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I've been preparing for an upcoming Blood Lords campaign for some time now, but I'm having some trouble finding some specific information on what being a Blood Lord actually entails. I've been reading through the adventure path, Book of the Dead and Impossible Lands but I've only seen pretty vague descriptions of the political power that Blood Lords possess. Am I just missing something in my search?

For example, I know that Kemnebi is the chancellor and second to Geb when it comes to authority, but I don't really know what an individual Blood Lord does. Are they all equal to each other, barring the sway they have with the factions? How beholden to the Blood Lords are the factions? They seem to have most of the power, but I'm still not entirely sure what a Blood Lord can do. Do ordinary citizens have to comply with whatever a Blood Lord wishes?

How are Blood Lords given jurisdiction over things? Does Geb just tell them what they're in charge of, then they do it? If a Blood Lord wants to change something, does it just happen unless another Blood Lord opposes? If that happens, does it just come down to whichever Blood Lord has more sway with relevant factions?

I don't need specific answers for everything, and I completely understand if this is left open-ended to be elaborated on by GMs. I am mostly interested in knowing if this information exists at all and I would greatly appreciate being pointed in the right direction!

I was just wondering if the Twisted Nail orc clan described in the player's guide will come into play in books 5 or 6, as I have a player who's backstory is pretty heavily woven in with them. If not, I have no problem writing them in!

If it does turn out that they aren't featured, what sort of role do you think they could fill? Undead monstrosities created in the Tyrant's wake? Regenerative juggernauts infused with positive energy from the blasts, making orc ferocity even more ferocious? Would their cannibalistic tendencies flourish amongst the destruction?

I am interested to see what sort of ideas everyone can come up with!

I was just wondering if the Twisted Nail orc clan described in the player's guide will come into play in books 5 or 6, as I have a player who's backstory is pretty heavily woven in with them. If not, I have no problem writing them in!

If it does turn out that they aren't featured, what sort of role do you think they could fill? Undead monstrosities created in the Tyrant's wake? Regenerative juggernauts infused with positive energy from the blasts, making orc ferocity even more ferocious? Would their cannibalistic tendencies flourish amongst the destruction?

I am interested to see what sort of ideas everyone can come up with!

I'm DMing a group through Strange Aeons at the moment, and have a player using a Telekineticist with the healing archetype. So far, it's been extremely effective and flavorful, and he has been able to heal the party with careful management of burn as well as nearly any other healing build.

He's started to transition into a melee build (he picked up the Promethean corruption with a mechanical arm), and it's been great watching him use the kinetic blade in conjunction with his ability to pull people in close with his wild talents.

Though faint, and difficult to hear over the sound of patting rain and Father Grimburrow's speech, your excellent attention to detail reveals a murder of crows squaking to each other as they fly overhead, looking down at the casket.

"Crushed his mouth, so the dead can't speak. Crushed his head, his head."

"Somethin' ain't right with you. C'mon everyone, we don't need no trouble with a live one."

The leader spits at the ground, turning to the rest of the group--all frightened fathers, mothers and lanky young farmhands tightly gripping their makeshift weapons, fear of sorcery strong in their eyes.

Suddenly, the strange squawking of a curmudgeonly old man begins to echo toward the resting party. In the distance, a feeble old man is running at the group with surprising energy and speed, waving his arms in the air with vigor.

"Get! Get! You're all worth nothing more than the dirt on these graves, shoo!"

Father Grimburrow's gaze is easily the last straw needed before the group of low-lives finally leave, allowing the procession to continue.

After what seems like an eternity, the group arrives at the burial of Professor Lorrimer, led by Father Grimburrow. He gives a haunting eulogy, and for the first time you see Kendra finally break down into tears, watching her father sink into the earth.

We'll be headed straight back to the manor to continue, unless you'd like to make a speech or say a few words. If so, make a diplomacy or perform check to gauge the effectiveness of it.

Before Kendra can spout an insult in defense of her father, the elderly farmer is taken aback by the threatening tone of Seranel's cold-blooded demeanor.

