And that makes it a full two weeks since we've heard from the GM. I hope nothing terrible happened to him.
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Personally, I'm giving it another 3 days; this Friday will be two weeks since we'll have heard from the GM.
:( Sad day. It seems things were starting to pick back up a little, but PbP dungeon crawls can be a bit of a slog. I'm willing to continue, but I'm hoping that we can find a way to progress through bottlenecks more efficiently.
Frigid touch was one I overlooked, thanks for that one. No save and conditions that also inflict some hefty damage make it very attractive. Vampiric touch is certainly useful in its way, but isn't what I'm going for here.
I just realized that we never finalized what spell Grimold would have cast into his spell storing dagger. I drafted a list of spells that would create a tactical advantage against an enemy, ideally to be used to hamper a single difficult enemy, and I've opted to ignore spells that merely deal damage. Slow
Shocking Grasp cast into the dagger by Daen (on a day when he doesn't need all his uses of it) gives us a little bit of free burst damage when necessary. If we don't otherwise have access to Dispel Magic on hand, that might be the best way to go. I can pay the scroll cost for any casters to learn or use the scroll to cast into the dagger.
DM, is that hole the same one we already knew about from prior recon, or is this different?
It looks like D Squad is finally picking up steam again :) Garum, I hope everything is alright.
On the Ride:
“Aww, I don’t think you’re givin’ this idea its due, buddy. She’s just a lovely she-wolf that would probably really like to get a little fox in her,” Zohruk says, his smile widening. “You’ve got that wiry build she likes, you’re a liiitle short, but not enough to break the deal, you’re brave as all hell, good with a knife… I don’t see any real downside here. Now, Yhrrilka doesn’t have any brothers, but as her cousin, Haazek would probably step in for the fight...” Zoh notes the alarmed look on Grimold’s face. “What? Just a little tussle with Haazek, you know, a, whaddya call it, a ‘test of mettle,’ yeah. You two throw some punches around, so’s you can show you’re tough enough. I’ve seen you lump up bigger guys than him…!” If that’s actually true, Zohruk can’t recall precisely when it was. Grimold balks at this new turn of events. A little fox? Now he's trying to throw me to the wolves! "Hold a moment there, when did this become about me?" Zoh’s banter with Grimold is amusing, but Taj can’t help feeling for Yhrrilka. “If we’re not careful, all our pelts will be collected. I know how I’d feel if you were taken from me and I was given a substitute -- no matter how attractive -- in your place.” She nods at Grimold. He was a handsome boy, but he wasn’t Zoh. The one who held her heart. The one she loved. “If Ril is anything like me, and you said she was... She’s going to be hurt and pissed. And I’m the one who did this to her...” Grimold wasn't really worried about Yrrilka being the one who got hurt, but he vigorously nods his agreement. Relieved that Taj seems to be on his side, he lets her fight this battle for him - she's doing a much better job than he would, anyway. “OK, let me think… So, what if we got to the Aghash Rukon camp, and while we’re there, Grimold and I, we fight, right? And he lays a whuppin’ on me. And oh, whaddya know, he does it right in front of Ril. And she goes, ‘Oh Grimold, you’re so dreamy, I just want to cut you into pieces and eat you up!’” (Zohruk’s voice is in a high falsetto for that last bit.) “There’s really only a... a very small chance she’d mean that literally.” Grimold's eyes go wide again, and he and Rataji share a glance. If it were anybody else, Daen perhaps, he might find the joke funny, but being offered up as sloppy seconds to an angry she-orc was an arrow Grimold wasn't interested in taking, even for Zoh. He breathes a sigh of relief as Zohruk lets it go. Grimold is all too eager to let Zoh and Taj drift off into their awkward mind-link conversation, but he can't help but imagine what he'd look like with his own tattoo spread. His people had long held their own tattoo tradition, but it was mainly a sign that the wearer had sorcerous powers. As far as Grimold knew, he was magically incompetent. In his first few months at the Bonewatch he had tried to learn from Dazen in his spare time, but it never seemed to take. But Grimold liked the tattoo idea - it would make him feel more... Varisian. His parents had never told him the reason they had forsaken the road and taken up in Vigil, and much of Grimold's energy was spent trying to recapture the connection to his culture that he felt had been missing all his life. He felt that connection most strongly when he played Papa's violin, felt most like himself when he could put bow to string. But chasing that feeling had gotten him into trouble, falling in with the Sczarni after playing with Jorge and Felipe. And it was the same thing that happened back in Ustalav when he had been undercover. After Allie had disappeared and Zoh had been reassigned, he'd fallen prey to it again. The Sczarni mask went on a little too easy and fit a little too well. He'd almost forgotten that he was Grimold the Knight, and he still harbored guilt over it. Even though the