Zeltyieli Alikathesu's page

We're a good and dedicated group of players who've been running through the AP since 2019 -- from level 1 to our current L13 -- seeking a new GM to help us get to the end of the campaign.

Our former GM vanished without a trace, and in the interim, one of the players kept moving us forward -- but they've told us that they can't keep it up. We tried to get a replacement GM - and even thought we'd succeeded - back in June, but we were ghosted.

As I said, we've been rolling for a few years, and there's been both good forward momentum and some very strong RP moments, too. (Here's a link to our gameplay thread -- we're over 3,700 posts. If you're interested in getting a good read on us, I'd recommend starting a few hundred posts in - when we got into our groove and had a better sense of who our characters were and how they interacted)

In terms of our current status -- we were just starting our assault on the Temple of the Peacock Spirit -- which is, I believe, the end of Book 4.

Anyhow - we're all still very motivated and very much hoping that someone will step in and save what's been a pretty darned good campaign.

Hi --

We're a party of L13 individuals just about to end the threat (we think, anyway) of the Peacock Spirit in an attempt to restore calm and peace amongst the machinations of these re-awakened runelords.

We're a good and dedicated group of players who've been at this since 2019 - and we've managed a pretty good mix of forward progress and RP as we've moved forward.

If you want to take a look, Here is our gameplay thread -- there's a few thousand posts, and I'd probably recommend jumping ahead a few hundred posts to when we got into our groove and started really understanding who the characters are.

Sadly, our former GM left without a trace, and one of the players has been trying to keep things going -- but has informed us that they can't anymore.

Ok, then, let's use the space here to try to figure out what, exactly, we'd like to do -- I think it's important that we're all on the same page and get the sort of game that we all want to keep everyone full engaged and hoping to be able to attack things and keep a high level of momentum.

I suspect there only being 2 of you should reduce the whole choice paralysis thing a great deal -- further, I imagine that it'll allow for quicker back-and-forth(s) when it's time to plan or figure out next steps.

So, I think the first thing is that we're all still onboard with PF1 as the ruleset (though if people would like to consider something else that I'm able to run, that's all good too).

Assuming that's the case, the next step is to establish what sort of campaign we want.

I could run something in the post-Raveners world that I was pitching before or something in the more "normal" accepted version of Golarion.

So, I would say, at the moment, my two questions are:
(a) What sort of world do you want?
(b) What sort of campaign -- the following list is not exhaustive, but should make for decent discussion:
* One that pits you against existential threats that could destroy the world (or your part of it)?
* One that's more personal in nature, with family and friends woven throughout?
* One where you're simple mercenary adventurers who are trying to make a name for yourselves? [This could go in the 'caught up in something bigger', 'becoming more famous means you get bigger missions/clientelle' or 'building up your band into a unit/kingdom/whatever' sort of place?
* One where you're trying to unlock the secrets of the past (especially effective in the Ravening setting)

...of course, it's still perfectly fine if you want to reconsider the Question 0 and we end up playing Shadowrun or Earthdawn or 'Mechwarrior or something.

"Come in.... come in.... quickly, now...." the small man smiles, his voice a silky whisper.

As the door closes behind you, the man takes a moment to pull on a lever engaging a lock, even as he closes his eyes a moment to gather his will, presumably using psychic abilities to do something, though you're not sure what. Despite his precautions, he still leans forward, his voice low, "You're here to see the treasures.... the real treasures, from Before...."

His smile widens as he reaches into a chest - but not to pull something out, rather, to hit a latch, opening a well-hidden trap door. "I have what you're looking for - the true wonders of Before, that is. None of those cracked magelights or splintered brooms or heating stones that need two weeks to boil water. No, no, you see -- my friends have been plumbing the depths of ruins of Old Korvosa. They found where the Castle crashed to the ground when the Raveners ate the magic holding it aloft... more than that, they found the lead chests within, the ones where the Queen tried to hide her precious items. Nothing here is leaking power, and everything I sell is guaranteed not to release a primal surge..... In fact, if anything you buy from me doesn't deliver as promised, you can bring it back for a refund...." His eyes sparkle strangely as he says that, then adds, "But, my friend, let me just say that in all my years - noone ever has."