Nodding silently, sweat and mist mingling on his wet brow, he shakily extends a hand.

"L-listen, we don't want to have to hurt you..."

Here are the stats for Magnus, celestial blood included.

Magnus
Male Wolf 3
Alignment: N
Init +6; Speed 50; Perception +1, Low-light Vision, Darkvision 60ft (celestial), Scent (can track targets based on scent)

Defense
AC 17; Touch 13; Flat-Footed 14;
HP 30, Resist Cold, Acid, Electricity 5 (celestial), Spell Resistance 5 (celestial)
Fort +5; Ref +6; Will +2

Statistics
Str 14 (+2), Dex 16 (+3), Con 15 (+2), Int 2 (-4), Wis 12 (+1), Cha 6 (-2)
Base Atk +2; CMB 4; CMD 14
Feats: Improved Initiative, Dodge

To attack, Magnus uses a bite. When attacking, these are the stats for the bite:

(Attack Roll) BAB (2) + Strength Mod (2) = +4

(Damage Roll) 1d6 + 3 damage, the target is tripped.

Magnus can also Smite Evil once per day as a swift action, which will add 3 to all damage against an evil enemy until it dies or Magnus rests.

If you want Magnus to follow an order, you can command him as a free action (so, you command him on your turn then on his turn he does what you say), but you have to roll a Handle Animal check to do so. You get an additional +4 to these checks for Magnus.

Attack (DC: 20)
Defend (DC: 20)
Down (Back off, cease attacking DC: 15)
Come (DC: 15)
Fetch (DC: 15)
Track (DC: 20)

Dr. Falcroft offers solemnly to take shoulder of the coffin, joining Halsinger as a pallbearer. Immediately a hand shoots up, the young man adorned with a rapier offering his service. The town apothecary wipes dry her eyes, volunteering to carry the coffin.

We have the four pallbearers: Halsinger, Falcroft, Adivion and Jominda (the apothecary.) Halsinger and Falcroft have no issue lifting their end, though Jominda seems to be struggling greatly.

Continuing down the long path known as the "Dreamwake," the procession encounters a hiccup. A dozen men armed with farming equipment and tools stand blocking the way, their torches steaming in the fog.

The tallest and gruffest looking of these men, an elderly farmer with thick grey sideburns stands before the others, waving his torch quickly before spitting in Kendra's direction.

“That’s far enough. We been talking, and we don’t want Lorrimer
buried in the Restlands. You can take him upriver and bury him
there if you want, but he ain’t goin’ in the ground here!”

Kendra is quick to respond, her sadness swiftly transforming into
anger. “What are you talking about?” she cries out. "I arranged it with Father Grimburrow. He's waiting for us! The grave's already been--"

"You don't get it, woman. We won't have a necromancer buried in the same place as our kin! I suggest you move out while you still can, folks are pretty upset about this right now.

"Necromancy!? Are you that ignorant?

Half of the men (so, 6) approach, weapons tight in their grip. The other half of the group doesn't seem so eager to fight, and so stand back further on the path. Kendra seems to be getting very angry.

I was introduced to D&D through 4th edition and served as a 4e DM for quite some time. I have access to the majority of books, and while I'm a bit fuzzy on the rules, (it's been some time) I could brush up on them fairly easily.

I'm afraid I can't guarantee a place in this, as I tend to be quite busy and wouldn't be able to post often, but I'll let you know if I become available. I'd be willing to DM or play, either's fine with me.

I wish you luck. =)

The night passes, thick thunderstorms drowning out the typical silence of Ravengro, though the sunset proves an auspicious omen. The dark shadow of the city's largest building atop a hill is cast over the manor, assuring that the dark never truly leaves Lorrimer Manor. After a day of preparation, the party finds themselves standing before a large iron gate, opening into an unusually massive cemetery.

The cemetery is so large, in fact, that multiple pathways branch off and go deeper across a spider-web like design, broken and weathered tombstone scattered across your vision.

