After many days spent in Restov, the Mayor’s Ball finally arrives. The excitement in the city is palpable – rumors abound that the Swordlord Council has big news planned. Sword-wearing bravos loudly debate their theories in the pubs and bars across the city: A new academy of swordfighting is opening, the Mayor is retiring and declaring a successor, the Mayor is taking a wife, war is to be declared against the Surtovas, war is to be declared against Mivon. It is readily apparent that important information is to be had at the Ball, and the rumor mill readies itself for fresh developments.
In the evening, a page wearing the livery of the Liefmoore Arms fetches you from your rooms with a lively knocking. The lad tugs his forelock and proclaims ”Beg pard’n, governers, but the Mayor’s sent a carriage for you. If’n you’d follow me, it would be my pleasure t’carry bags or things as you need!” Outside the gates of the Liefmoore arms, there indeed sits a horse-drawn carriage, a handsome affair of dark wood and mirror-polished brass riding high above the street on iron-banded wheels. The driver stands ready by the door, arrayed in formal tunic and hose, a brooch bearing Sellemius’ heraldry pinned to a half-cloak – three crossed swords, each broken at the tip, on a red field. As you approach, he bows his head slightly and opens the door for your entrance. The inside of the carriage is slightly cramped with the whole party inside, but velvet-padded seats make for a comfortable ride. The driver flicks the reins of a pair of muscular, dapple-gray horses, and the carriage rolls gently forward towards the Mayor’s Palace. Your progress attracts a great deal of attention; carriages are comparatively rare in Restov, and any soul conveyed in such on the evening of the Mayor’s Ball is surely of great import. None, however, cause you trouble or impede your way, and you arrive at the Mayor’s Palace without incident.
The carriage halts in the courtyard of the Mayor’s Palace, and the driver aids your descent to the smoothly-fitted granite flooring. Several other carriages are parked nearby against the curtain wall, and your driver doffs his leather cap to you in farewell and begins maneuvering the ponderous contraption into some of the last available space. The main doors to the Palace are ajar, and three Restov guardsmen in full armor flank the portal to each side. Jantle, Sellemius’ squire, stands in the doorway, his lanky limbs not quite filling out a handsome red doublet and pantaloons bloused into polished black boots. ”Good eve, Ladies and Lords,” he greets you. ”Welcome to the Mayor’s Ball. The Lord-Mayor has instructed me to place myself at your disposal and offer you his hospitality. Should there be anything you require, I shall do my best to arrange it.” After a pause to let anybody speak up, he continues. ”Now then, if you’d follow me I shall show you to the Great Hall.”
Jantle leads you through the halls of the Palace. Fresh herbs and flowers in baskets scent the air pleasantly, while light is provided from lamps hung at intervals. The lamps emit the distinctive yet inoffensive scent of whale oil, clean-burning fuel which must have been imported at considerable expense but spares you from the sooty smoke of torches or regular oil lamps. The palace is a-bustle with workers hurrying about their tasks, as the many hands required of this event strive to meet their master’s expectations. Pages and messenger-boys scuttle about, flattening themselves against walls and doors to allow you unimpeded passage. Two burly porters wrestling a hogshead of ale up a spiral staircase from the basement level interrupt the luxurious image of the Palace with their rough language and grunts of exertion. After a walk of several minutes, you arrive at the Great Hall of the Palace, and Jantle strides through as two pages swing a set of glass double doors open. Your ears are swamped by a sudden rush of sound as the conversation and laughter of nearly two hundred guests in the cavernous hall spills from the doors like water from a breached levee. Jantle takes a deep breath and does his best to roar above the hubbub of the crowd. ”Ladies and Lords, may I introduce some of the Lord-Mayor’s honored guests – Lady Seraphina Medvyed, Sister Maja Weatherseed of the Priesthood of Erastil; Initiate Idris of the Fireblade Academy; Pretty, of New Stetven; Kivan Corsan, of Port Ice; and Milo Silverbrush, of Everfield.” Turning to face you, Jantle bows from the waist and intones ”On behalf of the Lord-Mayor, be welcome at the Ball!” You feel the intense gaze of the crowd upon you as Jantle speaks, sizing you up. The room is arranged on four tiers. In the foreground, closest to the main entrance, three long tables have been set lengthwise through the hall, each flanked with polished wooden benches and draped in ivory-white cloths. An elaborate candelabra runs the length of each table, with hundreds of tiny candles providing flickering illumination to the diners. The ceiling of the chamber stretches far above, where leaded glass windows reflect the flickering candlelight like constellations in the darkness. The main body of guests occupy these tables, well-dressed and well-to-do nobles, business proprietors, military officers, and notable sword-art practitioners pausing from their socializing and carousing to take you in. Seraphina, in particular, causes considerable discussion - Madame Ivirska’s wares work as advertised. Beyond the main seating stretches a flat wooden platform, checkered in squares of teak and white oak and gaily bordered by flowers woven through delicate silver chain. This, of course, is the floor designated for dancers. Rising above the dancing area is a set of four tables, decorated identically to the main seating area, but of normal size dwarfed by the massive tables in the entrance. Two of the tables are occupied – Baron Drelev and his group sit at one, and Varn and his “Varnling host” claiming another. Jantle escorts you to one of the empty tables, then bids you fare-well and disappears back through the glass doors towards the entrance of the Palace. Immediately, a small army of servers assaults your stronghold, barraging you with cups of wine, ale, and water, setting aflame the crenelations of candles in the centerpiece, and overrunning your bare settings with fine dining plates and silver utensils. After they depart, victorious, you are able to get a glimpse of the other expeditionary parties. Drelev sits at the head of his table, “Lady Maray” seated on his left opposite a well-dressed but somewhat frumpy noblewoman. From her uncomfortable posture and the daggers she glares at the revealingly dressed elf woman, you presume this to be the Baroness. Kazimir Surtova sits across from Terrion Numesti, who looks up from their conversation to wave a greeting at you as you are seated. Iona Numesti, dolled up in her fancy dress, looks to be having the time of her life as she takes in the grandeur. Across from her, Terran Bister looks her polar opposite in simple black robes, his face thick with ill-concealed boredom. At the end of the table, Swift winks at Pretty as you are seated, his good arm holding a wineglass and his other still in a sling. Varn appears to already be in his cups, flanked by two attractive but decidedly not noble women with an arm around each one. They laugh politely at his jokes. Rex Hilfsson, Varn’s magus, toys with a morsel of bread and ignores the freely flowing alcohol for simple water. Qu'illaelosa, priestess of Desna, appears unfazed by the grandeur around her and makes small talk freely, sipping delicately at a wineglass. Anvar Brunthane, as seems to be the usual circumstance, watches the crowd soberly as Varn drinks himself oblivious.
Knowledge:Local DC 15:
The chair and table belonged to the original Baron Aldori, before he rose to fame and power by routing all comers at swordplay and establishing the famous fighting tradition. All rulers of Rostland have used it for formal events since, partially to honor the long-departed Baron, and partially to remind themselves of the roots of their station. Guests continue to filter in for some time. Finally, Jantle reappears in the main entrance, holding an iron-banded horn. He lifts this to his lips and blows a forceful blast, the booming sound cutting through all conversation. ”People of Restov!” he bellows, his youthful voice cracking slightly from the strain. ”Rise, for the Swordlord Council!”
