Pathfinder Adventure, Adventure Path, Lost Omens, Maps, Rulebook, Starfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Roleplaying Game Subscriber. Organized Play Member. 48 posts (2,588 including aliases). No reviews. No lists. No wishlists. 11 aliases.
Yeah, pretty sure that's what happened here--GM Shady rolled for me because I was in the middle of my weekly internet access black hole where I can't post (Sat. evenings through Mon. afternoons, Eastern U.S. time).
Correct, was botting Shae, assumed she would want to check perception so went ahead. My general policy is to let you guys run active perception. There may be cases where I need *everyone* to roll perception - if that's the case I'll either spoiler it or maybe run it en masse.
"My father's servant hired some thugs to kidnap me. They took me through a door that led here. A kind of gateway or portal. I think they were expecting it to lead somewhere else, because this side of it kind of fizzled, as if it wasn't working properly. And there were lots of bodies here, I don't think this was the first time. A strange sight. Many scraps of black cloth, scattered amongst the bodies. Like small scarves, the ones shared as favours at tournaments. Carried as trophies, it would seem, by the dead. Then the dragon came, the thing they call the skincrawler. The ruffians were killed, but one of them cursed the name of Daiquianas Exeltor - my father's servant, Master of the Armor Bonded. And so I was betrayed. As is my father, still."
She stares ahead, deep in misery.
Before I deal with those who have already attempted to jump, as well as with Nabbit's responses to Einarr and Baerloth, I think Thule was preparing to try to heal the griffon.
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
This is backing up a bit, reply to Shae's comment.
Haelvor considers Shae's words.
"I remember a book in the library at Magnimar. It's elven, very old. Its name in Common is, I think, The Light of the Past."
He takes a deep breath.
"It says this: that there are powerful forces, which will assail and oppose us - the fire, the storm, the flood, the shattering of the earth. And beyond even those, a darkness that awaits only the bravest. But it also says that if we work together, we may douse the fire, we may ride the storm, we can face the flood and we shall stand firm whenever the earth should break. And then, at the end, we may face the darkness in strength."
He smiles awkwardly, somewhat embarrassed to be speaking in this way.
"I'm sorry, I didn't translate it very well. But I think it means that together we are stronger, strong enough for anything. So, no, I'm not worried to walk with you. Because I think those words hold true."
He smiles again as he opens the door to the jeweller for her and then follows her inside.
And the voices within say: But, as you already know, you cannot douse the fire.
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Serolt wrote:
Haelvor - If you are able to take only a standard action on your turn, you can still charge, but you are only allowed to move up to your speed (instead of up to double your speed) and you cannot draw a weapon unless you possess the Quick Draw feat. You can't use this option unless you are restricted to taking only a standard action on your turn. From the PRD (link).
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Haelvor bites his lip. On one hand, he thinks, he should distance himself, and perhaps Serolt and Vanea, from the opening of the priestess' tomb. On the other, it would just further highlight the differences within the group. If the group were to fragment, collapse, where would that then leave him?
I don't recall those two being so keen on group solidarity, says one of the voices. They just assume that if they think it's right they'll do it.
Perhaps, he asserts. But they're my ticket out of this. Keep to my place. That's what all of you keep telling me anyway.
They'll be your ticket out of this, all right. They'll get you killed.
And there's Shae. Haelvor can't figure out what to make of Shae, or how to speak to her. One minute, there's the "I'm not from round here", big-eyed ingenue. But there's also the snarling anger that seems to simmer, barely hidden beneath the surface. Haelvor caught the pattern of her expression when he first remonstrated with, and then apologised only to, Ratimir. Her tone with him had perhaps been deliberately set to incur a response. But Ratimir had held out his hand. Haelvor had to react to the gesture, whatever he thought of it. Should he treat Ratimir and Shae as some kind of partnership, a group within the group? Communicate with them only as a pair? Was she the sidekick in training of the undoubtedly charismatic Varisian? He watches as Shaedeen finishes speaking and steps back once more to Ratimir's side.
His thoughts turn to the others, to the calm Serolt and the intimidatingly - almost overpoweringly so - sexualised Vanea. Were they some kind of alternative party? A silent majority? No, he senses. This was surely a one off decision. They would, most likely, take each decision on its merits. Serolt, at least, seemed to have a thread of earnest pragmatism written into his very core.
We hardly know one another, Haelvor - or at least something near to his main thread of thought - tells himself. I should try harder. Or this will just get worse. You think you know these people. You don't know them at all.
But the other voices persist, as they continue to orbit his consciousness.
Forget them, they whisper. Burn them all. Burn everything.
Fearfully, he pushes the thought away. And changes his mind. And speaks.
"The other sarcophagus. We needed to check it. We were concerned that the undead might have infested the area."
He pauses, doesn't look at the others, trying to conclude his apparent volte-face in a sensible way.
"There was another priest, I think, who died alongside Father Tobyn. My colleague believes his remains would be in the ossuary here. Do they also remain undisturbed?"
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Ah.
Noticing, but then deliberately ignoring, the strangely probing look from Serolt ...
Ah. I must - must! - try harder to hide my disappointment. The Gods know, I should have had enough practice by now. Gah!
... Haelvor clambers awkwardly into the contraption, and tries to look straight ahead, in a self-consciously, unsuccessfully nonchalant way, at nothing in particular so as not to catch Vanea's eye.
Please let it not stall. Please please please let it not stall.
Dhampir slayer (deliverer, grave warden) 2 | HP 25/25 | F+5 R+7 W+0 (+2 vs. disease and mind-affecting effects) | AC 16/14/12 | Init. +4 | Perc +7 [darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision]
@GM, if you need a quick replacement I can maybe raise one from one of my existing campaigns. I also have a standing thread I use to recruit replacements.
The operation goes as planned. A tour bus, its windows blacked out, takes the group from the airfield to the centre of town, depositing the group in three pairs - Kendrick and Spellbound, Lightning and Longbow, Challenger and Gracie, each pair accompanied by one DICE officer - at different points along the Via Laietana. The three groups then converge west, into the Gothic quarter and the area behind Barcelona's old cathedral* and to ultimately to a small shopfront, its windows filled with leather-bound books.
The shop is narrow but deep, resembling some vast nineteenth century library. Each group marches purposefully to the end of the shop, not looking back, and first into a smaller library room, where they wait for the others to arrive, and then, the group complete, finally through a false door, itself made of book spines, into sparsely furnished, weakly lit room, whose books rest in dusty piles, rather than on shelves. At the centre is a group of settees, arranged in a circle.
Two figures inhabit the settees. One is a slim man, smartly dressed, neither young nor particularly old, perhaps in his forties, wearing a white shirt and a red paisley tie under a sharply tailored blue suit. His black shoes, you notice, are of an expensive sort, and so well polished that they reflect the late afternoon sunlight streaming in through the tattered lace curtains.
The other man has wispy grey-white hair, and wears a baggy white shirt, tucked into unkempt tweed trousers. Rather than shoes, he wears old fashioned military boots, clean but in a state of obvious disrepair.
The older man doesn't react as the group enters. The younger man, however, stands, smiles and stretches out his hand.
"Welcome everyone. My name is Michael Smith-Robinson. And this is my good friend Jonathan Grayland. Previously known as John Bull."
The man stands, but doesn't smile. Though old, he's still cuts a fine figure, obviously muscular. His posture is straight, not stooped. He turns his face to the group. His eyes are a milky white, he stairs ahead into the middle distance. You can see that he is blind.
"Hello. You must be the new, new thing. Welcome to my humble bookshop," he says.
