Pathfinder Adventure, Adventure Path Subscriber. Pathfinder Society GM. 29 posts (906 including aliases). No reviews. No lists. No wishlists. 27 Organized Play characters. 4 aliases.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
The dawning of that next day and the next step towards a brighter future dawns brightly over Urigen. Within the window of his room, Parison undertook his daily ritual of his morning prayers to his goddess. On those days of morning sunshine, the beams of light always gave the priest a secure sense of both safety and comfort. As he held his silver medallion in his hand, the sun's rays seemed to enhance his sense of euphoria moreso than he'd remembered since donning the Dawnflower's mantle.
"Something new begins and something ends."
The feminine voice was commanding, yet sublime. Startled, Parison looked up, his invocation dying in his throat. No one was there. He looked around, even throwing a sideways glance under the bedframe. All was dust underneath.
Perplexed, the young man resumed his morning prayers to Sarenrae with a modicum of wariness. When he finished, he ambled downstairs to join his friends for the breakfast meal. As he partook of the spread of food on the table, he looked around the table at his companions in silent contemplation. Rumble was arduously putting away as much food as he could. Janus and Zithembe were debating the nature and philosophies of the First World between bites and Hepsubia and Maria were discussing the merits and flaws of bows and swords. Grinning serenely, he turned his focus back to filling his own stomach.
None of them noticed when a gangly man with blond hair wearing a backpack entered the Oaken Knot's common room. His travelling clothes bore the dust of the open road and a rapier was sheathed at his side. His eyes scanned the room until his eyes fell upon Sarenrae's cleric.
"Parison Drekmore?"
The man's high-pitched voice brought the flow of conversation and breakfast to a halt as all eyes turned to the source of the interruption. "I am he," Parison replied as he gave the newcomer a look of both appraisal and scrutiny. "Who are you?"
"My name is Darro and like yourselves, I, too, am a member of the Pathfinder Society," he replied as he produced a wayfinder with the open road glyph from underneath his tunic. Returning the wayfinder from whence he produced it, the man unshoulder his backpack and rooted within before producing two pieces of parchment. "I was sent to find you and give you this," he said, presenting a scroll bearing Sarenrae's seal the mark of the high priest of her temple in Absalom. "From Captain Smine, who hopes you are well and that your assignment is progressing nicely," Darro added, producing a second scroll.
Parison took the latter scroll first, opened it, and silently began reading it.
"Ah tried ta tell 'is fool th ye'd be comin' back an ta wait, but he insisted on findin' ye. Hope that ye an ye fella agents be 'ale an 'earthy an' 'at things in Urigen be goin' as planned. Explore, report, cooperate." Holgarin Smine
"We were just in the process of wrapping up our business here in Urigen," Parison replied. "We just have to help with a ritual and we'll be finished here. Holgrin will be pleased with what we have to tell him." As the others at the table began introducing themselves to Darro, Parison broke the seal on the second scroll and began to read its contents. An expression of grimness crossed his features as his eyes moved back and forth across the page, the words within hitting him like arrows. As he finished reading the scroll, lines of determination creased the man's grimance. He finished the scroll, rolled it up, and placed it not uncaringly into his backpack and stood up.
Something new begins. And something ends.
"My friends," he said, his voice serious and mixed with sadness and regret. "I fear the time has come for me to say farewell to all of you. That was from the temple of Sarenrae in Absalom. My services are needed at the Temple of Redeeming Sun in Merab." A sigh escaped his lips. "I must have made a lasting impression on my brethren when we were there dealing with that business with Veshtahz and the cultists because they asked for me specifically. I have to leave immediately."
Parison looks down at his feet for a moment, feelings of sadness and guilt welling up inside him. "I hoped I'd never have to make this choice," he said in a thick voice filled with sadness. "Save Janus, all of you knew that if I had to choose between Sarenrae or the Society of which I would choose. That time has come, ready or not."
Taking a deep breath, Parison thinks carefully about the words he will say next. "It has been an honor and a privilege to work with, travel, and get to know each and every one of you. We've had our fights and differences of opinion at different times but I feel like those times served to bring us closer together instead of pushing us apart. Janus, my only regret lies with you and that being I didn't have the time to come to know you as well as I have the others but you have earned my respect and admiration in that time."
He looks around at the others. "Hepsubia, Zithembe, Maria...and Rumble," he says. "All of you have a special place in my heart and my thoughts and you are more than just fellow Pathfinders and friends. You have become like family and I have come to know and love all of you in that regard. Thank you for giving me a chance and for being my friend. May Sarenrae watch over you and bless all of you in your trials and adventures yet to come."
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"The only blue portal left is the one where the gears are?" Parison asks.
As he looks at where the portal is, the cleric's face pales, but his features are stoic with resolve. "I've seen a lot since becoming a follower of the Dawnflower and a lot have I seen since venturing with the lot of our group," he says, his voice twinged with nervousness.
"Now is the time to show my belief in my companions in addition to Sarenrae," he finishes and then begins to jog toward the tower wall before he can change his mind. As he reaches the wall, Parison suddenly changes direction and angles back toward the railing separating the clock tower gears from the landing. As he reaches the railing, he emits a forceful cry as he makes a leap of faith over the railing with all of the strength he can summon and spreads his arms in a swan dive toward the portal.
Acrobatics: Jump:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Parison gets a running start and leaps over the railing into the blue portal. I copied my icon to show my path taken to it and I shouldn't take any penalties since I got a 15-foot running start to do a horizontal jump. Based on the path, it will be a 15 foot leap and I rolled a 16 on the dice, so I just barely make it.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison had taken the opportunity after the fight to use another charge of the wand of cure light wounds on himself.
Wand:CLW:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (8) + 1 = 9
The egregious wound and scar tissue were completely gone, replaced by healed muscle and flesh of a healthy color. But the cleric has no time to breathe before hearing commotion below. Most of his companions had charged down the stairs. Parison looked over to see Rumble and Zithembe engaged with what appeared to be a common looking gunny sack.
"Hey now!" the cleric admonished as he began to descend toward the ground floor as quickly as possible. "No one's getting sacked if we've got anything to say about it!"
If Parison had the time to heal up between the combats, his action will be to all out run 120 feet to get to the first floor where he can aid those in danger of the construct's attacks He should be able to get down on the second floor based where he was originally on the 3rd floor.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
As his friends examine the tower closely and make their discoveries, the priest of Sarenrae suddenly stumbles upon the solution to end the root of all conflict between all races. He stands up to share his findings but finds himself alone. He draws his scimitar, planning to make a scratch in the morter stone where he saw the solution.....and sees that the solution to eliminate war isn't there.
Was he looking at the right stone? He looks at the one to the left. No luck. The one on the right. Nothing there. Furitively, Parison looked at every stone in the area he knew to be standing in. The cleric came up empty. To make matters worse, he'd completely forgotten what he'd seen in his search to locate this lost knowledge.
The cleric searched in vain until it was almost time for the ceremony to start. He'd thought about disclosing what he'd seen. Or what he'd thought he'd seen. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him, but an inner voice cautioned him against such speech. At best, his companions would consider his discovery a mirage brought on by spirits. At worse, they would think him a lunatic or a heretic of his deity. Or both.