mission was ultimately a success, he hadn't told Daen or Kassie how close he had come to turning. Shrugging off the bad memories, Grimold decides that tattoos might be a good idea someday. It might help Grimold the Knight feel a little more Varisian, a little less distant from his own heritage. Maybe then he wouldn't need other masks to make him feel like himself. Taj grins. “I would love to hear the tale of Keaton the Spirit Fox. Even more, I’d love to hear the tale of Grimold, former criminal turned Knight. And are there tales that you’d like to hear in return? I’m not as gifted a tale-spinner as Tam, but I remember all the tales the old man told me. Maybe we call all share stories?” Grimold runs a hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head. This wasn't the first time Taj had asked him about his story, and it seemed like she wasn't going to let him dodge it forever. He knew that, one day, he would have to come up with a version worth telling - every hero had an origin story, and if the bards were going to immortalize him then he needed to make sure his was memorable. But for now, all he had was the truth. So Grimold told Rataji about growing up Oathless in Vigil, and how he had fallen in with Felipe and Jorge and the others. He told her about the night in the rain (had there been rain? Surely there must have been rain, it was much too dramatic for clear skies...) and the job gone bad, and how Allie saved him by offering him a spot in the Bonewatch. Looking back on it, that particular plot twist made even less sense than it had in the moment, and he couldn't help but glance over at Allie, silently thanking her. When he'd finished his story, he looked back to Taj, grinning sheepishly. "So that is it, the origin story of Grimold the Rag Knight. It will be a legend one day, but you heard it here first! Now if that satisfies your appetite, I would love to hear about life in the Mwangi Expanse. Books about your people are not easy to find here in Vigil." And yet it is so easy to find certain texts from Vudra... While the others stop to interrogate the prisoners, Grimold stays in cloud form and acts as lookout, patrolling the halls around the prison to make sure nothing sneaks up on them from above or below.
I still need to get a flex-time post up. Aside from that, I'm waiting on the GM to respond to you. You've engaged with the orcs; I don't see that there's much substance to be added until they respond. I'll work on getting something up to at least cover some action from my perspective leading up to the interrogation.
I had a great Easter! Hope everybody else did as well. I watched Streets of Fire over the weekend. I'm a huge fan of the Warriors, and I loved Streets of Fire too. It's a shame it wasn't well-received. I like Roll20 for live sessions, but I'm ambivalent about its use otherwise. I haven't had great experience with it on mobile devices, but I typically post from a laptop or desktop anyway.
On second thought, it may be to our advantage if the prisoners don't think we're fellow orcs.
Taj stirs. “Oh, I’ve heard of him! You think that Tar-Baphon might be back? Or have escaped his seal? Still... we've known ever since the exploding madman that there is a high-level necromancer at work here. As creepy as this is, it's not a surprise to see dark magic active in Belkzen. We'll just have to be careful, gather what clues we can, and stick to the rescue mission, right?” As Taj speaks his name, Grimold holds an urgent finger to his lips with a shh! "Don't say his name." He makes a sign with his hands to ward off bad luck and incants a quick prayer to Desna. His superstitions satisfied, he shakes his head. "I do not think it is him. We were in Ustalav less than a week ago, with no sign of such a catastrophe. But the way those orcs looked, and with two of their own locked up?" Grimold looks at Zohruk. "We should definitely talk to them. There are strange things afoot."
Wind-walking down is fine. Looks like I picked a choice time to be away :/ I'll try to get a flex-time post up before too long. If we want to question the orcs, I could disguise myself as an orc and Zoh and I could do it without giving away that we're Knights.
When Zohruk mentions the orcs, Grimold nods his assent. "Aye, there is something different about them." He pauses in thought as he tries to describe the scene. "It makes me think the orcs are not in control of themselves. The whole fortress, it did not look like it was being held by orc hordes. It is as if..." Grimold shivers a little at the thoughts running through his mind. "It is as if this is the work of another overlord, like the Whispering Tyrant." He has to fight not to say the dread name in a whisper.
Project is over! I should have a post up this evening or tomorrow.
When I meant weight, I meant pathfinder weight for the purposes of encummbrance, and flying. Didn't realise there were other connotations. Shh! Nobody tell! Taj, I was mistaken about the deadline; it's due tomorrow at noon. We're almost finished.
I try to count weight anally, because of the way I've been trained, but yeah I have some number issues. Are we still doing phrasing?
Just a notice for all of my games, I have a very important project due this Thursday. I'll try to keep things going, but my posting will be lacking in either quality or quantity this week.
