Guys, I am terribly sorry to have disappeared so.
Lots of pretty important stuff went down in my life in the last few weeks, and as much as I'd like to continue this game, I feel like I'm really not in a good mindset to do so and I'd really hate to drag this game down. I'd really like to promise I'll be more active, but I'm having trouble motivating myself to do anything those days...
I am very sorry for my poor posting practices lately, I am utterly swamped with work right now. I'll try to sneak in a post today, but please bot me if I don't do so.
Yaerstenn lays a hand on the Vishkanya's shoulder while trying to defend from the skeleton.
"May the might of the Gods fill you with the strength to defeat our foes!"
A brilliant white light emanates from the wrinkled hand, and for a short moment Vipera's shoulder is covered with frost, which runs down her whole body and covers her wounds. When it disappears, the gashes have been partly healed.
CLW on Vipera, which should provoke from skelly
Cure Light Wounds:1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8
Looking around him, he shouts:
"Don't let them surround us! Back out, and we'll use the passageway as a choke point!"
Yaerstenn, still wet from his trip in the pit, goes into the shallow waters.
"Aroden, was it, now?"
Kn. Religion:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (2) + 4 = 6
The old man fails to remember much about the Dead God, only that he is... well, dead. Still, he simply raises his hands up and begins speaking with a loud voice, amplified by the cave's reverberation:
"We have come to solve the mysteries of this place. Thee who hears my prayer, allow us to pass through this challenge unscathed, and light our way so the voice of the Gods may be spread!"
The old man revolves on himself, clearly impressed by what he sees, and walks up a little to examine the diorama.
Knowledge Religion:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (11) + 4 = 15
"Indeed, it is a pretty faithful representation of Absalom. I have some feeling that this may be of some import... Maybe an altar? Could it be related to the glyphs of the Dead God?"
He stays silent when the gillman doesn't respond to Cynan, unwilling to disturb someone else's meditation.
Long story short, here's Yaerstenn's backstory:
As a young man, he was an apprentice in a temple dedicated to Sarenrae. His faith was strong and true, but he was too ambitious and tried to take the place of his elders. When they found out, they exiled him into the frozen wastes, saying that for trying to overthrow his elders, he shall forever be in the winter of his years himself. So as he lived in the mountains (which is for about 20 years), he has aged unnaturally, both physically and mentally (so in truth he is about 40 years old, though his body and mind are that of a 70+ years old man). During his time in the mountains he started to pray other Gods, thus gaining his Oracle powers.
Before he was exiled, he was happily married to a woman named Catherine. A few months before Yaerstenn left civilization, they found out she was pregnant, and the priest said it was to be a boy. They named their child Elias. Sadly, Yaerstenn was exiled before Elias was born. So for a bit more than 20 years, he has lived with the knowledge that he has abandoned his own son because of his misplaced ambition, and it haunts him to this day. Elias 'spirit' follows him everywhere (though he might still be alive), and takes the form of a young child even though Elias would be a man grown today (which is the reason for the Haunted curse, as well as the spirits of those he betrayed in his life, who play tricks on him). As much as he wants to meet his son someday, he fears this moment because he believes Elias and Catherine will be furious at him for abandoning them, and doesn't want to face the consequences.
Everon, have I ever mentioned I love to play with you lol
Yaerstenn looks to Everon with a playful grin.
"Oh? Our future hero of Golarion is not so keen to be the first to get through this indomitable foe?" The old man takes a moment to remove his pack and armor and throws it on the other side of the gap. The rope still tight around him, he hands the other end to Everon and adds. "I assume if I fall you'll hold me as I once did for you, back in the sewers?" He winks then turns back towards the pit.
"Gods, please assist me in this endeavor!"
Casting Guidance on myself. If I am not mistaken it should be a DC 11 jump?
The old man takes a few steps back to get a running start, and...
Acrobatics:1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 + 1 = 7
... Misses the edge by a few feet!
He splashes loudly at the bottom of the pit. A few seconds later a hoarse laugh can be heard.
"Well, you're never too old to swim, they say. Would you please haul me up, hero of Golarion?"
Yaerstenn nods curtly before getting to work. He takes the other end of the hemp robe and ties it around Urushi, being careful not to cut himself on him. He then positions himself a few feet away from the pit, grabbing the rope in both hands.
Yaerstenn uncoils the rope at his belt and takes out his ice pick.
