Or, what did I get myself into!!!
And so, at high noon tomorrow, after many years away from the screen, I will begin my campain.
This journal will be our record of our triumphs and tragedys, and hopefully provide some small fun to the great folks on these boards.
I will be running a highly modified, Pathfinderized version of the Savage Tide by Paizo, and will post the many changes after each session.
And so, allow me to introduce our soon to be Legendary Heros!!
In no real order:
Shonah Goodtree, LG Halfing Cleric of Sarenrae with the @amn Groodtree trait.
Sir Constintine Pilot Duarte, LG Chelaxian Paladin of Iomedae with the Legendary Item trait(Full Plate)
Mavin Frost, N Chelaxain Tiefling Fighter With the Demons Blood trait.
Remy, CN Varisian Half Elf Cleric of Desna with the Lord of the Seas trait.
A Tengue wizard, as yet uknown on the rest.
and
Kumal, CN Kellid Barbarian with the Item of Legent trait(Bastard Sword).
My players and others, please post or comment if you wish!!
More to come as able!!
So, in a short time we shall see if my rusty skills are up to the task of sitting behind the screen!
Wish me luck!!
(I am soooo doomed!)
So, in a short time we shall see if my rusty skills are up to the task of sitting behind the screen!
Wish me luck!!
(I am soooo doomed!)
Scott did an awesome job! The first session was incredibly fun! And we levelled up! OK, now for the character corrections: ;-)
Shonah - LG Halfling Cleric 2 (Sarenrae)
Sir Qonstyntine Pilot Duarte - LG Human (Chelaxian) Paladin 2 (Iomedae)
Remy - CN Half-elf (Half-Varisian) Cleric 1 (Desna)/Rogue 1
Cumal - CG human (Kellid) Barbarian 1 / Rogue 1
Nadir - N Tengu Wizard 2
Mayvan Frost - N Tiefling Fighter 2
Resting comfortably in front of a blazing fireplace at Vanderboran Manor, Cumal takes several long sips from his tankard of wine before he returns to sharpening Grimfang, his rune-bladed Ulfen-forged bastard sword.
Staring into the flames, the Numerian replays the day's events in his mind--from the fight with the raptor on the city docks to the assault on the smugglers aboard the Blue Nixie. His sword drank deep from the blood of his foes this day, and his pockets are heavy with gold and platinum coins earned in the endeavor.
Yes, he ponders silently, this was a good day.
The soft glow of a banked fire casts soft shadows across the elegant bedroom. Faint starlight shines in through the window. Shonah curls up beneath the thick wool blankets on the plush mattress in the Vanderborn Manor. Softer than she is used to, she ponders the day. A long way from home, in an unfamiliar room, tears run from her eyes.
"Far be it for me to question You, Sarenrae, but do you really think that this is what I am supposed to be doing?" She whispers in the dark room, hoping for a sign. "I thought that this is what I was to do. Aunt Cora's letter, the High Priestess, the dreams...all the signs seemed to point me here...but this place...these people...nothing is what I was expecting."
As her tears dry beneath drooping lids and her mind heavy with doubt, the little halfling succumbs to sleep.
First, a couple of notes to explain some changes we use for our game.
*Characters use a 30 point buy unless they are an Aasimar, Tengu, or Tiefling. Then they may only have 25.
*All characters gain three additional skill points at first level to round out their character, allowing them to purchase skills they may have wanted, but might not have afforded. This creates a well rounded character with access to multiple skills and represents their early years of training.
*We use traits, I allow two minor traits and one major (campaign) trait. The campaign traits are used as defining points and story hooks for the characters. Each of the major traits will reveal storytelling possibilities, enhance role-playing, and provide mechanical bonuses (and penalties) at some points in the game. Some have been crafted by my self and the players; some others are adapted from various Adventure Paths.
*The Critical hit and fumble decks are in use, as well as a house rule. If a crit is a hit, it automatically confirms. This will keep combat terrifying and deadly through all levels and was stolen from our previous Dungeon Master (Mahhahahahah). To offset this, I give out max hit points at first level and bonus hit points equal to their unmodified Constitution score. When they gain a level they may roll, or take .75 max hit points rounded up.
