Solemnia Orikrana's page

Now to do Solemnia's boon roll.... ;)

***OVERSEER ANNOUNCEMENT***

....

Screeches from above announce scores of winged humanoids launching themselves from Skyreach’s many roofs, just as howls from the menagerie accompanied by explosions from the outbuildings that send painful reverberations through the Grand Lodge. The Pathfinder Society is under attack!

Sir Laribold Croome, an immaculately dressed Taldan nobleman scrambles for cover behind a table, which his halfling manservant helpfully flips onto its side. Catching his breath, the Taldan fumbles for his monocle before addressing the nearby Pathfinders. “Monsters and villains are attacking all over the grounds,” he states with perfect articulation, punctuated by a crossbow bolt that embeds itself in his makeshift barricade. “Spread out, patrol the grounds, and snuff out trouble as you find it. If you should discover any clues about what the devil is going on, report back here at the base of Skyreach.”

He pulls his sword cane free from its sheath and raises it overhead. “Look alive, and show initiative,” he shouts before performing an elaborate dueling salute in the direction of an elephant and setting off after it.

"COOL! IS THIS PART OF THE SHOW!?" Enthuses the young elf scholar looking at it all in wide-eyed wonder. "Drat! I knew that I should have picked up one of those toy wooden swords at the concessions. Now which way were those concessions again?"

She consults her fair event map.

After a while, Solemnia returns from the concessions with an overpriced pint mug engraved with the words 'Grand Convocation 4715', a greasy, overpriced turkey leg bundled in cloth napkins, an overly-large overpriced tunic with the words 'I was told there would be Dragons' embroidered into it with the text from her tankard (in the same font) writ beneath.

With her mug free of mead she uses it to collect some water from a fountain to go back and water the overburdened shrubbery. Unfortunately for her, the curious topiary is not where she thought it was planted, and she spends a while wandering the grounds with a mug full of water asking people if they have seen a shrubbery.

The Balrog pulls out his whip and sword. While neither weapon is exactly Flaming, the eldritch violet flames of Arcane Strike are evocative. He draws himself up to his full (unenhanced) height.

"Well, now. It's nice to be recognized. Since you asked, most of my nefarious deeds involve Paracountess Zarta Dralneen and would shock you to your core."

*Bump* "I'm Sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt. Carry on!"

Funny running into you here, Aldizog. ;)

Thornrose wanders from crime scene to weightlifting contest "Ooh, this looks so fun!"

Solemnia rushed through the weightlifting competition sees a heavy weight seeming casually set upon a small shrub. She give the bush a spot and helping to move the weight to the ground before heading on her way.

Str: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (10) + 1 = 11

"There. That should help, little fellow."

Hello everyone! I got a little sick and this delayed my first post in all Outpost games (everything is fine now, thanks in advance). A maximum of 24 more hours and I'm with you. I hope for your understanding .)

Hola, Alecto!

Go make some skill checks if you can to win some prize skill check bonuses later on!

Solemnia hustles through the obstacle course on the way [from] the garderobe [to the food concessions].

You get a +2 competence bonus to one Dexterity-based skill check during the adventure.

Letting her nose guide her, Solemnia hurries through the center of the Talking Circle making hurried excuses as she passes through discussion.

bluff: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (20) + 7 = 27

And then the young elf scholar blunders into the mausoleum housing the trap mastery competition seemingly unaware of the possible nonlethal danger she is in.

disable device: 1d20 + 10 ⇒ (13) + 10 = 23

Exiting with a bear trap attached to the back of her robe, she says wonderingly "I should have taken that left turn at the arbalest."

"I feel like I lost ten pounds in there!" proclaims the slender elf scholar upon exiting the port-a-privy. It draws more than a few laughs from the crowd causing her to blush and hurry away.

Feeling empty again she decides to give the festival's food another try. With food court on the other end of the grounds she decides that a shortcut is in order and she cuts through some of the intervening acts and demonstrations focused solely upon her goal of getting a big, greasy shank of turkey--and a lot of napkins.

It is because of this that she does not notice the obstacle course unfortunately placed in her way.

acrobatics: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21

Master of Swords Marcos Farabellus strides up to the large crowd and claps his hands together for attention. “Welcome Pathfinders, one and all! And welcome to our traveling venture-captains stationed abroad as well our honored guests! I am Marcos Farabellus, and on behalf of the Decemvirate, I welcome you to the Pathfinder Society’s annual Grand Convocation! I shall address all of the attendees later this afternoon to announce some of the Society’s greatest accomplishments over the past year and our plans for the future. In the meantime, I invite you to stroll about the campus, meet with your peers, and enjoy all the sites of the Grand Lodge. We have set up numerous challenges and contests so that you can show off your skills or sharpen them if need be. I’ll send around ushers when it’s time to assemble for the speeches on the north lawn. Enjoy!"