"Would anyone back me up so I can get down and see what it is?" He drops his backpack and longspear, and hammers a piton into the ground. He then passes the rope through it before securing himself to it.
A grappling hook could work too I guess, though I don't have one
Yaerstenn mutters a prayer as the swarm appears before the group.
"May the Gods protect us." He points a hand towards Cynan. Cast Guidance, +1 on your next roll
He moves swiftly for his age and place himself some distance from the party.
"The cold will bring you down!"
The old man raises his hands to the sky, and suddenly a chill is felt in the air. Great waves of cold radiate from his body and into the swarm.
Using cold aura Revelation Damage, Cold:1d6 ⇒ 6 DC14 Fortitude save halves
Turn recap:
Standard: Cast Guidance on Cynan
Move: move two squares left of the swarm (no access to slides at the moment, but if I'm not mistaken I shouldn't be hit by the splash, nor should Cynan be in range of Cold Aura)
Swift: Cold Aura
Yaerstenn ponders Janira's words before answering.
"You are right, we would do well to equip ourselves as best we can. I'll see that we have some Alchemist's fire before leaving." He takes some of the offered writing supplies as well.
When prompted to, Yaerstenn offers his reason for joining the Society.
"I joined the Society upon returning from the mountains I have been exiled to for many years." He closes his eyes and remains silent for a moment. When he opens them again, they shine with a curious, cold spark.
"It was the will of the Gods that I partake in this endeavour. To atone for my sins, perhaps, or to spread good. I might never know. As for what I bring, it is only what They deem appropriate to give me. I serve as a conduit for their powers, and They can be either as unforgiving as ice, or as soft as a cool autumn breeze." After a few moments, he erupts in a hearty laugh and shakes his head. "Oh, forgive an old man this grim discourse. I shall do whatever is in my power to help you all."
When Ruzz starts talking about the gillmen, Yaerstenn listens to his suggestions, but only shrugs.
"Gods only know the reason for their activity. We best be prepared for anything, but we ought not to worry ourselves too much; the truth will be uncovered when we will be on the field."
The old man hands his pack to Janira, a huge, stained leather backpack stuffed with exploration supplies.
Suddenly, a pouch of trail rations starts to move - apparently on its own - in the bag, and as it falls to the ground, scattering nuts and dried meat across the Pig's Paunch, it seems that a faint child's hush can be heard. Yaerstenn grumbles a bit before bending over to clean up the mess.
"Fine time to play tricks on me. You know my back is not what it used to be."
He blushes slightly as he looks to Janira. "Please excuse this... accident. Those kind of things happen often to me. Please, do not worry about it, it shall not be an obstacle to our expedition." He then points to the climbing supplies on his belt - a small stack of pitons, an ice pick, and a coiled rope.
"The Gods have deemed just to make me quite an able climber, if I can say so myself. If it ever comes to that, in the mountains."
The old man eases himself onto the bench and waves a hand at a passing serving maid.
"Some hard sausage and ale, if you would be so kind, lass."
Yaerstenn follows Ruzz's display with interest, hiding his laugh behind a wrinkled hand as the rat floats across the room. He takes a sip of ale, frost forming around his fingers on the drinking mug.
He looks at Cynan's hands dripping with grease and smiles softly.
"As sad thing indeed that my stomach is too old for this kind of food." He turns to Vipera, seeing that she seems to shy away from him.
"Please forgive my cold welcome, lass. I am afraid I know much too little about Vishkanya. Where do you hail from?"
Love it, Ruzz!
As Ruzz mentions Elias, a shadow briefly passes over the old man's face and he stutters an answer.
"Umm, yes... He is a... an old friend of mine, let's say..." His amiable smile quickly returns as he listens to the wizard. He then turns to the new arrivants.
"My pleasure, Urushi. I do hope you will find a new home." He takes a pair of the offered gloves and adds: "Yes, it might come in handy if I should need to heal your wounds."
Yaerstenn looks curiously at Vipera for an instant without losing the smile, before realizing she is not human. "Greetings, Vipera. I am Yaerstenn."
As Everon sits at the table, Yaerstenn extends a hand with an amused smile. "Well met Everon. How is our future hero of Golarion doing? Well rested enough from our trip in the sewers?"
A sudden chill invades the establishment as a tall old man steps in calmly, hands folded behind his back. Frost runs down the ceiling for a brief moment before receding.
