Hi.
Hi.
HI!
LOL
Search Posts
We missing someone?
"Yes," The Paladin says with a wink. He turns to his companions. "If we're going to do this we should head out. Though I'm still leery of splitting our already meager numbers."
"Your shield," Pyotr responds taping his hand against the plate of steel hanging from Ary's arm. "Svetlana, do you have any tallow? Ary can use the tallow to shine her shield, and then reflect the sun off it. If we march to the east, we'd be able to see the signal until noon. So we could loop back and head west, while the Sun's in the west. The problem is we'll constantly be marching with the sun in our eyes."
So I was originally planning to be a Warrior of the Holy Light Paladin, but I think I'd prefer to play a Temple Champion Paladin if that is ok with you, it's an archetype from the ACG. It gives up the same things the Warrior of the Holy Light gives up, but gets full access to a single domain and full access to a single War Priest blessing.
Pyotyr grimaces. "If that is what we've decided, then lets be on with it." He gathers his weapons and dons his armor. Turning to Ary and Kira. "Once the gates are closed your biggest worry will be fire. You can address this by filling buckets now with water from the well and positioning them around the wall to throw down on any thatching that catches alight," He looks over the two women and browns at their lack of ranged weaponry. He removes his light crossbow and hands it to Ary. "You'll want to put a bolt in the first one that gets in range. Don't worry about your catapult for now, unless you've studied with siege weaponry you'll more likely wrench your arm out of socket than kill a bandit. May the keeper of the First Vault, keep you safe." He turns to Arnulf. "Well lets get on with our fool's errand."
"I like your plan Paza, cut off any path of escape. I think that will work nicely." Pyotr took a second bowl of stew and once again devoured it greedily. He waited for an opportunity to bath and then dressed in his night clothes took one of the cots, laying his greatsword on the ground next to him.
"If they're mounted, we don't want to face them in the open plains, it would be suicide," Pyotr responds. "Especially without mounts of our own to match their mobility. I know Ary is mounted and can ride, but I'm not comfortable sending her out alone to scout ahead, despite her apparent combat capability. i would like to give the bandits a few days, to see if they come to Oleg's and allow us to meet them here on our terms, in a confined area where their mounts will be a hinderance to them and not an aid. If we could lure them into the Outpost with what appears to be soft, new targets ..." Pyotr's gaze turns to Geliglee and Paza. "A traveling gnomish merchant and his young ward. At first glance they seem easy pickings, especially if Paza's wolf will stay in the stables until she calls. Arnulf's bear will also have to hide, hopefully downwind from the horses, otherwise our menagerie of wildlife may give us away to the horses." He starts to arrange the bowls in a model of Oleg's Outpost. He points to buildings that would give a line of sight coverage from the entrance. "Ary and I could hide here, ready to cut off the gate should the bandits get skittish," Pyotr then moves a set of spoons into the center of his little map. "This would be the ideal moment to strike. Before they dismount and can scatter. Geliglee, I remember watching this Wizard train in the courtyard he could make 4 men fall asleep where they stand just by whispering a few strange words to the wind and tossing a few rose petals into the air. Other times he shot dazzling rainbows from his fingertips that seemed to mesmerize all caught in the arc. Is that beyond your capabilities, for if you could do such amazing things, we could hit them while they were all in a bunch, capture the whole lot of them without a fight and then be diplomatic, but from a position of supreme strength."
I was playing off the assumption that after working with him on the gates for several hours, we got his name haha.
"Geliglee," Pyotr turns to the Gnome. "What school of magic did you specialize in? I'm guessing the Bandits will want to try and form ranks against us, as we appear to be more of a martial force. Anything that might break them up so they're unable to focus their attention on a single threat? For that matter, how many of you can use magic?"
"I agree with Paza," Pyotr responds. "I am fine accepting a full surrender of all the bandits if they so wish. Offering them a trial here and summary judgement. If they throw themselves on our mercy, we give them a chance to prove themselves and repay Oleg through labor. If they are belligerent in their refusal of justice, we grant them the mercy of the block or the gallows." He turns to Arnulf. "I understand the temptation of taking a hard line, but the first encounter is not the time. We must demonstrate that we are willing to provide a fresh start to those who would leave this life of banditry and rejoin civilization. Then, if we face continued defiance, despite our offers of clemency, we demonstrate the iron fist of justice."
Pyotr ate his stew greedily. Finishing quickly then settling in for conversation with the rest of the company. "I'm loathe to leave Oleg's unguarded against the bandits even with the gates repaired. Gates are only useful in a siege if there is someone to man the walls against climbers. If we start scouting and the Bandits arrive, all the gates are going to do for he and Svetlana is trap them inside the fort with the bandits when they climb over the walls." He turns to Oleg. "You said the bandits haven't returned in a while. Do you think they watch your outpost waiting until you've had a shipment arrive before striking? If so, perhaps we can entice them to arrive, by bluffing the party leaving on a wagon, before we loop back."
As Pyotr, Arnulf and Ary shimmy the last hinge into place, the young Paladin steps back and wipes his brow. "Now," He grunts. "About that stew."