The effects of the applejack was beginning to diminish, but he still felt that sense of scrubbed clarity of wisdom lingering when the faces of the tower erupt in a kaleidoscope of color. The display of clockwork mood lighting seemed to enhance Parison's euphoria, but when the figures began appearing around the square, the scene sobered the cleric up rapidly. While not scared, he was certainly amazed by arrival of these strange otherworldly creatures.
"Goddess, grant me and my companions your blessing in the coming conflict!" he shouts above the din of noise, calling on the aid of Sarenrae.
Parison casts Bless. +1 to all attack rolls and save vs. fear effects and will take a 5 foot step toward the edge of the platform.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison catches up with Rumble, but the rest of the group happen to be right on their heels and they find themselves at the clock tower in less time than it takes to tell.
The stonework in the floor struck the disciple of the Dawnflower as strangely intriguing. Parison began to take in the craftsmanship as he knelt down and slowly ran his hand over the floor. The applejack coursing through his body seemed to be scrubbing through the blood vessels within his brain and leaving him with a fresh sense of awareness. He wandered away from the others as the stonework engrossed him and became all-consuming in his state of alcoholic transcendence.
Perception (Stonework of both floors):1d20 + 10 ⇒ (1) + 10 = 11
If I hadn't been playing this up as such, I'd use my GM reroll. I won't, though, because this is a prime example of how someone who has consumed alcohol thinks they're ten feet tall and bulletproof when they're not. I never get to do this with a character, either, so from a storytelling point of view, this is hilarious.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison keeps from grinning when Zithembe convinces Rumble to not be a party-pooper, but suddenly finds that easier to do when the dwarf begins to encourage everyone to knock back some drinks.
"One applejack for me, if you please," he requests to a nearby server and then pays the appropriate price. When delivered, he slowly sips on it as he listens to his companions and Seripan discuss the clock tower, its history, and the plans Mayor Ogden has for rediscovering its purpose.
The cleric holds up his glass to take another drink. His eyes widen as he sees that he's almost reached bottom. He turns and the server, like magic, is right there asking him if he'd like more to drink.
"No, no," he says, waving the server away. "One's enough to prime the pump. More would just clog the pump pipe." A cheerful glowing sensation seemed to be spreading from his cheeks across his face and his earlier melancholy had been pushed to the back of his mind by the current buzz he was feeling from the drink.
Parsion found himself admiring the shabti all the more when the idea is brought up to investigate the clock. The admiration turned to surprise when Rumble lit out of the tavern half-cocked and half-lit. "I'd better catch up with him. No idea of what trouble might come looking for him when he's like that," he says, quickly excusing himself. "Nice to meet you, Seripan," he calls back while trying to sidestep the other revelers in the tavern as he hustles to catch up with the dwarf.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison kept his words and his thoughts to himself as introductions with both mayors of Uringen. The trip through the wood, the primal vibe and the activity of trapspotting provided a focus to keep his thoughts from wandering to his inner doubts of his adequacy. Keeping silent as the others spoke to Ogden and Mieren.
Goddess, why am I here?
The cleric racked his brain. Every mission for the Society seemed to have a religious connotation that had allowed him to display his expertise. The diplomatic mission to establish peace with the Sewer Dragons didn't have any ties to religion or a base to spread the word of the Dawnflower, witnessing the brokered truce as a representative of the church of Sarenrae had given the alliance between both parties a religious stamp of approval that could swing some weight.
This missive from the Society was different from any he'd previously undertaken as an agent. There were no obvious religious ties, nor was it an ambassadorial mission of peace. He almost thought of seeking out Holgarin Smine and asking to be replaced once the group had been briefed on the particulars. An agent with an interest in science or a Numerian background seemed to be better suited for such an assignment. His friends, especially Rumble had been all that prevented him from asking to be replaced. He'd never be able to forgive himself if he'd not come and something dreadful should happen to them.
The overbearing presence of foreboding that had been omnipresent on their trek through the woods had done little to assuage the insecurity Parison felt. It was that insecurity that prompted him to keep quiet and just listen as the others spoke with the authority figures of the township. Wrapped up in his inner turmoil, he was uncharacteristically lax in trying to monitor the tone of the duo's words and their body language for any sutble clues about their personalities.
In Marduke's shop, Parison replaces his antiplague and picks up a pair of thunderstones. When they reach the Oaken Knot, the cleric observes the mix of people and suddenly wishes he'd thought to have purchased a weapon blanch that could give any of his weapons a one-shot effectiveness as if it were made of cold iron. The atmosphere within the inn's confines seems relaxing and it has an immediate effect on Sarenrae's disciple. Parison is unable to help himself, grinning, when Rumble complains to the group about having no time for merriment.
Thanks, battle-buddy. I needed that.
"I don't know what she is, but I think she was talking about when all the clock faces align tonight," he whispers back subtlely.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"We'll make sure that the reports make it to the mayors," Parison says. He looks around at his companions. A grateful smile crosses the priest's face now that the journey through the wood is nearing an end. "It may be the simplest thing we'll have to do while we're in town. Thank you for your company, Jamal and for bringing us this far."
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison tries to do his best at looking out for any possible dangers or hazards along the path the caravan is taking through the forest during the next few days. A sense of foreboding hung heavy over the cleric. The wilderness was unnaturally quiet as if it were holding its breath in anticipation of a moment of surprise or reckoning. He wasn't a woodsman, but Sarenrae's disciple had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to danger and the wilds he and his friends journeyed through exuded menace bordering on supernatural. Keyed up like an over-wound lyre string, Parison was on high alert for any traps or ambush.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
There's not much in the way of downtime after the mission beneath Absalom's sewers is completed. While Parison is happy that an alliance was reached with the Sewer Dragons and that no more agents lives would be lost, the means to achieve the end continue to nag at his conscience. The only casualty of the mission was Chief Kibizax. The cleric didn't doubt that Yiddlepole would make a fine chieftain for the Sewer Dragons, but regret at ending her father's live still weighed upon his mind.
Parison and his friends had been forced to protect themselves and kill the old chieftain. Still, each day he wondered how things might have been different had Kibizax been in his right mind and not suffering from mental illness. If he'd had the chance, the disciple of the Dawnflower could have attempted to help him as he'd helped Obahar to regain his sanity. Unlike the div in Merab, Kibizax was not someone beyond redemption but such a transformation would bring no comfort to the families and friends of the Pathfinder agents who'd been slain under orders from the old chieftain. Restitution hadn't exactly been what the group had sought from the Sewer Dragons, but it been given in the form of the kobold's life, a kobold that had went bonkers.
Was the price he paid worth it? Perhaps in had in the eyes of the laws of Absalom. Parison felt that such a price was both lacking in value and hollow in the pursuit of collection.
When the summons had come to travel to Tymon, Parison felt greatful for something to do that would keep him from dwelling on such a moral conundrum. He visited the chapel of the Temple of the Shining Star and communed with his goddess for peace and protection on the journey northward to the River Kingdoms and for the wisdom needed to help guide his actions and those of his companions. He stopped by one of the many marketplaces within the city and purchased a 50-foot length of silken rope.
The journey was uneventful save for the changing from trade ship to riverboat at Cassomir and Parison found himself in the city of Tymon. He produced the summons and followed the directions to reach Smine's Weaponworks and found himself reunited with his companions.