===
* This is the old, medieval cathedral, not Gaudí's more modern and more famous unfinished masterpiece, the Sagrada Família.
Pathfinder Adventure, Adventure Path, Lost Omens, Maps, Rulebook, Starfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Roleplaying Game Subscriber
UnArcaneElection wrote:
^Speaking of which, the Messageboards Avatar Icons set could use some more variety. Last time I did an exhaustive check (which admittedly was quite a while ago), some concepts seem difficult, even when not doing anything nearly as weird as what I posted above -- for instance, Humans seem to be short on Icons for people who don't look like they came from Avistan, and some common Animals are also missing or in short supply, for instance needing a lot more types of dogs and cats, as well as other Animals commonly used for Familiars and Animal Companions.
Yes, very much agreed. It would also be in Paizo's interest, I think, for all the various NPCs in the scenarios/modules/APs to be represented.
Pathfinder Adventure, Adventure Path, Lost Omens, Maps, Rulebook, Starfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Roleplaying Game Subscriber
- Figure out the class, and maybe the race
- Figure out how I want the character to fit into the campaign
- Play with archetypes and traits in Hero Lab. I'm not sure how much archetypes really help from a crunch point of view, and I do think for an archetype concept there are often better ways of building the character than to use the archetype, but they do help tailor the idea of a character, so I like them
- Think of a name (this is a big deal, in terms of importance the character, but usually quite quick)
- Write a short introduction from the character's perspective - for me this is the key thing - taking into account all the background generated by the chargen process. The usual focus is the character's earliest or most formative memories.
- Write a further more practical para on how the character looks, behaves etc. from an onlooker's point of view.
- Probably go round and revise a couple of times, but to be honest that tends to be more on fairly basic mechanical stuff, especially gear.
Introductions for some characters:
Jibril Carver, Dhampir Slayer - Mummy's Mask:
They say that every slave in the world passes through Katheer.
That was my mother, I think. A trophy from Taldor, sold in the Great Market. Bought by … someone. No, by something. By my father. A monster.
I never knew either of them. My mother died as I was born, covered in sigils and consumed in the fire, the fire that’s always been reserved for our kind. The priests did their best, observed every guidance, fulfilled the ritual of saving. Now, I might even walk in the sun. But such rituals can only ever save the child. The mother is always lost.
She was lost at the moment my father acquired her, perhaps at the moment the slavers took her from … from where? I like to think of some peaceful Taldan farm, perilously close to the Qadiran border, but bathed in temperate seasons, cycles of blossom, fruitfulness, leaf-fall and snow. I have never seen the snow.
I never knew my father, but I know his kind. Old and dry as the Qadir sands, faithless and feral, slaves - in their own way - to the hunger and the thirst, for blood.
The priests called me Jibril, for the angel. They taught me my nature. I am become an angel of death and undeath: a devout, determined, destroyer. This is my calling: to seek out these abominations, to destroy them, to defy them as they defy death itself.
I remember waking, one day, in a scorched, dead forest, bare black bones all that remained of what had so recently been so green. Before that, well, it’s a mystery to me who I was. It’s still a mystery to me now.
I know this: one parent, elven - long lived, graceful, wise; the other, human - brave, painfully mortal, impulsive. I knew neither. Nor did I know childhood friends, toys, pets. I woke that morning burned afresh, along with all about me.
I had acquaintances, of course. Small, dark wisps of smoke accompany me at all times, tugging and murmuring at my shoulder. Call me to spark, to smoulder, to smoke. Urge me, finally, to fire and flame.
In my dreams, I see them still, my parents: smiling tenderly at me, reaching out, for soft, peaceful moments. Then the sparks fall like rain, about them and upon them. The blaze devours them. Everything must eventually spiral into flame.
And thus we are consumed - before we wake.
Creon 18, android slayer, Kingmaker:
He remembers opening his eyes for the first time. Seeing the sky through darkened branches. Birds calling between the trees.
The sudden realisation of being. In one movement he sits up, sloughing off the liquid in which he had bathed and been reborn. He is in some kind of cradle, in a clearing, in a wood. The cradle is the size of a fully grown human figure. His size. It’s traced in circuits, once glowing, now fading. There are whispers in the darkened trees beyond.
He pulls himself stiffly from the cradle onto the ground below. At the foot of the cradle, there are some simple clothes. He puts them on, slowly, first leggings, then a shirt and over that a rough smock. As he finishes pulling the smock over his head, he notices a figure nearby, emerged from the woods. Another apparently-human form. It wears a long cloak, but its face is visible. Circuits, like those on the cradle, trace across its face, suddenly glowing with fear and urgency. The figure screams:
RUN!
He runs, keeps running, behind him the sound of human voices, of horses, of hounds, of armour, of weapons. The woods are set afire. He continues to run.
Eventually, he finds himself by a river. Whoever else was with him in the wood is nowhere near. Only the sounds of animals and - in the distance - the sight of the smoke in the burning forest. All he has are rags. On the undershirt is a label, with a name and a number - Creon 17. He is, he decides, the next Creon.
He remembers the lean years. With the gangs on the Brevoy border, far away from the Technic League. Learning the bow, and how to concentrate on nothing but the kill. Seeing, time and again, the glowing circuits trace his own skin, mend and raise him when he was hurt. Seeing the fear and hatred this aroused in those he had thought to be his friends. Learning, ultimately, to hide, as best he could, his true identity.
If he stops concentrating, there are other memories, not his own - not quite, at least. Of long metal corridors, of windows onto nothing, of centuries of darkness. Of the things that dwell in the void beyond, that can creep as far as the windows and reach through them, that can take crewmen - or change them utterly - with a thought or a whim.
He believes in nothing but the memories. No gods for him. The memories hold a secret, the whispers of past lives form a pattern. There are answers in the woods, in the rivers, in the forgotten places. He’ll find those answers - all of them.
Kassam Oskuri, Fetchling rogue, for Murders' Mark:
I was born in the Shadow District of Magnimar, under the Irespan, in the umbral corners, where gather the families of my kind, the kayal. I have not known my own parents. They are … faded? Travelled? Gone elsewhere. It is the destiny of my kind, to seek out the darkness, to wrap the shadows around us, for comfort, for nourishment.
At night, in dreams, sometimes the voices haunt me. Hidden, shadowed, cloaked in an essence of darkness. I know then, that for all they seek, they seek me still; and I am, thereby, consoled.
Jonas Synd, sorcerer, originally designed for Iron Gods:
“Hide in plain sight. Let shadow be your friend. Our master will find, bind, send, mend and, if it is his will, end you. Serve him, now, until it is his whim that you do not. Go to Numeria, for that is where his truth will be revealed.”
Brother Caleb’s parting words hang in Jonas’ mind, as the gate to the shrine closes behind him and then slowly begins to shimmer from existence.
Thus far, Jonas has only known the Cult, the Belief. They call it many names: the Void that Binds; the True Abyss; the Inevitable Path. The master and his brothers must surely wake, must fall upon the world like a crashing wave from the stars, and what lies beyond the stars. And the world would finally be cleansed.
Before even he was born, Jonas, like his father before him, - and his father’s father, for untold generations - was given to Yog Sothoth. In that time, before he quickened, he was branded and shaped for the tasks that now lie ahead. He must find a way to the other side of the world. He must seek the secrets of the stars. And, through those secrets, the Cult, the Belief, would ascend, and finally touch the edges of the Void that has called to them for so long.
Jonas sighs, the weight of the task already heavy on his shoulders. But there is no going back. He pulls his cloak about him, picks up his backpack. And sets forth.
