My new job has really taken the wind out of my sails in terms of PbP. I work in learning support and accepted a full time contract with less than two days to prepare. Having gone from one day of work a week to six, I'm grossly overcommited to PbPs for the forseeable future. My plan is to finish what PFS games I am involved in and withdraw from the hobby for a while until I'm settled into a new job.
I hate to do this. I know what a player withdrawing can do to a game so young, so I'm happy to wait for a replacement, but my posting is going to be very spotty over the next few weeks.
Seeing his beleaguered companion, Rolfe charges to Garl's side, driving his lance into blue wolf's flank, skewering it for good. "Normal beasts would've turned tail by now!"
Trying to spur his horse into attacking, Rolfe only succeeds in making the skittish beast rear backward. Taking advantage of the opportunity, he plunges his lance into yellow wolf's heart.
Rolfe fumbles with his own lance. Unable to charge in such tight quarters, he spurs himself a few paces back into the clearing, readying his lance to keep the wolves at bay.
Antagonizing the lawmen is what got you into this mess, Rolfe. Ain't you learned your lesson yet? he ponders, nearly breezing past the tracks. "Look here. Hooffalls. Keep your eyes peeled. I think our new friends might be trying to cut us off."
Rolfe grimaces at the professor and the sherrif, giving them an apologetic smile before shouldering his bow and following Thrand to the stables. "Mighty glad to be hitting the road again."
Rolfe strokes his whiskers. "Whelp. I suppose not."
I'm with you guys on this, but remember that our employers are on good terms in Krane and that both of our current missions are hanging in the balance here. If I'm going to play devil's advocate I'll do it in-character, however. Just waiting to see how things pan out.
Rolfe looks dumbfouded. His temper seems piqued at the mention of debtors prison. "A four thousand year old artifact and you decide to air it out on the tavern floor? Meanin' no offense, mister, but my fellows and me mightn't be the ones at fault here." Rolfe says, letting that hang on the air before continuing.
"But you seem like good folk. In fact it's the professor we traveled here to see. We've a letter, you see. 'an we'll get yer artifacts, as a sign of good faith." he says, with an easy smile that doesn't linger long on his face. He glances at the others. "Won't we?"
Perhaps an untrained heal check, Garl? You have the highest wisdom mod of the party. Also Thrand's last comment cracked me up. I'm still mopping up the tea from my desk...
Rolfe, bewildered by the sudden explosion of activity, looks to his companions for direction as things look to get violent again. "Woah there, sheriff. You okay?"
"Swooped right at me, he did! Here now, there's no need fer..."
Diplomacy:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (11) + 2 = 13
Diplomacy takes a full minute, but Rolfe will try to bandy words if it means forestalling a fight. Feel free to discount this roll as I'm acting out of turn.
"Birthin' a calf is a messy business." he adds on to his previous comment, dragging his feet as the investigation drags on. Remember why y'er doing this. A new start. With a new employer. A feller what pays in advance and don't tax you none. Try not to screw this up, Rolfe ol' boy.
Rolfe will clamber out the window. "That wolf of yours might have the only lead we've got. Hope it's worth all the gosh-darned fuss it's been makin'."
Quiet few days from me here on out. Happy holidays everyone!
"Covered in blood? Now that don't figure. I'm wearin' yesterdays clothes, and the smell would be hangin' on me something fierce." Rolfe says, brow furrowed.
"She's saying the fellers testimony don't hold up." Rolfe says, testily, unable to hold his tongue any longer. "Question him again, or let's see some o' this so-called evidence."By the nine hel-... by St. Cuthbert! Priests back home would jes' be beating the lies out of 'em with a big stick. S'pose I should be grateful on that account...
Rolfe sits silently, nonplussed as he watches his companions rise to his defense. Despite himself and the dire situation he's in, his whiskers twist into a smile.
Rolfe grabs Garl in a headlock (provoking, if Garl so chooses) as the gnome brings his blade to bear. "What'n'blazes are you doing? Have you completely taken leave of yer senses? Stop drawing more attention our way. An' don't be waving yer steel around unprovoked." he growls, pushing the gnome onto the dirty tavern floor.
"Don't mind him, sheriff. My friend here had heard wondrous things about Chesterhome hospitality. Imagine his surprise when not ten minutes in the gates we're threatened by a confessed murderer, says he wants a trinket we found by the roadside. But if it's food an' board you want to be givin' us then we'll say cheers to you, m'lord, and see ourselves to them nice feather beds until we see justice done."
Leaving Thrand to treat with the sherrif, Rolfe waits until Garl lowers his weapon before releasing him. "C'mon. Think you an' I are gonna have a long chat." he says, starting upstairs.
