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"Let's bind this creature, now. Is it possible that feeding for so long on the troll has somehow passed along its regenerative powers to the ghoul Arenzo?" "I think this might be the case, Mr. Logos," Saeran agrees, with a nod. "I will take care of it." Using his rope, Saeran ties Arenzo up. While the others take care of the wounded, Saeran help Lazaros taking a look around, in search for clues.
No plan survives contact with the enemy. Sǣran read those word countless times, and heard them even more often, and although usually agreeing with them, his agreement was lacking a direct, first-hand experience. Now he has it. Prone, with another Pathfinder above him and a ghoul at a few feet of distance, in the heat of the battle and with no simple choice, Sǣran understands why a tactical mind is not simply a keen intellect well versed in theorizing about war. It takes some exercise and a good measure of cold blood to reason tactically while in combat, and Sǣran does not have this gift, at least not yet. The only way in which I can be useful to my group is to draw the ghoul's attention and take one hit for them... Putting his arms over his head in a protective way , Sǣran tries to crawl away from the undead .
Feeling a wave of positive energy flowing through his body, Saeran eventually comes back to his senses and tries to rationalize the situation. Shaking his head in disapproval toward himself, the half-elf immediately remebers what happened and what caused him to fall to the ground. He watches to his left arm, the arcane energy long gone, and smirks unpleasantly. What to do? Saeran occupies a dangerous position, and Dalen in above him. Considering his current status, the half-elf decides to try and attack the ghoul who knocked him down while still prone.
Saeran is stable, but still unconscious. The last image impressed on his mind is that of a raging ghoul tearing him apart. Not a great start for an aspiring Pathfinder! A mix of confused feeling flow into the half-elf's mind: the shame for falling after the first hit, the feeling of danger, the sensation of his life fading away...
As soon as Denair gives the alarm, Saeran starts to look around frantically. Not knowing what to do without sensing any danger, the half-elf decides to risk it and infuses his left arm with arcane energy as a crackling aura of lightning suffuses his limb. He holds the charge, for the moment, his brow furrowed in worried wait. "Whoever you are, show yourself! We are ready for you!"
"Mmh...no more hurt, no more eat...does that mean that if we don't hurt him, he won't eat us? Or is he just asking us to leave him go? Damn, I never expected my first field assignment to involve speaking plants and...what is this thing by the way?," Saeran whispers to Brayden and Lazarus, who are close to him. His hand reaches for his weapon, but he still does not draw it.
I enjoyed playing this scenario so much, thanks both to the incredible group and the GM. My schedule is going to be a little more compressed in the next few months as I get back to Italy and prepare myself to move over to the United States in fall. As much as I would love to continue this, I feel like it would be better for me to bow out once we complete part 1, both to allow me to take care of my real life things and not to hold back the group with my rather slow posting rating. I plan to start a PbP scenario as a GM in summer as part of Pathfinder Playtest, and I have to take that into account too. I thank you so much for making this my best experience with PFS so far!
Once and if he makes it to the throne, Saeran starts examining the skeleton, focusing in particular on its chainmail, its crown and whatever clue that might reveal its identity.
Saeran feels any lingering sign of fear and suspicion slowly wash away as Lazaros translates the words of the leshy. When it is clear there the creature means no harm to the group, Saeran uses his rope and grappling hook to slowly descend the wall. In order not to alert the leshy, the half-elf whistles in its direction and smiles calmly, blinking before starting to climb down. Once he joins his fellow Pathfinders again, Saeran listens to their ideas in turn, before revealing his feelings about the matter at hand. “So, does someone have any of what kind of undead these “hungry men” below could be? This falls outside my area of expertise, I am afraid, but if anyone has any hypothesis it could be very useful.”
