Finally found my chronicles and updated Sig. Just as a heads up GM, I have favored terrain (urban) so it may or may not come into play this scenario.
Trifle wrote:
"And Sigrun, good to be meetin' ye. It's always good to meet another Pathfinder who loves her weaponry! Where did your most recent travels take you?"
"They're good kids, this lot," Sigrun chuckles, gently patting the hilt of her axe with a fond expression. "Been through thick and thin with 'em. Glad to see someone else that appreciates good steel."
"As for my travels... well, here, actually!" Sigrun proceeds to expound upon the events that had transpired here in Nerosyan a few days previous--how she had come here to trade with the dwarven populace, and wound up getting caught up with a demonic invasion of the city. "We wondered why we kept being caught up at every turn--we had a rat in the system, and it was my team that found his mousehole. I've gotta pay him back for blasting my face with cold magic, and of course for being a traitorous conniving wretch!"
Sigrun takes a moment to calm her temper, waiting until her tightly clenched fist is no longer pale around the knuckles. "He's probably tangled up with the cult of Baphomet somehow, I reckon. Heard tell that they're corrupting the ranks of crusaders an' whatnot, so it wouldn't surprise me to hear they've infected the Society as well. A bloody rot that needs to be cut off right off the bat, in my opinion."
"As for what he gains? What does anyone gain for consortin' with demons? Power! All at the cost of their soul for the Abyss. Pah!" Sigrun spits on the floor. It's clear that she's gravely offended by the contents of their mission today.
"But yeah. We got bothered by a few traps on the upper level of his lodge last time, so we need to be careful for that."
I bought a few items (potion of darkvision, cloak of resistance +1, scroll of delay poison) but I'm ready to go now.
The door to the lodge slams open unceremoniously as a tall, wild-haired Ulfen woman stomps her way inside. Heavily armed and armoured, with weapon hilts poking out of every viable surface on her back and belt, she seems well prepared for the warzone that the Diamond City had become mere days before. The wooden shield strapped to her back is decorated with a painted white howling wolf head, and seems to have been recently burned but never quite repaired.
After glancing this way and that, she spies the gathering group and makes her way over, steel jangling obnoxiously loudly as she goes. Weapons are roughly unclipped from her belt and dumped on the floor alongside her backpack before she takes a seat, the chair squeaking under her weight, and she offers the group a toothy grin. "Hey," she says simply, roughly cleaning off her hands on the bottom of her tunic before extending it to each in turn. "Name's Sigrun. Boss of the Wolfrunner trade consortium," she snickers a little - an inside joke, perhaps? "and your regular ol' Pathfinder through an' through. Good to be workin' with ya'. ... And good to be pullin' this thorn outta the Society's backside, too," she adds, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
A missive arrives at your table, delivered by a nervous-looking young Pathfinder-in-training who looks like he's probably been doing the job for about three days, tops. It's written on a dog-eared scrap of parchment in messy scrawling letters, with a thumbprint in ink accidentally scored to the top-right corner.
Yeah, sorry. Stuff came up. Be there soon.
--Sigrun Wolfrunner
... how very informative. Who is this 'Sigrun' person anyway...?
Sigrun grunts in satisfaction to see Hjort brought to his knees, and she moves forward with a ruthless grin on her face. "Might be a good idea to run away now," she says to Runa moments before sinking her axe into her shoulder and then following it up with a skull-conking shield bash over the head.
Sigrun hacks away at Hjort with both her axe and shield, but slips on the snow beneath her feet a little when changing stances from her charge and her attacks are thus easily parried.
Yeah, I only jumped out of the window because I assumed we were in combat rounds or something similar (and that it would take some time to actually climb down)... ah well, going balls to the walls for this.
Not bothered by her minor falling injury, Sigrun lets out a roar of challenge as she rushes at Hjort, axe blade flashing in the air. Perhaps not the wisest of tactical choices, but then again, you're talking to the woman that just jumped out of a second floor window...
Hey guys, just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna have to drop this game instead of continuing to parts 2 and 3. I picked up too many games for the game day and I'm pretty busy, so I need to get rid of a couple where I can. Sorry. I will be sticking around until the end of this scenario though, of course!