Knowledge:Local DC15 or Fireblade Academy member:
DeCierre keeps his sword peace-bonded unless on the field of war. When he wishes to make a point, he demolishes the detractors of his teachings with his sheathed blade so as not to kill unnecessarily. In one famous duel, DeCierre defeated a challenger seeking his position by snatching his opponent’s sheathe off his belt and bludgeoning him with that, leaving DeCierre’s sword untouched. Behind them follow the three Swordlords at Large, Aldori practitioners who have distinguished themselves through mastery of their art but do not command a school: slender Ermin “The Weasel” Aldori, jaunty Lady Alynne Nohouse, and Warhound, an enormous priest of the Bulwark. Knowledge:Local DC 10:
Ermin is known as “The Weasel” both for his slight build, and his name sounding like a type of a wood stoat. Instead of fighting to suppress the nickname, he embraced it ironically – but those who push too hard get reminded of why Ermin won a seat on the Council.
Lady Alynne used to be a member of House Orlovsky, but renounced her heritage when her family sought to prevent her studying Aldori swordfighting. At an event, a herald mistakenly announced her as an Orlovsky, prompting her to stand and yell “Of no house! No house!” at the boy. The name stuck. Warhound’s given name seems to be unknown around Restov – at least, if somebody knows they aren’t speaking of it. Six and a half feet tall and with a physique like a bull, Warhound is equally famous for using the Aldori dueling style while dressed in the black plate mail of his order and for his abrasive personality. He seldom speaks. Following the seven members of the Council is a page wearing a circlet of chicken feathers and bearing a staff draped with a blank standard – a jeer at the denizens of Mivon, and a reminder of the perceived betrayal that drives a wedge between the two bodies of the Aldori tradition. The page does one lap of the regular seating area before exiting, while the Council proceeds to the head table and take their seats. Sellemius waves for people to be seated. ”Honored Guests, welcome to the Ball. You have my profound gratitude for honoring me with your presence. I have important news to declare before you tonight, but first – we eat!” The Mayor chuckles at the ripple of murmurs as servants begin serving the evening meal. The feast is as sumptuous as the Palace is luxurious – no expense was spared. The feast lasts twelve courses, starting with hearty cheese soups and sour bread, working up to roasted peacock served on platters with tail feathers intact, and cumulating with baked sweets served with a clear liquor with a strong cinnamon flavor and flecks of gold suspended in it. A troupe of acrobats occupies the dance floor, dancing to tunes played by a ten-member instrument ensemble. Several hours pass in this manner, before the servants reappear to clear places. ”Well then, to business,” booms Sellemius. ”You’ve all been patient enough. The main event of the night is an Ennobling!” Whispers and murmurs go around the room again, as guests react to the development with some astonishment. Once again, you feel the gaze of the entire room. ”Yes, this is the first time I have exercised that power of my office,” continues Sellemius, ”But the brave souls before you have performed great services both for me and for Restov, and for Brevoy… and for ROSTLAND!” Sellemius pumps a mailed fist skyward with that pronouncement, and a significant portion of the guests roar with approval. ”You all know of the Stolen Lands – that lush but unconquerable land between Rostland and the River Kingdoms. The Council and I decided, after much deliberation, to sponsor parties of exploration to chart those lost lands, to pacify the denizens of the wild, and to put to the sword the bandits who so sorely plague our southern reaches. Four groups we sent forth, and three have returned victorious. I have no doubt that the fourth, the Iron Shields Company, is returning even as we speak. This represents a golden opportunity for Restov to grow within Brevoy. As you know, the two lifebloods of our city are trade and swordplay. Swords, we have in plenty. Trade, less than we’d like! The wilds are there for the taking, and we’re just the ones to take it. These brave souls in front of you have not only proven by deeds their martial ability and determined resolve, but have also satisfied my demands of their character, that I judge them worthy of Nobility. The Swordlord Council has agreed with my assessment and my goals unanimously. It is your privilege tonight to be with them as they receive their just rewards. Explorers! Approach the Seat of Sirian Aldori and kneel!” Sellemius rises as you kneel, drawing his dueling sword with the slow rasp of metal on wood. Deliberately, he walks among you and the other groups. ”Be not fooled by the promise of titles and wealth. Do you comprehend the responsibilities that the position of Nobility requires?
from Jantle’s lecturing:
The textbook responses are “I so comprehend, I so accept, I so understand, I so agree, I so swear” A powerful voice shouts from the crowd as Pretty is about to speak. ”Lord-Mayor Sellemius! I object to this one!” Amid astonished gasps, the room whirls to face a middle-aged, plate armored man who stands amongst the seated crowd. A golden circlet rests atop his white hair, and his powerful blue eyes are locked squarely on Pretty. His gleaming breastplate is engraved with the holy symbol of Iomedae – a sword highlighted against a stylized sun. He raises a gauntleted fist and points at the tiefling. ”She is no regular human, as she pretends. That one is demon-spawned, a Tiefling tainted with the blood of the Pit! To ennoble her is to profane all that is holy, and neither I nor my order shall stand idly by while you commit this travesty!” The Mayor, astonished at the interruption, pauses briefly and composes himself. ”Ser Brywick, your warning is not needed. I know both the ancestry, and more importantly the deeds and character of these explorers. The Aldori have always embraced all those willing to strive towards our standards, and Restov is no different in rewarding its servants. Please be seated.” ”She’s not one of your prancing dandies,” spits the knight.”She’s a foul mole who will poison your whole adventure from within!” ”Are you questioning my judgment, Brywick?” Sellemius responds icily, in front of a silent room. ”You who have no standing here? I have made my decision – you may be excused, now. Unless you’d rather take satisfaction here and now? No doubt, you’ve noticed the dance floor is the regulation size and shape. Jantle – go fetch a bucket of sand for after.” Ser Brywick goes pale and swallows hard, prompting some vocal amusement from the duelists in attendance. He flushes red with anger and embarrassment. ”Damn you, Sellemius – the Deacon will hear of this, and you will be reckoned with!” spinning on his heel, Brywick angrily shrugs off the hand of a guardsman coming to fetch him and stomps out of the room. ”Is there any other soul who has a grievance to air?” asks the Mayor, coldly. The room is silent. ”Then rise, Nobles of Rostland,” finishes Sellemius, tapping each of you on the shoulder with his blade. ”By the power of my office, I bequeath you the rights and responsibilities of nobility. Long live Restov, long live Rostland, and long live the Aldori!”
After the dancing has gone on for about an hour, the sound of reveling and music is rudely interrupted by the slamming open of the glass doors, only the thickness of their construction saving them from shattering against the doorway. A trio of powerfully muscled men with sun-darkened skin and primitive hide garb stand imposingly in the doorway, with a flustered Jantle behind them. All three bear intricate blue tattoos that stretch in whorls over their exposed skin, marking them as Lion Tribe barbarians, and bear battle axes. The leader has a clean-shaven head and holds a crumpled metal shield in his hand.
Late in the evening, after the bulk of guests have departed, business is attended to. A handful of persons of interest hang back to speak with you and make deals.