He looks down, then, and his voice is different, enough that you detect a hushed tone of wonder as he pulls out a leaden box, his hands a blur as he presses a number of levers and buttons before finally turning the key and opening it, drawing in a breath as he does so. He nods, then, and draws out old dusty tome, "One genuine spellbook. Ancient mysteries of the past," then moves it aside, drawing out a strange sky-blue stone the size of his palm, holding it in front of him then releasing it to hover in place. He smiles, "One of the many stones that once held the palace in the sky.... It's not enough to hold up a castle, but--" he places the spellbook on it, and the stone bobs slightly before returning to its normal spot, "--it'll make something weightless. Pretty useful to sew into the bottom of a heavy pack... or you could break it into smaller pieces to make your blades lighter in your hands.... I've even heard of some using them to make arrows that go as far as the eye can see." He pushes the floating stone and book away, and reaches into the chest, pulling out two final items, both wrapped in what looks to be old silken brocade. "This, " he says his voice almost reverent, unfolding the cloth, revealing a golden-hilted dagger, its blade dark and shiny, as if made of glass, speaking in a whisper, "is enchanted... an actual magical weapon... The magic protects the glass and stops it from shattering, and despite its small size, it bites deeply - like a blade twice its size." He puts the knife down, pulling a corner of the cloth back over it, leaving it partially exposed, as if it were draped in a sheet. Finally, he unwraps the last, a platinum scrollcase, with a hippogriff wrapped around it, its mane and tail decorated with onyx chips, and small sapphires for eyes. He twists and presses it in a few places, and the hippogriff detatches, "This.... this is a key to a vault where they supposedly hid away their greater treasures.... and that... a map to it....."

He waits a moment before reattaching the tiny figure with a click, "Untold wealth... just waiting for the right, dedicated individual to unlock them," he says as he wraps the scrollcase in its cloth and sets it back into the leaden chest...and then starts replacing the other items, "Of course, I have other items, too, in other chests, but to see them, I'll need to see the colour of your coin, but--," he unlocks a small strongbox filled with what appears to be green glass, "--I do have enough noqual to help you hide your magic from prying eyes... and to make sure you won't wake a Ravener when you use it."

He closes the box again, and his voice shifts from its whisper to a warmer, more engaged tone, "So, then, my friend, do you think we can make a deal?"

There's something about the smell of the rain in the city, especially in March. Not that mist-drizzle drek that happens most of what passes for winter around here, or did before the planet started heating up, but an actual rain. It's almost as if Mother Nature herself is trying to wash the streets....

Poor girl doesn't stand a chance, though. Not here in the Barrens, anyway. There's too much filth, blood, pain, wasted lives, stolen youth, crushed dreams in Redmond for simple water to wash away, even if it does tend toward the acidic.

You shake yourself out of your reverie, pleased that at least it's the rain you're smelling and not the metahuman waste you were expecting as you look around, trying to find your destination... and see only a gang of elves and orks firing shots off at a pair of Bandits, the little striped rodents doing their best to get behind something metallic in the junkpile they can use for cover. Lucky for the little trash-monsters that someone - probably these gangers, or, really, one of their predecessors decades ago -- shot out the street lights... and that none of 'em are dwarves or trolls, or have cybereyes. You see a flash of striped white and black tail as the animals get behind cover, and catch wisps of laughter from the gangers as they start looking for something else to amuse themselves.

You step forward, toward the run-down tenement that matches the address you were given, shaking your head at the absoultely ancient technology at the door. The lock itself is new, and looks surprisingly good, considering, but the panel of buzzers is like something out of an old movie - a 2D movie that they didn't even bother remaking in trid. You start to look across the panel, trying to find the name you were given, Bueller.... Bueller... why are these things so faded -- ah, there it is.. You tentatively press the button, and it seems to resist a moment until you pass some threshold and it unsticks and sinks quickly, making the most sickly buzz you've ever heard - as if someone mated a murder hornet with a drowning kitten. Nothing happens at first, then a harsh voice, a rough tenor you think, though hard to tell through the static of century-old wires, says, "Yah?"