"Oh, bugger it all -- back me up from up here, 'aight?," Sigrun grunts, taking a few steps back before charging at the window. She doesn't waste time climbing - she literally just jumps out of the top floor, landing with... well, not much grace, really, and lands with a pained thump on her butt on the practice field below.
Despite her disdain for the obviously partially brain-dead goblins, Sigrun blocks the incoming crossbow bolt with her shield before bringing the flat edge down on its head.
Sorry for disappearing the last few days, I've been sick and posting has been really difficult lately.
Sigrun is happy to let the others do the talking, but when Rurik readies to enter the warehouse, she pulls out her axe and straightens her shield. "I am going to enjoy smashing this Hjort's skull in," she mutters bitterly.
Sigrun is questioning whether Falcon is some kind of psychopath using the Society to take out his violent urges, but she also knows the value of 'Cooperate' and isn't going to push the issue. She just might bring this up with her superiors once they go back to Absalom ;)
I actually got hit a fair bit while I was grappling the fake-Hjort (so many 19s and 20s!), so a tap from a wand wouldn't go astray. Trade ya' a charge from IH for a charge of longstrider? ;) (Since I presume the original charge has worn off by now)
nightdeath, fyi, so since this guy didn't confirm that he's Hjort I let him go last round and whacked one of the others. Thus I'm not grappling and have no more penalties to my AC, etc etc. Anyway, point is, no crit confirmation.
Sigrun grunts in pain as another fist makes contact with her jaw.
Sigrun stares agape at the bloodshed caused by one of their own, and she glares profusely at Falcon. "YOU IDIOT! What the HELL are you doing, pulling a sword on some drunken idiots in a tavern brawl?! Bloody hell!" The shock of Falcon's actions combined with trying to keep Hjort from squirming out of her grasp earns her a nasty couple of blows, to which she curses. They'd leave a nasty bruise in the morning for sure. "Someone stabilise that poor bloke! He didn't do nothin'!"
The Ulfen shield-maiden frowns at the man she thinks is Hjort, and says, "You're Hjort, right? Hjort Fastaxe?"
If he says yes?:
If he confirms that he's Hjort, Sigrun pins him to the floor and pulls out her rope to tie him up next round.
Grapple (Pin):1d20 + 6 ⇒ (13) + 6 = 19
If he says no?:
If not, she lets him go in disgust, shoving him away with a roll of her eyes. "Get outta here then, ya idiot!"
She then turns to the drunken idiots attacking her, pulling her axe from her belt and attempting to conk one over the head with the flat of the blade.
With a grunt of disgust, Sigrun pushes one of the idiot drunkard tavern-goers away and stomps on over to the man Falcon points out to her. Before he can run away, she tries to grab his arm and twist it behind his back to stop him from bolting. "We've got some questions for you," she snarls in Hjort's ear.
Move beside Hjort and grapple him!
Grapple:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (14) + 6 = 20
I believe none of these actions provoke as everyone is flat-footed. If I'm wrong, well, I'll eat the AoOs.
Met with cajoling and insults, Sigrun scowls, but doesn't have enough time to come up with her own retaliation before Rurik sets off a sudden brawl. She turns around to use the opportunity to break the a**hole of a barkeep's nose, but he's a wily one and has wisely backed off. She turns back to her allies and shouts over the din, "WHERE THE HELL IS HJORT?!"
Sigrun will follow Falcon as he chases after Hjort.
Sigrun laughs at Falcon's jest, all the while smirking at the scrawny investigator. "Don't think he'd have much luck with that, Falcon," she snorts, pushing the door to the Horned Helm open without a care. "Just remember--don't back down, don't make yourself seem weak," she mutters to the others as they stride on in. "They'll leave us alone if they think we're too strong for 'em, but weaklings?... yeah, perfect targets."
Striding confidently towards the bar, Sigrun says to the others over her shoulder, "Wanna pull up a table?" She then approaches the barman with her coin purse jingling in her hand. "Halló, vinur!" she greets the barkeep with a toothy grin, making sure the assorted weapons she wears aren't hidden by her thick winter jacket or furs. "Hvað er bjór þinn eins og í dag? Get ég verið með fimm?"
Skald:
"Hey there, pal! How's your mead today? Can I get a round for five?"