Kabius Synd, warpriest of Yog-Sothoth, and Jonas' brother, also for Iron Gods:
The gate opens onto a snow plain, somewhere in the Golushkin Mountains, on the border between Numeria and Brevoy. Kabius, who hasn't used a gate before, stumbles through and tumbles into the soft white ground. He lies there for a moment, considering how he got here.
First, of course, there was Jonas. Kabius Synd’s younger brother had always been the one, in whom were vested the hopes, the desires and for that matter the future of the Cult. Jonas carried the bloodline. And Jonas had been given since birth to be the cult’s emissary to Numeria, where it was rumoured could be found some kind of stairway to the stars.
So Jonas was sent forth.
But nothing had been heard from Jonas in over two years. And so Kabius - who had no destiny of his own, but to protect the shrine, to walk its border, to defend the threshold - was sent in turn to seek out his brother, to recover whatever secrets Jonas has found. Perhaps to save Jonas and bring him home, or alternatively and if necessary to kill him for what he may have become.
Kabius gets to his knees as the portal shimmers out of existence behind him. The snow flurries around him, caught by the biting chill wind, so that it blows in circles about him as it falls. He smiles grimly at the omen, reaches beneath his cloak and takes out the wooden symbol that hangs from a slender cord around his neck. He raises it to his lips and kisses the black spiral that is carved upon it.
His life is nothing. Jonas’ life is nothing. There is only He Who Waits Beyond the Gate.
Kabius stands, picks up his pack, and - without ever looking back - sets out from the mountain, in search of his brother.
===
Kabius came about when the GM said he wanted a divine caster to make up the group, not an arcane one. But neither of the Synd brothers were actually picked up, scions of elder gods being a step too far (and I didn't think it worked to change the deity). They lie in wait.
By the way, as a GM, I also typically write a (usually longer) prologue, partly for the benefit of the players (and it often binds the starting group into the story) and partly for my own, figuring out what threads and NPCs are going to be important to provide a degree of momentum. I generally spend a fair bit of time on this.
Male Android Slayer (Sniper) 2 | HP 21/21 | AC 18, touch 15, FF 13; Fort +4, Ref +8, Will +0 | Init +5; Perc +7; darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision
Creon nods. Best to say nothing further. Fortunate, in fact, this hasn't happened more often. Is it possible I'm mad, defective in some way? Is this normal for ... my kind?
And then: Creepy the Archer? Perhaps the half-orc mispronounced my name.
He opens his mouth, about to correct Prophet. Then thinks better of it, and remains silent.
The officer nods. "The duffle's fine. You'll look like a student backpacker."
"Grayland - John Bull, I should say - knows we're coming. We're going in in small groups, at short intervals. You'll be met by the local Delta 6 station officer, who for the sake of this meeting is using the name of Michael Smith-Robinson. Grayland will wait for you in a back room. It's a bit pointless getting you in there using this song and dance and then having a mass pow wow in front of any hapless punter who's wandered in looking for the latest John Le Carre."
"Oh, if for some reason any of the locals engage you in conversation, avoid politics. The place is still a bit raw. Franco only died 10 years ago, they have a socialist government in place, they're about to join the EEC, Catalonia has limited autonomy and wants more. There's been a low level dirty war with the ETA Basque separatists since 1975, which has metastasised into a low level dirty civil war between ETA, GAL and the state. If that fact list is longer than what you know about Spain before I started telling you, it should tell you to stay well away from the subject."
I'll let you react but will move straight to the bookshop encounter later this evening. Sorry about the sporadic posts, this campaign takes a little more prep than most.
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Just in case anyone gets the wrong idea ... Haelvor has a complete lack of self-confidence and can't figure out what to do with his life, plus his oracle curse is "haunted", which (apart from relatively minor crunch effects) is what is producing these inner voices; they also seem to be related to his "powers", which he also frankly regards as a curse, his career thus far having proven the lack of market demand for schizophrenic pyromaniac librarians in a world of papyrus and parchment.
I did raise a concern a week or so ago with the GM about how splitting the team had the effect of leaving some characters on the sidelines. The GM can comment on that. But in game, I'm just using the fact of that to reinforce Haelvor's character; please don't view the posts as a vehicle for some kind of subtext from me as a player.
This is an open recruitment for a couple of campaigns set in Kobold Press' Midgard Campaign Setting. I will be running two tables of 6 players. Each table may well use different scenarios, generally selected from those published by KP for the setting (see a fair way down this post).
I generally reserve slots for players on my existing campaigns, and have 5 requests, so I think there are 7 available. I've had no submissions as such so no roles are fully reserved. If they do come in I'll update the thread. But, put another way, there should be plenty of room.
I've encapsulated the recruitment requirements in spoilers, because otherwise it would take up the first page of the thread. Please read each part if you're intending to submit.
Basic:
- starting at level 1
- 6 players per table, 20 point buy
- 2 traits, no drawbacks
- 1 paragraph background story
- no evil characters; no NSFW content
- All builds must be legal in Hero Lab
- Where Midgard rules overrule/supersede Paizo, Midgard takes precedence
Character Building Options:
- Only Midgard options allowed for deities and regions - any Golarion-specific traits, feats, prestige classes etc. will not be available
- Retraining is unlikely to be available (I’m not a fan) - please don’t assume it in your builds
- Following Paizo traits are unavailable - Rich Parents, Hedge Magician, and Natural-Born Leader
- Options (including domains, bloodlines, mysteries, archetypes, etc.) are permissible from the list of Midgard publications below
Options will by and large be permissible from any in-print Paizo publication as long as it fits with the background and the other restrictions here
- Everyone must have a deity
Classes & Races:
- Paizo classes - all acceptable except Vigilante, Shaman (we’ll use the Midgard version - see below), Gunslinger, Samurai and Ninja
- Barbarian, Rogue, Monk, Summoner must be Unchained
- Midgard/KP classes - Spell-less Ranger, Shaman, Battle-Scion, White Necromancer, Elven Archer, Theurge (the SRD for all of these is here):
- Races - human, elf, elfmarked (Midgard equivalent of half-elf), dwarf, halfling@, tengu@*, dragonkin*, minotaur*, kobold*, gearforged*, gnoll@*. The SRD for some of these can be found here; if necessary I will fix up submissions to make them rules-legal.
- Those marked * in the above list - max one in the party and must take a Paizo class
- Those marked @ - these are meant to be “minor races” in Midgard so are correspondingly rare. Gnolls are more common in Southlands.
- We’ll use Midgard status rules - everyone starts at status level 4.
Party Composition:
- No more than one of any class, per party
- I would like to see one of each of the following, in each party - healer, melee fighter, ranged fighter, rogue/skills specialist, arcane magic user. Please indicate which role you intend to fulfil. We may need to be flexible on making everyone fit.
Other notes:
I may incorporate material from the Horror Adventures book when it comes out, also; I'm assuming the campaign would start late July/early August.
Valid Midgard/KP Material:
Firstly, I can’t send out copies of the material. You either have it or you don’t. I can check for valid builds in HeroLab. HL supports the following, so that's what I'm accepting, subject to the other restrictions in this post.
- Southlands Campaign Setting
- Southlands Bestiary
- New Paths Compendium
- Deep Magic
- Free City of Zobeck (Alleys of Zobeck, Streets of Zobeck, the Zobeck Gazetteer, and the Player’s Guide to the Crossroads)
- Midgard Bestiary
- Midgard Campaign Setting
Which Scenarios?:
The two tables will use different scenario trees, as described below. I intend to link the scenarios up into a wider campaign, and I would like to explore the setting as much as possible, so will find a way of it ranging far and wide - including into the Southlands and across the Western Ocean. The two groups may cross paths, depending on progress.