"Where's Effie?" he asked, seeing that the bard was not among them. The news of her sabbatical from the others did nothing to raise his spirits. Things seemed a little harder, a little colder.
The disciple of Sarenrae stays broodingly silent when Holgarin Smine ushers them into his office and briefs them on their newest assignment, though he does take note of the Ulfen and the oddly colored crocodile with a curious interest. He nods affirmatively at Maria when she hands him the scroll box and can't help but give a small smile when Rumble greets Holgarin. The cleric suddenly wondered how long it had been since Rumble had been around other dwarves.
"I'm please to meet you, Janus," Parison says once the briefing is done, offering his hand. "I'm afraid I'm not familiar with the River Freedoms. May I ask why these freedoms are so important to this area of Avistan? And Holgarin," the cleric continues. "Is there anything more about this tower that we should know about? And this man Jamel...is he trustworthy?"
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"It was not our wish to do this to Chief Kibizax," Parison says for effect as he moves in Rumble's direction. "But he gave us no choice. In his final bow, he proved to be both a crafty and challenging combatant worthy of his title."
When he steps beside his battle buddy and catches his words, Parison replies in a whisper of his own. "This is who Maria and I talked to at the theater in Absalom. We should be safe if we play along, and if we're not, we do have her brother as a bargaining chip."
Parison then turns around, speaking more for the audience of kobolds than to anyone else. "Chief Yiddlepole," the cleric calls out. "We came here to parlay on behalf of the Pathfinder Society. None of us here desire further bloodshed. If we surrender to you, will you hear what we have to say and then allow us to leave your domain in peace if we can offer suitable tribute?"
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
With only a few minor wounds, Parison slowly begins making his way through the seats, trying to spread out from the others in case the wily kobold has any more nasty surprises he could hit everyone with at once.
Trying to think of something to do, Parison thinks back on what spells he has prepared for the day that could either help pin down where Kibizax is or disperse the vapors on the stage.
Nothing.
If only there was a way to narrow down where he could be,]the cleric thinks. An idea comes to his mind, an unorthodox one as well as ridiculous, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
"Hey, Effie," Parison calls out, hoping that perhaps she might pick up on what he's doing and run with it. "Why do you think Kibizax is so angry?" He pauses for a couple of seconds to let the question drift over the theatre before answering himself, deadpan. "It's all the rage."
Diplomacy (Make Kibizax laugh in order to give himself away):1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
GM Ladile wrote:
Hey folks! In case you've yet to see it, the official announcement for Gameday IX is here! GM some games or wait with bated breath for player sign-ups to open! Or both! :D
They're going to be running The Sky Key Solution multi-table special this year! I'm probably going to sign up and play that with Rhys, my 5th level bard if I sign up for anything.
Also, there's something I want to let you guys know about that I'm doing.
With Covid-19 forcing a lot of Organized Play to move online until things return to a degree of normalcy, I thought I'd maybe have a chance to play more scenarios. My work schedule is usually Tuesday-Saturdays and I work 2nd shift on top of that so I don't get to play a lot with the exception of Sundays at my home lodge, but I have been willing to take time off and travel as far as 250 miles from home on rare occasions to play that are not cons (usually its to either check out a new lodge and meet new people and/or play in a multi-table special, which I've done the latter three times). I do enjoy PbP, but I like having just our game here and a D&D 5E module I'm playing on the Paizo forums to keep up with along with the occasional scenario to play every now and then in terms of keeping a healthy PbP balance.
But with online games, I discovered that a lot of the online game schedules mirrored the same times I would see before Covid-19 shook things up and that there were very few games across both editions of Pathfinder and Starfinder that were available on Mondays to play, and usually those games were late times. As I thought about this, I started to think that I couldn't be the only person who had the same kind of work schedule that kept me from being able to play more.
Earlier this week, I talked with Amber, the VL for our local lodge about something I wanted to do. I asked her if she would schedule #0-01: Silent Tide for online play on our lodge Warhorn page for a 12PM CST start this coming Monday and that I would advertise it on the Org Play Server for Discord. I wanted to see if there was interest out there for the first 1E OP scenario and 1E scenarios in general and if there were others who could play around that time, would be a decent time here in America and evening/night time for people across the Atlantic in Europe.
The plan was to see if people would sign up to play. If I didn't have the sign-ups, I'd try again and offer to GM a 2E scenario. However, the table filled up within a day and a half of my posting it on the Org Play Server. We might have a person or two to drop before then, but I'm thrilled at the response I've gotten. It's also given me the motivation to want to GM the Season 0 scenarios on most Mondays going forward and I wanted to let you guys know about this because (I think I have this right) three of you are currently on the other side of the pond and if you do VTT, it might be something you'd want to do especially if there are some scenarios you haven't played from that inaugural season.
I've GMed Silent Tide once before person-to-person and I've played it, but it's been awhile since I ran it and it's the first time I've ran a full scenario online via Roll20 and Discord, so I'm going to be learning as well as running and I'm sure there's going to be some glitches and hiccups on Monday, but I'm excited to get to GM for the first time since earlier this year.
Ok, that's it from me. Now how do I turn this thing off?
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison staggers and it takes all of his willpower not to surrender to the welcoming arms of unconsciousness and possibly death. Every part of him feels as if he is burning up on the inside as all of the nerves in his body begin to pulse and twitch uncontrollably.
"Sarenrae," he gasps out, incredulous that he could live despite so much agony coursing through his form. The cleric sways on his feet, feeling the pain start to fade away to numbness. This is what it is like to die, he thinks as his knees start to buckle under him.
Suddenly, he feels a presence, warm and glowing envelop him as the throne room vanishes and with it, his friends, Kibizax and the dragon. A soothing, yet wonderful and comforting calm whose touch was like water to a fevered man, a mother's protective embrace of her child. She was here. He was with his goddess.
A guiding force took hold of him, like a parent holding the arms of their child as they take their first steps. As the pain and awareness of where he was begin to return, he pushed through the motion and spoke the necessary prayer.
"Please bestow your healing touch on me and my friends, my goddess," he implored, letting that presence flow through him and out of him.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
Brax felt raw on the inside. He'd only had this sensation once before and not surprisingly, it was when he'd broken his silence on what had happened to his men in Highcastle to Ontharr. But looking across the remains of his meal at Arianna's slumped form, the dwarf felt a stirring of realization.
We be hard on ourselves fer th' choices we make an th' consaqences of 'em, but fer th' lass an' me, it may be all we will be.
"Lass, he says, his tone becoming a little less edgier. "There be no shame in ye tears. War be 'ell an 've seen it turn big strappin' men inta wee babes because a what war makes 'em do. But it means 'at ye've not yet lost who ye be to it. I think no less a ye fer weepin' jist like I canna make judgement fer past deeds. Iffen ye answer fer 'em one day, ah'll stand an speak of what 'ave seen ye do 'ere fer these folk."
The dwarf kills the remainder of his ale and temporarily puts his own pain aside until it will manifest itself again in dream or thought. "Truth be 'is. After makin' that dragunman pay fer Raakuze's murder an' findin' out what them leezard sheep be plannin', I wuz gonna part ways with all aya, but with 'em plannin' ta do more a' th' same to other innacent folk in other towns, I canna stop until ahm certun they canna do ta others whut they did 'ere."