A small crowd has gathered at the gates alongside you, in Ravengro tradition of escorting the casket to the funeral across a very long road known as "The Dreamwake."

The casket is beautifully carved of ebony, thick ivy and dahlias grown into a bouquet to rest atop. Amongst the crowd you see numerous grieving faces hidden behind light veils, though Kendra keeps a strong heart and holds her tears back, politely greeting each and every of the dozens of locals who attend.

Numerous faces stand out, including a grizzled young man with sharp, steely-eyes and a wide-brimmed hat, beard a rough shadow etched across scarred face. Grieving with him is a rather beautiful young woman of blonde hair, crying into the grizzled man's shoulder. Kendra points them out to be the town sheriff and herbalist.

A tall, youthful and dashingly handsome man stands alone, hand on a sheathed, ornate silver rapier as he bows his head in respect, though not without a bit of a disappointed sigh. He mutters to himself. Kendra notes him to be Adivion, an old friend and former student of the Professor from Leipstadt, noting his skill and intelligence but slight loneliness and awkwardness.

Lastly notable is a very large man whose sad face is obviously more suited to laughing than crying, thick mustache blown from his face as he presses a puffy red nose into a ratty handkerchief. The town's innkeeper, according to Kendra.

As the preparations begin, Kendra stands forward, clearing her voice then asking for those who wish to carry the casket to step forward.

We need four pallbearers, but Halsinger seems to have arrived early and already volunteers, leaving three volunteers. The casket seems rather heavy and awkward to carry.

So, I'm guessing Seranel has a dark sense of humor, joking about necromancers? I like it.

After--and for clarification, you all can still make checks whenever you want, but passive things like perception and sense motive I'll prompt, like I just did.

Halsinger escorts Kendra to the door, steely eyes cutting across the scene in the library. The paladin turns to Kendra, the very large figure whispering to Kendra, who nods slightly in agreement.

Kendra leaves, retiring for the night, though Halsinger remains and finds a table far from the others, removing the idol of Sarenrae from his neck and placing it between closed palms.

Doctor Falcroft lingers, his eyes heavy and tired. Casually, he glances over what few books catch his eye, mostly consistent of alchemical compendiums, herbal codices and catalogues of fantastic metals. They would seem quite dull to any other, though the Doctor's tired eyes and the flick of a smile every so often reveal quite the opposite; he seems to find comfort in the esoteric tomes.

You're unable to find any tomes detailing your connections or adventures with the Professor--it would seem he didn't keep any journals on you, or at least that they aren't here in the library.

Kendra leads the party to the library, having each take a seat as she dries her hair by the fair, ivory brush passing through her dark hair. She looks up with a sorrow-tinged smile, producing a small letter from her pocket, running her fingers across the waxen seal.

The funeral is early in the morning, and it is getting late. Perhaps we should all retire early, to prepare. There are rooms for each of you upstairs, though I'm afraid two of you will have to share accommodation, at least for the night.

We'll go ahead and end the day to actually get the adventure going, unless you want your characters to interact some more. Everyone seems to just be playing reserved characters, so I don't see a whole lot happening between you. But, if you'd like to go ahead, we can RP the night out for a bit then head to the funeral.

Alright, all characters are present and Kendra's having them meet in the library/den. It'll be a chance for you to each interact with each other and figure out more about them. Set up friendships, romance, rivalries, whatever, it'll be a good time to lay the foundation. It'll also be a good chance to roleplay your character and stretch their legs, so to speak.

In the game, tomorrow morning the funeral will take place and we'll start progressing with the plot. For now, explore your characters!

If you have any questions about characters or what we're doing, just let me know here.

Dr. Falcroft nods in agreement, standing to find his way to the door, however distracted by a golden liquid-filled alembic, quickly pulling a small journal from his jacket's breast pocket to jot a few notes down.

He quickly looks to the door.

"Yes, I suppose we should.