On the Ride: She turns to Sir Grimold. “As the only one of us who ever had actual criminal connections, perhaps you can advise us. What should be done with two unrepentant thieves, who’ve irrevocably stolen each other’s hearts?” Grimold rolls his eyes at the lovebirds. At this rate, Zohruk would be reduced to a domesticated farmer living on a ranch with thirteen cows before the month was out, hadrly of any use in a rescue mission. "In my professional opinion, you are both guilty of the far worse crime of stealing my breakfast." Placing a hand on his stomach, he mimes vomiting over the side of his horse. "You're absolutely right about one thing," he says out loud. "I do have to find a way to make right by Yhrrilka." Zoh looks over at Grimold, whose facial expression has changed to more than a little amused over this whole exchange. "Grimold, man, we should swing up to Burning Sun territory, and you should meet Ril! Oh, this is the best idea ever!" Strike that. Zohruk wouldn't live to see the ranch. As much fun as it was to joke, the thought of actually meeting this Yhrrilka was terrifying. The only thing Grimold can think of that would be worse is the fear that Zoh might try to set him up with an orc girl. Luckily, there was no reason for them to go near Burning Sun territory on this mission. "Zohruk, my people have a saying. Love makes lambs into wolves and wolves into lambs. It would be a shame for you to throw yourself to a wolf when your spring wool is only just starting to come in." The words strike her, hard. Taj is transfixed. “The Song of the Spheres?” The idea that a goddess can be the song that her ancestors have been singing... “The more I hear of your goddess, the more I want to learn. Can you tell me more of her stories and mysteries on our journey?” Grimold smiles at Rataji, encouraged by her eagerness. "There are so many stories to be told! But Desnan tales are best shared under stars' light, so that the Great Dreamer herself might enjoy the telling from her palace atop the Stair of Stars, and bless those who listen with good dreams as they drift off to slumber with the glow of the stars' song still warm in their hearts." He was beginning to look forward to his next watch with a new stargazing companion. Not wanting to let her down entirely, he adds, "But my people have many stories that I could tell you now." He pulls the fox mask out of his saddlebag, holding it out to Rataji. "You wanted to know about my mask? It is just a simple mask from Minkai with the face of a fox, but it always reminded me of the tale of Keaton the Spirit Fox, master thief of the First World. Would you like to hear his story?"
On the Ride:
Rataji's perspectives on interracial attractions are interesting, but Grimold has had about as much of that discussion as he can stomach for the moment.
“I’d love to hear more about the constellations up here. Please, show them to me! Does Desna talk about the songs the stars sing, or just their wanderings through the heavens?” The question gives Grimold pause for thought. "Desna herself is often called the Song of the Spheres. Perhaps it is she who sings, or she is their song? For us who worship Desna, it is about the journey, not the destination, and so too it is about the mysteries, not the answers." While he'd grown up worshipping Desna as Mama and Papa had taught him, it wasn't until the Knights had indoctrinated him into Iomedae's theology that Grimold had begun to truly appreciate the Desnan point of view. Iomedae was a young goddess, rigid and inflexible, and her faith was occupied with the details of her mortal works and her ascension. Allie had said it best in one of their occasional religious discussions: they are too occupied with facts to leave room for truth. But Desna was older than the stars, perhaps as old as Pharasma herself. There were more tales of her works than could ever be told, more to her creations than could ever bee seen. With her smile she bestows fortune's favor, and her laughter brings low petty thieves and mighty kings alike. With all of the questions one might think to ask, did the answers even matter? At Taj's beckoning, Grimold joins the others, opting for a clap on the shoulder instead of a hug. He breathes a sigh of relief when Daen proposes that they'll be able to offer aid once they rescue the Lord Watcher. "Surely the Lord Watcher will see the strategic value of having an orc tribe on our side. Their war intelligence alone would give us a more accurate picture of what we face on the other side of the Hordeline." An enraged Yhrrilka might be just the thing we need to turn the tide of this war! "Should we saddle up or do we ride with the dawn?"
Was the current date ever established? In Table 2's gameplay, Precentor Hailu indicated that we were less than a month away from the flooding season, which occurs for two months in the spring. That should put us in either Calistril (February) or Pharast (March), depending on if the floods were early or late spring. DM, I'd recommend an official date kept for both tables. If there's ever any cross-over, it will make it much easier to determine how events in each game correspond. It would also help me figure out which constellation of the Cosmic Caravan is currently visible :P Taj, I'm not sure what to do about Allie. If she leaves, it will be more difficult to integrate her back in should her player return. But botting means somebody has to control her actions, or else she's just off-screen. EDIT: More on the calendar. In this thread there are links to an Excel-based calendar for Golarion, including holidays and the phases of the moon, as well as the online calendar based on the Excel sheet. EDIT II: Son of EDIT: The most likely candidate is that The Newlyweds is prominent (17 Calistril–11 Pharast), which I find amusingly appropriate. The second most likely candidate is The Bridge (12 Pharast–18 Gozan).