"It be ok ta cry now," Brax continues. "An it be ok ta hurt. It be ok to remember th' past. But Eska, Met Anoi-a, an James 'n 'is litta frien' be countin' on us, not ta mention those these cultists be thretnin'. But when th' tears stop an th' pain numbs, we gotta do th' things we gotta do an 'ope tha no one else 'as ta go through all we've been through."
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"Do not harm him," Parison says to the others, remembering Yiddlepole's request. Yippotok's words have raised the priest's eyebrows as he becomes concerned that the group could inadvertently spill the beans about the negotiations he and Maria made with Yiddlepole. "Let's put him with the other kobolds and then meet with the chief. If we can negotiate an alliance, we'll let them go and give them back their belongings."
"And if we can't reach an agreement," the cleric says, looking as if he'd just taken a huge drink of spoiled vinegar and sounding just as bitter for having spoke it, "we have a bargaining chip for our own safety."
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
"As ah said, lass, what ye've done in th' past be between ye and those ye believed ye've wronged," Brax replied. He takes a bite of fried potato and continues. "But we'd lost Raakuze. I wasn't about ta lose ye, too. And if we be wadin' on thru this mess we've gotten inta, we be a'needin' all 'f us tagether ta git to th' other side."
"I'm tired a'seein' people I know die," Brax says. He lets out a heavy sigh and takes a deep drink of ale from his tankard. A little of it goes down the wrong pipe and he splutter and coughes. Before Arianna can do anything, he waves her off. "Na worries,"he says between fits of coughing. "It be what 'appens when ye inhale spirits quicker than ye can chug 'em down."
Once he gets his coughing under control, the dwarf decides to be frank with Arianna. "As fer bludbaths," he says reluctantly. "Imma not innacent of what ye say. I caused one an ah 'ad the O.K. ta do so. I wasna always a wheelwright, if ye remember when we met outside town 'ere. In 'em betta days, I lived in Highcastle. It be a small place 'bout th' size of Greenest and I wuz a captain in a small militia tha' kept th' peace in town and th' area around it. In 'em days," he says in a tone of nostalgia in his voice, "other 'n th' problems evry so oftun with goblinoids 'er bandits, life wuz peaceful an' times were good. An 'en one day, the dragun came."
Brax pauses, trying to find his words, not wanting to draw out a story that he had any desire to relive in his lifetime. "We'd been out on patrol an' 'ad jist gotten back when we saw it fly in from th' north, whitr 'n snow an deadlier 'an th' coldest blezzard. It didna 'wreek havok' like 'em books like ta make 'em draguns out ta be. It be there lookin fer somethin'. We saw it land at th' home of Olidya Ruestav, a person that was regarded as a 'ero an' legund an it began tearin' th' place apart. I gave th' order to engage it 'an lead th' charge."
The dwarf stops to take another drink, albeit more measured and a lot longer of a draught. "I swear, on Moradin's hammer, that I wanted ta fight that white reptile, but I could na make mah feet move to 'im. All I could do wuz stand 'ere an watch 'im tear apart my men that were able to try ta fight it an even then, I couldna watch fer long. It kilt three of 'em, one of 'em a young lad who'd been three fortnights outta his trainin' and it maimed the others bad enuff th' they couldna do their duty as soldjurs. It maimed me, too," he continued. "While I could shut out the sight of what happen, I couldna close me ears to th' sound a their screams unless I drank 'em away."
"Th blasted thing wound up killin' Olidya, too, an' it razed her 'ome and took a sword Olidya'd brought back with 'er from 'er adventurin' days," Brax says, reaching the finish of his tale. "But as fer me men that day.....their blood be on my 'ands an I couldna carry on bein' a militia officer with their fates on me soul. Just like Raakuze's blood is on my hands. Let 'im die an save meself 'er stand with 'im and we both die. These be th' things I hafta live with," the dwarf grouses sadly. "I weren't about ta' live with ye blood on my hands, too, lass."
"An that's why I 'ate draguns. Th' other night when that big'un flew over th' keep. I couldna move. It be like Highcastle all over agin," he says as he slams his tankard down on the table a little more forcefully than called for. "I 'ate draguns, lass. I 'ate 'em."
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
As much as Brax wants to rest, he has some major pieces of business to take care of in the way of promises made to friends both living and gone. Though Arianna is with him, he begins fulfilling the first promise and the one that will be the least difficult.
The pair make their way to the temple of Chauntea where Brax tracks down Eaydan. "Yer grace," Brax says, getting the half-elf's attention. With a heavy heart, he presents a burlap sack that contains the head and what remains he was able to find of Raakuze. After informing Eaydan of what's inside (to ensure that no one opens it), Brax takes a couple of steps back. "I ask ye ta give him last rites an' a praper beryial so 'is soul may 'ave rest in th' next life. I'll pay whatever th' cost be," Brax says somberly.
After making the arrangements (and paying whatever coin is necessary), Brax turns and with Arianna in tow, makes his way to the tavern to get a meal and to keep the commitment he'd promised the elf back in the cultist's camp. When the server comes to take their orders, Brax orders a tankard of ale along with a plate of fried potatoes, lamp chops, and tomato soup. "No refills on th' ale," he instructs.
He notices that Arianna is giving him a curious look. "Ye thought I'd be drinkin' meself inta a stupor, lass," he says. We be needin' ta leave on th' morrow an nothin' slows a group down like a man with a 'angover." The dwarf pauses and subconsciously begins picking at a splinter on the edge of the table as the elf's gaze lingers on him.
"Ah 'ates draguns," Brax said, finally breaking the silence. "It not be new to ye, but the only good dragun be a deadun. Ontharr told me that like dwarves, they be good'uns an they be bad'uns of any race, but if they be good'uns, they be fine iffen they stay outta me way an me business. Still," he says. "Had ye known me after ah came ta hate 'em but before I met Ontharr, ye'd be right ta keep an eye on me cuz I'da been goin through a 'ole keg ah booze an not a tankard. Still, losin' people," he adds "if that ain't reason ta drink enough ta pass out an not remember th' pain a loss, I dona know what is."
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
As the group leaves the cave behind and prepares to leave the cultist's abandoned camp (hopefully for the last time), Brax felt agonizingly raw and empty on the inside. His outburst and destruction of the dragon eggs back in the cave felt tantamount to lancing an old wound that had slowly been festering on the inside. All that was left now was a scar, an emotional wound that would close over, but that would never fully heal and fade away with time.
Deep in thought and his own inner turmoil, the dwarf isn't aware of where he is until he hears Arianna speak. Only then does he realize that he and the elf are a short distance away from the others. "Fer now, ahm betta, lass," he says, though his face remains grim. "Iffen ahv learnd anathin' from th time we've all spent tagethah, it's that each of us have burdens ta bear an war has a way of layin' us bare an showin' those 'eavy loads ta those around us."
Brax pauses, conflicted to speak any further. Ontharr Frume had been the first person the dwarf had finally been able to let down his guard and talk about what happened in Highcastle and even then, Brax hadn't made it easy for the man to trust him. But the dwarf thought back to the events in Greenest after the cultists had been driven away and how Arianna had opened up to him. He owed her an explanation, but not one that was detailed and not one that he wanted everyone else to hear.