Sǣran's hand instinctively reach for the chakram at his hip upon seeing the leshy pop out of nowhere. A tad nervous, the half-elf decides to wait before indulging in his first impression and attack. A choice he does not regret. In fact, Sǣran finds himself blessing his rationality when his elven eyes show him the scene of Lazarus trying to parlay with the creature. I have never seen anything like this before... Trying not to draw too much attention on him by walking as slowly as he can, Sǣran starts silently making his way toward the group, positioning in a vantage point should the worse happen.
"Yes, that' a good idea," agrees Saeran with a nod to Lazarus before walking toward one of the broken windows. Once he is there, the half-elf tries to peek inside.
More confident with his weapons dangling from the metal ring affixed on his belt, Saeran also takes a look around the building, inspecting its perimeter unhurriedly.
"Does someone among you have any experience with crumbling buildings? I fear that if we dislodge the wrong things with our movement, we could cause more parts of the structure to collapse..." The half-elf waits for an answer, then takes a sit on a nearby rock, pulls out his journal from his backpack and starts drawing a sketch of the building in front of him. "This is sublime, in some way. I don't know why precisely, but I find this place romantic, as the echo of a story long lost to time." After finishing his sketch, Saeran puts the journal back into his backpack and examines the upper part of the ruin, in search for a place where his grappling hook may be fixed. If he finds such a place, Saeran uses throws the grappling hook using his hands and then tries to climb up the walls of the ruin.
If he manages to get on top, and the building is roofless, Saeran tries to take a peek in from above.
"I agree with you, Lazarus. We should swing by the museum, those information are the reason why we helped Mireille in the first place, and as my uncles told me when I informed him I wanted to become an adventurer: "all rewards are to be collected. That's a sign of respect for both your profession and the mission you have accomplished." Saeran finishes his breakfast and stretches a bit. He gives a look at his quite ordinary shortsword and sighs. "But then I suggest we leave as soon as possible. This place somehow puts pressure on me..."
Saeran lets some time pass in order to be completely sure that no one will be looking out for him or Mireille, nor keeping an eye on her home. After greeting her for the last time, the half-elf cautiously leaves her house and, not seeing his fellow Pathinders anywhere around him, he starts making his way toward the tavern as suggested by Mireille. On his way there, Saeran tries to act as naturally as possibly, taking mental notes on curious or interesting things he sees as he walks toward his destination. Once there, Saeran's eyes quickly notice the Pathfinders gathered around the table. The half-elf produces a quick smile and makes his way to the table, before sitting on one of the chairs. "Mission accomplished," he states with satisfaction, "she is safe and sound at her place." Although not inclined to share the feelings he experienced during the mission with his colleagues, Saeran listens to their stories with interest. *** The next day, Saeran wakes up in a good mood and ready to continue his mission. As he descends in the hall of the tavern, though, he sees Cassian and he can't help but feel sorry for the man's fate. The half-elf approaches the human, and puts a hand on his shoulder. "You look a bit worn out, my friend, but at least you are here. Was it a particularly dangerous mission?"
You have been making a post for each scene. Don't worry about it, it's fine. As much as I'm concerned, this is the best scenario I've played :D
Saeran’s eyes go wide in stupor and surprise when Mireille hugs him. Although strongly inclined to favor rationality over emotions, the half-elf has feelings just like anyone else, and the whole sneaky escape has excited him too. He didn’t think his first assignment would end up being so peculiar, but in the end he finds it strangely electrifying. The presence of Mireille added some extra spice to it, casting up a sweet, almost romantic aftertaste to the whole experience. That is something new to Saeran too: perhaps too focused on self-improvement, he never seriously considered giving an important place to feelings such as love in his life, less out of an aware choice than to a subconscious deal with himself. Lingering perhaps a few seconds more than necessary in Mireille’s embrace, Saeran eventually smiles, feeling the tension and the pressure of the mission suddenly wearing off. He immediately feels relieved and excited, as though his weight was abruptly lightened by an external force. “We did good. And we must thank the others for their work and courage. I hope they will be able to find us here.” Naturally letting the embrace dissolve, Saeran starts slowly pacing inside the room. “If they do not come here within a few minutes I will go look for them, just in case. If I don’t see you again, I hope you the best, Mireille. You trusted me, but it was my very first field mission, you know? Perhaps your trust was a bit misplaced,” he says with a brief laugh, “but in the end everything turned out just fine so…I’m glad you did.”