As you make your introductions, you are approached by a halfling dressed in the Mwangi style with a monkey on his shoulder. "Greetings, all. My name's Mander Wildthorn. This is Mawk, the most mischievous spellbook this side of the Gloomspires."

"That's great!" says a pale-looking elf woman in the robes of a scholar visibly fidgeting during the entirety of Marcos Farabellus's speech and the halfling's introduction.

A man exits one of the temporary privies and she dives through the door. There's some noise and a loud sigh.

A moment later a voice tinged with exhaustion says through the flimsy, closed door "It's really nice to meet you!" and "It's true what they say. You only really rent fair food and mead."

*knock, knock*

Day Job [dice=Profession (Lumberjack)]1d20+9

"Well, that seems okay."

*knock, knock*

Player Great Green God
Character Solemnia Orikrana
PFS # 139009-110
Faction Liberty's Edge
Day Job N/A (She works in the field of education, where no one makes any money)
XP (standard or slow) Standard

Checks the others for how hurt they are and cleans herself off a little.

"I just a little scuffle with some goblins"

She says.

Solemnia looks around "But... I... don't... see any goblins."

Later.

"Oh, it's you! Hello again." says the elven scholar, Solemnia, upon finding the party again. "I lost track of you all at the arena. What happened here? Did-did I miss something?"

Now that I'm out of the swarm I shouldn't be nauseated, right?

Usually (at least in low level swarms) the distraction effect lasts for a full round, regardless of where the target is standing.

While the crowd is distracted and she has some cover Solemnia says the command word that affects her transformation from a mild-mannered scholar, at a great metropolitan research university and into the Lady of Laughter, that Costumed Queen of Chaos, the Clown Princess of Anarchy, the Mirthful Maiden of Mayhem--

**House GM Announcement**

"Welcome to Absalom!" The MC's voice, magically enhanced, booms throughout the arena. "On this glorious eve we gather again in celebration of our wonderful city and its freedom from tyranny."

"Right! Instead we have an un-elected council of twelve oligarchs, led by a 'Primarch' who's held the title for over half a century! YAY! Freedom!" cheers Solemnia waving her greasy turkey leg without a shed of irony.

"We present to you all—the Passion of the First Siege of Absalom! A performance great and terrible, reenacting Absalom’s victorious slaughter of Warlord Voradni Voon’s troops upon the city’s rocky shores. As the highlight of this year's performance, directly following the Passion, the Pathfinder Society has generously agreed to a public unveiling of its latest acquisition, a terrifying device dredged from ancient ruins in the Mwangi Expanse. And now, ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats. The performance is about to begin."

"This is going to be GREAT! It almost reminds me of the time the Grand Lodge built that decorative, time-traveling, flower garden. Remember? It hasn't happened yet, but I remember it like it was tomorrow."

Throughout the opening festivities the timid scholar lets her freak flag fly joiing in the cheers for someone named "MAX-I-MUS! MAX-I-MUS! MAX-I-MUS!" doing the wave, and generally getting greasy turkey fat all over the place.

Following the performance, a large stage is wheeled in to the west side of the Irorium. The stage is covered with a large curtain. Beneath is a scaled set of a ruin and in the center stands a bizarre, cage-like structure of weathered metal covered with strange runes and other ornate etchings. A man who fits the description of the Pathfinder known as Charvion Eater-of-Bones stands next to the cage.

"Good evening, friends! On this auspicious night I present to you an incredible spectacle, the type of which you have never seen before. From the darkest jungles of Mwangi, I have procured an ancient device, an artifact capable of ripping through the very cloth of our reality!"

Charvion touches something on the cage, and it falls open, slowly unfolding like a blossoming flower. He steps inside, and the cage begins to close around him, crackling with swirling tendrils of mystic, silvery ether. In an ominous and unearthly voice he bellows, "I am now fused to the ethereal plane—the realm of ghosts! Ask-"

"Excuse me. Pardon. Excuse me." Solemnia stands up in the middle of Charvion's pitch and makes her way to privy. "Excuse me. Coming through. Pardon me. Excuse me. Pardon."

She makes her way to somewhere she can have a little bit of cover, but can still see the stage from.

"I'm heading for the concessions. Did anyone want one of those big turkey legs?"

Is there a place on the abstracted map that we are supposed to be seated in?

"Am I in the wrong arena?" thinks Solemnia out loud, wandering lost through the crowd. I feel as though there is a 'crowd' of costumed party-goers here, or at the very least a 'gathering' or 'smattering' of people.