I have an idea of which scenarios I would like to run, but may mix it up. So basically, let me know your preference for starting scenario, and I will try to make it fit.
Table 1 opening scenario: the Raven’s Call, set in the Northlands (basically a dark ages Scandinavian setting) - “The trollkin and their shaman have come to a village by the sea, stormed its walls, and taken all the villagers as slaves and property. They have eaten their way through the saltfish, devoured the herd of sheep, and might be planning to eat the people next. Then, one escaped villager begs strangers on the road for help ... and gives them the chance to shine as true heroes striking down raiders of pure evil.”
Table 2 opening scenario: the Hollow (from Tales of Old Margreve), a fantasy horror story set at the edge of the dark and mysterious Margreve forest - the PCs face a powerful, ancient spirit that haunts a village. Or perhaps the village haunts the spirit. If you’re British and of a certain age, a reminder of the nightmare-inducing, zero budget, monochrome fantasy TV the BBC used to import from the Warsaw Pact and peddle to kids under the generic title of Tales from Europe (Singing Ringing Tree, I’m looking at you).
A question that seems to be coming up a fair bit:
Q: Could you please send me copies of the relevant Midgard books, otherwise I can’t build a character.
A: Again, no. Some SRD stuff is available openly, and it should also be perfectly possible to build a regular Pathfinder character. Also, sharing documents in this way is a bad thing. If necessary I will help on backstory, but that is it.
Any questions/clarifications please feel free to ask. Look forward to seeing the submissions.
Recruitment will close midnight, British Summer Time (GMT+1), 31 July.
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Haelvor follows behind, still not sure how to break through the tight fellowship that seems to exist at the group's core. I do actually live here he thinks.
Yes, but you don't matter, echo the voices within.
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Couple of years ago I got stuck in Chicago for 4 days, on way home from Little Rock - tornado in LR, then snow in Chicago. And BA lost my luggage *twice* - I didn't have it at all while in Chicago, they found it and actually showed it to me to prove they were loading it onto the plane back to London but accidentally sent it on to - of all places - Istanbul.
I'm sure I've got more of these if I think about it.
Hawthorne nods. "Our experience with these matters is that it's difficult to train a team of enhanced for combat. Each of you is unique; each combination of you is also unique. It would have been far better, admittedly, to have engaged in some exercises. But Golf Hotel Wave Two is far from ready, even less so than you. And there is ... processing we have to do, with all of you, before we can even get to this point. You had already passed those tests, we don't have others in that position. We have to trust you implicitly, as Mister Longbow here amply implies. We are where we are."
There's a knock on the door to the room, from outside. Isherwood stands up, goes over and opens the door. An orderly walks in, hands a note to Isherwood and waits patiently, as Isherwood in turn hands it to Hawthorne.
Hawthorne glances at the note, frowns and then, obviously, reads it again. "Hmm," he murmurs. "It looks like another complication just entered our particular can of worms."
He turns to the window and makes a brief gesture with his right hand. The view of the Thames disappears, and the adventurers realise that the window, and the landscape beyond, was an illusion. Sitting the other side of the glass are several individuals, currently shrouded in darkness.
"Professor Farthingram," says Hawthorne, obviously addressing one of the individuals on the other side of the glass, "you'd better come in here. We'll also need some Delta 100 forms. And Eraserhead."
The figures beyond the glass seem to move more urgently, up and out of the room they currently occupy.
As the helicopters leave the battle scene, and rise into the air, through the windows work can still be seen on the ground, one group of soldiers sifting through the wreckage of the downed November Kilo, another surrounding the blue truck. The white truck is disconnected from its cab and linked to the black machine that came out of one of the choppers on landing. The combination is then lifted by one of the remaining helicopters, which follows with the group.
The flight from North-eastern England to London takes about two hours, though once in London airspace the navigation becomes more complex. DICE headquarters sits in a large building by Vauxhall Bridge*; the pad on the roof has comfortable space for landing several helicopters at once, though for some reason they land at intervals.
As each group lands, they are ushered inside, and into small elevators. The party finally regroups, apparently several floors down, in a large meeting room overlooking the River Thames.
After a few minutes, Hawthorne enters, along with a couple of other senior DICE officers (one male, one female) and an orderly bringing a tray of tea and several plates of biscuits, which he arranges along and around the large glass-topped table that makes up much of the room.
Hawthorne nods to the other officers. "Ladies and gentlemen, these are Lieutenants Isherwood and Crane**, both of Delta 20."
He nods to the male and female officer in turn, to indicate that the former is Isherwood and the latter Crane. Each of them has a large A4 foolscap pad and a pen. Then he continues.
"This is, I'm afraid, going to be slightly formal. We need to debrief you. Could each of you please give me a report on what transpired back in North Yorkshire? Don't worry about repeating something that someone else said, it still may be useful; don't worry if your view is inconsistent with one of the others, because, well, ditto; and if something struck you as interesting please raise it. There are a few things here that don't make sense."
"When we have, so to speak, collected up our little bundle of mysteries, we're going to have a word with Mister Frostorm, who seems willing to speak to us, up to a point, anyway. You're welcome to join us for that."
*: where the real-life MI6/SIS building is located, though that building wasn't finished till 1994. The in-game version would have been built in the 1960s and probably looks more like BT Tower, or something in the style of Thunderbirds.
**: note Lieutenant is pronounced "Leftenant" in the British army.
Should add - Æthelweard - Devorado turns up nothing.
Hawthorne looks grimly at the scene. "The carrier over there ..." he nods in the direction of the white truck ... "... contains a constraint field. My guess is that they jammed the constraint field, enough to allow Anderson to wake up and break out, but not enough to go haywire. They'd have had to destroy it completely for that, though I'm assuming that was the real intent, otherwise the entire thing makes no sense. Your arrival complicated matters. Why they wanted Anderson to go haywire is another matter. We should get you into the choppers and debrief in London. We'll put you in separate groups, you should pair up. They'll travel cloaked."
At the site of the battle, behind you, the enemy soldiers are being tied up and constrained. Python is being loaded into one of the white canisters. The DICE personnel restrain Frostorm, knocking him out with some kind of electrical device, applied at close quarters to the back of his head. He's also loaded into a canister.
"Don't worry, you'll see them again," says Hawthorne. "We'll interrogate them at HQ. Unless there are any questions, I suggest you embark. I'll try to ensure what questions you do have are answered when we arrive, however."
The trip back to London is going to be a fairly quiet affair, and the cloaking technology prevents communications between the helicopters. So ask now, but it's clear also you'll have the chance to have questions heard on arrival.
Python shrugs as her blow once again fails to have an impact. At Eoten's counter-blow, Python leaps over the incoming fist, so that it misses her completely.
"Frostorm, some help please," she calls. "I'm making no headway here."
Longbow's arrow hits the first soldier, taking him down; Longbow reaches for another arrow, quickly draws and hits the last standing soldier, with the same effect. His third arrow is also a hit, Python rocks again with the impact of the hit, looking somewhat punch drunk, as Eoten's boulder flies in her direction.
Python is staggered, -2[/dice]
Luckily for her, the rock misses the entire enemy group, landing with a loud SMASH in the ground behind. Similarly, Spellbound's bolt hits several yards from Frostorm, spreading sparks along the ground.
Fowlds' voice comes over the comm: "Golf Hotel One, good job so far. Asset Zero seems confused; our intention is to watch for next steps - November Kilo does not possess enough armaments to bring him down."