On the Ride:
Her stomach drops. “It is different where I come from. There are some orc tribes on the border of the Mwangi. They allied with us against an incursion of lizard folk. They’re our trading partners. My childhood guard, Tam, was vukhrov like Zoh. Everyone respected him.” Then she raises her eyebrows. “Wait a minute. Do they see other vukhrovs the same way? Me? Sir Daen?” Grimold shakes his head. "Half-elves are not as looked down on. While they have their own problems, people are not surprised that a human could love an elf. With orcs, it is different..." It was great for Zohruk that Rataji thought nothing of his orc blood, but her acceptance was beginning to push his limits of understanding. Was it really so surprising that half-orcs were often the product of rape? All you had to do was look at an orc, and it should be obvious. Elves are lithe and beautiful; orcs are tusky and violent. Were they considered attractive where she comes from? Grimold has difficulty wrapping his mind around that idea. “I’ve always been curious about your Desna. When my ancestors are done helping their descendents, our tradition states that they take their place amongst the stars. The heavens call to me. When I was a child, I told my great uncle that I could hear them singing to me. He told me that maybe it was my ancestors calling me to let me know they’d made their journey safely. Could... could you tell me more about your lady of stars? I’d also like to hear more of Sarenrae and the Burning Mother that Zoh speaks of, but Desna is the one you worship, yes?” Grimold nods. "For better or for worse, Desna holds my fate in her hands. She likes to play with it, like a toy. I pray to her, and she hears my prayers in her starry palace. Sometimes she smiles, sometimes she laughs. The Stair of Stars points the way to her home - Cynosure, the North Star. She placed it there among the rest of her creations, all of the stars in the heavens. I can show you tonight after the sun sets, and you can borrow my copy of the Eight Scrolls if you want." While Precentor Hailu briefs them, Grimold stoically keeps his place in line. He lets Daen ask all the usual questions, trying to pay attention despite the distraction posed by the Precentor's tight-fitting dress. When she presents the letter, his eyes flit sideways to Zohruk, who takes the news far better than Grimold would have expected. Once dismissed from the tent, he goes outside to console his friend, but stops short when he sees that Rataji has the situation in hand. It was probably for the best; Grimold wasn't sure what he could have said that would help matters.
Also Grim she took double damage because I rolled a Nat 20 on a natural attack. Indeed you did. Missed my spot check there.
Alright, lemme see if I can clear it up. Spoiler alert for anybody who isn't up on the Whispering Tyrant plot or hasn't played Carrion Crown:
You know of the Whispering Tyrant, I hope? He's one of the setting's BBEGs. He's a demigod-like lich from an earlier time in Golarion's history. Tar-Baphon, aka The Whispering Tyrant. He's basically Sauron. He's currently imprisoned under Gallowspire, which the Knights of Ozem are charged with protecting and keeping sealed. The WT has plenty of folks still around who would like to see him freed. There's a necromantic cult called the Whispering Way dedicated to doing exactly that; they're heavily featured in the Carrion Crown AP. Out in the countryside of Ustalav is a castle where one of the WT's generals, a vampire named Malyas, is holed up.
However, there are plenty of people that are not so keen on seeing him return to Golarion. Among his many notable enemies (Aroden, Arazni, the Knights of Ozem, anybody sane) there is a resistance faction dating back to before the WT was imprisoned at Gallowspire. One of these is a vampire named Luvick Siervage. Luvick is the patriarch of the vampire underground in Caliphas, Ustalav's capital. Thus, most of the vampires in Caliphas are also enemies of the Whispering Tyrant. We never fleshed much out for the mission in Ustalav that D Squad completed just before the start of this game. I think we've at least decided that we took out a powerful vampire. Knights of Ozem are mostly interested in keeping Gallowspire sealed, so it stands to reason that this vampire is an ally of the Whispering Tyrant. This means it likely wasn't one of the vampires native to Caliphas. I propose that it may possibly have been an agent of the Whispering Tyrant's most powerful vampire ally, Malyas.
It's basically taking 10, but applied more liberally than typical. Also, always be explicit about character actions and player intentions. Poor communication kills characters, and liberal use of the Discussion thread or OOC tags are your lifeline. Good job on that obscuring mist. One stegosaurus is a lot easier to handle than 3. That said, I'm definitely confused about that stegosaurus attack. It looks like Elo got cleaved, but I'm not sure why she suddenly takes double damage from it. - - - - - - Hey D Squad, I was thinking about the Ustalav mission. We've decided that we took out some sort of high-ranking vampire, and presumably it had to do with safeguarding Gallowspire. That implies that the vampire is with the pro-WT faction. In Caliphas, most of the vampire underground are very much in the anti-WT faction; their leader is one of the Whispering Tyrant's most powerful (un)living enemies. What do you all think of our target having been one of Malyas's underlings?