You take a breath, and try not to feel stupid as you say the passphrase you committed to memory, "Special Delivery for Doctor Venkman." You release the button and wait, starting to think it was some sort of joke, or that maybe you got it wrong when you hear, "Basement. 3A.", and then a strange whine-buzz which you realize is coming from the door. Tentatively, you pull, and enter, the smell of rain replaced by stale sweat, burned nutrisoy, and just a hint of urine. You head downstairs, wondering why you're even here - how a cryptic message and a reminder of what most people consider an Urban Myth -- the Guardian brought you here, even if you know first-hand that the myth is real.

You knock on the door, and it opens, revealing a squalid, ugly, tiny room - calling it a bachelor would be generous, as it is almost more reminiscent of a coffin hotel... ...though your perception of the room might be a little off given the mountain of mocha skin and muscle filling the room and crouched over to look at you in the doorway. "You sure you're in the right place, chummer?", the troll asks, her smooth, high alto surprisingly soft, though there's little need to sound threatening when you're a good 220-kilos of muscle and bone plating dressed in form-fitting blue leather that accentuates all of her curves. Despite your confusion, and a sense that maybe you aren't, you nod with more confidence than you're feeling, and the troll smiles, revealing perfect teeth behind her tusks. She stands and steps back, pushing against the right hand wall, and her hand goes through it as if it weren't real. From behind the wall, you hear a click as if a large door were being opened, and suddenly start to hear music -- feeling the bass thrumming in your chest more than anything else. The troll smiles, her eyes sparkling with amusement and mischief, "I always love first-timers," she laughs, then whispers throatily, "Don't worry.... I'll be gentle..." before her voice returns to its normal tone, and she says in a matter-of-fact-tone, "...unless you're dumb enough to start something."

She points at the illusory wall with a violet wooden stick, and says, "Welcome to Club Infernal. I'm Starlight, the weapons check girl. I'd recommend not trying to sneak anything in, I just bought this outfit, and it'd be a shame to get your blood all over it. Synthleather armour never fits quite right after a deep cleaning."

So this is a landing/discussion page for a potential campaign set in the Sixth World, circa 2060 -- which would be 3rd Edition Shadowrun (back when the tech still fit nicely into Gibson-esque Cyberpunk, plus, you know, *magic*).

For those not familiar, Shadowrun is basically Gibson-style cyberpunk in a world where magic came back more or less when the Mayan calendar rolled over. It's not d20, or level based - and can be deadly very quickly if you're not careful (and there are parts of the world when a person is viewed as a collection of valuable resellable spare parts)

It's an old system, so I get that people may not know it/have it - but I'd rather have a bunch of good players learning the system than a bunch of bad players or minmaxmunchkins who know the system very well.

That is to say, a PF campaign or something similar where you get thrown into the fire, I'd be slowly ramping up challenges and starting with training wheels, more or less.

To be honest, you're starting to lose patience with all of this - that first interview with the old cleric was annoying enough, but you've spent the last week being tested - proving your abilities - martial, magical, tactical, and then more interviews. Still, you have noticed that there were a few less people drilling each time - maybe those weren't the fortress' trainees, but other applicants... Either way, another interview with that old cleric of Erastil is so low on the list of things you'd like to do that you'd run out of parchment and ink before you ever got to it.

You step into the same room as before, ready for another drilling, but this time the old man seems less annoyed by your presence, even as he directs you to sit in the same chair as last time with his walking staff.

He looks at you, and for a moment, you feel uncomfortable under his steely gaze until he smiles, bringing a gentleness to his eyes,"Well, it is my pleasure to tell you that we've selected you -- you and a handful of others -- to take part in this initiative of Kalthun's. The Lord Martial will be celebrating the launch of the initative with a banquet tomorrow evening at sunset, and expects your presence. In fact.." he trails off, looking for something under the parchment on his desk, then smiling as he finds it, "..he would appreciate if you would dress for the occasion. This token," he says, handing you a small laquered griffon an inch long, "can be presented for a new, clean set of clothes at Inheritor's Light -- a shoppe," he explains, before you can ask a question. "It need not be fancy, just presentable. Tell Drewan what it's for, and he'll be more than pleased to suggest something appropriate."