Saeran stiffens a bit under Mireille’s touch, not being used to any form of physical contact between humanoids. Nonetheless, he tries to pretend to be completely unaffected by the action, smiling calmly. “That’s quite exciting indeed!,” he whispers in response to Mireille. Although trying to act as an expert adventurer, this is his first real field assignment, and he can perfectly understand Mireille’s feeling. “Come on, another time and we are there. As before, I will go first.”
Saeran nods to Mireille. “Let me go first, so if they notice me, you can stay hidden and use me as a diversion,” the half-elf whispers looking into her eyes, no sign of fear on his neutral, almost impassive face. Without waiting for an answer, Saeran tries to stealthily get to the brige, using Lazaros’s diversion to his advantage.
In case he manage to get there without being noticed, the half-elf quickly turns in Mireille’s direction, inviting her to follow him, and then keeps moving.
Should he fail at his first attempt, however, Saeran will try to hide his stealthy posture at the best of his abilities and try to just walk unassumingly away…
"My uncle once told me: «If you fear nothing, then you are not brave. You are merely too foolish to be afraid». I'm sure Lazarus is perfectly aware that he has put himself in danger, so his action has to be defined brave, I think," answers Saeran with an almost supernatural calm as he follos Mireille to her house, keeping his eyes open for danger in the meantime.
Saeran nods at Lazarus, appreciating his resolve and courage. Inspired by his fellow Pathfinder, the half-elf tries to see Mireille to her home, accompanying her as he keeps both his eyes alert for danger. "Lead the way, I will ensure no danger harms you," says Saeran to Mireille before start moving.
Saeran is initially confused by the sudden change of plan, but eventually follows his companions inside. He does not manage to find a good way to step in the conversation though, and he remains silent, apparently lost in his thoughts, for most of the negotiation, until Lazarus gets straight to the point. “Exactly. We have been sent here to protect you. Please, would you be so kind as to follow us somewhere safer? We know that Mr. Balinger’s museum is being closely monitored, so that is not an option, unfortunately.”
"According to what Mister Balinger told us, the only difficult part should consist in accessing this "den". I do not think I will need a disguise to do so, however. Through diplomacy and an accurate choice of words, I am sure we will be allowed to enter." Saeran peeks at the street through the window. "And it seems like it's clear outside now. Shall we go?" Before leaving, Saeran pays his personal respects to the Curator. "We will do everything we can in order to see Mireille safe, Mister Balinger."
The smells of the museum, in particular the scent of musty, leather-bound tomes filling the air helps make Saeran feel at home. The half-elf visibly relaxes once he steps inside, as though he had just put down a heavy burden. "Sǣran Imledrith," he says while offering his hand to Zefiro. "It is a pleasure for me to meet you, Mister Balinger." Saeran keeps a formal and rather detached behavior, although there is admiration in his eyes. "The way in which you keep this place in spite of its countless years of service deserves an high respect, Mister Balinger."
"We have been sent here by someone who has told us that you might have some information about Emberhold that may have evaded the official records. Is that true? There is something you can tell us about Emberhold or House Davian and its history that we would not find in any official records?"
Saeran reacts with his proverbial calm to Meredith's passionate argument, and simply shrugs. "I didn't know about it. I see why you are so emotionally involved in this matter, now." His tone is completely neutral: he is not judging his fellow Pathfinder, this is clear from his expression, but he is not committing to aid her should the occasion arise, either.
"You do realize that helping a fleeing slave is very likely to be considered a crime, do you?," asks Saeran, a bit perplexed at his friend's intentions. "I think that we should give top priority to our task here in Corentyn, and delay everything else to a later moment. " The half-elf glances at the halfling and his team leaving the ship. "I want to leave this place as soon as possible, I don't like the feelings it instills in my mind and my soul. I propose we go to the museum now, and deal with that other matter later, if ever."
