Yow! That's right. I was so disappointed when Wrath bowed out. Was that before Wellard started this?
Search Posts
Me'mori, I'd like to apply with young Pietro here. He might not quite fit your mold, but I was trying to create a character who would grow into the full-blown knight-in-shining-armor paladin from very humble and conflicted beginnings. As he was created for a specific lamentably deceased campaign, he has some background that would have to be changed, but I would like to keep the humble commoner family devoted to Abadar (and his trepidation about telling them he's devoted to Iomdeae), the strong sense of ideals born out of the failure of the local nobility, and his poor starting condition. He might make a good squire to the other, presumably better-heeled party paladin. I am perfectly willing to regenerate the character to your creation specs. I am clueless regarding Googlewave, but willing to learn. What are you thinking in terms of minimum posting, etc? EDIT: Pietro's Psych and History, spoilered here for your convenience. Spoiler: Psych:
Spoiler:
History: Spoiler:
With the approach of the Horde, Pietr's village splintered. Everyone fled as best they could. An outraged Pietro watched as the mounted armsmen, led by the sheriff, left first. The priests fled the temple, and told Pietr to find his family and flee as best he could. During the panic, Pietr went to the temple's small library. The great holy books had been saved already, but some others, including "Stories", had been left behind. He gathered up his favorite book and started running to his family's farm. The family stayed together well until they reached the city. In the city's heavy crowds, during the search for food and shelter, they became separated from first son Josep's family. Then in the final push to get aboard the ships, they lost the youngest daughter, Magdelana. Now there is only the father, mother, eldest daughter, Pietr, and the third brother.
Initiative:
Repulsed by the waves of evil rolling off the amphibians, Pietro concentrates on maintaining a neutral expression. He's working at it so hard that he's slow to react to the creatures' sudden action. "Treachery! " he cries and rushes to the captain's side.
Sense motive perception Intimidate Pietro stands to the left and slightly behind Captain Venn. He tries to look big, tough and confident without looking too aggressive. He wishes his oldest brother were here; he' s much bigger.
Her words about "something for you" echo in Pietro's mind. "A sword," he thinks. "She's the hand of Iomedae and she's found me a sword to use on this mission."
Pietro takes a long moment to register exactly what she's said. she pauses for a moment before continuing, her voice breathy and whispered "and myself". She moves forwards, her head tilted up, eyes closed and lips slightly parted. Everything was perfect..... Pietro drew her close. He was unsure of exactly what to say or do, or how to do it. She felt warm and soft in his arms. "Astallia, " he breathed. Until Pietro was again assailed by that sense of evil in the water. Moving fast and heading towards the festivities. Many more this time. Pietro's head snapped up and whipped sideways to look at the water. No visible sign of anything, but he could feel it, them coming. "We've got to get back. There's something coming. Something bad." He pushed Astallia in front of him up the slope toward the camp. "Faster, we've got to run." He looked back over his shoulder at the black water behind them, half expecting to see something rising from the waves.
Back at the camp, Pietro looked for the captain, the big Ulfen mate, Bo-dan or Cynthia . I wish Smyjthe were here. He'd know what to do.
On the beach, Pietro spends the afternoon helping with the food and preparing for his journey tomorrow. He gathers and checks his gear. He greases the metal ways of his crossbow with a light layer of rendered fat and works wax into the bowstring. Everything is packed before he goes to the celebration. It's easy to relax and forget about tomorrow's mission. The plentiful fresh food, the drink, the firelight and flashing smiles combine to create the most congenial atmosphere. Even his father was unwinding a little tonight. Pietro smiled and exchanged looks with his sister when the pater familias stood and held his hand out to their mother. Once they were out among the dancers, Pietro and his siblings could even laugh in their wonder and delight. Watching his parents caper and whirl among the dancers, Pietro thinks of his future -- and Astallia. Looking up he sees her across the way where her family was dining. Excusing himself from his siblings, he picked his way through the crowd toward her. He missed her in the crowd. A light touch on his arm made him turn, and he was suddenly faced with the lovely smile of Astallia. The young woman was standing very close to him, he face turned up and a reflecting the glow of the fires in her cheeks and full lips. She leaned forwards and stood on tip toe as she whispered in his ear "It is so crowded here Pietro, come walk with me to somewhere quiet. I have something for you". Her eyes gleamed, the pupils very wide as she looked into his face. Pietro smiled back. "Sure. Let's go." He took her by the hand and started walking toward the water's edge.