Kendra and a rather daunting figure enter through the main gates, her dress now wet with rain. She quickly begins to untie the ribbons from her hair, lifting her veil to reveal an embarrassed pout.

"I had hoped to make a better first impression, Sir Falsinger. If I had only control over the weather, I assure you your journey would have been much more pleasant."

The figure she had brought in was tall, a full head over most men. He was bound in a silver-sheen suit of plate, thick helmet entirely sealing away his face behind a small eye-slit. Upon his forehead and in the center of his very intricate, Ustalavian-styled armor rests the symbol of a blazing sun, the figure of a winged woman draped in flame on a chain around his neck.

Across his back is slung a heavy warhammer, though the head seems to be small and precise, as if for making very clean and surgical strikes. The back half of the hammer, rather than also being blunted, is adorned with a silver spike.

Pulling his helmet off, the fully armed and armored paladin gives a somber bow of the head, revealing a shocking sight.

The paladin was clearly of Orcish decent, pointed ears, frayed nose and twin, fang-like tusks jutting from his lower lip. His skin is rather gray for a Half-Orc, and his eyes a pale pink. Long silver hair tied together in sophisticated golden claps falls to back and over his shoulders.

His voice booms from his mouth, an aura of strength and conviction coming from the statue of a man.
"Kendra, rest assured that I will fulfill my duty as a Knight of the Dawn. I will bring matters into the light, even if I have to drag it there.

Kendra nods, seemingly wounded and weak, though she quickly recovers her stately and sophisticated manner in an act of showmanship.

"If everyone gathers in the library, I would like to have a chat about tomorrow, should everyone comply."

And with that she heads to the library-den.

"Me? Oh, no. No, no, no..."

He shakes his head "no," smile wide and blush thick as he walks back to the piano, bowing to pick up parchment that had fallen to the floor.

"Talchurstein's Fourth, nothing I could claim the fame to. I rarely play, never could I compose such a piece."

He stands slowly, eyes drifting down to the parchment, his Taldan-accented (British equivalent) voice slowing.

The trill in the fifth measure is something I've never truly been able to pick up, and the way...

He looks up, once more.

Oh dear... It appears you've fallen victim twice now to my ramblings."

His face pales, blush seeming to settle as he finds comfort again behind the piano, strong, cut-riddled hand drifting lightly across the wood of the instrument.

"My heart is heavy, my soul gone to Kendra's side."

He looks up, sad smile soft on his lips.

"O-oh, of course. I apologize.

The piano stops, followed by the muffled shuffling of feet and the creaking open of the door. As the door opens, a large room with an extravagant balcony connected is revealed, numerous stacks of books and papers covering the floors and shelves.

It's easy to tell that the books and scraps of ink-bled papers have been put away with as much care as possible, but the sheer amount of the things has caused them to begin to spill about haphazardly. A rather grand piano is pressed near the balcony, and in the doorway stands a man.

The man is rather handsome, though his eyes flick back and forth from the ground, window and Cairath, obviously a bit surprised. His skin is pale, though not sickly so, and his hair curls itself to a moderate length. His beard is well-trimmed and tended to, though a few of his misplaced hairs give him a rather rugged and wild look.

A pair of half-moon glasses are pressed down his nose, a thick crack covering the left lense. He wears a long leather jacket, ruffled shirt beneath unbuttoned to reveal a tangle of thick chest hair. The man is tall and rather strong looking, though the lack of confidence presents an interesting contrast.

His belt is looped with numerous pouches, the smell of wildflowers thick on the man's breath. Vials string their way across a belt thrown over his shoulder and tied across his torso, as well as along the belt at his waist. Softly, they hum and glow, waxing and waning with light and strange alchemical properties.

"I, uh, am sorry if the piano disturbed your rest. I wasn't aware that anyone had arrived, and what name would I carry should I not be able to comfort Kendra in such a ti--

He pauses, shaking his head with a bit of a laugh.

I am endlessly sorry, I get ahead of myself. My name is William, William Falcroft.