"I'm counting on it," Pyotr responded, as he continued working on the hinges.
Pyotr nods then turns to Arnulf. "Want to give us a hand with this, not sure I can pick them up on my own and, no offense to the Gnome, but I think while he's got us whipped in the know-how department, we have the edge in the can-do." Pytor will follow Geliglee's directions and start to work on removing the hinges, hopefully with Arnulf's help.
I don't think it's that simple. Because while I'm getting Great new feats, the Wizard still is casting Maximized Extended Cloud Kill and wall of forcing the exit. Why? Because the Wizard is equally good at casting Evocation Spells as she is casting Conjuration Spells, and I'm still only good with a sword and defense. Forcing caster's to specialize still lets them do awesome things like Wall of Force or Cloud Kill, that changes the battlefield, but it doesn't let them totally define the battle field on a whim. It's like playing Chess against a guy who has all Queens on his side of the board and you have all Knights. Yeah two Knights can do some really cool stuff, but Queens two queens can redefine the entire board.
Pyotr gets up and follows the Gnome Wizard. "I think we should take some time the next few days securing Oleg's and surveying the surrounding area. Until we've taken care of this group that's harassing Oleg and his wife, I don't feel comfortable leaving them alone." He suggests. "But unfortunately, my father neglected my education in the construction of siege works or gates, instead teaching me how to assault or defend them."
"Paza has the right of it," Pyotr responded. "Just because they're bandits doesn't make them fools. You rob and kill a merchant, and you only rob him once. You take a little off the top for protection and you'll always have a steady stream." He smiles at Ary. "And certainly they aren't unreachable. Nothing is beyond the reach of the law. And our orders certainly allow for mercy, for those who seek redemption. In fact many great leaders and nations have offered blanket clemency to those who lived in lawless lands once they've established order. Why should we not follow in their footsteps." He then takes another drink of water. "But to offer mercy, we must first administer justice. So Oleg, tell us more about these bandits, do they arrive on schedule or is it random?"
"In the absence of order the natural outgrowth is chaos. Of which the natural outgrowth is lawlessness, which itself devolves into banditry and banditry often gives rise to murder." Pyotr interjected. "Hungry or not, banditry is not the actions of civilized people." He takes a drink of water. "Paza is right though. Your outpost is in rough condition, your defenses are null. Which limits its usefulness as an inn in these lawless lands. We'll need to get your gates operational if we're going to be using this outpost as a base of operations, in case trouble follows us back." "I'm guessing those don't work," he said as he pointed at the catapults atop each tower. "And Paza's already pointed out the issue with your gates. Do you have any oil or grease? Even you're grease catchings from your cooking fire could provide us with lubricant to tend to those."
Pyotr doesn't know Paza's name, he was having a memory and the fact that Elyza and Paza end the same was fortuitous
Pyotr reappeared a few moments later a bucket of fresh water in one hand and some small tin cups some kind soul had left near the well he offered cups to the women first, then the gnome, and finally to Oleg and the Newcomer. "Hello fellow newcomers," the tall youth said with a broad, easy smile. "I am Pyotr Orlovsky and you are?"
"Mercenaries,"Pyotr said with a raised eyebrow then followed with a haughty laugh. "I assure you sir if that were the case you would not be able to afford me." "You look thirsty and I am thirsty, I'll draw us some water and then you can tell me more about these thugs."
Pyotr watches the girl and wolf as she moves toward the door of the shed and then toward the gate. His left hand absent-mindedly goes to the blue ribbon tied around the pommel of his greatsword. Twisting it gently between his forefinger and thumb. "Then we'll just have to fix them Za ..." He says with a playful laugh. But then a look of pain crosses his face for just a moment. He blinks then turns back toward the man on the roof. "Where's your well, I'll pull up some water. I'm sure we're all thirsty."
Pyotr turned toward the woman and smiled. "Pyotr Orlovsky, the pleasure is mine." He said clasping her sword arm just beyond the wrist. "And your companions?"
A caravan wagon stopped just outside of the gates of Oleg's, a pair of bags flew from the back, followed shortly by a long-legged youth leaping lithely after them. "I thank you for the ride and the company Yuri, may the scales always tip favorably toward you as you continue your travels," The smooth baritone called to the driver. "Aye, be sure to thank your father for me, I appreciated the company and the easy gold." The driver called back. The youth smiled, putting his left hand on the hilt of his sheathed greatsword to stop its swaying after he landed. He then made the holy sign of Abadar at the passing wagon, before picking up his bags and entering the outpost. His grey eyes quickly scanned the courtyard. If the wolf caught him off guard, it didn't show. He nodded politely to each of the females, his eyes lingering on the red cloak of the rider.
He then looked up to the roofer, dropping his bags at his feet. "Need a hand? I don't know much about roofing, but I've got a strong back."
Yeah, I'll fix it, I've got another post before it's permanent.
How do we feel about leadership feat. One reason I ask is that could be a way for us to bring in some quality Craftsman and some non-NPC members of the council, when it comes time.