Your first supplicant is a portly man in expensive silk trousers and doublet, his fingers decorated with many gold rings. He bows slightly as he approaches you. ”Congrat’cheelations, gentlefolk,” he beams to you. ”I understand that yer new territory has extensive woodlands on it which you’ll no doubt need to harvest fer lumber – both fer trade and fer building. Today’s yer lucky day, cuz I represent the Brevoy Lumber Consortium – the best bunch o’ axe-swingers the world’s yet seen. I’m District Foreman Abrus Calt. As you may know, we manage the forests o’ Brevoy fer the Throne. We can use that same exper’teese to make the most o’ yer woods, making maximum profit for you and yer new holdings. The Consortium’s prepared to make a generous up-front investment in your holdings to help you get started. We kin ship down some o’ our best lumber-jacks, axes, saws, engee’neers what can build you some lumber mills, all at no charge to you. All the Consortium asks in return is a monopoly on tree-harvestin’. If’n we don’t have to worry about some other yahoos messing with our mills and sabotaging our work sites and poachin’ our men, we can make much more gold for you than otherwise. It’s a win-win for the both of us, whaddaya say?” Seraphina:
The Brevoy Lumber Consortium has made repeated offers to the Medvyeds to manage timber on your House’s lands, which your father always rejected out of hand. He was never very talkative on the subject, but did say that “Medvyeds have to look out for our lands alone, not trust them to strangers.” Maja:
The Brevoy Lumber Consortium has caused difficulties in the past with communities of your faith. They’re more concerned with profit than harvesting in a sustainable and wise manner, and some hamlets have found themselves abruptly without forests they depended upon for game and resources. Of course, that’s in Brevoy with the Surtovas on the throne. In your land you’d have more clout to rein them in, and they are extremely good at what they do.
You are then approached by a man familiar to Maja: Road-Walker Donnaeus, a travelling priest of Erastil. He’s of fairly high rank in your clergy, and was present at your initiation ceremony. The Road-Walkers sacrifice the normal comforts of home that clerics of Erastil normally enjoy, instead covering the endless roads of the world on foot to spread the faith, minister to travelers, and keep the far-flung branches of the faith connected. Donnaeus is a man of Andoran heritage, and holds the distinction of having walked from Andoran to Brevoy and back. The priest is thin but hearty, with a cheerful twinkle to the green eyes that peep from his wind-worn, sun-bleached, wrinkled face. He wears simple green traveler’s garb, and the clasp of his cloak has Erastil’s holy symbol burnt into it. ”Hearth and home, little sister. You’ve grown plenty since I saw you last, you and the rest of the little saplings just taking root.” Donnaeus looks you over. ”Seen some hard times, haven’t you? You’ve a weight about you, stoops you a little. Never mind that, though, you’re a willow, not an oak. You can bend a little. Ever want to talk about it I can be found. Anyhow, congratulations on your appointment! The Church is pleased to recognize your achievements, Honored Sister. Here’s this, for starters,” he says, reaching into a pouch and withdrawing a holy symbol. At first glance, it seems like a plain wooden device, but closer inspection reveals it to be made out of Ironwood – fantastically hard and durable, this rare tree can be made into armor that turns blades like steel, or house frames that can survive an earthquake. The Church of Erastil issues these rare badges to priests who accomplish great things for the faith. ”Now then. The Church is prepared to offer some resources to help get your little town up and running. We’ve got connections here, though not as visible as the Gorumites, and can call in many favors to get you stuff that you need. In return, the Church would like you to establish Erastil’s faith as the official faith of your land.”
A gaunt, slender woman dressed in tight black robes and a hooded shawl approaches you. Her only decorations are a pendent with a spiral insignia upon it. ”I am Vengeful Guardian Myllaen of Pharasma’s Faithful,” she says briskly. ”Our offer is simple. The Church of Pharasma stands to offer you a significant sum of gold and healing magics. In return, you will forbid the practice of necromancy on your lands. That is all.”
Father Kilkynn exchanges curt nods with Warhound and strides up to you in his constantly worn black plate. ”Well done, Idris. Damned well done. Carving a realm from the unforgiving wilderness by fire and sword – that’s the stuff we’re made of. You do me proud! A new realm will need soldiers, blades, and armor. The Bulwark is poised to send you soldiers and material. In return we ask that you establish the Church of Gorum as the official faith of your land.”
You are called before Sellemius and the Swordlord Council. ”It should go without saying, as we’ve already discussed it, but Restov will remember and protect its own. I’ve arranged for ten wagon trains of goods to accompany you to your lands. Stone, lumber, wool and linen cloth, barrels of nails, sheet glass, salt beef – Jantle will get you a list. Do me proud, Noble sons and daughters of Restov. I have a feeling we will both need each other in the near future.” Pallasar DeCierre stands and reaches across the old table to clasp Idris by the arm. ”Not bad for an Initiate. Of course, with my teachings, even an Initiate is the equal of a master of the other Academies.” Jamandi Aldori and Solanus Kasay snort in derision at the quip, but all are in good spirits. ”Shall I expect a second campus of my Academy to open presently? Or perhaps, a fourth school to vie for primacy? Either way, you have what you hold – so hold it.”
Last among your petitioners is a young man in tarnished plate armor that also bears the holy symbol of Iomedae. Your attention is immediately drawn to his face, where a red scar starts on his forehead and slashes down to the chin on the left side of his face. His left eye is concealed behind a leather eyepatch, the strap of which rests under blonde locks that spill to his shoulders. Somewhat hesitantly, he approaches you. As he draws nearer, you see that his armor, not only lacks the mirror polish of Ser Brywick’s but has seen far better days. It has been rent and torn in several places, with hasty patches of steel forge-welded over damage inflicted upon it, and presumably its wearer. The repairs were done skillfully, but in great haste – normal procedures like filing the metal mismatch smooth and polishing marks out have been forgone. Dents across the breastplate and pauldrons mark impacts that were repaired by beating the worst of the distortion out with a hammer before returning to the field of some brutal combat. One of the young man’s greaves is missing, and a piece of leather armor has been substituted. A two-handed sword is sheathed across his back, but the young man makes no hostile move towards Pretty, instead dropping to one knee before your group. ”I wish I could apologize adequately for the insult given to you this day by those of my faith,” he begins softly, ”But Ser Brywick is a great knight of power and influence, and nothing a lowly soldier like myself can do will change his course. For what it’s worth, though, I apologize for his behavior. Any of his rank should be able to see the goodness in your heart, Lady. I come before you humbly today with a desperate plea. My name is Azur Brey, Paladin of Iomedae. I hail from the village of Westwind, which lies – used to lay - two day’s ride south of Kenabres, in Mendev. When Kenabres fell to the demonic host of the Worldwound, we had ten hours’ warning before the demons were upon us. It was fortunate that Westwind had a chapel in it – our chapel master’s prayers and magic bought us precious time to evacuate, at the cost of his life. Every villager who could run made it out of Westwind, though the best we could do for the elderly was offer them a swift and painless end. My brothers and sisters and I fought a ten-day running rearguard action to hold off the demonic host, a fight that I alone survived, and barely. Fully half of the Westwinders perished from exposure, Gretchen attacks, wolves, or bandits before we reached safety within the Crusader lines.” Brey sighs. ”But even then we could not find shelter. Those who escape the claws of that horrid host are looked upon with suspicion, as if we were tainted. It may be the cruelest weapon the Pit has at its disposal – those who survive are shunned, pariahs. I had heard that Restov was a city where a man could make his way if he was good with a sword, and so I have traveled to these lands in search for a home for my people. In an inn, I heard rumors of a new settlement – surely it was a gift from the gods that I arrive just as a new land was opening up for a fresh start. I do not have much, but if you will but allow my countrymen permit to settle in your holding and try to resume their life as simple farmers, I offer you my sword and anything else you require of me. We are thirty-five in number; six, including me, can bear arms, and two besides me are skilled at it. The rest are farmers and tradesmen, though bereft of tools and seed. We’ve made it this far, I do not doubt that given a chance we can rebuild. I ask this of you instead of the others, as you seem to be the most understanding and unprejudiced. I cannot apologize for the conduct of my Church, but perhaps I may make amends with a lifetime of service.”