On the road:
She looks at the young knight. “Grimold, may I ask you something? We weren’t there long, but I didn’t notice a lot of vukhrov people in Lastwall, and hardly any with orc blood. This close to the border with Belkzen, I expected more. Were there many other knights like Zoh?” Grimold glances quizzically at Rataji, startled by the question. Slowly, gently, he shakes his head. "Zohruk is the first half-orc Knight in at least a generation." He averts his gaze, letting his eyes trail off to the road ahead. "This close to the border, people do not trust half-orcs. Perhaps... perhaps it is different where you come from. But here, they do not often come from... happy families." Half-orcs were rare in Lastwall, but at least they were tolerated so long as they bore the Sheild-mark. Things were far worse for them in Ustalav. It was difficult for Grimold to forget the way the common folk had treated his friend, despite being a Knight. It had made undercover work easier; even if their cover was blown, nobody would have believed the truth. She thinks nothing of it. She looks at him and sees Zohruk instead of just a half-orc. As the realization sinks in, Grimold begins to appreciate what Rataji could mean for Zohruk. Yhrrilka is not going to like this. After a silent moment, he turns back to Rataji. "My turn," he says. "What gods do you worship? Our religious studies class did not talk much beyond Iomedae and Aroden. Bards tell tales of ancestor worship in the Mwangi jungles. Are your spirits also your gods?" When he's finished prancing around with Sandja, Grimold pulls her up next to Kassie's horse. Throwing his leg over and hopping out of the saddle, he whispers encouragement in her ear and pats her neck before letting the attending boy take the reins. Removing his mask, he grins at Kassie. "That was fun! We should have another race sometime, you and me. You have to give me a chance to catch up!" In their cohort's ongoing series of horse races, Grimold was losing to Kassie by two, but they hadn't had a chance to go head-to-head since the Bonewatch. It wouldn't be the same without the others, but now that he had Sandja to ride and Jalen wasn't around, Grimold thought he might stand a chance of tying it up. "You too, Rataji. You did great! That flag might come in handy." Inside the command tent, Grimold grins at Daen as he falls in line. I should have asked if Alacarty had a book about fun for him to study.
On the ride: Grimold gets a good chuckle from the image Rataji paints of the elves. His guard lowered, he's surprised when she sneaks in with her questions. "Oy, one at a time, yeah? You could teach Allie a thing or two about conducting an inquisition!" Once the words are out, he winces inwardly. He'd meant it as a joke, but to his ears it sounded like a jab.
As he thinks about which question he should answer, his hand drops down, his fingers brushing against the mask peeking out of his saddlebag. He wished he was wearing it right now, but hiding like that wouldn't be fair to Rataji. Grimold thinks back to meeting Zohruk and that visit to Alacarty's Scriptorium where he'd purchased Contortions of a Vudrani Acrobat. He and Zoh had had some fun with that in their time at the Bonewatch, but that probably wasn't the kind of thing he should be telling Rataji. "Me and Zohruk are the rag knights. Our friendship probably came from survival instinct more than anything," he laughs. "He has been a good friend, though. When we met, I was in some trouble. It is a long story..." Grimold sighs and runs a hand through his hair as he tries to think of how to tell it. "In the Bonewatch, there are these storage spaces and sub-basements. I needed something from down there to trade for information I needed about some friends who were killed. I was still new and did not have many allies among the scrubs. Zohruk showed up a week or two after me, and I tried to rope him into some harmless exploration. At first, he was worried about getting caught and being scrubbed out, but when I finally came clean and told him the truth about why I needed his help, he was all in." Grimold burned with some of the old shame as he remembered how he had tried to use his friend, and some embarrassment at how the half-orc had seen right through him. "That is the kind of guy Zohruk is, you know? We did not know each other very well, but he stuck his neck out to help me. It would have been over for us both if we had been caught, but he had my back." He looks at Rataji, considering her situation. "From what I know about your story, it was not so different for you."
Kassie, you should totally get in on this horseplay!
The next morning:
After waking, Grimold cooks up a camp breakfast. Some nearby bushes yield some berries, supplementing his restocked store of spices to flavor an otherwise bland pot of ration gruel.
When Taj and Zohruk join the living, Grimold brings over some food. "How are you feeling?"