"I think th' only good dragun be a dead'un," Brax says, giving the elf a fleeting window of insight in what was eating at him. Without changing his expression, he looks straight at her, then turns his head toward the others, then turns his head back to Arianna. "If ye wish ta know more, find me when we git back ta Greenest an have a chance ta rest."
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
"Ah'v got a grazin' wound, but ah'v 'ad wurs," Brax rumbles as he takes his battle axe in hand.
Even with Eska's rays of fiery destruction brought down upon the dragon eggs, it doesn't stop the dwarf from moving up to what might remain. As he approaches, he hears once more the agonizing screams and cries of his men even as he was helplessly paralyzed by his own fear. Beads of sweat appear on Brax's weathered forehead as his eyes widen, not seeing the eggs or the cavern, but seeing past that, back to one of the darkest days of his life.
The only sound that initially comes from Brax is harsh breathing that seems to be rapidly increasing as he stands there in silence. But without warning, a horrible cry bursts out of the dwarf's throat, one filled with pain, fear, and anger all in one agonizing roar. Brax begins swinging his axe wildly and with all of his strength at the eggs or what remains thereof.
Yelling a single word in Dwarvish over and over, Brax swings his axe again and again until the eggs are nothing more than shapeless, unrecognizable masses.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison doesn't have much time to survey the scene to realize that both Zithembe and Rumble are in big trouble. Especially his battle buddy, who has taken some serious wounds.
However, the cleric does notice that with both of his companions 'tied up' at the moment, there shouldn't be any way for the ravenous otyugh to reach out and snag him up. Not wanting to get close enough for Gurva to bite him, Parison holds his ground.
"Goddess, please bless my friend with your healing touch," he murmurs as his body becomes a conduit for the blessed energy granted to him by Sarenrae. When he can hold no more, he releases it to the benefit of his friends.
Parison will Channel Energy and will deselect Gurva with Selective Channeling and use a move action to draw his scimitar.
Channel Positive Energy:2d6 + 1 ⇒ (5, 5) + 1 = 11
"You'll find that you're trying to eat some things that will disagree with you," he remarks dryly to the otyugh, drawing his scimitar.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
As Brax retrives his battleaxe from the ground, he sees the two drakes move up to engage Met'Anoi'a. The paladin is able to defend against their attacks save one, but the dwarf gives a grim smile as Met is able to give to one of the drakes as good as he gets.
With how the drakes are positioned, Brax knows that he could leap off the stairs and move to Met's right side, using him as a block against one of the drake's attacks, but he also realizes that if he does, the stairs are open for one of the drakes to move past and attack his companions who are less armored than himself or Met.
"Covah me," the dwarf snarls. "I be goin in!" he says, barreling down the stairs.
"MOORRRRRRRRAAAADDDDDDIIIIIINNNNNNNN!!!!!" Brax yells out a strong battle cry as he moves next to Met and launches two attacks at the drake that is already injured.
Brax picks up his battleaxe and moves down the stairs in front of Green and will make two attacks on Red using Action Surge for the latter attack.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"Time is of the essence," Parison says from the other side of the massive rock. "If the kobolds are gone, it's a good bet they're telling the rest of their tribe that we're here."
Getting down on his hands and knees, the cleric does his best to squeeze past. He manages to get his head and upper chest past the boulder, but then finds himself stopped. And stuck. And feeling like a cork in a bottle.
"Hang on a second. Just give me a chance to inhale," he calls out before the others get alarmed. Taking in a deep breath, he tries to shift his frame toward the stone itself. He feels a release of pressure, realizing that his armor had been caught on the wall. Using his arms, Parison pulls himself through to the other side.
"No cracking wise about laying off cookies and sweetbread," he says to his companions on the other side as he stands up and beings to brush off what dirt and grime he can.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
With those who are better suited at being able to see into the darkness ahead of him, Parison comes out of his defensive stance and moves forward, leaping across the gap to join those who are ahead of him.
Acrobatics:1d20 ⇒ 2
Unfortunately, the cleric leaps a little too early. The euphoric sense of flying through the air is short lived as Parison realizes he's going to miss landing on the other side of the sewer channel. Not by much, but enough.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" is heard by everyone, followed immediately by an unmistakable BERDOOOSH! sound of a body hitting water.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
Wounded and scarred as he is, it doesn't stop Brax from slowly crab-scuttling to get back on his feet. Swaying slightly, he slowly reaches down and picks up his battleaxe where he dropped it. With a determined look in his eyes, he slowly moves to stand astride Langdedrosa's body.
"This be for Raakuze, ye bast'rd," he mutters as he brings his axe high above his head and proceeds to decapitate the half-dragon who had a fetish for taking heads as trophies. "I be takin' 'is 'ead back to Greenst as proof...an' where they kin stick it on a pole as a warnin' ta those who'd raze th' town an' make slaves of th' people."
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
An inhaled gasp comes from the prone and badly wounded Brax, almost as if he'd broken the surface of a body of water after being submerged for minutes. Upon breathing out he begins to cough, and the next few moments is spent trying to draw in more air amidst a hacking fit. Still prone, he turns his head to the side as he coughs up phlegm and spittle traced with blood. Thanks to Arianna's potion, the dwarf is no longer at death's door knocking loudly but is still gravely injured from the wounds Langdedrosa inflicted on him.
"Th' dragun man. Be he-" Brax gasps upward at Arianna. Trying to move into a position to look around feels like trying to scale the highest peak in the Stormhorn Mountains. But when he does, he sees the fallen half-dragon's body.
"Ah hates draguns," he says vehemently, but even this act of anger is enough to greatly sap his vitality and his stubborn will and he slumps back to a prone position. "I'm breathin, lass. See ta 'im," he says to Arianna, having noticed that Met is still in worse shape than he is.
I'll be honest. I don't think we're floundering. From a role-playing standpoint, I feel like the mix of things to do among the group is a very real situation for this group and is the first real test for them cohesively and possibly morally.
When you bring six strangers together who's only common thread is the man who's had a negative impact on all their lives, what happens when you neutralize that threat? There's no glue in the way of a common goal left that's holding them together. Everyone's going to have an individualistic agenda for how to proceed. You will have one or two who are like-minded in what they should do, but each person will have a different thought process in proceeding.
I'll put all my cards on the table as a player. Dragas is going to kill Lamm unless someone intervenes physically or verbally, questions or no questions asked. It's not about finding something that this guy stole from someone else. Liberating the kids is noble, but it's very secondary to him. It's the chance to be an avenging force for the trauma this man caused him and how the chance to possibly to reconcile with the person taken from him or at the very least to have a semi-civil mending of fences will never happen thanks to him. All my character wants at this point is his pound of flesh first and then maybe from a monetary standpoint is enough spoil to buy back the item that Lamm stole from the one he cared about and hawked to the pawn shop and when he gets it, there's nothing that's holding him back from leaving the city.
This is where my head is at as a player. I welcome more discussion if it helps things go more smoother and I'd like to see where everyone else is from a role-play perspective because it's a golden opportunity to do so.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"We are with the Pathfinder Society," Parison says. To emphasize this point, he shows Yiddlepole his wayfinder.