The old man smiles and taps your knee with his staff, "To be honest, I had a pretty good feeling about you during that first interview. You'd be surprised how many were offended or upset that I didn't immediately hand them a bag of coins for deigning to show their faces... and how many more refused to demonstrate their skills with a blade or a bow. In fact, one so-called wizard we turned away literally had flash-powder burns on his sleeve and cloak, but was upset when we didn't believe him."

He stands, pushing against his staff to lift himself, "But before tomorrow's banquet, Lord Kalthun would like to see you in his office to talk about the terms of your employment, and, unless I'm mistaken, to give you your first task as well. After all, if you don't agree to all that, there's no sense in being feted later. So, present yourself at the tower just before noon, there's a hole in his schedule as long as you don't mind eating while you talk. The token will get you in. So don't lose it." He smiles again as he adds, "Or let Drewan take it as a joke."

He extends his hand and when you take it, his grip is firm - and you once again get a sense of the inner strength of the man - and that he must have been formidable in his prime. "Welcome aboard," he says earnestly.

You're not quite sure what you expected, but somehow, this isn't quite it.

Really, the whole of Firrine seems strange - the bastard offspring of a military fortress with grim, hardened soldiers, and a small town - probably originally intended to support the troops, but that's taken on a life of it's own - with children, and shops, and music.... and, an Inn...

The Amber Dragon, the sign says, and if you're not mistaken, that's real amber inlaid into the glass in the window proclaiming it's name. Behind the bar is a giant of a woman (for a human), standing easily a whole hand above six feet, her almost snow-white hair in a tight braid, falling over skin that's nearly as pale and covered with freckles. She turns to you a smiles, her eyes shining and with warmth.. and something a little spicier... more than enough to distract from her scars and slightly crooked nose. She's not beautiful, exactly, but more... sensual... and, you note as she sees you looking at her, almost predatory.

"Well, come in, then. I don't need two-legged doorstops," she calls, her Common carrying a heavy Northern accent. "I'm Aemira Fellwood, and this is my place. Best food in the area - especially if you like meat, mead or beer." She then chuckles and adds, "Not there there's much competition, but it's better than what they serve at the Officer's mess."

Welcome to the discussion thread - figured I'd use the intro post to add a little flavour of Firrine for you... ;)

You approach Castle Firrine, a small parchment in your hand, and are surprised to see that you're not the only one who's shown up for this hair-brained idea. "Adventurers Wanted", they said - offering the chance at fame, fortune, power, glory -- both personal and in the service of the greater good and the nation of Lastwall. You're not so sure that -- or even if you want it (at least, not all of it) -- and yet, here you are.

Your reasons, of course, are your own.

Your note gets you through the gate, and after some waiting, you're led to an old human, probably in his early sixties by the look of him - someone who's once-powerful build has started to shrink with age.

"Another applicant for Kalthun's would be heroes..", he mutters, his voice weary and laced with just a touch of annoyance - whether at the interruption or the whole idea, you're not sure. He sighs, and he looks at you sternly, his expression as rigid as the mithral symbol of the Stag he wears over a breastplate worn with age. Finally, he speaks, his tone clearly tentative, but less hostile than you'd expected from his reaction to your arrival, "Very well... you'll be subjected to some tests to ensure you've an honest assessment of your abilities, of course.. But before that, we need to make sure that you're a suitable candidate. To that end, I'll be asking you a few questions about yourself and why you think you should be here... and, I should warn you against lying. I cast a Zone of Truth just a moment before they let you in."

----

Hopefully, if you're here, it's because you were invited (although if you're a curious looky-loo, welcome -- this is a closed recruitment, but I don't mind people lurking about). Anyhow, welcome to the Heroes of Lastwall campaign.

This campaign is not following any pre-created adventure path or module, but rather, is a somewhat fluid one where the actions (or inaction) of the PCs and their allies will shape the nature of the future challenges and help decide the ultimate fate of this little pocket of the world.

While the future events are not pre-ordained, a large number of things have happened, are happening, and will happen "off camera" (many of which are reactions to things that the party has done), with the effects of these various things having minor or major effects on the party. In addition, all aspects of the characters, including their selected campaign traits, will play a part in how everything plays out.