A quick examination yields no information about what disease she suffered. "Whatever it is, you seem to have overcome it. Those spirits are pretty useful, eh?" On the road, he finds himself riding near Rataji. With Zohruk gone ahead as the self-appointed scout and Daen in tactical discussions with Eilidh as he plans their approach to the orc fortress, there's little Grimold can do to avoid their new standard bearer. He suddenly realizes how uneasy he's been around her, and it's all he can do to suppress Mama's voice in his head from berating him for his behavior. He should be more welcoming, making an effort to make her feel comfortable among them. Kassie and Eilidh were doing their part, and Rataji was already becoming a central figure in Daen's battle plans. It's been so easy for her. With the exception of Zohruk, it had taken months for Grimold and the others to develop a mutual trust. But she shows up with Zoh one night out of the blue and she's in like Flynn. Who in the Hells is Flynn, anyway? Sighing to himself, Grimold As the Wall comes into view, Grimold's heart sinks. Lastwall's defensive perimeter had been reduced significantly; it hardly resembled the glorious bulwark it was always depicted as in murals and stories, defending the good and righteous against the massed forces of evil beyond it. Instead, it was just another reminder of how desperate their mission was, of how much was resting on their shoulders. He raises a hand in salute to the men they pass, drawing the his yellow fox mask over his face to hide his grim expression. Since becoming a Knight, the mask had become something of a signature for Grimold. Depicting the smiling face of Keaton, the fey fox, it answered whatever danger he faced with playful nonchalance. In a past life, he had worn it to disguise his identity in Oathless black markets and Sczarni dealings. Once a symbol of his checkered past, it now embodied his public persona; if they managed to pull off this rescue mission, it would become his personal legend. Grimold, the Fox of Ozem, would go down in history. From behind the mask, he answers Rataji. "We could. Or we could give them something to really cheer about. Come on!" Whipping his reins, he urges Sandja into a gallop, standing up in his stirrups and showing off for the troops.
I'll try to get a post up today or tomorrow. Paizo's traffic problems kept me from being able to post earlier and I've got work all weekend.
Anybody else getting a Shadows of Mordor vibe from Table 2's mission?
Sorry to hear it, but it's definitely the healthy choice. I'm in the middle of a lot of work at school right now myself. Things should get better for me around midway through March. I should be able to at least keep the pace I've been at though.
First Watch:
Once the camp is cleaned from dinner and the others have retreated to their bedrolls, Grimold takes up his watch. It is a good night for stargazing - the skies are clear and the stars are softly shining. Sitting in the grass, Grimold positions himself under Cynosure while he prays to Desna.
It had been an uncommonly eventful day, even by Knight standards. Since the last time he had sat under the stars he had been reunited with a lost friend and heard news of many more gone to Pharasma. Most conflicting of all, they had been sent on a mission so desperate, the future of the Crusades might depend on it. It filled him with a terrible, bittersweet excitement. If they succeeded in this, their story would be sung by bards in towns and taverns across the Inner Sea for ages to come, perhaps alongside those of Iomedae herself. But if they failed, there would be nobody left to so much as spit upon their empty graves. All of this weighed on Grimold's heart as he prayed, and his heart sank even further upon opening his eyes. Something about the night sky appeared queer. Akiton the Red was coming into view just off the horizon, uncommon for this season, and a single meteor streaked across the sky for just a moment. Though not a trained astrologer, the signs were confusing and muddled. Conflicting fortunes always seemed to follow him and his friends, and Grimold imagined he could hear Desna laughing in the back of his mind, tinkling like bells and starlight. Turning his eyes away from the sky, he gives his attention to his evening vigil until the time comes to wake Zohruk for his turn.
Grimold emerges shirtless from his tent, knives in his hands. The threat isn't difficult to spot, standing there spewing madness from his lips. Grimold listens to the words, but they make no sense; he might as well still be dreaming. There's something sinister about the black hand upon the man's throat. Above and behind the man, Grimold catches sight of Akiton in the sky, when suddenly the body deflates, spewing black fog in place of mad words. Grimold holds his breath as it passes over the camp, and once it's cleared he does a quick sweep of the premises. Reporting to Daen, he calls it, "We are clear. It was only the one man. Zohruk, how many affected by the cloud?"
Grimold will take first watch. I'll have something up later. Not enough time at the moment to deal with...whatever it is that just happened.
I hope you don't mind me getting in on the gag. The Russian word sounded more Orcish than the Mongolian, which has a history of using loan words from Russian anyway.
Grimold lets out a low whistle as Zoh finishes his story. "You did not lie. That sounds a lot like a Robert the Black story." Grimold pauses, nodding his head in time with his horse's steps. "Except for the part where you got color sprayed like a suka!" Grimold and throws his head back and laughs to sky for a good long while. As he regains control of himself, he looks over at Zohruk and cracks up all over again. "Purple never...never was your color," he squeaks out between giggles. Orcish word of the Day: suka: b%~!!
Those names sound german or something :/ Slavic, I think. What did they do for a living? We can pick a language for Varisian (italian, maybe) and translate their profession into that language to come up with a surname. If it's all the same, I'd prefer to leave them unnamed.