The man is dressed in travel clothes, a simple but ample garb. At his belt are suspended an ice pick, pitons and a long coiled rope, and his grey beard glitters from ice flecks as if he'd just climbed down from a mountain. A smile appears on his face creased with wrinkles as he catches a glimpse of the magician entertaining the maid. He watches closely, amused, and suppresses a playful laugh as the Gnome stumbles down the stool, and approaches him.
"Very well done, lad." He begins in a hoarse voice. "I couldn't follow myself."
Upon closer inspection, apart from the wrinkles, the voice, the grey eyes and the bent back, the man looks decidedly unlike his age. He seems too muscular, far too muscular to be old, and his eyes have the fiery energy of youth. It becomes clear at once something is amiss in his appearance.
Suddenly, it seems a child's hush is heard very faintly in the Pig's Paunch. The grey eyes become still as ice as the old man looks to the ceiling, listening.
"Yes, Elias? Oh, you are right, I forget myself."
He dusts his clothes, sending snowflakes to the floor, and sets the longspear that was strapped to his back on the wall. "Forgive an old man his manners." He extends a hand. "I am Yaerstenn. I assume you are here on behalf of the society?"
The scenario in question is over, so here is the character! (along with updated information, even if the Revelations are not correct yet)
Name: CaptainBacon
Character Name: Yaerstenn
PFS ID and character number: 347661-3
Faction: Silver Crusade
Day job Roll: I will forgo the Day Job roll in favor of "succeeding at a Diplomacy check with a DC equal 15 + your character level to organize a charity event", as per the Silver Crusade faction journal card:
Diplomacy, DC16:1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
Nice, I will roleplay it out at the end of the scenario!
Any fun, unusual, or interesting information about your character: As I said before, I have the Haunted oracle curse, so feel free to jump in and play tricks (even players if you feel like it!)
As for a very, very little backstory, Yaerstenn was a young man training to be a cleric of Sarenrae. His faith was true, but he was overly ambitious and tried to take the place of his elders. To punish him, he was exiled in the frozen wastes for years, where he started to worship other gods as well, and was granted his oracle powers.
His curse comes from something important he had to leave behind when he was exiled, and at first glance, while he looks old, it is obvious his age is not entirely natural...
Yaerstenn thinks for a moment, then steps up. "If I recall correctly, Derris was tasked with delivering a parcel." He puts his wrinkled hand in the satchel and takes the bundle bearing the Sigil of the Open Road. "I think we have our work cut out for us."
The old man turns to the Kitsune and stares at her with a gaze as cold as ice.
"It is funny you say that now, miss. I didn't hear any complaints in that sense before you started shooting at them yourself. See that your hands are white before accusing others, yes?"
He shrugs then turns his attention to the bodies. "We did what we had to do. Maybe they were defending their territory, but they killed a member of the Society, and we cannot let that be. Besides, they attacked us when we came down here, and we had to defend ourselves."
"If we can avoid further violence, I'm all for it, though. I propose we confiscate their weapons and make them bring us to their lair to see the body. It would not serve any purpose to kill them now, when they are at our mercy."
"We can bring the chief's remains, but the gods would seldom condone such disrespect if we were to mutilate it. If anything, maybe the Kobolds will be glad to have the corpse back for his last rites."
You are right, my bad. I also just noticed you must be level 7 to select this revelation, so please disregard the previous posts and I will post a new set of actions.
Yaerstenn lowers his lance as the last Kobold drops. He wipes his brow and gives a queer look at Carlin, staring at her with an indecipherable expression on his face.
"Impressive powers. I have... heard... of priests of Sarenrae before, but I had yet to battle alongside one."
He turns away with a frown, before shaking his head and looking at the path ahead.
"Well, it seems the way is clear. Shall we resume our marching order?"
Yaerstenn lifts his gaze for a moment as the creatures pour out of the pipes, reciting a brief prayer. He then rushes to meet one of the enemies with his longspear.
"May the winter's cold send you back to the grave!"
"Oh, would that I was. Rather, it is the opposite: the dead likes to play tricks on me; it is the price I had to pay in exchange for the help of the gods." An uncomfortable look creeps across his face. "I was speaking to an old... an old friend of mine, let's say." The old man looks sad for a moment, then shakes his head. "But it is of no import. The dead might be mischievous, but they will not hamper us."
"Bah, of course I'll help him, Elias." Yaerstenn looks down in the pit, without a trace of his former smile. Still, he offers a hand when Asgall begins to pull on the rope.