A pause, then Fowlds' voice again: "Similarly we will not engage the bandit vehicle; we have no idea what will happen if we blow it up. Suggest you mop up the remaining hostiles and then see if we can talk Protector down."
The man in the white suit with the blue bolt, identified as Frostorm, shouts something at Python, then aims his gun at ...
A bolt of - what? - some kind of freeze ray - zings past Lightning Blade's head, the speedster's enhanced abilities easily allowing him to judge the attack and to take evasive action.
New round.
The being known as Protector hangs in the air, seemingly disinclined to act for either side. He seems to be saying something, over and over again.
Finally, and meanwhile, the blue truck's two remaining cannons retrain on the DICE helicopter.
Two rockets fire from the cannons, while the helicopter swerves to dodge. A scream of "Incoming, incoming, two bogies," pierces the comm. Both rockets hit the helicopter on its port side; November Kilo's swerve contrives to make the first a glancing blow, so that the explosion happens slightly away from the vehicle. The blow is enough, however, to fatally alter its course. A further scream, many screams, inchoate, echo over the comm as the second rocket scores a direct hit and explodes; almost in slow motion, it seems, the helicopter falls from the sky, an expanding ball of flame, framing the still oblivious form of the metahuman formerly known as Protector, as a silhouette against the fire.
The helicopter hits the ground with a sickening crash, and explodes again, the two main rotors spinning off at different angles as the flaming hulk sinks into the ground.
@LB yes they are all starting off from behind the truck, I'll assume within 60 feet; your attack however has no effect on the truck itself. To be clear, both trucks are about the size of large petrol/gasoline vehicles (which is about 60ft), but one - as you're finding out - is heavily armoured and armed.
With a loud CRAKKK, Lightning Blade's sword thrust causes an electrical tremor through the surrounding ground; around half the enemy combatants hold in place for a second as they experience the lightning's surge. Some of them hang in place for slightly longer, and are left standing somewhat unsteadily by the effect.
Let me know if this becomes too difficult without a map and I will try to come up with one. Assume the enemy is clustered, at this point, at the back of the truck from which they've just emerged. Python and enemy soldiers A, B and C are spreading out at 10 foot intervals to the left (as you face, so their right) along from the back of the enemy truck, with Python on the far left. Frostorm and D, E and F are on the right side, getting into position in similar intervals on the right, with Frostorm on the far right. I know this means >60 ft but they aren't in position yet - they will be by next round.
Protector is about 200ft up in the air, 400ft to the far right (as you face) and level with the white truck. The helicopter is about half a mile away in the same direction.
The heroes' starting position is spread out in front of the white truck.
As a result of LB's electrical attack: enemy soldier D is at -1 cumulative; Python and A are -1 dazed; B and E are -1 staggered.
@Gracie: finishing blow.
Gracie leaps onto the truck and pounds at one of the cannons, bending it into uselessness, without quite shattering it.
@Eoten: I'll assume you don't need a separate check and that this is a readied action. But note: if you throw the rock at the blue truck this turn, Gracie is standing on top of it.
The enemy soldiers move next. I'll put that in a separate post
Got back from my business trip, catching up on the way too many campaigns I'm playing/running (as well as work). Anyhow.
Gracie wrote:
Gracie's response to the commander was before they left the chopper, which I'd why I was careful to quote what she was responding to so the timing was obvious. She would not be arguing once they disembarked. If we can't backtag (respond to earlier scenes) developing RP is going to be tough, since we all post at different times.
Backtagging is usually fine but if it demands a response (and the issue here is insubordination more than it is misuse of the comm) I then have to insert it into the thread without it somehow forking into multiple timelines. I thought it better to treat it that way for that reason. I think dramatically it did work though, and if you're ok with it I will feed it into the character's arc.
@Longbow - fine to adjust the character for now, just don't do it too often!
@Lightning - also fine to change your action.
@Eoten - Eoten is Old English myth, maybe fish out a copy of Beowulf (Heaney's version?) and use the rhythms in that. Use words with Old English origins (avoid French, Greek etc words), plenty of compound made-words and move the participles to the end of the sentence.
Right I will go and set up initiative for what is now a cast of 1000 or so characters.
Fowlds looks sternly at Gracie. "Who goes offence or defence? I think you've been watching too much of that gridiron football on Channel 4*. Look, I've been working with powered individuals for a while now, maybe too long. You can turn any one of the rest of us on this chopper into mince meat, some of you without a thought. So cut it with the young civilian ingenue act - and far be it from me to command you. I can advise you as best I can. But, because each of you is unique, without training - which we haven't had time for - the rhythm of the team is going to emerge from the combination of abilities you have."
Fowlds gives Challenger a keep an eye on this one look.
"We're approaching the intercept point now, and will set you down."
There's a call from the front of the helicopter, near the cockpit: "Sir, check the port side window, bandits approaching ..."
From the left side of the helicopter, you can see a 2 lane road, containing no traffic apart from, in one direction a long white truck, unmarked, and in the other, a long blue one. The trucks are closing with one another.
"Damn," says Fowlds, "we're late."
He picks up a corded microphone from the side of the helicopter and presses a nearby switch. "Dice cup, Dice cup, this is Delta 20 November Kilo with payload Golf Hotel One. Bandits encountered, provenance unknown. Landing payload and going clear, request engagement clearance code Madding Crowd Crimson, over?"
Through a speaker above the buttons and cord, there's a tinny response: "Roger Delta 20 November Kilo, Dice cup clearance code Ruy Lopez Blue, clear to engage, clear to engage, over."
Fowlds presses a separate switch near to the microphone cord. "Crew, this is Fowlds. You know what's expected here, just do your best. One thing and per orders, in order to provide a comms relay for Golf Hotel One we are going in uncloaked and will remain so. Be on your guard. That's it. Clear to unseal orders; engagement start, repeat engagement start."
Several of the civilians pick up sealed brown envelopes from the consoles in front of them and start to break them open. Fowlds turns to the group. "Looks like the show's on. That blue lorry, there, contains the malefactors. Time to join the dance."
The helicopter lowers to the ground and the cargo door at the rear descends, white afternoon sunlight entering the darkness of the hold.
As the group gets ready to disembark, Fowlds calls after them "And, Mister Longbow, sounds like you owe this young lady an introduction!"
* Channel 4 started broadcasting NFL football on a weekly basis, from 1982.
Half-Elf Oracle (ancient lorekeeper) 1 | HP 10/10 | F+1 R+0 W+1 (+2 vs. enchantments) | AC 15/10/15 | Init. +2 | Perc +1 [low-light vision]
Haelvor smiles and looks at the other man. "If you don't want that," he says, pointing at the half-eaten rat, "There's a man over there who'll put it on a stick and roast it."
Somewhat surprised by the failure of her companions to take advantage of her sleep spell, Onna whispers a couple of words to her skunk companion, who, for the second time this day, fires a spray of musk at the gremlin.
Spray is a Touch attack, +4:1d20 + 4 ⇒ (19) + 4 = 23
Just to note this has been used twice today and the attack rolls were, respectively, 20 and 19.
Fort Save:1d20 ⇒ 9... fails; the creature is nauseated.
Hidden Rolls:
Nauseated:1d4 ⇒ 2 Sickened:1d4 ⇒ 4
Nauseated Condition:
Creatures with the nauseated condition experience stomach distress. Nauseated creatures are unable to attack, cast spells, concentrate on spells, or do anything else requiring attention. The only action such a character can take is a single move action per turn.
The gremlin, only just awoken from its magical slumber and further taken by surprise by this turn of events, stares at the skunk for a second, then wretches violently, a number of times. Onna takes the opportunity to drive home her own attack ...