William extends a hand in greeting, cheeks tinged with blush. Looking to Cairath directly for the first time, it's easy to notice that his eyes are rather unusual--a strange, pale yellow.

Cairath, you head up the stairs and find the music to be coming from a door farthest from you. The door is closed, however, you have a great viewpoint from a nearby window to see the streets below.

For those in the library:

Kendra begins to head to the door, slipping outside. Before leaving, however, she gives a quick smile and speaks.

"Please, get to know the other guests. It's important that we share interest in each other, just as my father would have made a point to show.

Letting fall the veil of mourning over her eyes once more, she heads outside into the rain, apparently to greet the final guest.

Woops, forgot to put a space.

(dice=skillname)1d20 + x(/dice)

Replace skillname with the skill you want to roll, like perception or knowledge arcana. Replace x with your skill modifier, and replace the parentheses with brackets.

skillname: 1d20 ⇒ 6

Replace "skillname" with whatever skill, like perception, and replace "x" with your modifier.

I was laughing at that. XD

All are acknowledged. Feel free to interact with each other, not just me.

Kendra knows OF everyone, but only Lythra has met her prior.

That's pretty old for a wolf--a sign of its celestial blood?

Kendra poses a grateful smile, obviously deeply affected by the death of her father, though bravely her voice remains steady and calm, her eyes dry and focused. She steps to the side of the door, inviting all in with a wide gesture.

"Please, this is your home for now. Make yourself more than comfortable, it is the least I could do. May I ease your travels? Food, drink, music, literature?"

Her soft accent tips each of her delicately spoken words, and as she does the music from upstairs begins to quiet and eventually fade all together. However, it is not long before another song, this one with notes that stretched into the night, long, soft and elegant.

"There are only two guests yet to arrive according to the list, and I'd hate for you all to stand around wearing your heels into the cold wood. Please, help yourselves to the meal I prepared in the kitchen. My father's library is also...

She pauses, a bit caught on mention of her father, "Rather extensive. I'm sure you'll find something to suit your taste. The upper floors are open to you, and I hope you don't mind the music. The Good Doctor was just playing a song for me.

How old are your characters?

Halsinger is 33, by the way, since I seemed to exclude that.

Let's post dialogue in bold, for ease of readability.

The inside of the manor, familiar to Lythra, is open and ostentatious. A large fireplace lights an immediate den across from the entrance, silken curtains and portraits of far-off lands dotting the walls. The octagon-shaped den is lined with bookshelves, each covered with dusty old tomes.

A hall on the left side of the den leads further into the manor, appearing to head into a kitchen area. To the right, a very large staircase of dark wood leads to upper floors.

All in the house is quiet except for the now clearly audible sound of piano flooding the lower floors from above--though it isn't so for long. The sound of piano is soon accompanied by the clicking of heels down the wooden stair, a beautiful woman dressed in all black greeting the guests with a smile.

"Welcome, everyone--Lythra, Magnus, it's wonderful to see you."

The woman stands before her long-time friend, Lythra, pressing a hand to Magnus' fur in an act of affection. She kneels to pet the dog with gentle hands, looking up to Cairath.

"Oh, I apologize--I don't believe we've met. My name is Kendra; the professor was my father. May I ask your name?"

She stands, bowing her head as politely. It's easy to tell that she's a woman of magnificent beauty, long black curls falling over her shoulders in golden-ribbon ties. She seems to be wearing the black dressing gown of a woman in mourning. She appears to be no older than twenty, though she carries herself with grace and elegance beyond her years.

This is a test, checking to see if I can get the dice expression right.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (10) + 7 = 17

Hey everyone, this is the thread we'll be using for general discussion and out of character content. Ask any questions here, discuss what's happened and plans for your character.