Pietro smiles shyly at the wizard's praise and he looks at his shoes. But he looks up, his brow furrowed with concern, when Smythe mentions "greater danger." "Do you really think so?" His expression swirls, then lands in forced smile. " Well, then. Take care of yourself, Papa." (A common village term for any well-liked elderly man.) "And I'll try to remember everything for you."
Pietro smiles broadly but looks a little hang-dog too at Bo-dan's last clause. "I -- I hope so. I've never really been anywhere, except this voyage."
Pietro nods and sincerely looks interested in anything Cynthia has to say.
** retro ** Pietro waits anxiously for a reply to his suggestion. Had he been out of place? Would he be dismissed as foolish? He is gratified by Bo-dan's support and look. He smiles back, but turns red, and his head bobs as he simultaneously tries to stand straight up proudly and shyly hide his embarrassment at any public attention. ** after the Captain's orders ** Pietro moves quickly through the crowd over to Bo-dan. "Pietro Blanco. Thank you for speaking. Was afraid I'd been too loud there." After Bo-dan replies, Pietro looks for Cynthia to pull her in to the conversation. "Miss Cynthia. Please." He tries to wave her over. When she arrives he says awkwardly, "I am Pietro Blanco." Then he falls silent. He isn't sure at all what to make of this red-garbed woman with so little regard for her home village. ** On the way out of the tent **
Pietro nods at the captain's explanation of the "secrets." Although he disapproved of lying on principal, given the situation, it made sense not to advertise the ship's weakness. ***
"Captain, I agree we should check the village first, but this lady dwarf also has the greater good at heart. There's only a few fighters to go around and lots of threats. If some dire beast's loose in the ruins it may threaten us and the orcs alike. " "We know for sure there's people who've been attacked by these spiders. And some people might be left there and need rescue. Now.' " I think we've got to go there first. We can take care of the spiders. Then some people can gather supplies while we go on to these ruins." diplomacy to smooth over the Cap
Pietro slips inside the tent and stands by the door listening while the old orc makes his plea. The looks at the orcs grey muscley physiques and thinks they look more like part of the Horde than real people. Despite his disgust and prejudice, something in the old shaman's story stirs him. Ruins to explore, evil to fight. A worthy cause. When the old orc's breath stops, Pietro freezes. He is torn between a desire help and to turn away. He watches Milhar cross to the old orc with relief that someone is going. He steps aside with the captain and the others. But he is only half-listening. His eyes keep sliding over to Milhar and the orcs. Captain Venn's words turn over in his mind. As the story unfolds, he gives Cynthia a look of sympathy and shakes his head. One thing bothers him. He waits until the captain finishes before asking, "Captain? What secrets were we keeping from the village?"
At the slaughter: Pietro watched the slaughter from his family's tent. The ritual , crude and shamanistic, disquieted him somewhat. Disgust, scorn, and a little fear coloured his perceptions. It's so barbaric. Those poor benighted little people. They attach such importance to these beasts. They seem to feel that they're killing an equal or a friend rather than just an animal, yet they kill them just the same.... But they are just animals. How else would we eat? His thoughts wander many trails but always return to ponder the differences between these tribal halflings and the civilized refugees and sailors from the ship a nagging question keeps returning to him. But are these rituals the beginning of true civilization? He opens his spirit in prayer asking Abadar for guidance or a sign. Instead of knowledge or comfort, he receives a threat, a sense of evil beyond the reef. He gets up, walks down to the water's edge and stares into the waves for a long time.
Pietro's father is suddenly by his side. "Boy, the captain has called a meeting of hero's. Get yourself amongst them. Me sure we farmers have our chance to be heard in whatever is happening next." Pietro bows his head. "Yes, Father." He dashes back to the tent to gather his dagger and staff. Then he runs to the captain's tent to hear is going on now. He is surprised to find the orcs there.
Pietro pipes up, "There was a man in our village , used to smoke meats. I don't know how to do't, but I'll ask around the other refugees."
He ran around the rear took to the woods to find his foliage. He's going to be on the landward side toward the middle or rear.