She glances around the tavern as she waits for a round of drinks for her group, looking for anyone that matches the descriptions they've been given...
After their canvassing of the town (she particularly enjoyed chatting with Rafarta Rannveig--always wonderful to speak to a fellow shield-maiden and hear the oh-so-melodic Skaldic tongue yet again), Sigrun spends some time considering the information they'd picked up.
"If she's from Cheliax, my money's on a g+&-d@$ned diabolist," she mutters scornfully with a shake of her head. "But what's their big problem with Pathfinders? Maybe Skagni knows something about them we don't..."
Sigrun cracks her knuckles and sets to hefting the ridiculously weighty chest once more. "Guess our first stop is the Horned Helm. Sounds like a rough-as-guts kinda place--you sure you're gonna be alright, scrawny?" She grins at Las.
Once the are thugs dispatched with quick and clean efficiency, Sigrun nods approvingly to the Pathfinders she's been assigned to work with--competent lot, they seemed like. She listens to the note be read out aloud as she wipes the blood from her axe on the leader's clothes and rifles through the corpses for anything of worth.
Alas, Sigrun has been away from the North for so long that she's losing track of her contacts up here.
It wasn't so much the Mad Dog archetype I disliked (I'm not a barbarian fan, but that archetype is very cool) as much as Sigrun's characterisation herself. I didn't enjoy the Sczarni faction and wanted to make her a more "active" character. Previously she was much quieter and selfish... now she's much more outgoing and fun for me.
That, and she had 8 Int, which, it turns out, I cannot play. Basically for the reasons you state there. :P
Essentially I just played around with a number of alternate builds to fit the new concept of her character and really liked this one. I originally intended on going into the Horizon Walker PrC and Ranger is a very obvious route into it. I'm still debating on whether I will or not, but hey.
I actually picked Guide for two reasons:
1) I like the "terrain bond" 4th level replacement. It fit well with my concept of a very well-travelled character (particularly going into Horizon Walker)
2) The "ranger's focus" ability stacks with the Horizon Walker's "terrain dominance" bonuses against creatures and it is more flexible in general. Weaker at higher levels than favoured enemy, but I can always use it in a scenario, so that's a plus.
I was totally not satisfied with Sig after that adventure and really searched for a good, fun way to play her. The shield slam thing was very cool and it let me keep the "axe fighter" thing I wanted for an Ulfen warrior.
Now she's one of my favourites to play. Fun character, and fun combat mechanics.
"Are you actually brain-dead?" Sigrun growls in the leader's ear, side-stepping around to his side and laying her weapons into him. Her axe cuts down his shoulder, followed thereafter by her spiked shield slamming right into his gut. "You'd think you'd learn after your thugs got cut down in an instant!"
Ooh, I missed the "Press Enter" part. (I blame posting in between doing an assignment). That's what I couldn't figure out, how to get changes to stick. Thanks.
I don't care so much what kind of map we use, but having one at all is nice. :)
Sigrun arches an eyebrow at the order, her mouth twisting into a scowl. "Excuse me?" she spits venomously, drawing her darksteel axe and pushing her way to the frontline. "You wanna come and say that where I can hear you, a**hole?" the Ulfen warrior snarls.
Move forward 20ft., drawing my axe, and readying an attack for any that come within reach.
Maybe worry about the purchasing thing after, y'know, we deal with the group of people in the trees... lol. Also, Las, you're gonna have to roll for the UMD as if you roll a 1 you can't activate it for 24 hours. (Plus, we may not have time for that right now.)
Sig will be happy to share lifting duties with someone else. Teamwork!!
"Hmm." Sigrun doesn't look up to the copse of trees Rurik had pointed out, doing her best to pretend they weren't aware of the group's presence. "We might want to go and check that out. Best case: witnesses. Worst case: culprits. Well, that could also be a good case too..."
Pulling a leather-wrapped wand from her belt and quickly activating it, Sigrun then nods to her companions. "When you're ready, lads."
Sigrun will tap herself with her wand of longstrider. The other rangers can feel free to take a hit if they like.
Sigrun tries to heft the chest, but almost immediately her knees shake and she drops it back to the ground with a thud. "Erastil's hairy balls," she curses, "that thing is heavy." The wild-haired Ulfen looks around at the other men... well, all of those but Las, of course (he gets a half-second look before he's dismissed out of hand for being far too lean and wiry). "Any of you blokes reckon you can handle it?"