dungeon: "Let's not get 'asty 'ere," says Reck. "Shouldn't yeh 'ave th' bad cop come in an' rough me up good afore spinning a sweet'art deal?" Reck takes a slow breath and looks away. Treason's never tasteful, even when it's against a bunch of bastard dog-spawn. Still, they were MY bastard dog-spawn. Of all the lousy rat bastard street scum gangs in all the stinking, screaming cities in all the f&$!ed up nations of the world, she locks horns with mine. And you did it good, Noro. Looked like I was finally gonna make something out of life, again, and you tore it down, again. Chained to a wall, nothing but the rags on my back and a sore head. Just like the first time we met, all those years ago. "f~#$." Reck locks his eyes on Noro, decision made. "With me outta th' way, Lee Ceder probably's runnin' things. 'e's usually about th' Mermaid's Sister, by th' bad end o' th' docks. Six-two, shaved 'ead, missin' 'is left ear. Don't look like much but 'e knows some fancy fightin' from th' east, real 'ard t'land a punch on 'im. 'e runs cockfights outta th' tavern's store-room, an' I 'ad 'im swiping likely barrels 'n bags off o' th' ships what was unloading. 'e made me th' most money o' my boys. Probably layin' low right now 'isself an' telling th' boys to cause trouble out o' our territory t' spread yeh Tears out. 'e'll be working with "Big" Bill Totts from th' Watch. 'e's crooked, more crooked'n th' rest o' the Watch an' that's saying something. 'e'd pass Watch schedules t' us for fixing th' cockfights and keeping 'im in coin an' lady." Reck pauses to crack his neck using the limited movement available to him. "Th' 'eartseekers'll be causing yeh problems too, no doubt. They're small but a right nasty bunch, run Devilweed, Sannish, an' Baccaran through th' city an' snuff out anyone else brave enough t' compete. They 'ave th' 'abit o' knifin' other gang bosses - yeh start taking us out, they'll be recrutin' old followers. Tanner Dace runs that show. 'E's not natural - 'e came after me an' I killed 'im. Made sure too. Week later 'e's out an about like nothin' 'appened." "Th' Crowfoots'll pretend t' 'elp yeh out, but they'll turn on yeh as soon as they can. Watch for lone Watch disappearing one by one at night. Last I 'eard, Jarrad Frase was runnin' 'em. Dunno where he stays." "Watch out fer th' Mantis Disciples too. Think they're assassins, most of 'em are two-bit thugs with cheap iron blades, but they're scrappers an' don't know when t' run. Thorrim Lyreson's the 'ead o' that lot. 'E's got an eyepatch what's fake - 'ole cut in th' middle an a glamour making it look solid. Think you get 'im 'elpless by circling to 'is 'blind side', then 'e sticks yeh. They stay in th' warehouse on Fleet Street, next t' th' silversmith." Reck stops talking, licking parched lips. "Might be I could recall more later, if'n I 'ad somethin' t'drink, an' maybe a smoke."
The rain continues all through the day. Despite your best efforts with cloak and hood, everybody is soaked through by the time the sun sets behind the cloud cover. The continuing rain makes starting a fire difficult and keeping it going impossible, so you spend a shiveringly cold night inside your tents, taking what comfort you can from fresh, dry clothes. Mercifully, no freakish beasts or bizarre cultists interrupt your sleep at night, and by the time the sun rises again the rain has tapered off and quit. Location: Hex W2 (South Rostland Road, plains, river)
The next day dawns cold and overcast. Your horses suffered in the night, exposed to the elements, their blankets making poorer shelter in the rain than your tents. With the promise of Restov, civilization, and a just reward for your deeds and efforts ahead, you ride onward. Almost immediately after you resume your journey, the South Rostland Road meets with the clear, swift-flowing Shrike river which flows past Restov and down past the Sootscales. A large scrape on the bank next to the remains of a long-cold campfire gives evidence that Aldifierri overnighted here, beaching his barge out of the current. You meet with no travelers on the road, and the day drags on in a monotonous fashion. To help pass the time, Devil Man plays a few pieces of music and tells humorous stories. At one point he retrieves a small, rectangular metal instrument and blows through it, producing a shrill and bold sound. From his pack he produces a washboard suitable for laundering clothes and runs his claws up and down the slats. The resulting clicking is rhythmic and forms an unusual but portable percussion instrument. Devil Man has a fine singing voice, slightly gravelly on the lower notes, and strums out a slow waltz on the washboard. "You sailed the cold waters of the great northern bays,
"And now you've got hard times and now you lie still,
"You sailed out of Port Ice on the soft Northern swell,
"Clawpoint to Chesed and the Winterbreak Bay,
"The fish in your hold fed thousands ashore,
"So rest, lady, rest, from the fog and the gales,
"And we'll see your masts mingle with the spruces and pines,
"And oh you've known hard times, and now you lie still,
Devil Man grins. "Learned that one from an old sailor. 'Song for the Bowdoin'. Normally I'd charge you a copper apiece for that, but seeing as my heart's still inside of me I think I can stand you a round!" The day passes uneventfully, and night falls with half a day's journey left ahead of you. This close to Restov there is little to fear, so it is without any trepidation that you build a sizable fire to see you through the night. The welcome warmth dries out your sodden belongings and drives the cold from your bones. Smoke from the damp wood curls up to a clearing sky and uncountable stars.
I'm having a blast, don't you worry. If Jegred's not back by the time the group returns to civilization we'll park him and await his return. I too hope he's doing ok and healing up. I must apologize, sick dogs kept me from sleeping and I'm taking the night off to celebrate my wife and my being together for nine years now. Regular posting to resume tomorrow :)
Dang Jegred, that's rough. Hope you're on the good stuff and feeling ok, and hopefully you recover quickly. Many of my coworkers are I'm assuming you rest for the evening and then set out to finish your exploration. Where are you heading first? I'll move the timeline forward tonight after I hear some consensus. If you let me know your path ahead of time I can move the game along several hexes at a time if there's no combat. We're very close to wrapping up with this book and making with the kingdom building stuff :D
Stag Lord is dead as dead gets. Seraphina's corrosive touch spell put him at -8 hp, at which point his rogue resiliency talent kicked in to give him 6 temp hp to leave him at -2. Sicarius hit him for 10, putting him at -12. Stag Lord kept fighting due to diehard feat, and kivan put him past -con.
alrighty, typing. It's a long one. ETA: On Maja's behalf I'd say that while she can't say with 100% certainty that her missing husband is in the stag lord's fort, if he is he'd be in captivity and not running around with a sword making angry faces at adventurers storming the castle.
Hex U5, at the "Ruined Bridge". He also manifested downed hounds to attack you in hex U4 at an oxbow lake where the river kinks.Oh! Had not realized those were his hounds. Yes, I'm liking plan "Wet Bandits" more and more... time to craft some +1 toy cars of slipping and +1 paint cans of the enormous goose egg.
*THROWS STONES FROM HIS GLASS HOUSE*
I would like to re-iterate that the problems arising in PFS from Crane Wing are almost entirely due to early and cheap access with a 1-2 level dip in Master of Many Styles. My plea would be to revert Crane Wing to its previous state and errata Master of Many Styles instead. Going forward from here, I think a lot of good feedback has been generated on the issue of 'martials can't have nice things'. Flavorful, powerful abilities that don't revolve around dishing out massive damage for the face-punching-types would be a great thing to include in future releases. Nerfing Crane Wing (to the ground, baby!) wouldn't upset people nearly as much if it were one of many awesome feat chains instead of one of the few standouts. I would also like to suggest that in the future, feedback be solicited before making drastic changes to wildly popular character choices. Even if the outcome is the same, many people's feelings would be soothed if we have an indication that big changes are in the works and are given a chance to give input about this game that we all love playing. Thank you for your attention, Paizo team! Even when I'm upset with decisions, I appreciate all the hard work you put into the game.