Not really enjoying being botted like that when my intention to attack one of our aggressors is pretty clear. Could we have our enemies clearly labeled in future? I moved Rolfe adjacent to the closest and meanest looking npc, and as one of the first good PCs I've played in ages I'd like that taken to account when we resolve my actions at the very least. Not meaning to be snippy but given that the PBP format takes so long to resolve actions id rather we take a bit more care. especially another farmer! But seeing the way this encounter is going, no harm done.
In the ensuing chaos Rolfe will motion to the others and attempt to grapple the leader, trying to drag him away to question.
Rolfe will delay until anybody makes a hostile move (Although Tanariel's spell might qualify I don't want to jeopordise it by putting them in danger and giving them the save bonus). "Come now fellers, have y'at least the courtesy to be taking this outside?"
Rolfe seems bewildered by the gnomes request, but obliges him nonetheless. He eyes up the other armed patrons, a curious expression on his face. he settles into his chair, seemingly relaxed by the humbleness of his surroundings, and calls for a round of ale.
"Brightflame? ... I don't much like the look of this. Do you think it's... y'know... cursed?" he says, unwilling to claim the dagger for his own. "Odd to find something so valuable lying by the roadside. Perhaps this wasn't a robbery after all?"
Scratching his head, Rolfe will don the poorly-fitting chain shirt, pulling his roughspun tunic over the top and patting his stomach a few times. "I suppose he won't be needing it, but the abbots of St. Cuthbert would give me a right belting if they could see me now."
"Shall we be off? We still have ourselves a letter to deliver."
"Can't have been the dogs, our man here's been robbed." he postulates, stroking his whiskers and searching the body. "What kind of devil leaves a feller to die on the road like this? Steady on... H? Could this be our Horvik? With the dagger?
Rolfe doubles back down the trail, falling in step with the others. "No saving that feller, but least we can do is drive 'em off and give 'im a proper burial. I can try to calm the beasts down, but the poor devils look half starved. I don't fancy getting between them and their dinner."
He listens with bated breath, willing to defer to the decision of his wiser companions. "What'll it be? Drive 'em off or make our way around?"
Rolfe nocks an arrow and points it at the creature. "These folk need that coin more than you. 'mafraid I don't take too kindly from those that take from the needy."
Is it possible to snatch the case from it? Rolfe will do so.
I'm going to roll for next round as well as I'm ducking out of town for a day or two and likely won't be able to check in.
Rolfe, remembering himself, leaps over the deadful, and makes for the stream, clearing it in a single leap but still lagging behind their quarry and unable to find a clear shot.
"Well, now I've definitely seen everything." Rolfe says, having roused himself after a sleepy start with a bucket of riverwater over the head. Sopping wet and still groggy from the honey ale, Rolfe shoulders his shortbow and gives chase.
I've played with the chase rules once or twice, but here's a link for everybody that needs to jog their memory.
Rolfe will help Thrand settle the horses, noting the man's gentle manner with the animals and starting to reevaluate him. He's quick to join in the halfling's merriment, chatting easily with the simple folk and partaking a little of the honey ale. He watches in amazement at Tanariel's singing, jaw dropping. "... gosh. Ain't ever heard nothing like that before. No question."
Rolfe seems much more at ease once they leave the city walls, soothing his skittish horse as it shys away from their companion's wolf. His shortbow strung and draped over his lap, he sways in his saddle, making small talk with the halflings for much of the journey.
Handle Animal:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (19) + 7 = 26
Dismounting, he approaches the others, beaming. "Helping good folk find their way in the world. I was afraid we'd be doing naught but glorified tomb robbing."
Rolfe nearly falls over himself in fright as Tanariel kneels before him. "You gave me a start there!" Regaining his composure he rubs the back of his neck, colour rising in his neck as he begins to talk a little too quickly. "Well shucks, you don't need to concern yourself with me. I don't need mothering, milady. No offense meant, o'course."
Rolfe sets his jaw at Thrand's words. A fire flashes behind his eyes. He making a dig at me? I ain't some ploughhorse to be made light of by some lordling's son if that's what he's hinting at.
Sense Motive DC 14:
Bluff:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
Rolfe seemed to take offense at Thrand's comment, his anger seeing to come from some past trouble than anything in the hedge-knights words. He brushes it off, not wanting to start things off on a bad foot.
Easy Rolfe. Making trouble with yer betters is what got you into this mess. I'm sure he weren't meaning no offense. Shucks, these highborn folk sure are strange.
Rolfe stares as if in puzzlement at Thrand's comment before chuckiling heartily. (Perhaps a little too heartily.) "Ain't seen a real warhorse up close before. I think you'll find I'm a fair rider as well, milord. Might give you a run for your money."
"Straight through Furyondy, by my reckoning..." the field-hand says, scratching his rough stubble and making one last hopeful glance toward the kitchen. "Begging your pardon, milord, milady... not meaning to interrupt. Just thought I ought ta be introducing myself." he says, shifting uncomfortably as the temperature in the room seems to rise. "Name's Rolfe. Must say I wasn't expecting company quite so fine." he adds, trying to scrape a little of the muck off of his boots with his heel.