Know(plants) Pietro quickly dashed around the back of the beasts to the edge of the forest. He had seen something yesterday. There! Climbing the bole of a tree was a vine. A vine whose leaves were much favored by the great saurians. He quickly cut a length of the vine away from the tree with his dagger and wrapped it around the end of his staff, leaving an arm's length trailing free. Then he hustled back to the dino line. Using the staff for reach he dangled the vine in front of the nose of a straying beast and led it back into line. The trick was to get the vine close enough so the dino could see and smell it and chase it. Then to whip it away fast enough that it didn't know where it went. Dex checks to play lead the dino (includes +2 farmboy bonus)
Yesterday, the beach (Post Epilogue) Pietro tried to cheer as the raptor turned away and limped rapidly back toward the cover of the trees. Instead he gasped for breath. Relief, wonder, and pride swirled in his mind along with questions. Where was the dog? How did Smythe do that trick with his stick? Would it come back? He tried to compose himself to speak and turned to ask Smythe. But the mage was already talking. Then the shakes hit and his knees buckled. He caught himself with his staff and listened to Smythe go on and on. The questions could wait. That evening Pietro and Astallia sat on the beach, lounging back against an upside down launch. The couple held hands and leaned together. Her head lay on his shoulder. The sun was still illuminating the clouds on the horizon. The bright orange clouds contrasted with the deepening purple sky above. They had talked about the day, about their old lives, about what lay ahead. Now they were silent and just watched the sky. That night Pietro lay on his bedroll looking up at the sail canvas stretched to form a tent over his family and the others. COntent and proud (his father had even clapped him on the back and said, "WHo'd have guessed you were such a fighter?) his mind drifted again over the fight, the celebratory dinner, walking the beach and talking with Astallia. He rolled over and was falling asleep when he heard a woman call his name. He raised his head, "WHo's there?" His father replied, "No one. Go back to sleep." Again Pietro began drifting into unconsciousness, and again the woman's voice called, "Pietro." He raised his head, "Astallia?" His father replied. "SHe's with her family. It's just us. Now go to sleep. You're keeping us all up." "Yes, father." Pietro eased back onto the bedroll. He waited for the voice again. "Pietro." He stayed quiet. In his silence he heard,[i] "Be worthy. FOr victory. For the heart." Pietro dropped off to sleep mumbling to himself, " Victory for the heart. Astallia." Today
He took Milhar's offered hand. It was like shaking hands with a haddock. "I am very pleased to meet you. It is an honor." To the sorceror's offer of food and drink, "No thank you. I have eaten already."
The follow-through from Pietro's roundhouse carried him back between the raptor and the others. The staff struck the rocks behind him and rebounded. Where did the dog go? In another second the raptor would turn its undivided attention to him or Symmington. Beginning from a low croush, Pietro desperately exploded toward the lizard, stabbing with the end of his staff.
The whirling raptor's tail swung wide and high to keep it's balance. From the corner of his eye Pietro saw it coming and ducked under it. On the tail's recoil the lad was not so lucky. It caught him in the shoulder and knocked him sideways so that the lizard was between him and the dog. He braced himself and swung the staff in a wild roundhouse .
Yesterday, the beach Pietro dropped the empty crossbow and looked down to snatch up his staff. Looking back up he saw the golden dog intercept the reptile. Where did that come from? Nevermind. Lucky its here. Shouting like he would at a bear or coyote to scare it away, he jumped down the rocks toward the raptor, trying to get between it and its prey. He raised his staff spearlike, and jabbed at the lizard's head.
Pietro finished fumbling with the quarrel and the crossbow. Too slow. Too slow. Looking up, he laid his cheek along the stock and sighted down the length of the bolt. The lizard's bobbing gait brought its body up and down. At the bottom, the shot was blocked by the refugees.
The shot would have to be well-timed. Pietro concentrated, pushing out of his mind the thought of what would happen if he missed, the thought of what would happen if he hit one of his friends, the thought that he had never fired his father's crossbow at a live target. Lady of Light, guide my hand. He let out his breath and squeezed the trigger.
Perdition take me. I'm too slow. Peter flipped the crossbow over to let the quarrel drop out of the armature, then dropped the crossbow after it. He snatched up his staff and dashed past the refugees, interposing himself between them and the predator.