”They can’t really all be gone, you know? I mean, things get crazy in battles like that; they can’t possibly know they’re all gone. I refuse to believe some s$+@-for-brains Black Sun is really carrying the axe that had Jalen’s name on it. And Vorin’s? And Elyssa’s…?” What started out as an attempt at stirring up some defiance lands with a thud. Zoh decides to quit before he makes things worse to the point of singing his own funeral dirge. Grimold barks a short laugh at this. "Not a chance! Elyssa would have blown them all to the Boneyard before she'd let that happen. There's probably a crater out there somewhere with enough dead orcs to earn them all honorary dwarf beards." It hurt to think of their friends as dead, but the image of Jalen and Vorin in the Boneyard fighting over whose new beard was better brought an honest smile to Grimold's face. While Zohruk prepares his horse, Grimold brushes and saddles Sandja, his snowflake-patterned hobby. Aside with the others in his cohort, she might be his only friend left alive from the Bonewatch. She had been a Knighting gift from Constable Burrich for completing the horsemanship class. Burrich's class had been Grimold's favorite during his training, a welcome relief from the dull lectures and brutal combat practice. There had been some impressive animals available for the choosing - the usual coursers and rounceys in a range of coat colors, even a destrier or two. But from the moment Grimold laid eyes on her, his mind had been made up. Burrich wasn't pleased; she was barely broken in and was still being trained. But she was young and fast and wild, and her black coat had constellations of white spots like stars in the sky. Desna smiled on Grimold that day, and Burrich finally let him take her, and so in thanks he named her Sandja after a storied Desnan priestess. Thinking of old friends hurts, so Grimold turns his mind to new friends. It had certainly been a surprise when Zohruk showed up, doubly so with a Mwangi girl in tow. "So Zohruk, you want to tell me the story about how you got beat up by a girl you were trying to rescue now, or would you rather wait until I call you out in front of everyone at the campfire?"
Rataji, she does not. I never came up with a surname or names for Mama and Papa that I liked.
Elo, I was hoping you'd get to lug your two mooks around with you. Do you have plans for them? GM, the Stephen King method is all well and good, up until your killer clown becomes a space spider in a Tim Curry suit. Some surprises are better left undiscovered.
Zoh, there's some descriptions of them in the Campaign Info tab in The Long Vigil. That should save you some work.
Yeah...I haven't done a very good job of putting Grimold-related characters on the sheet. I'll try to have those up by the weekend. Milena is Grimold's younger sister. She lives in an Oathless tenement in Vigil with Grimold's mother (Mama). His father is deceased.
Allie, I may not be having the same struggles as you, but I can identify with feeling that it's a little difficult getting back into the swing of things. I wish that I could go back and edit that last post; I like the content, just not the structure or the voice. It's weird figuring out this new character, since he doesn't do things like talk to the voices in his head as much. One thing that's helped me is thinking of Sir Grimold as a new character. What with the timeskip and all, the last thing I'd want to do is pick Grimold up exactly where he left off. Aside from being a bit too angsty, it simply wouldn't make sense for the character; he would have had to fail to develop at all as a person during one of the most transformative experiences of his life. Instead, this gives me a chance to fill out his personality in a healthier direction. In a way, it's like meeting a new Grimold. In the back of my head, I've had a rough idea of how the interpersonal dynamics might have developed over the two or three years since The Long Vigil that I've been working from to inform the new personality. Maybe it would help if we talked about some of that stuff more openly? One small thing, I imagine that once he opened up to the others a bit more, he invited the others over to dinner at his Mama's house. Whether or not they took him up on it is their call (except for Zohruk; I'm forcing him into that one :P). Also, by now everybody knows that his name is Rolando, but Grimold is the name he goes by outside of his family. I have no idea where this wall of text came from: You said Eilidh never had much in the way of confidence to begin with. Do you want to keep that? Our training would have taught us to be able to work independently when needed. Eilidh also had plenty of time to develop her faith in Saerenrae and adapt to sticking out among the Iomedaens because of it. How did her relationship with Ardis develop, and what does it mean for her now that he's (possibly) dead?
Something that I appreciated about Eilidh in The Long Vigil is that, despite being soft-spoken and nervous, she was one of the most powerful personalities in the game. She did things that opened the game up and changed the way we played. Two highlights I can think of off the top of my head: Regardless of how meek she is, her actions have a way of shaking things up, and she has a lot of narrative potency for it. In a way, a lot of the roleplaying content of this new iteration revolves around Eilidh. Before you (thankfully) jumped back in, Eilidh's fate was a specter that hung over all our heads. Grimold found himself looking at Eilidh while remembering the past because she's a powerful symbol for him. Daen was the first of the group that Grimold met at the Bonewatch and was maybe something of a rival, he has/had a bit of a crush on Kassie, and Zoh is his best friend, but Eilidh is the one that makes him thankful to be alive. Besides what she means to Grimold, she's a strong anchor for at least two other characters (Kassie and Zohruk). I don't intend for any of that to put pressure on you, so I apoligize if it does. I have full faith that you'll find Eilidh again, and we'll all be better off for it.