All that to say, I have a Plan (more than one) - but I also realize that plans are often the first things to go -- especially when dealing with clever players -- and, honestly, I'm really hoping that you make me change it. :)

As you probably figured out by now, this is happening in Lastwall --- the ideas behind it predate Giantslayer (and all APs after that) -- so the history of the world is likely to take a turn from what we're all used to -- starting in 4711 (the year we start)

So, I think that'll do for an intro post. I'll be back with more campaign info including the campaign traits and build rules. ;)

We're basically right at the very beginning, having done since RP leading up to the first encounter and now dealing with wave 2 of the goblin attack -- we've still got 4 very dedicated players who would love to continue, but need a GM.

If you're interested, Here's the Gameplay thread

Ok, apologies if there is a ruling for this, but I can't find it and the builds I'm seeing online don't agree on just how this works.

Basically, when I first saw this feet, I was happy, as it effectively undid that unpleasant ruling about Warslinger (we don't need to go back there)... So now I can totally make a useful Halfling Warslinger with a sling-staff who's actually good at it, as long as I'm willing to put in 1 point of "feat tax", right?

Well... that depends on how you interpret the feat.

So, RAW says:

You can fire all manner of slings and sling-like weapons.

Prerequisites: Weapon Focus (sling) or weapon training (thrown) class feature, warslinger racial traitARG.

Benefit: You gain a +1 bonus on damage rolls made with all types of slings, and don’t provoke attacks of opportunity when reloading a sling. In addition, you treat all ranged and thrown weapons that have “sling” in their name as if they were slings for all feats and class abilities that require such weapons, as well as the warslinger racial trait.

Interpretation #1

Interpretation #2
This feat effectively copy-pastes all "ranged and thrown weapons that have 'sling' in their name" into all feats that use such weapons, not only those that require them. So, per this interpretation, a halfing with Weapon Focus (Sling) and Weapon Specialization (Sling) also has WF (Sling Staff, Double Sling, Other "Sling" I can't think of...) and WS in the same. It all boils down to how we define "require", obviously. I have more of a problem with this mechanically than #1, but, strangely, less of a problem with the semantic argument (I know, I know, I'm weird.)

Interpretation #3
This would be the strictest reading interpretation, the one that basically says #1 and #2 are wrong -- but I hope you're willing to pay a little more of that delicious feat-taxing. Under this interpretation, someone who wants to get to Weapon Specialization (Sling Staff) needs to take Weapon Focus (Sling Staff) to qualify for Weapon Specialization, per the usual, but now needs to sink 2 feats into the feat-tax machine to get to reload: Weapon Focus (sling) [which will then just sit there, uselessly, other than letting you qualify for...] and Slipslinger Style [the feat tax we're happy to pay]. Mechanically, I like this one the least, as it basically means that Sling-Staff wielding Warslingers pretty much need to follow a class with a whackload of bonus feats, because 2 of them are going in to doing something that your racial ability should have given you in the first -- wait, no, I said I wasn't going to rehash that very old argument.

So, has there been a ruling that clarifies which is correct -- as I said, the builds I've seen all seem to flip between 1 and 2, even in threads where the guy who apparently wrote the feat is present, without any correction or comment. I'm really quite hoping it ain't #3, but given the anti-love for the Sling Staff and Halflings, I'm kind of expecting it.

After being marooned on an island, a poor group of adventurers has now been left to fend for themselves -- which is to say, sadly, due to personal issues, the GM was forced to back out.

The current campaign can be found here -- and we were a pretty good group before this all started -- we'd be more than happy to keep on, if anyone will have us?

Scenario:
Party bursts into building where orcish scarred witch doctor and his bodyguard are. Seeing the spellcaster, the party casts obscuring mist and uses the door to bottleneck their opponents, making it that the witch can no longer see the opponents and therefore, can't hex them or cast spells at them (other than hoping to get lucky with area effects).

However, what the party doesn't realize is that the head on a spike next to the door is a Sentry Skull, which allows the witch to shift his senses and see through the skull.