Pietro stared in confusion at the reptile. That's a big salamander! And those claws. He didn't know what to think until the beast broke toward Umma and Ishmael. It didn't look like it wanted to give them a hand carrying the wood. He dashed to his pack and began loading his crossbow. Initiative:
Pietro was enjoying himself. The day was beautiful. Umma's faith in him was gratifying. The new beach was glorious. This expedition going well. Knowing little of the beach ecology he followed the example of the others gathering driftwood on the beach. Returning to the common woodpile near the rocky spur, he dropped his armful of sun-bleached branches and stretched his back. Shading his eyes with both hands he looked out over the lagoon. Perception DC 14: know(nature) DC 12 : "There! what's that?! " Pietro points toward the shadowy shape gliding through the water. He doesn't know if it is a predator, or perhaps a large gamefish. Either way it could represent a lot of food. The scrambles back to the sack with his belongings and weapons and pulls out his crossbow. Then he begins running down the beach, shouting warnings to the fishermen in the water.
Yesterday, on the beach Pietro strides up the beach to meet with the work party. He recognizes most of them from the ship. He addresses one woman whose husband is still aboard ship. He was injured when some crates shifted and crushed his leg. "Umma, Tald does well. The swelling's down and I feel the bones're whole. Need a splint for a week or three. I'll set it tomorrow." He smiles at her obvious relief. Then he addresses the whole party. "I've jus' come o'er wi' the captain. He said we might gather food faster if we look farther down there where no one's been." He jerks a thumb over his shoulder to indicate Symington. "In case any's nervous, here's Master Smythe, fresh and hale this morning as afore his fit. Master Magus he says. He'll watch for any taboos or curses. Any up for a change of scenery?" Diplomacy check
Yesterday, Rowing to shore
Pietro has no idea what to do yet, but he enthusiastically answers like he's heard the sailors do, "Aye Aye, captain. " He finishes pulling the boat up onto the beach and stowing the oars with Collis. He says nothing in return to the sailor's words, but his smile may be eloquent enough.
Pietro considers the question. In fact throughout Smythe's rather long-winded discourse, he's been thinking about it. He and his family know nothing about fortifications. That's out. He could gather food in the forest, but it looks thick enough that the wind would just die in there. Even with the shade he could easily imagine it being quite oppresive under the trees. The beach on the other hand .... Poor son of a poor farmer in a landlocked village, he's never seen anything quite like this broad strand. And despite the sun, the breeze off the water was very pleasant. And no one had been down the beach. It would be like exploring. It was really no decision at all. "Down the beach, sir. I think we would do well down the beach." Pietro looked up and down the beach for a work party. Spotting one on the way, he shouldered his meager gear and began walking toward them. "Maybe we can get these good people to help us."
Day before aboard Vixen: Pietro sat in a quiet corner of the deck. He was watching for the captain. He planned to be in the same boat when the captain went ashore. He could still feel his father's eyes on him, the reproach and disappointment in them mirroring that in the others eyes, when he had reported the results of his first attempt to talk with the captain. It was a bitter feeling. He was beginning to despair when the delegation approached him. Two of the older women and golden Astallia, a girl of about his own age. It was Astallia who actually asked him, her soft brown eyes looking up into his and her gentle smile warming him in a way he felt uncomfortable about. "You can still be our voice to the Captain, Pietro" she said quietly. "Nothing has changed. They are making decisions that affect our future yet none are asking us for input. If you would stand for us, we may have a better place when we arrive at Gergythia. Will you still do it?" She had taken his hand in hers on the last question, the warmth of her skin like the fire of Iomedae herself in the young man's heart. " I will do it. I am waiting for him now. I will be in his boat when he goes to the island." He drew himself up to his full height and squared his shoulders before smiling back at her. "Thanks."