"I don't think we're supposed to be sitting down here." Solemnia says wandering across the sandy arena floor.

"E-excuse me. Do you know where section 'Directly Behind the Southwest Pillar' is?" she innocently asks the biggest, meanest-looking representative of authority she can find.

I'm not sure the numbers made the transition with the map.

As you make your way through the streets, a lean-faced man hiding behind a long cowl slips alongside. “A moment of your time,” he says and pulls you aside, into the shadows of a nearby alley. “It seems we have two things in common, an eagerness to participate in good celebration, and this…” He punctuates his sentence by holding out an elaborately carved wayfinder, the type only granted to Pathfinders of great importance. “I assure you, its mine,” he adds quickly, closing the device and tucking it back into the folds of his cloak with a quick, easy motion. Then he continues, “I know a good number of you are already planning to attend the festivities this evening."

"Um, we are?"

"I need but a casual favor. An old associate of mine, Charvion Eater-of–Bones is set to make an elaborate display of some artifact he claims to have recovered. I’ve not had contact with him in a year or so, and I’ve a curious feeling about the event."

"Maybe it's the weather. You see I get this rash; just here, that-"

"More I cannot say; however, I’d appreciate you keeping an eye on whatever stunt he’s considering. He’s a natural charlatan that one. Just keep an eye out is all—nothing serious. Don’t let him know that you’re watching, and do not approach the artifact during the showing. Most importantly, tell no one of this conversation.”

"Artifact?!?" squeaks Solemnia.

A man who seems dressed to look like the illustration of a vampire in the sort of book used to scare children sits silently while awaiting information about this mission. As other Pathfinders arrive, he greets them coldly. "I am known as Egavreis, and I believe I have been summoned to ensure that no path before us is blocked.

"I do not react the way most do to healing spells, and I will thank everyone not to use traditional methods on me. I have my own supplies," the dhampir continues, pointing to a belt pouch.

A pale, blonde elf, in scholar's robes wandering through the crowd stops at Egavreis's pronouncement and says "Um, that's a bit T.M.I."

Present-ish! (I have to update her to be 4th level), but if you'll have me I'm here.

Player Great Green God
Character Solemnia Orikrana
PFS # 139009-110
Faction Liberty's Edge
Day Job N/A (works in the field of education, where no one makes any money)
XP (standard or slow) Standard

EDIT Updated to 4th!

"Hold my wine for a moment would you."

PFS # XXXXXX-110 xD

oops, I somehow reversed the gold on Solemnia and Drelluendast's chronicle sheets. I'll post corrected sheets for both of you later today.

Well, we do look an awful lot alike. We're practically twins!

Looks good. Thanks for the run.

And excited Solemnia appears suddenly in the doorway behind Drelluandast and shouts "Drelluandast! What did I miss?"

your chronicle sheets

Solemnia's chronicle sheet should reflect her out-of-subtier status.

I've got jury duty tomorrow.

Dammit Leroy Jurmo! Why couldn't you have been paralyzed! Stoopid, not-elf-looking picture. You don't even look like a girl anymore!

"Hold on Jurmo! I'll go get h-help!" Solemnia bravely rushes off to the east.

Stuff happens that would have happened had one of those spoilers triggered up yonder.

”Solemnia! Are you alright?” he calls out worriedly. ”I can’t see you in this fog!”

'Fog'? I thought that was elsewhere.

"NO! THERE"S MONSTERS EVERYWHERE!"

With no actions triggered, and Jurmo in peril, I have to wait and see the result of Jurmo's saves.

Moved! ;)

"I-is it safe?"

[dice=Init]1d20+1

Jurmo moves forward.

Still gotta wait to see where.

Solemnia waits nervously by the door.

Init: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (13) + 5 = 18

What's it look like inside?

stealth: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (13) + 8 = 21

A form rises up out of the mists behind Jurmo and grabs his shoulder. It's Solemnia.

"Um, why are we sneaking around and stuff? And why am I whispering?"

Um, why not your picture for everyone else's sake?

Solemnia and Jurmo for a moment feel the mists whispering dangerous things to them, but they steel themselves against the whispers and move on.

"What's that?" Solemnia asks no one in particular. Then realizing that she said it out loud points to her head and says "The voices." as if that explains anything. Clutching her pan and her journal she moves deeper into the room.

I can't get the handout map to work in the slides, unfortunately. If you want to head to the office where it was suggested you start, you need to go up on the map in the hallway you can see, and through the first room.

If it's any help, if it is just a rough hand-drawn map you might be able to quickly remake it with text boxes.

I have no clue how to add a token to your map.

What sort of device are you using?

People please read box text going forward. I do not want the Mists to win too easily.