Now, seeing is all he can do -- but -- he's still got line of effect on the party because the mist is not a barrier to anything other than sight.

So, then, here's the question:
Can the witch use the perceptions of the sentry skull to cast spells at the party? (If so, obviously, range would be counted from the witch and not the sentry skull) If so, would that involve all spells including ranged touch, or just area and designated target spells?

Further, can the witch use the perception of the sentry skull to hex the party?

Existing party in a Golarion-based campaign is looking for 1 person to join in our weekly (pen and paper) based game.

(Basically, the party used to be 5, and we're looking to replace a lost player -- tried going without for months, but we've never quite regained solid footing).

The major campaign goals/plots have been discovered (for the next few levels, at least) -- but there's a lot more to explore/plan/learn/do (after all, the villains are moving on with their plans...), and of course, subplots based on individual characters are quite possible --- and individual actions always have consequences, which can totally change all of that. The party is currently 9th level.

The game is a mix of RP and combat (where non-combat solutions are rewarded)... and the PCs are trying to be heroes (so no evil PCs, sorry). Also, we're limiting content to Core and APG.

Assuming you're interested, please reply here and we can discuss the party composition, plotlines and playstyle (as well as answer any questions you might have) before generating a character.

We play weekly, alternating between locations in Barrhaven an near CHEO.

One caveat: Any new addition would be on a probationary/trial basis (to ensure no conflicts with existing players) -- though don't let that scare you too badly, it's a solid group that's plays well together and with others.

Ok, so my party's about to have another adventuring band attack them to save the prisoner they've got (misinformation is fun!), and the leader of that band is a barbarian with Fiend and Elemental totem powers.

When raging, the barbarian gains a bite attack for d4 and a gore attack for d8, plus elemental rage (+1d6). He's using a greataxe and has iterative attacks.

From what I can see of the rules, you make your primary (weapon) attacks without penalty, but then take a -5 on secondaries, is that right? If so, his full attack sequence would be this:

+1 Greataxe: +17/+12 (1d12+11) (x3) + 1d6 elemental damage and
Bite: +11 (1d4+3) + 1d6 elemental damage and
Gore: +11 (1d8+3) + 1d6 elemental damage

Now his BAB is 9 and he's at +7 Str raging. I'm not including Power Attack in this at the moment.

I have to say that seems pretty darned ugly. Especially if he gets Enlarged.

Ok, so I'm a little confused.

Half-Orcs are fearsome and gain +2 to Intimidate... but full blood Orcs, despite being (presumably) meaner and nastier don't get a racial bonus? I know, I know "Houserule it", and I will, but still?

Ok, so I was just throwing an alchemist at my party, and had a few small glitches -- I'm rather certain that I did things correctly per the rules (RAW), but I thought I should ask.

The rules indicate that an alchemist using an extract does so as if drinking a potion and it's a standard action. Now, to me, this indicates that the alchemist has already done the hard work of preparing the elixirs and so it's all standard actions from that point on to use them...

So, here come the "sticky" bits that had my players a little upset - again, I'm pretty sure I'm correct but would like to be sure:

#1. Drinking an extract = standard action -- even if the spell that the extract is made from has a 1 round casting time.
(In this case, the feral Master Chymst, after getting his/her greater invis dispelled and losing the ability to fast bomb the party into bits decided it was claw/claw/bitey time and Enlarged -- and I got complained at for the fact it happened right away).

#2. While drinking a potion provokes an attack of opportunity, an alchemist using an extract doesn't lose the extract or need to make a concentration check as a result of damage, sice they're not casting a spell. After getting hit by the flurrying monk (due to the loss of AC in the enlarging), he/she tossed back an elixir of Stoneskin (probably should have done them in the opposite order, really, but shh), got hit by the attack and then of course, I was protested at because he/she got DR10 anyway.

Now, I can see their point - alchemists being the equivalent of uninterruptable spellcasters is pretty severe - and while only being able to affect the self nerfs the utility of some spells (haste, for example), it has 0 drawback on self/personal/single-target spells anyway. At the same time, this seems to be what the rules say. I'd like to know if I was wrong so I can bump the CR for XP and loot for his/her "special" ability before next week's session.