Perrish's page

Thanks for the game.

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For what it's worth, I like the concept.

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Likewise. I like the characters, if the players care to show up.

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Perrish nudges Pike sharply to prompt him to address the troops.

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The old Mother Perrish nudges Pike. "Tell them to hold back and attack at our signal. We can do our business at night and go for the leader when they launch their attack."
She then stops to ponder aloud, "What should our signal be...?"

In that case, let's pass on the scouting.

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I suppose Aerik is our missing man then.

I'm here. Would love to hear from the other two.

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We have a few days to prepare, yes? Can we do drills and scouting?

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I am.

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"Well I think we need to deal with this sea witch. If we sneak into the ale storage house, we can deal with this witch and whittle their forces as they send men to fetch the drink. Then we can have our men stage an attack as a distraction while we move on the leader ourselves." Perrish suggests, looking into the air as though watching the whole event playing out before her.

"How many days' travel is it to the shipyards?" Perrish demands. "If we're to hit them while they're drunk, we need to hurry." Her face wrinkles up in stern concentration.
"Even if we defeat their new leader, I fear this sea witch may give us trouble beyond what we can prepare for. Too many underestimate the true power of magic."

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Ah, sorry. I don't think we knew what to ask after having intimidated the man on-site.

Perrish considers the information and paces a bit, idly tapping her staff. "Hmm... We should find out who the leader was before, and why there was a revolt. And who is this 'Black Arne'? What house does she come from? It seems like I'd know her if she was Ketilborn." The old woman remarks as she searches her mind for someone in her past who might've been described as such.
Knowledge:local: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
Knowledge:history: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (3) + 5 = 8

I thought one of the soldier types might interrogate the prisoner.

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"Stealing swords from the cairns?" Perrish slams her staff down sharply. "Freed from their good sense and decency is what they are!" She huffs and paces, looking flustered. "This is an affront to all of our ancestors! Something has to be done!"

Perrish goes out in the morning to wander the grounds and listen to whispers that only she can hear. She can be seen intermittently burying a hand-carved wooden bead or token just under the topsoil.
Someone a little more focused should come find me if anything important happens.

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"Easy? Ha!" Perrish scoffs as she makes her exit.
"These fresh-faced fighters don't know the first thing about the pains of magic." She thinks as she walks, rubbing her aged hands and considering the weight of her too many years.
She shakes the thoughts from her head and continues to her room.

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"I've gone to a lot of trouble today. I'll be in my room, resting. Someone bring me dinner." Mother Perrish says dismissively as she turns to proceed to her quarters.

I believe Pike & Torag have a captive. You'll need to handle him one way or another. I don't think we should let him go at this point.

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Do we know who "Domi" is?
Perrish works to keep the cattle in line and turn them around to return to the farm. T10 Handle Animal (untrained): 10 + 5 = 15

I know in the US it's a holiday week/weekend, so posting can be sparse.

Perrish watches them run off and speaks up in a harsh tone. "Let them be. We've done our work here. Pike, Torag, question the man in the pit." Even as she speaks, the ground begins to rise up in the pit and produce an injured Freed from its depth.

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I think his last move was not reflected/updated on the map.

I was supposing a cow would walk away from obviously unstable ground.
Mother Perrish loads a hand-polished stone into a sling of fabric hanging from her staff, then twirls it around and sends it flying towards one of the men. Her face scrunches in concentrated annoyance.
Sling: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24, Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 7

I should note that ending your turn next to the pit will require a DC 16 Reflex save to avoid falling in.

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Mother Perrish hurries to the ridge with surprising speed, then stretches out her staff and calls down in a low, echoing tone,
"See, your graves hunger for your eternal rest."
Casting create pit on the 3 Freed, DC 18 reflex save or fall 20ft; climb DC 25

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Right, they're raiders. I think we're within our rights here. But it's possible they could have another perspective on the situation that's worth learning.

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I guess we could technically talk to them, but that hadn't even occurred to me until now.
initiative: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
how does initiative work if theyre waiting for us to attack and our team is waiting for me to launch a surprise?

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Mother Perrish dismounts with surprising grace, then surveys the area. "We should attack all at once. Pike, you sneak up on them and attack once the chaos starts. Aerik and Torag, you charge over the ridge. I'll make a little bit of panic amongst them."
How far to the top of the hill, and how far from there to the Freed?

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Aerik's transformation seems to bring a slight smile to Perrish's face. "Oh heroes below, that is a good trick." She says to the now-wolf as she tries to settle her spooked horse. "Now why can't you do anything so useful?" she snaps at Torag.

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Perrish answers Pike bluntly. "What, are you afraid?" she scoffs, "Sometimes help comes from unexpected places. It doesn't matter who is your enemy's enemy, what matters is that you want the same thing."

perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
Perrish eyes the horizon. "Pike, can you get a look before we ride into trouble? Maybe we could get the jump on them."