Well, I hope the text is in Braille, so we can read it. ;)

will save: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (17) + 0 = 17 WOOT! I hope.

Solemnia wears a green scholar's tunic, and matching capri-style slacks. Over her tunic she wears a decorative lamellar cuirass. She wouldn't be holding anything aside from a notebook and pen, unless she needed light in which case she might be holding an activated sunrod.

"Don't let me rush you. If you need more time I-I can wait to go into the haunted museum."

"Are we r-ready?" asks Solemnia who had previously spent her pocket coin on a suspicious Sausage-inna-Bun™.

Is this going to be a problem?

No. It just makes things more free form. Theater of the mind. Theater of the mind.

Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (18) + 7 = 25
Knowledge (history): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (20) + 4 = 24

Well, I'm certainly glad we got all of out good rolls out of the way! ;)

"Goodness, what a breathtaking view!" he says with wide-eyed wonder. "Do you think I have time for a quick sketch? Just to capture the image for later?"

"W-why, thank you!" The thin elf scholar says blushing. "S-so many compliments. My mother always told me this was my best side. Oh, and I can't do anything in the nude--unless it is 'tasteful'. Mother explained to me all about artists."

As the mist clears and Solemnia can at last see Jurmo clearly. The elf looks startled and says "Oh. I thought you were a girl. White hair. Lots of facial tattoos.... W-well, anyhow it is a pleasure to meet you I'm Solemnia Orikrana. I'm as part of a work-study program. This is all really quite exciting isn't it? Though I guess that this Trantos probably just made his way to the museum cafeteria, and just accidentally burned the stew he was making."

"The masonry could use a little work. You see there just around that arch. The stones are beginning to crack. They could use replacing. Some pointing around the main gate would not go amiss either."

"Jeepers. It looks kind of haunted...."

Merya isn't sure why the scholar seems so nervous, but she smiles at the woman in what she hopes is an encouraging way. "Aye," she agrees, her voice surprisingly deep and somewhat gravelly. "Do you know anything about this place?"

"It's foggy."

The interaction draws a wry smile from the flamboyant half-elf against the wall. "It is way hotter then I expected here." He is fidgeting with a strange set of interlinked metal rods.

"T-thank you." Solemnia says appreciatively. "I-I washed my hair last night. Um, you look nice too! The parts that I can see anyhow.... T-the mist really lends you an air of mystery."

Solemnia wanders over to a weaselly-looking Sausage-inna-Bun™ vendor and gets a breakfast she'll later regret while she waits for things to clear up.

"W-well it certainly is misty out." says the elf scholar nervously. The sound of her own voice makes the place seem less lonely and forbidding.

Perhaps people should chime in to see if we still have a valid table. It is quiet in here for day 1.

Too quiet. ;)

The Night Before Game Day
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore

'Twas the night before Game Day, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The minis on the mantle had been painted with care,
in hopes that St. Jacobs soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of adventure played on in their heads.
And Mama with her fighter, and my redeemed Darkfire Adept,
had just stolen into the lair of that false Razmiran sect.

When out on the roof there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like CW's Flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave the lustre of midday to objects below,
when, what to my wondering eyes should into view dance,
but a miniature sleigh and eight writers who freelance!

With a haggard editor, fresh from an all-nighter,
I knew in a moment it must be Wes Schneider!
More rapid than eagles, his coursers they came,
and he whistled and shouted and called them by name:

"Now Tim! Now Amber!
Now, Greg and Russell!
On, Richard! On, Nick!
On, John and Michael!
To the top of the porch!
To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away!
Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wind elemental fly,
when they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky
so up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
with the sleigh full of gamer swag, and audio dramas too.

And then, craning my ear to the roof perpendicular
I could hear the heavy tread boots of each contributor.
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
down the chimney Young Wes came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fake fur, for they are not overfond
of that sort of thing in blue Washington's progressive Redmond.
A bundle of books he had flung on his back,
and he looked like a peddling librarian opening his pack.

His eyes--how they twinkled! His dimples, how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the beard on his chin was in need of a mow.
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
and the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He looked a bit high, and slightly less then regal,
but that's what you get in a State where pot is half-legal.

His character, a multi-class ninja, pirate, half-dinosaur elf,
its huge Hero Lab™ sheet made me laugh, in spite of myself.
With a wink of his eye and a flip of his thumb
he showed me the new archetype that was yet to come.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his editing work,
and corrected our character sheets, even Bill's the rules jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
and giving a nod, up the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, 'ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Game Day to all, and to all a good game night!"

Player Great Green God
Character Solemnia Orikrana
PFS # 139009-110
Faction Liberty's Edge
Day Job N/A (works in academia)
XP (standard or slow) Standard