Also, could I ask that you post your characters here? For example:

Halsinger
Male Half-Orc Paladin (Sarenrae) 3
Lawful Good
Init +2; Speed 20; Senses Low-light vision, Darkvision ; Perception +2

Defense

AC 20 ; Touch 11 ; Flat-Footed 19; (Full Plate Armor)
HP 38
Fort +9; Ref +7; Will +9
Immune to fear, disease grants allies a +4 to all fear-related saving throws

Statistics

Str 18 (+4), Dex 14 (+2), Con 14 (+2) , Int 12 (+1) , Wis 10 (0) , Cha 18 (+4)
Base Atk +3; CMB 7; CMD 19
Feats: Toughness, Iron Will
Languages Common, Orc

---

This is a rather complex example, and you don't have to go into nearly the much detail, but it's a way for other players to easily access your information, especially if we're going to be playing for a long time.

This is entirely optional, but I would like you to post your character's background here.

Hello everyone and welcome to my interpretation of the Carrion Crown adventure path. It's my goal to provide a compelling and mysterious environment for you all to explore and unravel--strong character development and powerful storytelling abound. I hereby place my trust in you, the players, and your promise to be truthful in your off-screen dice rolls and to avoid reading any spoiler-tagged posts which you would not have earned access to. I can't wait to play with you all again, and without further ado, I present...

Carrion Crown, Part I - The Haunting of
Harrowstone

You are hereby sentenced to live the remainder of your short life in
Harrowstone, which, I hasten to add, is a blessing compared to the extent
of your crimes and the suffering of your victims. There you will reside in
the misery of your thoughts until such time as you are drawn, hanged, and
quartered. May the gods have no mercy on your blighted soul.
—The final sentencing of Vance Saetressle (“The Lopper”) in 4661 AR
by Jurisdeclaris Axenris the Third.

---

The winding streets of Ravengro have been drowned in what seems to be an endless downpour, the thick swathe of rain fading and blowing to the wind just as the weary travels arrive. Thick grey clouds still cover the sky, leaving the sun little more than a pale white dot faintly piercing the curtain-skies. The cobblestone streets of the small township are winding, though it isn't difficult to find the manor you seek. The large building, the Lorrimer Estate, is easily noticeable in its grand and Gothic design. The stone building welcomes travelers eagerly, lanterns posted in every window and iron gate left open for the expected guests.

Approaching, there is little to suggest that any other mourners have arrived, the worn parchment of your message being sparse in detail.

Esteemed Sir or Lady,

Our dear Petros, more fondly referred to as "Professor", Lorrimer has recently passed away, and surviving heir, daughter to Petros, Kendra Lorrimer has invited you to her home. She has been made aware that each of you has been vastly important in her father's life, and so she wishes you to accompany her in mourning for the burial. The funeral and burial will take place at the end of the week, and she eagerly awaits your arrival.

You stand before the manor's entrance, a large set of dark, oaken doors barring entrance. Intricate ring-knockers are set into the wooden door, but all appears empty and the town of Ravengro seems to be particularly quiet, even for a village of Ustalav. The only thing made immediately apparent to the sense is the beautiful sound of a masterfully played piano, emanating from the open window above.

A Krampus-type monster would be a fun center to a holiday-based adventure.

I'd love to. I'm a university student majoring in linguistics and geography, so this sort of thing is right up my alley of interest. Mixing that with my great love, Pathfinder?

:o

Having used to GM 4th Edition, I had a player roll up a Dragonborn Sorcerer (he was a great character played by a hilarious guy), and he wanted a Greek or Roman-sounding name. He couldn't think of a name if it killed him, and so he scribbled down names on pieces of paper and would pass them to me. After a few hours, he slipped me the final piece of paper.

Testikles.

Of my Pathfinder players, the most recent group has come up with a few interesting names.

YOLO Swaggins, Halfling Bard who rapped. The party couldn't stand the idea, and so he was scrapped.

John Johnson, Human Fighter. He would go out of his way to make his character as boring as possible, which was humorous in its own way.

And a Tengu Summonor, named Tchoitoyou, something that nobody can remember--the party just invents a name whenever they want to speak to him, like Toyota or Gesundheit.