"Is this your first time in Corentyn? Beautiful city, you know, full of opportunities for both business and pleasure. Which are you fine folks here to pursue today?" "Yes sir," calmly answers Saeran with a quick nod. "What I pursue today is what I pursue everyday: the honing of my abilities." Saeran is not deflecting the question, just saying what he pursues in life in general.
Saeran declares both his bastard sword and warhammer, and sighs when he learns about the restrictions on arcane spellcasting. I guess this is way I train both in wizardy and in swordmanship...
"This is very annoying. I don't like the idea to part ways with my sword, not even for a limited amount of time," Saeran comments, shaking his head. "But we are not here to discuss. I will declare my sword and leave it on board, then buy or dagger or something like that as soon as we touch land in Corentyn."
Sǣran does not notice Frankie's attempt at getting left behind because he immediately reaches his cabin. *** Sǣran smiles faintly at Cassian and takes his words a way to start a conversation. "Yes, indeed. I guess it depends on the different aim of our tasks," he says as an introduction as he walks closer to the man and offer his hand to shake. "Sǣran Imledrith, it's a pleasure," Sǣran leaves Cassian the opportunity to introduce himself in turn, then absentmindedly remarks: "so those boxes contain only your gear. I must admit I am a bit surprised. Isn't that something of a hindrance during you missions? You know, you cannot take that gear with you wherever you go, I guess..."
Just a note to say that I hope everyone is being sufficiently entertained so far; I know the going is a bit slow but I'm trying to keep folks for getting bored. The more I GM, the more I learn about myself and my own preferences - and I've discovered that I really don't like to rush scenes and dialogue along if there's potential (or desire) for folks to interact with things and get chatty. Of course that has to be balanced with not letting things drag on too long, which I'm still working on improving my skill at. As far as I am concerned, this is hands down the best scenario I have ever played, although we are still at the beginning. I love the life you breathe into the NPCs and the fact that you actually care for our backstories and personalities. I love the way in which you have brought to life all the scenes we have experienced so far, because it makes the whole thing seems much less "gamey" than the standard PbP Pathfinder Scenario. I don't think the pace is too slow, either. In any case, I would gladly sacrifice a bit of pace for the same level of roleplaying you're offering us in any game. And of course I've been greatly entertained so far!
"I agree with you, Lazaros," calmly states Saeran after thinking about the thing for a minute or so. "I would also suggest to be open to him about our intentions. He certainly knows about us, the Paracountess is very likely to have informed him. And since we know about him too, I think we should not pretend to conceal that knowledge, otherwise he will start worrying about our intentions." Saeran rests his elbows on the ship's rail, his gray eyes absentmindedly staring at the City at the Center of the World. So, this is how my first field commision starts...Farewell, Absalom, I hope to be back soon.
I took the liberty of summarizing our present task in Saeran's Journal. The document is freely consultable by anyone who has the link. Too often in PFS Play by Post I forget about the goal of my party: that will no longer happen!
As soon as the group enters Farabellus’s office, Særan moves toward the Master of Swords and offers his hand to shake. If the man shakes his hand, Særan makes sure to give him a firm and resolute shake. “It is an honor to finally meet you, Master Farabellus,” says Særan, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. “I have heard a lot about you, and I consider myself lucky to meet a swordsman of your renown.” With that said, Særan smiles sincerely and takes a step back. He has largely ignores the Paracountess and focuses much more attentively on Farabellus’s briefing concerning their mission. The Pathfinder aspirant takes some note into his journal to make sure not to forget anything.
“I have one question, Master Farabellus. How should we conduct ourselves in case of trouble? If we run afoul of Chelish laws, are we supposed to let them taky any action they want against us or are we entitled to resist to actions we consider unjust against us?”
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