Apologies for the long post, but I'd like to politely explain why this errata really upsets me. I find the nerf frustrating because it absolutely obliterates one of the coolest, most worthwhile feat chains for monks. With this errata, would anybody even think of building a non-MoMS monk with Crane Style? Is anybody going to take a MAD 3/4 BAB class that fights with one-handed weapons (unarmed strike) and turtle up with the Total Defense action in the hopes of getting off a single AoO per round? Whoo, fear my mighty 1d8+5 Crane Riposte! Even if you pull out at Crane Wing and fight defensively, all you're getting is +4 against one melee attack. I don't believe that justifies expending three feats. Those same three feats could be much better spent on power attack, weapon focus, and improved critical - the usual drudgery of feat taxes that melee characters are subject to. I tell you what that monk's going to get. That monk's going to get ignored by any creature with two points of INT to rub together. There's no aggro mechanic in Pathfinder, so the unhittable low-damage characters get put on hold until the squad of bad guys is done tying the wizard into a pretzel and wrapping the cleric in duct tape. Meanwhile, the Invulnerable Rager barbarian with Come and Get Me is rocking DR15/all and harvesting 3-4 AoOs per round when attacked, without sacrificing his normal attack routine on his turn, while rocking full BAB, sky high strength, two handed power attack, the whole train of omgwtfbbq hurting power that barbarians are known for. Bad guys have to decide between two terrible options: Do I ignore the barbarian and let him whup the almighty tar out of me, or do I attack the barbarian, do near zero damage, and let him whup even more tar out of me? Right next to that barbarian is the full-plate clad paladin rocking 100lbs of adamantine and the power of his faith to be a super tough, hard to kill combatant. You can't ignore him, though - that Smite Evil is racking up MAJOR damage. You get the same choice as the barbarian offers: Ignore him, get hurt. Fight him, get hurt even more. So lets go back to the Crane Wing monk. Having the auto-deflect and AC bump from fighting defensively takes a ton of pressure off the MAD nature of the monk. Suddenly, we can afford a high enough strength score to be hitting and doing some damage. Sensei Crane Wing rolls up to the fight, dishes out a mid-level beating with flurry of blows, and deflects the retaliation for survivability and extra damage. How is this a problem? The problem was never the Crane Wing monk. The problem was the two-level MoMs dip that got crane wing for cheap and early by ignoring prerequisites. All of a sudden, your magus or gunslinger or what-have-you gains an extremely powerful defensive move and AC boost for very little investment. A human character with dex 13 could get Crane Wing at 1st level and then do the rest of their adventuring career as normal. Crane Wing is not overpowered on a 5-7th level monk, but it's grossly overpowered on a first-third level anything. The fix could have come in many forms. Simply inserting "Crane Wing does not function against attacks from creatures more than two sizes larger than you" into the feat description and editing Master of Many Styles to say "The master of many styles does not need to meet any other prerequisite of the feat in the style's feat path except BAB or level requirements" would have solved the PFS problem, toned down the Crane Style slightly, and preserved one of the most flavorful and coolest things that the poor stupid monk has ever been able to do. Thank you for listening if you got through all that!
Deflect arrows also has a size difference limitation baked in - your monk isn't going to be deflecting ballista bolts. I'd be ok with a size limitation clause being put into crane wing if it needs a nerf. 'you may only deflect attacks from creatures no more than one size larger than yourself' would ease the hateboner that a lot of people seem to have about Crane Style while still leaving it useful.
It is my pleasure to inform you that the group has earned enough experience to advance to second level. xp tracker. As you level up, please redo your stats with a 20 point buy instead of the 15 you started with.
I'm going to be very frank here. The group you're playing with is right around 6th grade in terms of maturity. The fact that you're here looking to "win" against these man-children does not reflect well on you. Walk away. You shouldn't want anything to do with gamers of that caliber. You will be able to find more players easily. In this day and age, where the Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and the vampire bondage porn series rake in box office dollars, where everyone and his dog has a world of warcraft account, finding people to play nerd games with is easy. You can even grab the beginner's box and introduce new people to the hobby. If you're truly in an absolute desert of gamers and the jerk squad really is your only hope for RPG gaming, there are skype, roll20, and the other zillions of programs designed to bring pen and paper gaming to the internet. You really have to ask yourself if you're having fun with these people. If this kind of drama filled charlie foxtrot of a gaming group is your cup of tea (which I suspect it is), then suck it up and take your lumps.
the Sensei's Insightfull Strike is a class feature - if you allow that then you have to allow the monk damage. As for Magic Weapon, by RAW it's a "spell". FCT doesn't say "spells that augment", it says "effects that augment". I happen to agree that Magic Weapon works in this case - but I'm going to hold you to the same standard of proof to which you're holding me.
A monk also deals more damage with his unarmed strikes than a normal person would, as shown above on Table: Monk. The unarmed damage values listed on Table: Monk is for Medium monks. A Small monk deals less damage than the amount given there with his unarmed attacks, while a Large monk deals more damage; see Small or Large Monk Unarmed Damage on the table given below. "Effect" and "Augment" are not defined terms in the rules, so I am reading those words with their common english meaning.
The question at hand: Is the increased damage of a Monk's unarmed strike an "effect that augments an unarmed strike"? My answer: yes. Increasing the damage done with an unarmed strike is clearly augmenting the attack by the dictionary definition. The increased damage is a change to the base damage caused by being a monk, and is an effect. Using this reading, a Tengu monk with the claws alternate class feature and Feral Combat Training would do his monk unarmed damage with his claw attacks (Ie 1d6 at levels 1-3). This is for PFS and the naysayers have requested an official response. If the topic interests you, please hit the FAQ button.
