or we have inconvenient witnesses. :)
Mawj unslings his greataxe and rests it on his shoulder. He flexes his fingers and walks up beside Vorik. "Vorik, you're in charge. You give the orders. I can't stand Dorn's verbal diarrhea, but I doubt he's worth interrupting our business." His tone sounds bored, but his eyes are constantly scanning.
The best way to end a confrontation is to give both sides a common enemy. Thank you, 4E, for being so bad that even the most quarrelous players will come together to bash you.
Mawj folds his arms and takes several steps backward. Being a bodyguard was his cover, not his profession. He didn't have a horse in this race, so to speak, and endangering himself over a d*ck-waving contest was not on his agenda.
Mawj sees the backhand, and gives a half-mouthed smirk despite his best effort. He moves to stand near Dorn, but makes certain not to get between him and Vorik. "Master Dorn, did you require my help in completing inventory of our cargo? It would be a shame if anything went missing. Perhaps we could start with the boxes on the far side of the camp?..."
Mawj relaxes and sheathes his greataxe. The duo had been accepted into the caravan, and there was little that could be done without attracting unwanted attention. "I would like to hear your tale, Kelemvor. The wilds are too dangerous to ignore good advice."
Mawj maintains the grip on his axe -- he had not received an order to stand down and was determined not to blow his first mission. Hmm... What silly names...
Mawj unhooks his greataxe and stands ready. The leather grip creaks in his hands and very quietly -- you would have to be standing beside him to even catch it -- Mawj is softly humming a song.
Mawj nods in thanks to warning. As nonchalantly as possible, he unhooks his greataxe and shifts into a defensive stance. Preferably with partial cover from some boxes or barrels.
Oooohhh.... yeah, my bad. I forgot I was with Dorn and Edwin. I made an update post to clarify things.
Mawj nods in thanks to Vorik's warning. As nonchalantly as possible, he unhooks his greataxe and shifts into a defensive stance. Preferably with partial cover from some boxes or barrels.
...are we forming a band?
"Understood, sir." Mawj placed a fist sideways to his chest in salute. After Dorn's speech, he spared him a quick sidelong glance. Looks like someone put on his big-boy shoes today. Let's see how our patron appreciates 'suggestions'...
If not deities, I think we can all agree that killing Drizzt should be a priority at some point.
Thanks for the info, DM. I will take the pin. It could be useful for a disguise. For someone else, of course. Mawj is not trained in subterfuge.
Mawj nods affirmatively. "Tilverton is between the Thunder Peaks and the Desertsmouth Mountains. It's at Tilver's Gap, where the North Ride meets the Moonsea Ride. Heavy merchant traffic. The Moonsea Ride will take you to Arabel, and the North Ride to Shadowdale. It's an independent town, but Cormyr gets closer to swallowing it every year. I've never been there myself." Mawj will pocket the Harper pin.
Mawj is LE and a worshipper of Bane. Don't worry. The shenanigans thus far annoy the PC, not the player. Mawj is all about martial discipline, hierarchy, duty, etc. Being surrounded by Chatty Cathy civvies is chafing him a bit. Also, we did just kill someone and his body is still lying on the floor. :)
Mawj continues to stand at attention, but his mouth tightens in annoyance. Bane, grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change...
Guys. Guys. Do we need some team-building activities around here? Like a 'trust fall' or the 'human knot'? I hoped we would have bonded over murdering that spy, but so help me we will do a ropes course if you don't show some more synergy!
I'm glad we could avoid looking like jackals in front of our superiors. Mostly.
Mawj bends down and retrieves the man's dagger. He tucks it into his belt, then tears off a strip of the man's clothing and wipes off the blade of his greataxe. "The spy lies dead, my lord. Do you have further orders?"
I can take the +1 dagger, if no one objects.
If we open a portal, we can go to Krynn and wipe out the kender!
Races to be eradicated in the new world order, thus far: Gnomes
Racism? I HATE racism! Why, the only thing is hate more than racism... is halflings!
Mawj grunts in acknowledgement of the order. Well, this is unexpected. He rushes across the room, using the momentum of his charge to bring his heavy greateaxe across and up, a slight loop at the apex, and crashing down in an arc aiming for the man's collarbone.
Following the lead of his superiors, Mawj quickly draws his greataxe and stands ready. The leather handle creaks under his tight grip. His eyes dart warily between the priests and the dragon-man.
He looks like he could use some moisturizer. Mawj nods to Edwin.
I have no problem with PC versus PC combat. However, I would suggest that all PC combat be non-lethal by default without mutual consent.
Maybe a spanking? They sound like my nephews. Mawj stayed silent, but his mouth twitched a small grin.
Just don't come to blows, mkay? Characters dying before the game starts is for GURPS, not PF.
Mawj stands at attention and places a fist over his heart. "Majarian Whitesmith, sir. Guardsman. I was tasked with accompanying Vorik."
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