A few moments later the captain appeared on deck. Pietro relinquished Astallia's hand and picked up his meager gear. "Get the rest to the island soon. I think it's important that we show the captain we all can help." He made his way across the deck. Getting into the boat was awkward. It fell away on the back of a wave as he stepped down and although he maintained his footing, he dropped heavily into the bottom of the launch. "Would be good if one of you could help seaman Collis here row while I called directions" he stated, nodding at the other man also in the boat. Collis had picked up one of the ors and locked it into its mount already. They were heavy pieces of timber and didn't look to easy to use. Both of the seafarers stared at Pietr and Symmington, wating to see how they'd respond. "I'll do it, sir." Pietro wriggled to the next bench, across from Collis. He grabbed the remaining oar and manuvered it into the oarlock. Then he looked over at Collis, "Ready when you are." A push from the bosun gave the launch a little speed away from the ship. Collis waited until his oar was clear then nodded to Pietro and pulled. Pietro pulled too, trying to match the seaman's stroke for length and speed. Rowing check: It seemed to be going well. Even if Pietro's oar skipped over the waves occasionally, at least they were holding a straight course to the beach. After a few moments, Pietro looked Captain Venn straight in the eye. "Captain, sir, if I may. The poorer folk have had a tough time of it. Most of them have lost everything, and with the troubles on board and now this island, we don't know what to think. We're sick with worry. 'twould ease everyone if you were to say plainly how long we're staying and what our options are. And what kind of a place it is we're going to." "A lot of the people are glad to be here at the island. The sailors call us stupid and tease and taunt us, but at least here we can help. People are glad of something to do and a chance to get out in the air." "Speaking for myself, when we leave this place, it might be good if we could get more time on deck for exercise, or even if some of us could help the crew. Twould give people somethin' to do and might mend bridges with the sailors." DIplomacy if needed :
Pietro gritted his teeth. The day had gone south since he had walked into the old man's cabin. Pride had been replaced briefly with joy that the old man had woken. Then that had changed to confusion with the old man's variety of metamorphoses. He had followed Smythe out onto the deck in a daze. Now to be reduced to an afterthought. It was almost too much.
Pietro stared at the closed door. He had missed his chance. There was only one thing to do. Go to the beach and try to be useful. Pietro returns to the refugees left below decks and tells them he was unable to get answers from the captain. (If pressed he admits his failure to even ask the captain any of the refugees questions. ) He suggests as many as possible go to the beach to help gather food as it seems to be important to Captain Venn.
Pietro's heart swelled with pride. Me, Pietro Blanco. Me, chosen to go to the captain. He was a young man approaching his eighteenth summer, good-looking even in his worn leather jerkin and wellpatched trousers. Raven black hair, doe-like brown eyes, broad cheekbones, and a square chin composed an unremarkably handsome face. And why not me, who better? It was the sensation of the smile, the separation of his lips, the up-curling of the corners of his mouth, the sheer luxury of delight in himself and his election, that brought him back to himself. The smile was overwhelmed by a frown. For the others. Not for myself. To serve them because I can. The others were the poorest refugees aboard the ship. Four or five families of farmers who hadn't even owned their own land. Of all the refugees on board, it was hardest on the poorest. They had the least education, the least experience of anything other than their old life, of anyone on the ship. More than anyone else, they needed the material pillars of life. And those were all gone, swallowed by the Horde. They were worried. Most of them knew nothing of the sea. Even if they hadn't lost their homes, even if they hadn't lost their families, even if they hadn't lost friends, jobs, possessions, all that anchored them in their life, all that tied them to their communities and gave life meaning, even if they hadn't lost all that, they would have been worried. They were scorned by the crew for their ignorance of all things nautical, and so were denied one more thing that had always been inescapably present in their lives. Work. So the refugees were worried. Having escaped the Horde, they were trapped aboard the ship with Ulfen and bugbears. The sailors told them tales of terrible hazards and monsters in the sea and on the jungle island by which they were now anchored. The uncertainty was the last straw. They wanted information. To get it they needed an emissary. A council was held. Three candidates were considered. Pietro's father, Sempronio, put himself forward. The head of another family did likewise. They were at loggerheads, neither able to persuade a majority to vote for them when one of the teenage girls suggested Pietro. There was a brief spate of laughter, but the older women considered it and concurred. In their eyes Pietro had quietly distinguished himself during the voyage. He spent most of his time tending the sick and injured among the refugees. They knew he could read and write because they would sometimes see him in a quiet corner of the ship with the "Stories of the gods". When asked he would read a story or two for them. Sempronio put it about that his son had studied with the Abadaran priest in the village -- which was true, after a fashion. So Pietro had been nominated. After his nomination, his mother had scrubbed every visible inch of his body with their store of carefully horded fresh water so that he would not disgrace the family. Now ready to step on deck, he dusted himself off again and checked his raw pink hands for any mote of dirt. He wanted to make a good impression on the captain. Then he remembered the comatose old man, didn't he have a mirror? He decided to check on him before seeing the captain.
Watch this space. Still a work in progress, some holes to fill, not entirely happy with his name. |