At the risk of committing a strawman fallacy, lets exhaustively deal with every single possible objection. Claim: Feral Combat Training applies the increase in damage dice that a monk gets via class feature to the natural weapon selected in choosing FCT. Justification: "As well as effects that augment an unarmed strike" Objection 1: The word "augment" is unclear. Rebuttal 1: "augment" is a clearly defined word in the English language. Unlike "Daze" or "Stunned", "Augment" has no rules-defined meaning that supersedes its common English usage. The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines "augment" as "1: to increase the size or amount of (something) 2: to add something to (something) in order to improve or complete it". Objection 2: Increasing the base damage dice of a natural attack is not "augmenting" it. Rebuttal 2: Increasing the damage done by the natural attack clearly improves the attack. The objective of making an attack is to deal damage to the target. Increasing the amount of damage done is clearly improving the attack. Furthermore, it is an improvement via increasing the size of the die rolled to determine variable damage. Increasing the base damage dice of a natural attack fits both definitions of the word "augment" in the Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Objection 3: The monk's increased damage is a class feature, and therefore not legal to apply via Feral Combat Training. Rebuttal 3: Feral Combat Training contains no limitation, express or implied, to the scope of effects that augment unarmed strikes. Objection 4: There is no way to determine if the developers meant a specific set of abilities to be legal as effects that "augment an unarmed strike" Rebuttal 4: Numerous examples have been posted in this thread, taken from official rules text, of the word "augment" being used to describe adding everything from extra d20 rolls, to static damage, to variable die damage, to ability score increases, to supernatural abilities. Increasing the base damage die of an attack is described as "augmenting" that attack in multiple rules entries. Objection 5: The monk bonus damage increase does not follow the same pattern as size increases to damage. Rebuttal 5: Irrelevant; the description of Feral Combat Training does not specify or exclude any metric or pattern of effects. Objection 6: Allowing Feral Combat Training to increase the damage of a natural attack causes confusion in adjudicating stacking effects that increase damage dice. Rebuttal 6: Feral Combat Training introduces no new variables into the rules problem of stacking size increases to damage dice. It merely starts the damage dice at a slightly higher level. Additionally, complexity of effect interaction does not overrule or invalidate the rules text of effects. Objection 7: Monk increases to unarmed strike damage are not explicitly allowed as effects legal for Feral Combat Training. Rebuttal 7: Irrelevant; Feral Combat training does not explicitly allow or disallow any effect by name. Feral Combat Training applies to feats that have Improved Unarmed Strike as a prerequisite and to effects that augment an unarmed strike. An effect or feat that satisfies either of those conditions is legal to apply to a natural attack via Feral Combat Training. Objection 8: If the developers meant for Feral Combat Training to increase the base damage dice, they would have called it out in the special rules section like Flurry of Blows. Rebuttal 8: Flurry of Blows does not augment an unarmed strike - it's a special full attack option available to the monk. It does not meet either of the listed criteria for inclusion, and must therefore be added in separately. Additionally, what the developers intended is RAI. This is a RAW discussion. Objection 9: There exists a special case where applying the monk damage to unarmed strikes to a natural attack would result in a lower damage dice for the natural attack. Rebuttal 9: Feral Combat Training states that an effect "may" be applied. It is optional. Having the ability to lower the damage of a natural attack in a very specific case (multiclass monk/druid using wild shape with a Large form and high-damage natural attack) does not invalidate any part of the rules text. If I have missed any objections, please post them that I may address them.
FCT does not apply "an Augment" (noun) to the natural attack. It applies effects that "augment" (verb) the unarmed strike. It may seem like semantics quibbling to you but it's important. "Augment" (verb) is a normal english word with a clear dictionary meaning. It is just as silly to require an in-game definition of "increase" or "improve" as "augment". Your lack of understanding about the meaning of english words does not construe a lack of clarity or grey area in the meaning of "as well as effects that augment an unarmed strike".
Funny, I can say the same thing. You don't have a direct rules quote saying the Unarmed Strike is an augmentation. So without it there is no RAW supporting your view. "Augment" is not a defined term in Pathfinder. Do a search on the PRD for "augment" and tell me I'm wrong. HERE is such a search, for your convenience. Among the results we get such examples:
Augment (Sp): As a standard action, you can touch a creature and grant it either a +2 enhancement bonus to a single ability score of your choice or a +1 bonus to natural armor that stacks with any natural armor the creature might possess. At 10th level, the enhancement bonus to one ability score increases to +4. The natural armor bonus increases by +1 for every five wizard levels you possess, to a maximum of +5 at 20th level. This augmentation lasts a number of rounds equal to 1/2 your wizard level (minimum 1 round). You can use this ability a number of times per day equal to 3 + your Intelligence modifier.
Augmented Critical (Ex, 1 CP): Increase the threat range for the animated object's melee attacks by 1 or the threat multiplier by 1. This cannot combine with itself or with the piercing attack or slashing attack object abilities.
Breath Weapon (1 RP): (SNIP). Once per day, as a standard action, members of this race can make a supernatural breath weapon attack that deals 1d6 points of the damage type chosen in the area chosen. All creatures within the affected area must make a Reflex saving throw to avoid taking damage. The save DC against this breath weapon is 10 + 1/2 the user's character level + the user's Constitution modifier. Those who succeed at the save take no damage from the attack. Special: You can take this trait more than once. Each time you do so, the cost of this trait increases by 1 RP. When do, you can augment the breath weapon in the following ways (augmentations marked with an asterisk
Your player is a drama queen and frankly, I'd have kicked him out of any game I've ever run just for his attitude. Start as a mysterious stranger gunslinger. Roleplay him as a paladin - just because the class field on his sheet doesn't say PAL 1 doesn't mean he can't act like one and call himself one. Take rapid reload and quit freaking crying about it - you're going to take that feat anyway to make reloading alchemical rounds a free action before you get your first iterative attack. Check out that awesome CHA to damage deed you get: congrats, you got gun training at first freaking level. Gun jams? Wipe the pitiful tears from your face and spend a round to clear it - or draw your sword and get to fighting because you're a full BAB D10 HD class and you're gonna be just fine in melee at 1st level. Here's your lvl 1 20pt buy stats: str 12 dex 16 con 12 int 10 wis 8 cha 18. Get Intimidate with a trait; enjoy +9 to intimidate fools at 1st level. You're not playing The Man With No Name if you can't walk into a saloon, squint, chew your cigarro, and make evildoers pee their pants. Then start taking levels in paladin and BASK in the glow of only needing charisma with a side of dex. Learn to love stacking your focused aim deed (powered by charisma) bonus damage with the smite evil bonus damage, against touch AC, bypassing DR! Holy crap! Bad guys are going to die like dogs. You're going to make your GM cry bitter tears of rage as you murk their BBEG in the first round of combat. Other players are going to quietly retire their characters and reroll bards because you have the combat handled all by yourself. The build starts off good from level one, becomes great at level two, and gets game-breakingly sick by mid levels. If this joker is seriously looking at this build and crying, may I suggest that he go fire up Skyrim, turn on god mode, and run around with infinite dragon shouts in a world where every NPC assures him that he's the special snowflake chosen one. I'm legitimately upset right now.
Oh my god! A non-spellcaster can do something effective? WE MUST NERF THIS BROKEN POS TO THE GROUND, BABY! You can get Crane wing at level one as a MoMS monk or if you're human: take dodge as your 1st level feat, crane wing as your human bonus, and crane style as your monk bonus. Then, you can fight defensively! This brings your lousy monk AC up from 14-15 or so up to a GAME-BREAKING AC 17-18, meaning that the second attack against you (like, say, a CR 1/3 skeleton gets with its claw attacks) has a pretty decent chance of hitting you. For that privilege, you can take a -2 on all your attacks with your 0 BAB, and trade away the only good offensive feature monks get: flurry of blows. That 50 STR titan your oh-so-reasonable DM apparantly throws at 1st level players is just gonna shrug and pulp the rest of the party while you fail to hit him. If you don't grab Crane Wing with early entry, you have to wait until 5th level to get it. Opponents routinely have multiple attacks by then. Don't blow smoke at me about CW when casters have features like Color Spray that trivialize whole fights for the first three levels. If you forbid Crane Wing at your table you're a bad DM and should feel bad.