Remembering what Venture-Captain Drang had told the group about the circumstances to speak with someone in authorty with the kobold tribe, Parison does his best to put all the cards on the table as it relates the best interests of the Society.
"The Pathfinder Society has used the caves and tunnels underneath Absalom to covertly move items in and out of the city within the past year. However, the recent actions of the Sewer Dragons have put these operations in jeopardy and the Society leaders have taken notice of your tribe. A war between the Pathfinder Society and the Sewer Dragons would be senseless and wasteful and ultimately, either side would lose in the long run over what they might gain from such a fight. I don't want this, nor do the leaders of the Pathfinder Society and so we have been sent to establish a truce between our organizations."
The cleric pauses for the space of three heartbeats to let Yiddlepole fully grasp and understand the situation.
"We would like to be able to continue using the tunnels without harassment from the Sewer Dragon tribe. We do know that you're not the only kobold tribe underneath Absalom and if the Sewer Dragons have the Pathfinder Society as an ally up above in Absalom, the other tribes would be hesitant to intrude on or take territory that belongs to the Sewer Dragons if they know that. We might also be able use our influence to ensure that your tribe is left alone by the city's leaders, but I won't promise you that such an agreement will happen."
Parison takes a deep breath. "Our terms for a truce are these: your tribe allows agents of the Pathfinder Society to use the tunnels under the city without fear of suffering hostile treatment or being attacked by the Sewer Dragons. In return, the Pathfinder Society will respect the territorial claims of the Sewer Dragons under Absalom and if you are forced into a war with any of the other kobold tribes under the city, the Pathfinder Society will ally with you and provide your tribe aid. We will also do our best to try to ensure that you are left alone by the city's leaders, though I won't guarantee that such an agreement can be established."
Diplomacy:1d20 + 2 ⇒ (13) + 2 = 15
It's a decent result, but I'm still worried that if it won't be good enough, even if Maria successfully aids. I'm going to try again and use my one re-roll for the scenario.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
As the last of the guards falls, Brax turns and sees only one target left. His eyes narrow as he takes in Landedrosa.
Langdedrosa. The dragon man responsible for the damage done to the town of Greenst. The man responsible for abducting the prisoners who the group rescued. But the dwarf's blood boils as he realizes there is nothing standing between him and exacting punishment for the gruesome murder of Raakuze.
The comrades have seen Brax angry, but none have seen the look of sheer hatred that crosses the dwarf's face as he sizes up Langdedrosa. He's about to start across to engage him in combat when the angel flies up and whispers something in his ear. He snarls, but backs up. He brings up his crossbow and then realizes he hasn't re-loaded it from using it when the group first entered the room. Cursing, he reloads as quickly as he can.
Brax will move and then re-load his crossbow for the next combat round.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Sense Motive:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (18) + 10 = 28
Parison steps in with the group. He doesn't say anything at first, hoping that Rumble's awing presence and Zithembe's direct response will be enough to make Greeves impart some useful information on Xarcious's whereabouts. However, he begins to chuckle with mirth when the armored man states that he doesn't know who the scholar is. He puts his hand up toward his mouth as if he were trying to keep from busting out belly-laughing.
"I like him!" he says in a tone that doesn't hide his sarcasm. "If you need someone to float you a loan, go see Greeves. He'll give you all the time in the world you need to pay him back, especially if he can't remember your name in order to collect. I should pass word of his dealings through the taverns in Absalom."
Maybe Hepsubia is rubbing off on me more than I'd like to admit.
The priest lets his laughter subside and then gives Greeves a knowing look. "See, I have to like him because that's the dumbest way to do business as a moneylender. But who am I to tell someone how to run their operation? I guess it would be better because if he's smarter than that, then he'd have to be lying about knowing Xarcious since the man owed him money. What do you think, friends? A rotten liar or a stupid businessman?"
Some of smaller wounds close up and heal completely while the more deadlier wounds seem to become less serious on top of the healing touch of James's companion.
"Let's be a-clearin' this place of them leezard luvers," he growls, moving with the rest of the group.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Puddle Jumpers:
Parison stays silent as Zithembe and Rumble talk of Hepsubia and moralistic differences between themselves and their companions. When Rumble nudges him, he reluctantly weighs in.
"A simple way to put it is that each of us are who we are," he says, trying to wax philosophical, yet make his thoughts simple to understand. "Hepsubia's words, while reckless, might mask a personal uncertainty of potential danger that may lie ahead for all of us. That's only my opinion."
Parison frowns in comprehension. "If we were all the same, the world would be a boring place. We're all different, but I feel it makes us a good group when it comes to working together and more importantly, seeing things from different points of view."
When he feels a hand on his shoulder, Dragas turns, eyes narrowed to slits toward whomever grabbed him. Seeing Kradel, the big man feels the tension that only comes from battle ease ever so briefly. As Viggo invokes Lamm's name, that tension wastes no time in returning.
Giving Kradel an understanding nod, Dragas stops long enough to retrieve his greatsword off the floor and then climbs the stairs behind him toward the sour looking man's body and the barking of the yet unseen canine. As the pair ascend the staircase, Dragas spares a glance back down toward the floor to make sure the children are safe and that Korinne and Sora are watching after them.
"Tread cautiously. It sounds like the dog eats strangers."
Retcon
As Dragas anticipates where Giggles is going swing his flail, he prepares to avoid the movement as best he can on the slick floor. As the barbarian tenses up, he feels a rush of air go past the side of his head and suddenly he sees an arrow sticking out of the half orc's eye.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Dragas is about to speak when he hears a door open. He looks over his right shoulder to see another man looking into the room on the catwalk above and behind him. His warrior instincts taking over, he drops his greatsword, dimly aware of it clunking on the wooden planks of the slick fishery floor as he begins to spin toward the direction of the newest arrival. As he spins, he frees a javelin with his right hand, pulling it off his back and over his right shoulderas he faces the man with the wand. Before said wand can be used against the group, Dragas draws back with his right arm and hurls the javelin with all his strength.
Dragas drops his greatsword as a free action. He does a 180 turn where he stands and draws a javelin as a move action and then attacks as a standard action.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
The dwarf takes wound after wound, trying to valiantly stand his ground against the transmogrified cultists, but with his ineffectiveness in attacking them and the damage they are dealing, his self-preservation instinct comes to the surface. It comes to the surface screaming, in fact that if he doesn't do something different, he is going to bleed out and die on this cavern floor without having gained justice for Raakuze.
"Drop back!" he calls out. "Another blow like that'un an' I'll be seein' Raakuze sooner than ah'd like."
Hoping that the gate will lock when closed, Brax reaches out with his shield arm and pulls it shut and then staggers back up the stairs, hoping the bars will keep the aberrations from making an attack on his back.
Brax will Use An Object to close the gate (hoping it locks) and then will use his Action Surge to take another action and he will Disengage in case the creatures can attack through the bars.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Old movies that I like:
Halloween (1978)-My favorite franchise, but you can't beat a movie considered a masterpiece of modern horror.
McLintock (1963)-I saw a John Wayne film mentioned earlier. He's been in a lot of great ones, but this is pretty good for an action/comedy.
Who is a gamer and doesn't love Monty Python and the Holy Grail? Rhetorical question, but it is very quotable, just like The Princess Bride.