@Black Dow - coincidentally we had our own 1960s Liverpool superhero called MopTop.
DICE - we'll see. I always thought the name was a bit daft, compared to Spectrum, SHADO and UNIT. I was thinking of introducing something a bit more like Charles Stross' Laundry organisation (which is itself intentionally retro, being a hybrid of Len Deighton and HP Lovecraft).
I do have Simon Burley's Squadron UK stuff, will have a scan through it for any ideas.
Professor Æthelstan Langley - A leading expert and academic of British myth and historical, who can transform into Eoten - a massive being fabled to be one of the ancient Giants of Albion.
That is exactly the kind of thing I'm talking about.
Quote:
Few weeks would work perfectly for me as I'll have to skinny up on M&M3E (unless you fancy running it in retro GH :)
My suspicion is I'd be running you solo :-). GH is a bit like (another UK reference) Marmite, in terms of whether you love or hate it. Except more people like Marmite.
Hi. I'm thinking of running M&M3E through, initially, the ancient Golden Heroes scenario, Legacy of Eagles.
Have to say I haven't run M&M in this edition before so as a caveat this may be a learning experience. Second caveat: I ran the actual scenario for Golden Heroes when it first came out (which is a hint as to how old I am) and achieved TPK, something I'm not keen to revisit.
From the back of the box: "Dateline 1965 - a strange meteor plunging to earth signals the end for a legendary team of superheroes... And still the only known survivor of the team won't talk... Twenty years on; their secrets are in danger of being unearthed by an arch-villain - can the Golden heroes foil his plans? Will they inherit... The Legacy Of Eagles?"
I propose to retain the same setting - the UK in 1985, with a newly arrived set of heroes trying to figure out what happened. General feel is Grant Morrison's Zenith, if you're familiar with that.
I'd be looking for enough interested players that we have a recruitment, rather than just managing to get the minimum; in my experience if the interest check just barely makes it, it won't work.
Final caveat - it will take me a few weeks to convert the content, which is why I'm trying to figure out the interest level before launching out on it.
Sef shrugs. "We call it the flesh rust. It entered him, consumed him, he slept and froze to death. The stuff lives forever, we think. It rises in warmth, recedes in cold. It sits and waits. Careful, as I said. We need you for clearing out the vermin."
One other thing, when Adrien/Arkady/Tio get to brief the others, there's a further item of information to come.
Hi, I'm now back from my travels and hopefully staying put this coming week. Sorry that the posting velocity has dropped slightly.
One thing I wanted to mention - the spoiler incident with Den and handling it. This isn't, by the way, a telling off as such, but I want to be clear on how to handle such situations.
At the time we were in a timer as I didn't know whether you'd pull the lever, and if you did I needed to know who was standing where. Pre-reading the spoiler rendered that effectively moot.
Possible courses of action at that point included:
- running the check retrospectively. That's what happened, partly as I didn't have time to think about it but it doesn't really work. Den's comment implied we would have retcon'd it from the records if the roll had failed. Well, I don't agree with retcons (and you shouldn't assume you can get away with them), so permitting the retrospective roll (even if successful) in the first place wasn't correct on my part, in my view.
- there is also an XP bonus on the room. Dragon's Demand has fairly high level bosses so grants a lot of story bonuses on the way up so when you get to them you're good and ready. So I then have the choice of a) not granting the XP (which may mean you don't quite follow the arc and indeed may not be ready when the time comes) or else specifically withholding it from (in this case) Den, which is going to result in a fair bit of extra bookkeeping if these things continue to happen.
In retrospect I should probably have had the trap trigger in some non-lethal but inconvenient way, taking down Den and Pip, who were stuck there at the time (subject to normal issues like reflex saves). The story consequence would have been that Den noticed the trap but not in time to do anything about it. So, just to let you know, that's the kind of way I'll deal with these issues going forward.
The reason I'm posting this now is, quite apart from having had a little chance to think about it, I can set down the expectation going forward without it looking like I'm just being vindictive (and don't worry, no punishment will be retrospectively applied, Den).
Easiest solution: don't read the spoiler if it doesn't apply to you, and don't assume outcomes for those things you don't control.
Pathfinder Adventure, Adventure Path, Lost Omens, Maps, Rulebook, Starfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Roleplaying Game Subscriber
Hi, this has probably been asked before ... I'm new to GM'ing PFS btw.
The PFS guide says:
"All Tier 1 scenarios and Tier 1–2 sanctioned modules are available for unlimited replay with a 1st-level character for credit. The sanctioned modules may also be played with a 2nd-level character once for credit in each mode. GMs may receive another Chronicle sheet each time they run one of the Tier 1 scenarios or Tier 1–2 sanctioned modules, but may only apply a Chronicle sheet to one 2nd-level character per adventure."
Does this mean that a player who has played a tier 1 module before can do so again for full credit, so long as they use a 1st level character? I'm just kicking off a run through a series of scenarios, and some players have played the first few scenarios before. I'm assuming I can say, on the basis of the above, that as long as they have a character on level 1 it's fine.
So I've been holding off on this for reasons which well shortly appear obvious, but we had better move on. I'll run Jaer's disable device for her.
Disable Device:1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26Whoah.
Jaer kneels and down and examines the pressure plate. Carefully removing the top plate, she can see multiple cables - around 16 - extending to each of the eight statues, and is confronted with effectively a series of choices as to which to cut. She looks up again, trying to figure the way the cables might connect to the statues in the wall. Nervelessly, she cuts the first and notices a slight, almost imperceptible movement in one of the pairs of statues - but the trap is not triggered.
She pauses again, figuring out how to identify and repeat the procedure, with the correct cables, for the other pairs. It takes about quarter of an hour, but at the end of it the trap is completely disabled and made safe.
She looks up at the others, with a re-acquired expression of casual insouciance. "Well, that was easy!", she smiles. "Not sure how previous visitors managed through this - if the trap had been triggered then each pair of statues would have clunked down two long-swords on the heads of anyone in their way."
She looks round at Keshy, standing behind her and the only member of the party who would have been in the path of the swords, had they triggered. "You can thank me now." she smiles. "But seriously, thanks for standing by me."
With the trap thus disabled, the party moves forward through the corridor, and finds itself in a large room, which has at its centre a large pool of clear water, fed by a fountain on the wall above it. The fountain has a stone statue of a weeping maiden holding the slain body of Kassen, but his head has been broken off and is nowhere to be seen. Around the fountain the following words are engraved, in Common: “Magic is the key.”
The party entered from the west side of the south wall. There's another door on the east side of the same wall, and a further one on the north side of the east wall. This last, as those who have been maintaining a map should realise, should lead back to the entrance chamber, where the party encountered the skeletons.
Founded by a famous dragonslayer, the small town of Belhaim has become a sleepy rural community just off the beaten path, a settlement where everyone knows everyone and strangers are the talk of the town. But when Belhaim’s peace and quiet is shattered by the sudden collapse of the last standing tower of its founder’s castle, things quickly bloom out of control ...
OK, I'm planning to add The Dragon's Demand to my portfolio of campaigns (2 current, planning to run one further beyond this). I'm looking for six players.
If things work out, I may then tack on further level-appropriate modules or scenarios (this one should get you to level 6 or 7) as we go.
If you're not familiar with it, the module starts at level 1. There's no player guide as such, the characters will have just rolled into town with a caravan (see below on Background).
Requirements/constraints
- Expect to post at least once a day, preferably more often; if there is an extended break I may run your character (or ask another player to do so) to move things along.
- All characters begin at level one.
- 20-point ability buy.
- No evil alignments.