Here's my take, built for PFS: Human Monk 3 (Master of Many Styles, Monk of the Sacred Mountain)/Paladin 2/CoI 7 Starting stats:
Traits: Dangerously Curious, Armor Expert or Quain Martial Artist Lvl 1: Mnk 1. IUS, Dodge, Crane Style, Crane Wing, Unarmed Damage 1d6
I had a hard time with the MAD nature of this class. It's probably the MADest PrC out there. I chose not to put anything into wisdom or constitution, dabble in dexterity just enough for prereq's, and focus on strength and charisma. The 12 int is just to help out with skills - it could just as easily be in con or wis as you prefer. You could dump int to 7 and free up points to boost wisdom, but I don't feel right dumping int on a follower of the god of knowledge. Dumping int also neuters the knowledge skill ability this class gives. This guy is full BAB (close enough, hush) and does decent damage full time that spikes to great damage against smite targets. This isn't a DPR-chart winning build but it's respectable. Dragon Style and Power Attack combo up to make your strikes really really hurt, and make charging easy. Iterative attacks from full BAB and off hand strikes from TWF make up for the lost flurry ability. This guy is also a seriously tough customer to land a hit on. I have low wisdom and traded away flurry, so I have no reason not to wear the heavy armor that my paladin levels give me proficiency in. AC is great: 10 base +9 armor (plate)+ 1 dex +1 natural +4 fighting defensively +1 dodge +4 shield = 30 AC without any magic armor, rings of protection, amulets of natural armor, etc - just a UMD'd wand of shield. If something does get through, crane wing negates it. Between the great monk-style save progression and Divine Grace, plus situational bonuses from Dragon Style and Still Mind, saves will be extremely good for this guy. The low CON and d8 HD is scary, but the tanky AC and regen from Lay on Hands helps mitigate the risk. Out of combat, this guy is pretty useful. Untrained knowledge checks + progressive knowledge bonus means no matter what he'll have a shot at knowing relevant information. I like having the int 12 here to keep all knowledge skills decent. With a high charisma he can be the party face as well, and use UMD as needed. All in all I think it's a pretty decent prestige class but it takes some system mastery to use well. Thoughts on my build?
Oh no! Ty! fearing for her friend's safety, Tessa rushes to Typhon's side and lays her hand on his injury. With a brief thought, healing warmth flows from her hand.
I'm currently running a sandbox game with goblin PCs, set in the town of Thornkeep. It's got a small goblin population in it that the PCs will lead after they depose the chief, eventually running the longshanks out of town and starting a goblin kingdom with the kingmaker rules. Not quite what you had in mind but so far its been pretty fun.
The fierce glare of the springtime sun beats down on Golarion, its rays nourishing the proud, ancient trees of the Echo Woods. The date is 28 Desnus, 4713 Absalom Reckoning. The place is the northwestern River Kingdoms. And you... you be goblins. Goblins without a tribe or home. What put you in this precarious situation? Who's to say? Perhaps your old tribe was overrun by terrible longshanks with fire and steel. Perhaps famine pushed you into the world to shift for yourself. Perhaps you drew the attention of a brutal chief and got out while the getting was good. Maybe you just wandered off and got lost - you are a goblin, after all. You little dummy. The reason doesn't matter in the end, for now destiny and chance has pushed you to the River Kingdoms. In your travels and escapades, you've managed to link up with a mere handful of your fellow greenskins. You've ran terrified from shambling mounds, evaded bandit gangs, fled up trees to escape a wolfpack, and have somehow managed to scrape up enough food to mostly get by. It's been rough going, but your fortunes might finally shifting. As you wander through the woods today, a rustling in the bushes draws your attention. Before you can run away, a fellow goblin pops out! He's lean and well-toned, and carries a spear slung across his back. "Ey! Gobs! Who you be? I Two-Fang da Brambleclaw! You ain't Brambleclaw or I know you. What you do inna dees woods?
First session of this arc was last night, went well. Hargulka finally ran out of BP and maxed his unrest, and was forced to attack the PC capital of Silverado (their group was called the Argent Wardens, they named their nation Argentina... big silver theme combined with terrible naming ability :) ). With some well-placed divination magic, the PCs learned of the troll attack plan and defended their city. I rubbed it in to them that they hadn't done any hexploration/monster clearing from RRR, and had lizardfolk, trolls, the huge owlbear, and the lake turtle all attack the city in a two-pronged land and amphibious assault. The PC armies were victorious, though not without losses, and the PCs themselves handily defeated the troll commanders in individual level combat. I did this to give them a taste of the mass combat rules and to get their troops some combat experience. Following that, there was a council of war with the leader of the Aldori Council in Restov, where the PCs (more accurately, their players) were informed of the political machinations in Brevoy. I don't think any of my PCs had thought the logistics of the upcoming war through. The Aldori mentioned that they could muster 1000 swordsmen guerrillas and 2000 infantry, and House Rogarvia had 4000 infantry and 1000 cavalry, but they would be severely outnumbered by the armies from the rest of Brevoy. This elicited winces and concern from my players as they realized how outmatched they are. Good for the sense of tension! They laid plans for war, and decided that the best places to dig in and fortify are the locks and Olegton. They know that the Aldori suspect decisive victories at Olegton, the Shrike river locks, and Restov will bring Orlevsky into the war on their side. Irovitti of Pitax sent a messenger informing the players that he would be helping them by attacking south west Brevoy on a land grab. The players were rightfully distrustful of this news (I have built Irovitti up as a significant badass). Concerned with the possibility of Pitaxian troops using the South Rostland Road to move troops against their kingdom, the PCs staged a raid on the massive stone bridge that spans the East Sellen at the Rostland Road and destroyed it, chasing away the force of pickets set to guard the bridge. They now feel more secure to their west, allowing them to focus their defenses north. Mivon's Swordlord council met with the Duke PC as the rest of the group was destroying Brevic Bridges. The Duke PC hit it off well with them, and their shared Aldori heritage made for a friendly meeting. The Duke agreed to enter into a free trade and mutual defense pact with Mivon, who welcome the opening of the Shrike River for trade, which doubles the amount of river traffic that flows past Mivon. The Mivonese mentioned they were always eager to stick it to Choral's legacy and will be sending troops north by boat to help defend the locks. I will set up that battle so that the PCs will be losing, perhaps badly, when Mivonese reinforcements arrive and turn the tide of battle. The Mivonese swordlords also mentioned using the PC nation as a neutral ground for reconciliation with the Rostlandic swordlords, and proposed opening a college of swordsmanship to aid the effort. After this war, conflict between the two branches of Aldori will flare as centuries-old honor demands play out. PC intervention and roleplaying can put an end to the fighting and re-unify the swordlords. As the session closed, I montaged the early days of the war, describing House Rogarvia suffering several major defeats and being pushed back almost to the Brevic border. Surtovian troops sweep through Rostland, and although the swordlord guerrillas slow them down, stage several assaults on Restov. Unable to carry the city by force, they settle down for a siege and send troops to attack the locks. Next week will be the battles of Olegton and the Shrike Locks.