Hang 'Em High (1968)-Probably my favorite Clint Eastwood western movie.
The first three Indiana Jones movies-Indy would be a modern day Pathfinder agent.
Spaceballs (1987)-"When will then be now?" "Soon." Another quotable film.
Krull (1983)-I'd seen some fantasy films before it like Beastmaster and the original Clash of the Titans, but this movie was the one that started it all for me in terms of loving fantasy films and how it influenced me later when I started playing tabletop RPG's (Dungeons & Dragons) in having that 'hero' mentality and to help me paint the pictures my characters were experiencing in the theatre of the mind.
On another note, I really want to say thank you to all of you as players. I can't remember the last time that I've seen some serious topics come up in a RP and how each character would be tested in terms of being true to their alignments. While it was tough to write some of my posts when I could hear how my character was speaking to me, I can't imagine I'm the only one that it wasn't easy for. But overall, I really felt like it made our characters that much more 3-dimensional and not just statistics on a paper and it reminded me a whole lot of the first two books of Dragonlance: War of the Lance trilogy and the conflicts that the party members had with one another because of their personalities but how they would come together when it mattered most. Looking forward to the next scenario and how this one and the Shores of Heaven will have an influence going forward.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison emits a drawn out sigh. He'd hoped that this discussion would have not taken place until the group had managed to finish their business here and get back to Merab, but with the discovery of the cultist who doesn't appear to be all there, the tenants of faith and righteousness versus the individualistic morals of goodness and mercilessness have resurfaced quickly into a new conflict and one that the party can ill afford to have at this juncture.
He steps forward, first to address Maria and what he says to her might come as a complete surprise to the elf.
"I will stand with you," the cleric says. "She's right, Rumble. We kill him and we'd have to kill everyone Veshtahz ever influenced to do wicked things or drove mad, for starters. And even then, there's no proof that this man's malady or choices was the div's handiwork"
Parison circles to where he can get a good look at the cultist, disgusted but yet feeling some pity for the man. "While this man's words are self-incriminating, he isn't inherently an evil being. All I can do is offer him a chance to turn from the path he's chosen."
"I can live with passing judgement on Veshtahz, I guess," the cleric says. "Had I felt that if he really wanted to live to change his ways instead of just to seek revenge on his former mistress or to tell us what we might have wanted to hear to spare him, I would have spoken thus to do so. Had Sarenrae, Torag, or any divinity of Heaven, Nirvana, or Elysium chosen to intervene and speak for Veshtahz to be spared, it would be done. But none did," he said softly.
"But this man deserves a chance to be relieved of his condition, just as Veshtahz was," he says. "And all of them have a chance to either choose redemption or face justice for their misdeeds. Either way, they will face punishment and that isn't something that Torag would be opposed to."
At first, Dragas sees four cards and notes. Trying to ignore the throbbing headache, he squints his eyes, trying to bring the card and the note into singular focus. Four cards and notes stare back. Emitting a painful growl, he closes his eyes.
Ketza. Would you still be here if I'd swallowed my foolish pride? My world is more the darker with you gone from it. I miss you, moy unalli and I'm tired of being alone.
Wanting nothing more than to continue to pine for the loss of beloved, family and identity, the odoriferously smelling man in an isolated corner of the grimy wharfside dive where the half-hearted attempt at nautical decor was only balanced out by the constant stink of dead fix intermingling with the constant presence of salt air in an ungodly potpurri of smell that did wonders for seekers of sobriety. While Dragas wasn't one of those people, he wasn't being given a choice to willingly climb on the figurative wagon. Lack of coin was making the choice for him, whether he liked it or not.
The tall broad-shouldered man opened his eyes and looked down at the card and the note once more. Instead of multiple images, the card and letter seemed to want to blur together. Looking down at both, Dragas has to almost have his nose right on the note before it comes into focus and he can read it.
As Dragas reed the note, another feral growl rolls out his throat as the gorge in his throat and stomach both rise upon reading a single name in the note. His haunted eyes and long face cloud in dark anger. Without thinking, he casts the tankard aside, paying no attention as it bounces off the wall and clatters the floor. Ignoring an angry yell from the indignant barkeep with a noticable paunch in his waistline, Dragas stalked out and begain verbally assailing anyone he could find.
"Lancent Street! Where is it? Where do I find it?"
The passersby whom Desna saw lacking to receive her grace couldn't help but to lean back from Dragas's combination of body odor and alcoholic breath as he harranuged anyone and everyone he could trying to get directions. They included an urchin who kicked the giant smelly man in the leg when he tried to grab his arm, a performing minstrel who made the mistake of cracking a Shoanti joke at the wrong time and rewarded for his wit with a swollen lower lip, and a guard who ordered the tall man to move along, lest he be jailed for vagrancy.
Hours:1d3 ⇒ 2
Eventually, someone took pity on the half-deranged Shoanti and gave him directions to the street he sought along with the suggestion that he should bathe at the earliest opportunity. It was advice that fell on deaf and non-present ears.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
"I dona hate ye, lass, because all I know of ye is what I've seen ye stand fer since th' lotta us got thrown tagetha bah fate," Brax says as he tossed the dagger to the side. "If what ye say be true, I canna be the one ta pass judgement on ye fer any misdeeds ya did before ah met ye."
Brax then turns a stony gaze to James. "Because iffen she did wha she said, she be payin' fer it now an she be payin' fer it till she takes 'er last breath. Livin' with tha' an' 'er being repentant of doin' it? I think that be harsher 'an death. An iffen she's dead, she will not get th' chance ta radeem herself."
The dwarf not unkindly pulls Arianna to her feet. "And ye have a chance to git redempshun against th' people who put ye on this path. Seek it an do na let Raa'kuze's sacrafice be fer naught."
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
"Put th' dagger down, Arianna. Yer not be.....S@*&!" The dwarf explodes into action as he sees the elf is going to actually take her own life. He grabs Arianna's hands and pulls them away from her neck and throat.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
To say the look on Brax's face at Arianna's request is one of ludicrous would be to stretch the defenition of the word.
"I'm not doin' any sech thing," Brax says, the rough authoritive edge in his voice returning. "Ye let that women git inside yer head and she's got ye thinking yer a daughter of Bane. I've been with ye and ye've only taken lives of these zealots that'd do th same ta us an not blink."
"Get it tagather, lass! Eska be hurt an all she 'as 'd be us. If ye give 'en now, these bastards get a step closer ta bein able to hoodwink other innacents!" he says, as he puts a hand on Arianna's shoulder.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison doesn't return Maria's glare nor does he verbally respond to her words when he walks back in the room. With an unflinching look of resolve, he lifts his holy symbol, still clenched in his left hand and lets it fall free against his armor and clothing where anyone could see it. He no longer felt conflicted. All that the cleric felt was a renewed stubbornness and determination from the wellspring of the decision he'd just made.
Drawing his scimitar, he moves to stand watch over the three cultists that have been secured but he alternates his gaze between them and the div that's under Rumble's guard, ready to strike it down if it so much as attempts to try to sway anyone else's influence.