A plain-faced Oeridian man, common as dirt, heads downstairs, looking somewhat unsure he's in the right place. His eyes dart from the enormous wolf curled up under the bar to the heavily armoured folk, otherworldy gnome and elf maiden. They have the rings on their fingers. It checks out. This must be the place."Well... I'll be."
He pulls up a stool, flashing an apologetic smile to the barkeep. "Any chance of a hot meal, stranger?"
Purchases might take me a day or two more. I've hardly had a chance to sit down this week!
Twigs here, opting for the Rogue. Spent far longer on this than I ought have (even wrote up one and a half clerics before arriving here. I guess you can colour me enthusiastic.)
Questions:
Please state your name, your place of origin and how you came to this building today. Please address the orbs.”
A stocky man of Oeridian descent walks into the room, doffing his hat and nervously taking a seat. "Er... The orbs? Well... Alright. You don't mind if I take a drink first? Mighty thirsty on the road. Name's Rolfe. I'm from a little hamlet in Furyondy. Name o' Stump. You've uh... probably never heard of it, I'll wager."
The man stops to stroke his whiskers. "... as for why I'm here, well. Between the Baron's taxes and ol' St. Cuthbert's dues a young sharecropper don't stand much chance. Tried reasoning with 'em, but those priests aren't the most understanding bunch." he stiffens, his soft good-natured smile turning grim as he jokingly mimes a priest with a stout club. "Lawful correction lies in a stout cudgel. Some good folk can only understand one thing. Square corners can be pounded smooth and so on..."
"Anyway, fought back, didn't I? Refused to pay 'em a copper common. They didn't like that one bit so I thought I'd try my luck in the big city."
“What horrors, seen or unseen, known or unknown, scares you or keeps you up at night?”
"Never was much of a swimmer." he says, brushing the question off. "Used to be terrified of falling down the well when I was a lad. I'd wake up in cold sweats an' everything."
“Do you value individual freedom and choice?”
"That I do. Don't get me wrong, I ain't got no aspirations to be something I ain't. But the gentry should be protecting us common folk, not lording over us and robbing us blind."
“What languages do you speak? Which do you care to learn?”
"Common tongue's always been good enough for me, mister."
“Where do you see yourself in ten years’ time?”
"I wager all this trouble will have blown over. I'll head back to the country. He's getting on in years, so ol' Pa will need my help to run the homestead."
“Do you think you work well with others?”
"So long as everybody does their bit. Where I come from you learn to value hard work."
“If you see innocents suffering will you break from the mission to resolve the issue?”
"'course I will. Can't abide bullies."
“Besides wealth, what else will you work for?”
"Protectin' those who can't protect themselves..." he says, definitively. "Oh! And a hot dinner."
“Will you obey the law even if you feel it is unjust and goes against your beliefs?”
"Noones above the law, but until them fat clergymen and merchants have to pay the same as honest folk, I don't think it's a law worth paying heed to."
“What can you offer the team?”
"I'm the best shot with a bow for a hundred leagues of where I come from, and that's no boast."
“Are you willing to endure suffering to complete the mission?”
"Sure. Builds character, the priests are always saying."
“Complete the mission or save your companions- choose one. And why?”
"What's more important than saving a life? Companion or no..." he answers. "What kind of work is this, anyhow?"
"Who do you pray to?"
"Ah, well. Despite all of them strong words, I remember my first Saint Cuthbert's day. I reckon I'm still a Cuthbertine at heart. Just wish him and his were more interested in our wellbeing than the contents of our purses. But you don't get far in my line of work without paying heed to the harvest gods neither." He scratches his head. "Of course, you city folk keep a damn sight more gods than we ever did. I can barely name all of them. Damn near does my head in."
I plan on having Rolfe be an early convert to Olidammara. I think it'd fit his good humour and chaotic nature.
"If that's all, gentlemen, when can I start?"
Crunch:
Cribbing off of Robin Hood for that Feudal Europe feel. An Unchained Archer Rogue, gunning for Shatter Defenses and the performance feats (The Dashing Archer build, sans multiclassing). Using Dazzling Display and the unchained rogue abilities (and eventually crippling strike) to debilitate foes and having a reliable way to set up ranged sneak attacks should we get to level eight.
STR: 14
DEX: 18
CON: 10 This hurts, I really want a 12 here for my fort save, might swap this with the wisdom score INT: 8
WIS: 12
CHA: 14
Alignment: Chaotic Good (I've played so many reprehensible characters that this feels like brand new territory) Feats: Weapon Finesse, Point Blank Shot, Rapid Shot
Traits: Beast Bond and Militia Veteran for Ride and Handle Animal