Slight correction and explanation, prompted by a PM I got. The East Sellen river flows from Bevoy's Lake Reykal, through the Hooktongue Slough, past Mivon, then to Lake Kallas in the River Kingdoms. There, united with the other two branches of the Sellen, it flows southward through Galt, between Taldor and Andoran, into the Inner Sea. The East Sellen is the primary trade route to Brevoy, despite the dangers of the Slough. It is currently closed due to monster activity, weakening Brevoy. The Shrike river flows from Iobaria, past Restov, along the South Rostland Road, and dips south through the Stolen Lands, feeding Tuskwater and Candlemere lakes. The Shrike flows into the Little Sellen river, which joins the East Sellen river near Mivon. Removing the obstacles to navigation along the Shrike allows direct river trade between Brevoy, the River Kingdoms, and the Inner Sea nations to flow again. It's a much safer route than through the Slough, and it greatly increases the economic power of Restov. This shifts the balance of power significantly south in Brevoy. Rostland has been chafing under Brevic rule, and in my game Rostland, Restov, and the Swordlords were fomenting rebellion with the slogan "Rostland Rises!". Surtova saw the new trade route as a threat to his rule and moved to bring the locks under his control. Diplomacy having failed, he now moves militarily. This sparks the Rostland Revolution, which the PCs join. Pitax will see an opportunity to annex some Brevic territory, although Irovitti won't risk too much. Mivon will enter the war on the side of Rostland, seeing the chance to redeem themselves of their ancestors' flight from Rostland. If the PCs agree to join the Swordpact and allow the Aldori legacy to blossom in their land, they'll send mercenary help. The re-unification of the Aldori legacy would make a good sub-plot. The Duke player is from a minor swordlord family, so I can parlay this into the rise of his family. I can even see the PC kingdom annexing Rostland and Mivon into a swordlord nation, which would be a satisfying plot arc and good note to end the campaign on. Surtova quickly moves to attack Restov. Unable to storm the city by force, he settles in for a siege. Meanwhile he sends troops to capture or destroy the lock system. He also sends an army to Olegton, and intends to sack the town and fight southward to punish the PC kingdom. Success for the PCs hinges on defending the locks, defending Olegton, and breaking the siege of Restov. With those three conditions met, House Orlovsky makes its move for the throne, sensing that Surtova is weak. Lobodka fights on the Surtova side, and Rogarvia fights with the Rostlanders. This is enough of a dust-up that the PCs can emerge with kingdom intact. Orlovsky will defeat Surtova, and Regent Surtova himself will be killed. Brevoy will splinter back into Rostland and Issia. Issia will be tied up in Orlovsky vs. Lobodka fighting and be a political non-player from that point on. I think I've got the war charted out pretty thoroughly now. Thanks for all your help, everybody. I'll let you know how it goes.
lots of fantastic stuff I love your thinking. My players are very stubborn, and will not accept any outcome that involves bending their knee to another kingdom. This is going to be either freedom or death for them. The Duke even mentioned "millions for defense, not one copper piece for tribute!". The players have very strong ties to the swordlords. The Duke is of a minor swordlord family, and two of the PC's backgrounds are from Restov. The players have maintained good relations with Restov, and Rostland will be fighting on their side. The PCs also have close ties to Varnhold, the Duke's cousin is married to Varn. Unfortunately, they just vanished. I envision the forces that the Swordlords field as better guerrillas and partisans than a standing army, especially given their history fighting the dragonscale throne. Surtova will have to tie up the majority of his troops fighting Rostland, but several divisions of soldiers will be free to attack the players' kingdom. I had also eyed the locks as the initial target of the Surtova advance. It's a huge boon to economy, and having them under Brevic control would be quite the coup, worth more than taxing some upstart kingdom. I had not considered the River Kingdom Pirates, however. That would be a delicious offer to spring on the players! Their ex-spymaster now high priest player has a vendetta against bandits, would be satisfying watching him try to swallow that to save the kingdom. If the players can deal a severe bloody nose to Surtova at the locks, and subsequently follow up by relieving the siege of Restov to unleash Swordlord guerrillas, I'll have the Orlovsky family sense weakness in the Surtova family and make their move for the Dragonscale Throne. With the civil war in Brevoy raging, the PC kingdom will survive. Thanks for all your input, and I'll be using your noble houses of Brevoy write up. If you're ever in northeast ohio I owe you a drink!
...At the junction between Rivers Run Red and Varnhold Vanishing. Their kingdom has pinged hard on the radar of Regent Surtova. My industrious group has expanded to the rapids that make the east sellen river bad for trade, and built a series of fortified locks to bypass the falls. This opens up the east sellen river for trade all the way from Brevoy to the Inner Sea. This is a huge geopolitical event, and forced Surtova to notice much earlier than I'd have liked. He sent an ambassador asking the group to pledge fealty and acknowledge his rule, and pay a monthly tax to him. The party refused, debated kidnapping the messenger, and sent him on his way. In the wake of the ambassador's departure, they started raising armies equal to one fifth of their kingdom's population (1000 level 1 commoners, 300 level 1 fighters). Naturally, Brevoy took this as an act of imminent war and now there will be serious trouble as Surtova marches troops southward. Sartova mobilizing has also sparked conflict in Rostland, as the Swordlords see Surtova becoming aggressive and prepare for civil war. The fecal matter is truly hitting the air moving device. Has anybody else run the civil war in brevoy chain of events? Any advice for me? I'll be setting the events as Rostland loses again without my group's intervention, and then re-unified Brevoy will crush the fledgling stolen lands kingdom.
I'll be frank: Your players have piss-poor attitudes and are acting extremely immature. If I had a player at one of my tables harangue me like that, they would be ejected immediately. Remind them of rule zero: the GM is ALWAYS right when he wishes to be. If they complain, eject them for a session. If they whine about that, kick 'em out. My kingmaker group started with six players and is down to five because of one player's disruptive behavior. There is a huge difference between bringing up perceived issues with the GM for a polite discussion, and browbeating you alternately for making it "too tough" and "playing incompetently". Pathfinder is a very complex game, and rules mastery takes years and years of playing to develop, complicated by D&D 3.X baggage that may or may not have been ported over. No GM should be expected to have an encyclopedic knowledge of the rules. At my table, my players constantly correct me on things, but they do it politely and are usually right. I frequently correct them on things as well. It is important to remember that the GM/player relationship should not be adversarial. This isn't a game with two sides where you play to win. You play to have fun and tell a story. What I see from your situation is that your players are taking advantage of your limited knowledge of the rules to build horrendously overpowered characters and cheat, then piss and moan about the difficulty of encounters not being right. Well of course the difficulty isn't right! As others have said, the AP assumes four PCs with 15 point buy scores. Throw a 32(!) PB party in there with bullcrap flying horses and non-existent abilities and they expect the power level of their opponents to be perfect? Please! Additionally, the Kingmaker AP is a sandbox adventure. This means the players aren't railroaded from one encounter to another, carefully designed to be challenging but not impossible. It means "Here is a world, go explore". Here there be dragons - your safety is not guaranteed. Look at the random encounter tables - there's a very real possibility of level one characters encountering a group of FIVE CR 5 TROLLS. There's a reason nobody's been able to tame these lands. They're fraggin' dangerous! If the PCs dive straight at an encounter too tough for them, mess them up badly and TPK if that's what the dice say. In my game, one of the two character deaths was from messing with an encounter that was clearly too tough. As an aside: there is no way to become immune to arrows. The deflect arrow feat allows you to deflect ONE ranged attack per round, requires you to have a free hand, and has improved unarmed strike as a prerequisite. Your fighter is blatantly cheating and should be called out on it. I would HIGHLY recommend that you ask each player to give you a copy of their character sheet. Post their characters here. We'll beat them back into the shape they should be in.
I'm not sure what this means, could you clarify?
You'll drop power attack, cast Displacement (domain spell) on yourself, get in its face, and kick its ass with no mercy, like a good cleric of Gorum should. Even with NO BUFFS, you'll only be attacking at -3 or -4 compared to a straight fighter (assuming equal stats, same weapons, etc), so you should be able to land hits even on high-ac monsters. If not, 5 foot step out, cast True Strike (also a domain spell), next round step back in and get that hit. Or, cast that displacement on the fighter, and bless, and doom on the bad guy, and use your touch of chaos debuff to make the bad guy flub his attacks and NEVER get crits. Heal the fighter. Flank the bad guy to give the fighter flanking (or better yet, flank with the rogue). Stand 30 feet back and channel heal your party. All of these strategies work just fine even in the face of whatever horrible creature has ac 40 and +30 saves and hits you with dispels. If the bad guy is wasting actions to strip your buffs, that's fine. The rest of your team will be busy killing him. |