He spares a telling glance at the shabti. Do what you must and be done with it, the gaze seems to convey.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison remains silent as Effie does her best to try and assuage his inner conflict. He takes a small bit of comfort in that the bard is on the same wavelength when it comes to feeling that the div may be beyond redemption, but he can't bring himself to be of certainty that the div back in the temple would never turn from its ways if given the chance.
When Zithembe arrives and speaks his piece, Parison keeps his silence. Despite his inner turmoil, he does have enough presence of mind to realize that if nothing else, the shabti is right about his lack of presence should the group attempt to interrogate the div and it has no interest in cooperating.
"I owe them that," he says in a steely tone. "But you and Maria should hear yourselves. At least your intentions are noble in trying to fix its madness. But capturing it to gain knowledge? To know its secrets? Sometimes the price for that knowledge is too high, Zithembe. Maybe Maria can pay that price the same way Grandmaster Torch paid the price to know all of the secrets that he knows. If she can, Sarenrae bless for being that strong of a person. I know I couldn't."
As he prepares to walk back into the room, Parison looks at Effie and Zithembe. He takes his holy symbol in his left hand and looks down at it, then back up at the pair. Without thinking about it, he runs his thumb along the symbol. "After all of this, I have a choice of my own to make and it has nothing to do with whether or not that outsider lives or dies."
Deep within his heart, he knew what that choice must be. "I'm sorry, both of you," he says sadly, with great regret as he clenches his holy symbol in his hand. "If I want to stay strong in my faith.....that means being a Pathfinder comes second."
With that, the cleric returns to the temple to await what the group decides to do with the div.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"I can't fix madness!" Parison cries out, torn between what knowledge the creature might have versus the evil acts it has committed. "I could barely help Onethar recover what memories this thing took from him!"
This crisis of faith was overwhelming. This wasn't something Parison's teachers had told him in seminary that he might one day experience, that he'd be forced to make a choice regarding the tenants of dogma. He'd always assumed that the temptation would come from something like the monstrosity lying on the floor. Not from those he considered trustworthy allies.
At that moment, the idealist within him died. He would never again be able to face evil, let alone seek out that spark of redemption that could transform it into something better. How could you do that when you didn't know what evil was? His allies weren't wholesome, but that didn't mean this creature in front of him was without a speck of goodness. Within the cleric's eyes, the fire there suddenly turns as cold as ice.
"I do not deem myself worthy of passing judgement upon this creature," he says. "Nor them," he adds, glancing at the fallen cultists. "Their fates are in your hands. I will wait outside the tomb while you make your decision. May Sarenrae grant you the wisdom to make a choice both right and good. May the Dawnflower help me, I feel like hell."
With that, Parison walks out of the chamber and back to the entrance outside to await the group's choice, his mind churning with self-doubts that will not go away soon, let alone the morrow.
Male Dwarf NG Champion Fighter 4 |AC:17| HP:39/39|Passive Perception:14|Init +2| Saves-Str +4 Dex +2, Con +4, Int 0, Wis +2, Cha 0
With Brax being last in the marching order, he dashes into the cave, battleaxe at the ready.
"Over me dead bodee ye'll be poundin' 'er down! Ye want ta try that dumb *&%! with me, ye craven scale skulkers? I'll tell ye now that I stand tall as a mountin peak an' I hit back!" he declares, waving his weapon for all to see.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Parison nods to Rumble. Still waters run deep with this crusader of Torag. I'm glad he's on my side and that he's a steady rock for me and my companions."You're welcome, battle brother," he says, coining the term the dwarf addressed him with when he first joined this group of Pathfinders. "You helped me to prepare for what physical conflicts may arise. It is only right that I help you in return. It's what friends are for."
The cleric looks back in the direction of where the others are. "We'd better get back before they get worried and come looking for us. Maybe the young man has told them something that might help us find this elusive div."
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
Seeing as how the others seem to have a better rapport with Manetho, Parison ducks outside where he sees Rumble sitting on the grass.
"My friend," he says in a calm voice, suddenly realizing the irony of being sage toward a man who's probably lived the span of his own life at least four times, possibly more. "I could see the fire in your eyes in there. You told Manetho exactly what he needed to be told and what he'll have to be accountable. I'm not telling you to douse it. Turn that anger toward the div when we find it and mete out Torag's justice with Sledge and make it pay for its crimes against those it manipulated. We'll all be there with you when you do and we'll make sure the div gets its due."
Male AC:14 (T:14) (FF:11) | F:6 R:5 W:4 |HP:29/30 | Per. +9 Half-Elf Ki Mystic Monk 3
Bellisir draws out the cold iron dagger to begin clearing webs from the room when the door opposite the one the group came through opens and he recognizes Armas Sapiro, or Wormgnash as he likes to now call himself.
The monk takes a deep breath to calm himself and get his emotions in check, which is difficult underneath a calm that belies his anger and anxiousness. This was the creature that tainted Gellion and caused him to kidnap his friends and to leave his parents to die. This was the creature that had infected the bugbear and goblins and instigated their raids and attacks on the farmers outside Saringallow. This was the creature who would not rest until he'd infected the town and its people with his demonic substance and turn them into warped Abyssal caricatures of themselves.
"To speak of messes, Armas," Bellisir says in a voice of calm but one that promises justice. "We have been cleaning up yours, a task we will finish when we send you back to the Abyss where you belong."
The half elf moves past his friends, leaping over the corner of the stairs before the bloated creatures in front of Wormgnash can react. Ducking into the webbing of bile, he launches an open handed palm strike at the monster he just went around.
Not sure if Pink will get an AoO, but Bellisir will move to where he is on the map and make a Stunning Fist attack on Pink.
Male AC:18 (T:10) (FF:18) | F:6 R:2 W:8 |HP:23/27 | Per. +10 Human Cleric 3
"Thank you for giving us this journal," Parison says. "It will help us put a stop to this div and what it was trying to do."
As he finishes, Parison notices that Rumble is giving the alchemist a strange look.
Sense Motive:1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23
Suddenly getting the vibe from Rumble that what the group is doing is tantamount to giving Sokari a slap on the wrist, Parison takes the initiative before Rumble can think to do so.
"I'm not your father, Sokari," Parison says. "But I'm going to give you a talk like I'm a father who loves his son. You said yourself that you willingly went along with what this voice told you. I believe you when you said you didn't mean to harm anyone, but the road to Hell is made with the cobblestones of good intentions. All you had to do was say no, but you let this div blind you with delusions of grandeur. If someone makes you an offer that's too good to be true, it almost always 'is' too good to be true!"
A little surprised at his own tirade, Parison nevertheless plows on.
"We'll speak with the city authorities, and while 'unwitting dupe' better describes you than 'purposeful poisoner', it's not much better in regards to ever being able to practice alchemy again, especially when word gets around in the city. But I believe in my goddess and I believe her edict everyone deserves a chance to seek and find redemption. Visit the temple of Sarenrae and speak with Brother Herhut about what you have done and that you wish to begin the first steps toward penance. I won't tell you that things will be like they once were for you, but it will go a long way in the eyes of your fellow citizens that you are remorseful for your actions and it is a step in the right direction for you in the matters of your soul. And if you do that, you might be able to resume the life you had before you let this div lead you astray."
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Pathfinder Society GM. 29 posts (906 including aliases). No reviews. No lists. No wishlists. 27 Organized Play characters. 4 aliases. 