Carrying the chest will put me into heavy encumbrance, so it's not a good idea for me. Maybe someone who doesn't normally use a shield?
Heal:1d20 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 1 = 14 Perception:1d20 + 7 ⇒ (16) + 7 = 23Can I get an aid another? ;)
Later, when they reach the supposed home of Skagni, Sigrun scowls at the sight of the ruin. "Written in blood," she mutters under her breath. "Someone's tryin' to scare us off. Well-- they can get rooted." She vaguely hopes that the perpetrators can hear her, somehow.
Sigrun looks around the ruins for any signs of footprints or other tracks left behind.
Before the trip, I presume we're able to shop? Sigrun will purchase a cold weather outfit and some furs.
Sigrun had barely paid much attention to the briefing the sick Drandle Dreng had given to them. No--her eyes had widened at the words 'Land of the Linnorm Kings', and her smile had not faded from her face in the intervening period since. "A chance to go home," she muttered happily, mind already filled of memories of the north from her childhood. "Oh, it's been so long..."
A tall and powerfully built Ulfen woman, Sigrun has long, unkempt dark hair decorated with braids and a generally wild look about her. Her face is tattooed with blue ink like clawmarks across both her cheeks, and her dark hair is braided haphazardly along the side of her head. She wears a dented and unpolished breastplate, and on her back is a large wooden shield, the darkwood decorated with a howling wolf's head in white paint. An entourage of various weaponry and miscellanea poke out of her numerous belt buckles and backpack, and a wolf-fur cloak and hood hang from her shoulders.
"Thanks a bunch, y'all," Sigrun says with a grin and a half-arsed salute to the group (and even to Wallace). Her eyes are firmly fixated on the bag of gold she's to receive for a job well done. "See ya round sometime."
Sigrun does try to put it down, but in trying to maneuver behind the dretch she stumbles on some sewer gunk and her axe misses completely. A shield slam to the back isn't as effective when she can't throw her weight behind it and push the creature into a wall... sigh!
Attacking target to the left of me. Axe (cold iron):1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23 Damage:1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Shield (normal):1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22And it's subject to a bull rush. If CMD = 17 or below, knocked back ten feet into the wall and it falls prone. Damage:1d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
Sigrun laughs heartily as the creatures claw and bite pathetically at her, completely unable to get past her powerful defenses. "C'mon, c'mon! Try harder, ya wretches! I've fought better fighters in a crèche!"
Once again she drives her axe deep into the creature before her, followed right after by a powerful shield bash aimed deep and low. With a roar of effort she shoves the bloated being backwards towards the far wall of the cell. Sigrun steps backward to be in line with Mohok, shooting the half-orc a brief toothy grin over her shoulder.
Sigrun, busy inspecting the mushrooms (they seemed familiar, somehow, and yet...), jerks up at Mohok's warning of 'uglies'. "Coming!" she replies with a loud shout, immediately drawing her dark-steel axe as she jogs after the half-orc. The Ulfen warrior recoils at the sight at the bloated things. "Ugly indeed," she mutters as she sinks her axe into its shoulder.
Sigrun takes a peek at the flasks, shooting the Almsman her typical toothy grin in thanks. "Cheers. Though I hope we won't need these! I've had well enough of fightin' demons up north as it is..."
Sig has one of these already, so I'm happy to pass them on to anyone else who might want it.
If Baloo and Mr. Green down the guy in front of me (as I assume they will), I'll 5-foot step into his place to lay into the guy who is directly right of Mohok.
Axe:1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 4 + 1 = 8 Shield:1d20 + 3 + 1 ⇒ (13) + 3 + 1 = 17Damage:1d6 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 1 = 7 Shield Slam - opponents hit by my shield bash are also affected by a bull rush (CM result = 17). If they can't move back any further (and the guy just to the right of Mohok can't), then they fall prone after hitting the surface.
Sigrun's starting to get a bit annoyed at herself--first she was shocked from a microsleep by these thugs, and now her latest attempt at axing one in the face was blocked by a mile. She grunts and, with more than a bit of frustration, shoves her shield into one of the Steel Whiners' faces.