An ode to Cuddles When is a hug,
When it can make.
A hug with ki
Lol my inner copywriter says I should present three concepts to give the client two sacrificial lambs
Roll:
In Combat: Damage Sponge and Skull Cracker.
Out of combat: Gurog sees himself as a Warrior Poet, as such he has taken profession Poet as well as Linguistics (which he'll continue to learn more languages), he intends to chronicle this journey as a great epic, to spread the name and exploits of the Last Sarkorian, much like Caesar wrote his own memoirs. However, in the mean time, he will perform for his supper, hunt for it if he can't earn it with his eddas, and perhaps do a little creative writing (with legal documents) using Linguistics. And with his Linguistics and Survival, he could probably do alright mapping. Kingdom: Here's the interesting part, Gurog has been told his whole life that he is the last prince of Sarkoris, the sole remaining male descendant of the line of Sarkorian Kings. Whether this is true or not, is irrelevant, as the young man believes it without doubt. With his Kingdom in ashes, by the Worldwound, he is determined to carve out a new Sarkoris, where strength and honor go hand and hand, So of course, he desires to be ruler, but really, I'll be happy with any role that allows for Charisma or Strength, as those will be my main stats, along with constitution. Gear:
Greatsword - 50gp, Studded Leather Armor - 25gp, Dagger - 1gp, 3 Javelins w/ Ammentums - 6gp, Barbarian's Kit - 9gp, Chronicler's Kit - 40gp, Remaining Tender 19gp. Alignment & Traits:
NG, Traits Berserker of the Society and Bastard - to go with him believing he's the lost scion of the Sarkorian Line. Background:
As I said above, Gurog is a Kellid, who believes himself the last scion of the long-lost Sarkorian bloodline. And he's not without reason. For the majority of his life, his mother, Maori, has shared with him the story of how his family survived the fall of Sarkoris as a result of the Worldwound, how his great-great Grandfather had rallied a small number of his fellow Kellid's in an exodus across the abyss-blasted wasteland that was once his home. And she had small trinkets that reinforced her story. Signet Rings that appraisers refused to call fakes, authentic Zoic totems from that period of time. She even had a Holy Text of Pulura, the Empyreal Lord Patron of Sarkoris, who's cult died out after the fall of this Barbarian Kingdom.
And there were the visitors. Old men, wise Kellid shamans and elders, who would arrive unannounced and demand to test the boy and when he passed, to share stories with him of his ancestors — men they claimed to serve, teach him the fundamentals of leadership, of strategy and tactics, as well as how to wield a weapon. All while admonishing him not to share his story with any save his own offspring, not to demonstrate his prowess with a blade unless his life depended on it and to stay relatively unknown. As it was the only way to stay safe. But above all else, a ceremony when he was 15. A group of renowned warriors from the Sloth Jaw Mammoth Lord Tribe arrived and honored him with the tribal scars of their clan, as if to seal some sort of pact. But despite the teachings of these so-called elders, despite the admonishment of his mother, or perhaps because of the sense of birthright they installed in him, when the call to tame the Greenbelt went out, Gurog was among the first to volunteer. The seal was broke
A call to arms.
And so they came.
And one by one.
"Whatcha writin' Wizard," the croaking, expectant tenor of Alexi Fedorivich snapped young Gurog Stihlgard back to reality. Quickly, the young scribe gathered his pens and parchment, trying to prevent the arrogant lordling from gaining more fodder with which to torment him. But Gurog was never quick. Strong yes, tough, without a doubt. But quick, no. And young Lord Fedorivich knew it. "What's this, some of your barbarian babelly g!@!," Gurog's tormentor hissed, failing to comprehend the verse written in Hallit, the traditional language of the Kellid's. "Just give me back my poem and let me ..." A fatal mistake, nothing stirred the taunting soul of Alexi like a poet. "The giant's a poet, that's rich! Sun bright. Sun Light. Sun go out Gurog scared! Sleep with mommy if Alexi's not already there!" The boy roared at his jape at the expense of of Gurog's mother's honor. "Give me back the parchment or ..." Or what?" Alexi interrupted, secure that his station would protect him even from the massive young Kellid Giant. But today was different. Gurog had a plan to leave this place, and all it's affronts to his honor behind. Today Gurog rose to the full 6'6" height of his 16 year old frame. Today he allowed the 305 lbs of tan muscle to coil, as his ham hock of a right hand made a fist of solid granite. "Or you'll suffer the wrath of the last Sarkorian!" Gurog roared, his baritone voice reverberating off the stone walls surrounding them. "The last ---" But Alexi didn't get to finish. Gurog broke his jaw in one brutal right hook. Then the young man quickly gathered the scattered parchment that fell to the ground as Alexi did. And made his way back to his bags, where he had packed the greatsword one of the elders had given to him on his 15th birthday, his dagger and javelins, that had also been gifts. Lifted up the bag containing his survival pack, as well as his chronicler kit. Soon, he would no longer be just Gurog Stihlgard, resident of the Brevoy slums, but Gurog, the Chronicler of the Green Belt. |