- Content & tone: strictly no NSFW
- Races: Core races preferred. Check on anything else, I will be flexible if I think it can meet the background, but the more incongruous it is, the less the chance of selection. If I think the chance is absolutely nil, I'll say so.
- Archetypes fine as long as they can be justified within the background
- Classes: Core/Base/Hybrid. No Alternate or Occult. Where Unchained variants exist, I expect them to be taken.
- No third party content.
- Two traits, one of which must be a campaign trait (see the campaign guide). No drawbacks.
- Builds must be strictly rules legal (I will check and adjust if necessary)
- Average gold for your class.
- Maximum HP at level one, roll or 1/2 HD + 1 thereafter.
- Brief (1-2 para) back-story to link your character to the scenario background (see below)
Background
There's no "player's guide" for this campaign, but the idea is that your character comes to it cold. You just need to know you're in Northern Taldor.
Belhaim is a sleepy town on the northern border of Taldor. You'll be new to town, and will have rolled in on a caravan led by a merchant named Silas Gribb. The PCs may have been passengers or else hired as guards. They'll likely know one another (we'll sort this out at the start of the campaign) but will not know Belhaim.
From a background story point of view, I'd suggest just playing with the idea of how you found your way onto the caravan, and where you were before. We may have to do some synchronisation of stories but can work that out.
Selection
There are no guarantees, but my preference is for core classes/races so moving further out from there has a negative effect (but doesn't by any means rule you out). I'm OK with (and sympathetic to) new players but would like a balance of experience in there also. You need to be willing to commit: to post frequently enough, to be around for the duration of the campaign, to put effort into writing posts and to being an all round nice person. Apart from that, no big deal ...
I plan to hold recruitment open till March 1. If that changes, I'll post here.
Every year when the leaves begin to fall, the small town of Kassen conducts a rite of passage in which it sends a band of young, would-be adventurers to the abandoned crypt of the town founder to recover the Everflame, a magical fire that is kept burning throughout the winter. Each year the youths' mettle is tested by traps, illusory monsters, and other challenges before returning home to a festival honouring their coming of age. But this year … things are more complicated.
What follows is a description of the ceremony, as it happens. I've put it inside a spoiler tag as it is quite long. Brief summary: the ceremony is now over. The road to the crypt leads away through town and to the south. Most of the party are likely to know one another (or know of one another), with the probable exception of Illya.
Introduction:
It’s the last day of autumn, and as she waits for the Festival of the Everflame, Asina Silvers sits on the first floor balcony of her father’s inn, overlooking Kassen’s town square. At the square’s centre, by the ancient fountain that supplies the town’s fresh water, stands a newly constructed wooden platform; and at the centre of that is a barrel-sized basket filled with large, flat stones.
“Can’t wait?”, asks a voice at her shoulder. She turns to see that she has been joined by the inn’s only employee, Jimes the waiter.
“Nothing to do till the festival starts. Everyone’s pretending to take it seriously, which means no business. Where’ve you been?”. She eyes the halfling, suspiciously. Good company he might be, but you couldn’t trust him farther than you could throw him (actually less far even than that, given his size).
“I’ve been counting the takings”
Her eyes narrow. “Taking the takings, you mean?”
“No, child. Counting. I’ve told you before: if you and your father have no business, I have no business.”
Yes, she had heard that one before. “That may be the case, but if you only ever leave us just enough to stay in business, we’ll never be rich, will we?”
A pause. Jimes looks at his feet, thinks for a second, then - by way of changing the subject - says, brightly: “so, thoughts on the festival?”
Asina glowers. “Waste of time. A bunch of idiots trying to prove themselves go on a fake adventure, which proves nothing, except that we’re all fools for going along with it. They all come back safely, we have a big slap up meal at the Greathall, father makes barely any profit on the catering, then you take a penny from every weight and the Guild takes two. And the mayor gets re-elected. As I said, we’re all fools.”
Jimes retains his smile. “You’re very cynical for a 13 year old. And actually, my question was more, which idiots are going to get picked?”
“They’ve already been picked. They know, even if it’s not public yet. At any rate, we’ll find out soon enough, here they come …”
From down the street, there’s a slow, mournful drumming, from the front of a procession that is marching purposefully through the town and into the square. Arranged in rows, clad mainly in black and with eyes downcast and mournful, the townspeople enter the square, then spread out to surround the central fountain. After a few moments, a murmur passes through the crowd as it slowly parts to let through Mayor Jonark Uptal, a stout man in his early 50s, with long blonde hair and a full beard, wearing his red cloak of office, with its gold lining, over the day’s black garb.
He leads the way with a tarnished silver lantern. Behind him, an old pony drags a cart laden with backpacks and supplies. Once he reaches the center of the crowd, Mayor Uptal steps onto the platform and calls out to the assembled townsfolk:
“Once again the winter winds blow through the Fangwood, marking the end of another harvest. There are wolves in the woods, howling at our walls, and serpents in our shadows, waiting to strike. Just as it was one hundred and seventy-four years ago, when Kassen himself left these walls to protect us, so it is today. Where are our heroes? Where are the brave folk that will venture out to Kassen’s tomb and retrieve the flame to keep this community safe for another winter?”
The crowd parts again. This time, a number of individuals step forward: Kassen’s “elders” - the various individuals in town tasked to oversee the education of new “heroes”: individuals who may eventually, after perhaps leaving the town for a while and getting some real “adventuring” experience under their belts, rise to the task of filling key roles in the development and protection of the town. These are the heroes who will be honoured by their nomination for the quest.
Not, Asina reflects, that it always works like that. Sometimes, yes, the nominees are the favoured apprentices of the town elders. Sometimes they’re privileged, undeserving types whose parents, relatives or friends have managed to call in a favour. And sometimes they’re just individuals the town would prefer to see leave, go adventuring and never come back. Generally it’s a mix. The fun part - usually the only fun part of the entire bloody crypt flame festival exercise - is watching the nomination process and guessing who is in which category. The actual pantomime of the “quest” is merely an afterthought; anyone who thought otherwise was completely missing the point.
First to step forward is Holgast, the wizard and town sage. He’s been carried here on a palanquin, carried front and back by two of his apprentices, both of whom are wearing the resigned expressions of individuals who are getting nothing out of their apprenticeships but a bad back. He’s smoking his usual, pungent peppermint-spiced tobacco. He lifts his pipe. “Holgast the Walker,” - at this his apprentice both roll their eyes - “on behalf of the Wizardly Orders, casts no stone this year”. Asina looks at Jimes. There’s a turn up. So, no wizard.
Several other elders come forward, and again, cast no stone. Their apprentices, where they have them, look despondent. Finally, Armana Lastrid, the grim, determined and largely humourless ranger, steps up and throws a stone into the basket: “The Rangers of Nirmathas cast their stone for Tycho Sandalwood, may he grace our name!”.
There’s a round of polite applause. Armana currently has two apprentices - Tycho Sandalwood and Bardan Greyholt. Tycho is the “nice” one - he came to Kassen as a child, escaping the Molthune invasion, and has been quietly serving Armana for some years. Bardan - who seems to have missed out - is the “difficult” one, a Kassen lad, born and bred, but whom most people remember as a frustrated child, an angry teenager, a petty thief and an all round social menace. His parents, in desperation, gave him to Armana to “sort him out” - she seems to have quietened him down, all right (though she occasionally sees him at the inn, drinking with Jimes, which can’t be a good sign) - but, well, would Bardan have ever won Armana’s affections, set against Tycho? Tycho, all smiles, steps forward, and - as first chosen - takes the silver lantern from Mayor Uptal, and steps back. Asina seeks out Bardan’s face in the crowd - he’s standing near to Armana, but seems to have taken the slight well, and looks relatively unperturbed.