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Perrish holds her words until the group has put some distance behind them, to avoid uninvited and unintended ears.
"I understand you men have a few ways with magic, so I hope this won't come as too much of a shock to any of you: I know some magic myself. Now it's nothing too fancy, don't you mind, just a few tricks I've learned over the years. I just need you to prepare to see some things; strange things, uncomfortable things, things others might not understand. I expect you to be respectful and not cast judgment on what you don't know. I'm here to help, and that's what matters. I hope all of that makes sense to you bunch of strong-armed brutes."
With that said, she speaks unfamiliar words and loops a string of beads around her neck. A small, chill breeze brushes past, but nothing more.
Mage Armor, as mentioned earlier. 4 hours, AC 16 (ooc in header)

I'll cast mage armor on the way. Targeting myself, of course.

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Mother Perrish looks at the woman and becomes flustered. "Oh stars above and heroes below, what've they done to you? Why, that's not proper between brothers and sisters, even of different houses. These 'freed' have to be dealt with. Why, this is simply unacceptable!" She rambles on a bit, pacing back and forth and tapping her staff on the ground.

When she finally settles, she looks to Aerik. "Well, where've they gone? Let's be after them!"

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Perrish goes back to her room to fetch her staff and returns with a few new charms affixed to it.
"Hmph. Come on then, someone give me a boost." she says with obvious distaste.
Ready. Note to self: put ranks in Ride next level

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Mother Perrish hurriedly shuffles from her room to find the source of the commotion. When she arrives, she looks quite displeased. "Are we shepherds now? So much nonsense of late. Do you folk even appreciate the importance of the work we're here for? Hmph!" she paces for a bit, but appears to be waiting for the others to give their answer.

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Enough of a cry for me to hear?

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Mother Perrish answers the door, still groggy.
"What?" She inquires harshly.
Upon receiving the commander's request, she scoffs, but nods. "Yes yes, of course."
She spends the morning braiding straw and carving beads for her baubles and charms. While no one is around, she closes her eyes and speaks to the air. "Braid this for me, dear." Unseen hands begin to weave the straw and lay it out on the floor. A tiny smile creeps across the old woman's face.
Unseen Servant and Craft: Jewelry

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Do we all sleep in shared quarters or private rooms?

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Before turning in for the evening, Perrish places a small charm in the center of her room and sprinkles the ashes of a creamated guard upon it. "Wake me if anyone comes in." she speaks to it, and a small whirl of dust answers.
Alarm, 8 hours, mental alert

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Mother Perrish smiles at the prospect of stew and eats quite contentedly, albeit slowly, as she tells Alfhild all about times she's spent on farms, old family stew recipes, and really anything that crosses her mind. Not one to notice when someone has better things to do, she continues to chatter until Alfhild excuses herself. Then she frowns. "When I was a young girl, we were taught to respect our elders. Taught with a green sapling branch. Disrespectful generation doesn't appreciate all we did for them." She continues to grumble through the remainder of her stew.

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"That's quite alright, child. Mother Perrish will take good care of your soldiers and bring them back safely." She says with a friendly pat on his hand.
"Now where is your kitchen? It's been a long and hungry trip, and in poor company..." She says, trailing off at the end and avoiding eye contact with her party as her smile vanishes.

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Mother Perrish nods politely. "Will there be riders to go back and forth, delivering messages and supplies and such?"

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"What might you tell us if the rumored Moonlit Altar? I've heard the most interesting tales, but no first-hand accounts." Perrish says with a charming smile.

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Mother Perrish gives a wrinkled smile. "Oh child, I'm afraid my memory isn't what it used to be. Remind old Mother Perrish of the details?" In sharp contrast to her behavior on the trip, she appears to be ingratiating herself to the commander.

She looks around at the hewn stone walls and takes on a more neutral tone. "Homey."

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Mother Perrish clings uncomfortably to the horse beneath her. More of a pony really, as it was easier for her to mount and dismount. She looks down upon the fort, an improvised reflection of glories long passed. In a valley that abandon the ways of its founders in search of peace, here men returned to blades and steel jackets in a desperate bid to regain that which was buried with the heroes of old: the warlike traditions of the people who came down from the mountains.

Svana herself had chosen Mother Perrish for the assignment, after she volunteered of course. The artifacts from the monsters had brought much discussion and insight, but with it came the burden of research. Ketil would need resources to speed up the work, and nobody would suspect Perrish was there to liberate what great treasures may remain in Gisli lands. But more than that, as a curator of the dead, she was known to have some mastery of wards that the great fighters might need. But most importantly, the mysterious Moonlit Altar might well hold the key to fighting back the Winter's monsters, at least in Perrish's mind.

She frowned smugly at the palisades and farmers playing soldier; they'd have been wise to remember their heroes and train in sword and magic. But at least they'd finally begun to see the importance of such things, and perhaps were finally willing to make the kind of sacrifices necessary to ensure the safety of the valley. With a squint and a shudder she spurred on her mount to descend towards the fortified farm.

Excellent. Let's get rolling!

Once I get in to work.

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I'd guess a smith like Torag would be, given the relative scarcity of weapon smiths and his apparently magical talent.

I doubt any of us are known as heroes though. We haven't really done anything yet.

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I use the alarm spells.

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Agreed. I was still going over mine as I feel like I missed something, but can't figure out what.

If anyone has any deceased friend or relatives, especially from Ketil and surrounding houses, you'll probably at least have heard of Mother Perrish. But unless you brought her a pie or you died, you probably haven't really spent much time with her.

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