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Just a note for future reference (I only learned this the other week), readied actions work like delaying: after you complete your readied action, if it triggers, your initiative count changes. See Initiative Consequences of Readying.
Zefeni, stepping off of the boat into the bustling roar of market business grins at the spectacle. "Now, this, this is more like it. Abadar himself probably glows with a glimpse of this." Turning to his companions, namely Orryn - the map-bearer - he asks: "So, where are we headed, sah? Into the desert, isn't it? Perhaps camels are in order."
Zefeni stays quiet through the briefing. As it unfolds, he pours over the knowledge stored up in his head, trying to find anything he might have read about the Qadiran history involving this citadel.
"Qadira? Deserts? Sandstorms? This is starting to sound almost pleasant, sah," Zefeni says to Hamshank. He shoulders his backpack. "I am already prepared to leave. Will be good to get out of this city and back to some real land for a change."
"Lastwall? Impressive." Zefeni crosses his arms and scratches idly at his chin. "I haven't been much North of the Inner Sea, but I've read some of the histories. Were you in military service there? Did you fight against orcish raiders from Belkzen? And yes, your bird is beautiful, sah. Would make for a fine scout: you could cover a lot of ground, and the height would give you excellent vantage, although-" he looks up at the ceiling and shivers a little, "-I think I'd prefer the sand beneath my feet instead of a thousand paces distant."
Well! My message from Venture-Captain Hamshanks said there'd be six of us, and with your arrival and our sabre-swinger over there, he nods toward Zefeni, by the Watcher-Lord's helm, here we all are. Now if Hamshanks would just show his oversized self... "Scimitar," Zefeni corrects almost automatically. "Shorter blade. A sabre is...nevermind. That is a fine bird you have there, sah. Where is, ah, he or she from?"
"I see. I thought you might be one of Her dervishes, but the staff and the rat had me confused." He pauses to scratch the side his sharp nose. "Hmm. Must've been a busy ten years. The scimitar is not that difficult a weapon to learn: no exotic grips, odd weights, or unnecessary bits. Just a good, keen blade." Hearing the new arrival, he turns to look and takes half a step back in surprise. Now that's a face worth carving statues of. He listens to the other man pay his greeting, then volunteers a little too hastily: "None of that in my family: our blood's as human as the sun is hot."
A lean, dark-skinned man walks in, pacing a long, military stride. Shaven on both face and head, his skin looks weathered from many days in the sand and sun. He wears worn-looking scale mail over desert-coloured robes. Across his back is strapped an old shield bearing the red-and-gold scarab of Osirion, and by his side hangs a scimitar. Glancing around the room, he makes his way over to the cold hearth, eyeing up the man with the rat balanced on his shoulder. "Excuse me, sah. I like your choice of blade," he gestures to the man's scimitar, then taps his own. "Did you pick it up in the markets of Sothis?"
Greetings all. I have a wide range of time when I can access the forums, due to having web access at work. However, I'm in NZ, so looking at the forums during the CST AM is unlikely (I have found that there's this thing called sleep which seems strangely necessary to function). That said, looking forward to playing this awesome scenario with all you fine people.
Hi Chris. Awesome to see a GM of your experience running PFS through the forums. I'd love to play. Disclosure: I have GM'd the scenario, and it's one of my favourites. Would be great to experience it from the other side of the screen, as it were. This is Zefini, a sword-and-shield Fighter from Osirion, who - for reasons detailed in his motivation - is aiming for the Living Monolith prestige class. This would be his first scenario. Motivation: I am Zefini. I was born a servant, like all the rest of my family. My master - the ancient Pharaoh Jedaltu-Ra - died long centuries ago, and my ancient brothers stand as still guardians to his tomb. Not long into my childhood, one of these guardians was destroyed when fending off filthy tomb robbers. I decided then, standing over the crumbling remains of a statue whose shade I had often hid from the scorching sun in, that one day I would take his place of honour, and stand eternal guard for my master. So it was that I spent some years in the Osirion military, where I learned to appreciate the weight of a sword in my hand and a shield on my arm. I learned to respect and trust the men and women that stood beside me. I learned to endure the harshest of weather the desert could throw at me, from the baking sun, to the scouring grit of a sandstorm. When I felt ready, I left that all behind, and traveled across the sapphire-glinting waters to Absalom. What better way to learn to protect my master's eternal rest, than from the most famous and legitimate crypt-breakers of the Inner Sea: the Pathfinder Society. That, and had been left to my own devices as to how to get my hands on an expensive enough gem to begin my transformation with. Although sworn to the Society, I still maintain my ties to Osirion. I was oath-bound to the Ruby Prince during my time patrolling the sands with the army, and I know that - in this den of discontent and wealth that is Absalom - those of my country will always have my back. After three years with the Society, my apprenticeship was complete, but I was none the richer. However, from the tales I had heard from fellow apprentices, and the obvious wealth of unearthed riches that bedeck the Grand Lodge in Absalom, it appears that there is much money to be made in this legitimate grave-robbery. I wonder where my first assignment will take me. I hope that it is someplace warm. |