Next to cast is the Captain of the Watch, Gregor Wisslo: “The Town Watch casts a stone for Harken, of the North”. He casually throws a stone in the basket and steps back.
This, thinks Asina, is a classic case of using the quest to get rid of an annoyance. Harken, a big, genial warrior from the northern lands of Linnorm, must have spent as much time carousing in the inn as walking the bounds for the Watch. At first, he paired up with Grimscar, that uncouth, loutish half-orc from the Woodcutters, but one day when a drunken Grimscar had gone one taunt too far against poor, slow-witted Golfond Kir, Harken had turned round and given Grimscar the beating he’d long been asking for (along with pretty much the rest of the town). Not that Captain Wisslo approved. No, he liked his beatings by the book, and with the appropriate paperwork. Harken’s not that type, so off to the quest he goes. But there he is, with a big, wide grin all over his face, so he doesn’t seem too unhappy about it.
It’s now the turn of Colbin Vetnar, master of the Woodcutters. But the guild doesn’t have apprentices, does it? “The Honourable Guild of Woodcutters casts a stone for Bardan Greyholt”. A murmur goes round the crowd. Asina stares at Jimes. Jimes shrugs. “I called in a few favours”, he says, through a wolfish grin. “And now I’m owed a few as well. Win-win!”. Asina frowns. Nobody looks good when associated with Vetnar. Even Jimes doesn’t look good. Something will come of this, she’s sure.
Another elder comes forward, Father Prasst: “The Temple of Erastil casts a stone for Irgal Zeth.”
Asina bites her lip. Irgal was there, helping, the night her mother died. Giving birth to her little brother, Gemyn, who never survived the following winter. She knew Irgal beforehand, of course, saw him around town, when he was a cheerful journeyman priest. After the death, the halfling seemed to blame himself. Or perhaps he heard or saw something that changed him. Whatever, the joy drained from him, as it did from so many who were close to the event. Asina looks for her father in the crowd. She spots him at the back, near the wall of the Greathall, deep in conversation with the inn’s mysterious lodger, Cygnar Anravis. Is Trelvar Silvers deliberately ignoring the ceremony? Nobody normally talks to Cygnar, he just hangs around, always cloaked, always hooded, always watching. Asina shivers. Best put Irgal out of her mind. Two to go.
Now the druid, Olmira Treesong, steps up. “The Fangwood casts its stone for Ahlbay UstIer.” Predictable. She only has one apprentice. Ahlbay’s very different from the strange, leaf-clad (often barely clad) free spirit Olmira. He seems obsessed with the river, often standing knee deep, calling to the waters, speaking to it, encouraging it even. The town’s many fishermen, notably the mayor himself, would miss him. One more, now.
One elder left. Mad Moltus Vardigan emerges from a crowd of his own - his twelve strangely similar sons. An old shrivelled white faced man, yet with the same long black hair as his young progeny, wearing black robes and if anything a blacker cloak, he stumbles forward. “The Vardigan Bloodline casts a stone … for the white haired girl.” Asina’s confused. What white haired girl? There is no white haired girl. Yet suddenly there she is, standing by him. A tall, slender half-elven female, with pale skin and vivid violet eyes. Asina has never seen her before. It’s as though the sorcerer’s apprentice has just been conjured into existence. And, why, with so many sons to send into the world, choose her? Moltus looks up, through the crowd, and straight at Asina. “I’m sending her away because she’s too dangerous to keep around”, he says, directly to her, black eyes fixed on hers. She stares back, transfixed. Then looks around. Everyone else carries on as normal. It’s as though nobody heard Vardigan’s words. And Vardigan himself is gone. Just his sons remain (and are there twelve, or really thirteen?). Asina shudders, her back prickling cold, and steps back.
The ceremony continues, as if nothing untoward has happened.
The mayor once again speaks to the townsfolk. “I present to you the brave heroes who will follow in Kassen’s footsteps to retrieve the Everflame! Some of them may not return, but I say to you that their sacrifices shall not be forgotten.” (“Hmmph”, mutters Jimes, “Nobody has ever failed to return from the quest ... Gerol and his pals are probably sitting there giggling right now in their fake monster costumes.”). He goes to the newly minted adventurers in turn, gives each of them one of the backpacks from the cart, and shakes them warmly by the hand, although in the case of the half-elf at the end of the row, he does so while wearing a somewhat confused and worried expression. Finally, he goes up to Tycho, takes from him the ceremonial lantern and in exchange gives him a tied up scroll, telling him that it’s a map of the route to the crypt.
The mayor points to the south, the direction of Kassen’s tomb. “Go, brave heroes, and do not return until you have the eternal fire.” The townsfolk begin waving goodbye with cold, solemn looks on most of their faces.
The square empties, leaving the party of heroes to commence their journey.
Asina and Jimes step back from the balcony, and go back downstairs to the tap room of the Seven Silvers Inn, to await the afternoon’s trade.
Hi. Firstly thanks for the submissions, of which there were ultimately 14 for 6 slots. They were generally of a very high quality, and as a result were very difficult to choose between.
I ended up going with the following (in no particular order):
Apologies to those who didn’t make the cut, I really have no excuse and have gone with hunches which I hope pay off but which could equally be incorrect.
For those chosen, I’ve opened up the Discussion thread (or am about to do so). Please feel free to dot over there.
Many thanks to everyone else for your interest, and best wishes for 2016.
Pathfinder Adventure, Adventure Path, Lost Omens, Maps, Rulebook, Starfinder Adventure Path, Starfinder Roleplaying Game Subscriber
I ran a "vanilla" version of Golarion for a while and then wanted to try running a game without alignment (or, in Unchained terms, without alignment except for outsiders, so demons still = bad). This had a number of knock on effects. In particular - since outsiders still have alignment but countries don't - Cheliax and Andoran needed to become a little more ambivalent. We started a new campaign.
I ended up basing the core area of Cheliax/Andoran/Galt/Taldor (and subsequently everywhere else, as I needed to add elements) roughly on Western Europe around 1650. This gave me a grounding for thinking about the interaction between the countries, and the personalities operating within them.
So:
- Andoran, rather than being some idealised version of post revolutionary America, became based on the United Provinces of the Netherlands, which at that time was in the middle of its Golden Age, and operating as a kind of constitutional monarchy.
- Cheliax, I based on Britain under the Protectorate, or rather an extension if Cromwell - rather than leaving his weak son Richard as a successor, had managed to establish a new dynasty, albeit one a bit like the Caesars of I, Claudius. The result still isn't nice (at all), but is also less easily just characterised as "evil".
- Galt - there was actually a set of short civil wars in France around this period, called the Fronde. It was during this period that the real life D'Artagnan began his career, probably as a spy for Cardinal Mazarin. So I extended that period and let it get out of hand, effectively having the French Revolution happen 130 years early, in the middle of the Three Musketeers.
- Taldor is based on 17th century Spain, in decline and turning in upon itself
- Absalom is based on Venice
... and so on
For the religious side, I needed Cheliax to be worship a less obviously evil deity, and created a new one, Asmodar, by combining Asmodeus and Abadar. I ended up with with this as a basically monotheistic religion, confronting the polytheists of most of the rest of Golarion (to try and emulate a Protestant/Catholic opposition). The polytheists still think Cheliax worships demons (and there are demons), but at least the Chelish now think different.
I could go through this more, but it really comes back to having to make the Golarion setting "fit" believably once you take alignment out of the picture.