Precentor Saiville's description hits Grimold like a punch in the gut. It was bad enough that Ulthun had been captured, but... We're the only Knights left? How could it have happened like this? Reeling, he widens his stance to steady himself a little, clenching his jaw to keep from crying out. Faces flashed through his memory. Elyssa...Theodric...Ardis...Vorin...Jalen... Barely a year had gone by since their Knighting. Traveling to Vigil, he thought there might be a chance for a reunion at the Rose Chalice, but now that would never happen. He stiffens up as Daen speaks for all of them. That's why he was the leader; even upon hearing the news of the deaths of most of their friends, not to mention the rest of their comrades, he was already thinking about the objective and giving orders. Once, Grimold might have been offended that Daen could seem so heartless, but he'd come to learn that that wasn't the case. His people had a saying, "still waters run deep," and he'd never met anybody who embodied that saying as much Daen. Following Daen's lead, Grimold tries to focus on the task at hand. Once outside, he and the others get to work.
Grimold shakes his head. "My Mama would kill us both if she knew we had come back to Vigil without stopping for dinner, but if she knew about this, she'd never let us leave." He flashes Zoh a smile he doesn't really feel and waves him off. "We should get going; we have a lot to do in two hours."
Taj, our order is the Knights of Ozem. When he says we're the last of our order, he means we're basically the only Knights left at all. There's probably the barest force left to monitor Gallowspire, and Mendev might have been transferred to a coalition of other knight orders and religions, otherwise it's guarded only by low templars. The Wikia site is way outdated. The PathfinderWiki is the go-to source; Ulthun may be 22 or 23 at this point. I know nothing of blue capes. If it's part of the uniform, Grimold is likely in violation of that.
Entering the city gates, Grimold is appalled at the scene. Desna's tears, this is terrible! Vigil now hardly resembled the city they had left behind. I hope Mama and Milena are alright... The sight of blood running in the street triggers old memories. For a moment he's back in the alley near the Rose Chalice, and Felipe is dying once more on the cobblestones. He diverts his gaze to Allie sitting in her saddle, the present overlaying the past in his mind. The contrast makes him realize just how much things have changed. In just a few years they had gone from strangers trying to kill each other in the streets to a tight-knit unit protecting each other with their own lives. And it was all thanks to Allie. Her one chance act of mercy had changed his life. It was a far better life than he ever could have dreamed for himself before. But there will always be blood. Suddenly, Grimold is returned fully to the present by Kassie talking about her underclothes, and he shakes his head to keep the images at bay. The War College provides a psychological reprieve from the initial shock of the scene in the streets. The familiar sound of combat training puts Grimold at ease in a way it never has before. The polished floors remind him of the many hours spent on some mindless chore inflicted upon them by Fisk. Admittedly, it was usually deserved. And it was usually Zohruk's fault. He smirks at his friend, but Zohruk seems distracted, trading glances with his new bond-servant/girlfriend/kidnapee. He feels a twinge of something, but before he has time to figure out what it is, they're called into the office. Grimold takes his place alongside the others as they await briefing.
Grimold yawns awake, stretching his arms above his head. "You're going to have to do better than that," he says to Zohruk, unimpressed. Sleepily, he stands to his feet and takes a step forward, only to fall face-down on the ground. I should have seen that one coming, Grimold thinks as he picks himself back up, untying the rope. "So nice to have you back, Zohruk. When are you leaving again?" After a flavorless breakfast of camp gruel and hardtack, Grimold saddles and mounts his horse, slinging his own quiver on his back.
We're apparently Squad D (for Daen?) Yes. Originally it was supposed to be Grimold's joke, but now it seems to be our official designation. I could add characters from Grimold's backstory and TLV gameplay, but it didn't seem that they would be of any importance so I haven't included them. DM, what say you?
Interesting contrasts between the parties. On one table we have trained Knights of Ozem who are being moved from one front line to another, and on the other table we have critical volunteers who haven't yet put boots on the ground.
Taj raises an eyebrow at Grimold, and then pats his shoulder. "I'm sure there's much you don't know, Grimold, but it's alright to admit your inadequacies in such matters." She attempts to maintain a straight face, but her lips quirk upward. Grimold blushes, surprised by the insinuation. His gaze shifts back and forth between Rataji and Zohruk. "Oh, Yhrrilka's really not going to like that." Sidling away from Zohruk as though he were a cosmic lightning rod, he retreats back to his bedroll. As Rataji finishes her oaths, Grimold lets out a yawn. "It sounds fine to me. Welcome to the D Squad. Can we go back to sleep now?"
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