*Flaws are in use, mostly adapting feats from the core book for our own purpose, but some have been crafted by players with my approval. If you are unfamiliar with flaws, they allow you to take additional Feats for every Flaw selected. Our characters may begin with two and may gain additional Flaws every fifth level, if they wish.
*Lastly, I use feat swapping; any feat that is part of a class may be swapped out for any other feat that you qualify for. As and example, 1st level Fighter, swap Heavy Armor Prof for Exotic weapon Prof, or Wizard Scribe Scroll for Spell penetration. This allows additional customizing of the characters, as not every Fred Fighter, George Bard and Bob the Barbarian will have had the same training.
Now, let me begin our tale:
Our party made port in Magnimar aboard the Sea Sparrow after a lengthy, tempest tossed journey. As she was moored to the waiting docks, each of our heroes walked the deck awaiting the chance to walk on dry land once more.
Shonah Goodtree quickly spotted her great Aunt Cora, a wizened hafling, standing atop a pile of crates out of the workers way. She began frantically waving and bouncing about, thrilled as could be to finally arrive, her journey and Nadir’s having begun in far Katapesh. Like a small child she danced to and fro as the Sparrow was secured and the walkway lowered. She swiftly dashed onto the dock into her aunt’s waiting embrace.
Sir Qonstantyn Pilot Duarte watched the small Halfling darting madly about with a half smile, half grimace. Her childish nature conflicted with her profound and clear devotion to Sarenrae. Clearly an adult, yet she also contained the blameless purity of a small toddler, unblemished by the cruelty of the world. His piety for Iomedae was no less strong, but far more reserved, as it should be for one of his stature.
Armor luminous in the dawn light, Sir Duarte searched the disorderly docks for his hosts, the Vanderborns, memories of them flooding his mind. The father and mother, strong proud, and noble; Lavinia, every bit the lady, and her twin sister, Lasinda, always the tomboy, roughhousing with the stable hands, riding horses like a man, and every bit as striking as Lavinia, but acting far beneath her station. It had been several years since last they had met, although they had written for years, it would be good to see his old friends in person again.
At the far end of the docks he spotted Lavinia’s ankle length blond hair and rich sapphire dress, she was conversing with a pot marked, ugly man who was pointing and yelling. Most uncouth for a lout to treat her in such a way, Sir Duarte thought.
Two men, Remy and Cumal of Numeria, strolled down the plank, having received their pay for the voyage, arguing about going to a tavern or a brothel first. Remy saying that he was sure that he could find a temple to Calistria and that they should “make some donations” and Cumal mumbling that they could gain the same and booze at a tavern for less! Remy, pointing out,” I can’t heal THAT, it’s worth the price you big lout!! And we can get baths as well!! “Cumal glares at Remy” It rained yesterday, what’s a bath needed for?”
Their heated argument ended as Mayven Frost glide down the gang plank, her red leathers only barely offering defense or modesty. Her crimson locks and perfect silhouette stopped scores of men in their tracks, but the great sword caressing her rump and the wicked hue of her eyes sends them on their way just as quickly. Unbothered or uncaring about the lustful eyes coveting her, she is glad to be off that damn boat and far from Cheliax. The Vanderborns, noted scholars and casters, offers her some optimism for peace in her chaotic mind. For a Tiefling, she was blessed with almost natural features, yet, her mind battles with its self and every day she struggles for her sanity. Some times she wondered if it was not, in fact, a battle for her soul. The cheerful, child like Halfling had been both annoying and welcome on the voyage, her ceaseless chatter warming her like a hearth, but enraging her with its endlessness. She was grateful to be away from the stern, watchful gaze of that high born; his constant disapproval of her heritage had been enough for her to turn to slaughter.
Cumal, having only seen glimmers and fleeting views of Mayven during the voyage, unsheathes his rune etched blade and begins polishing it, admiring the feminine curves, flaming scarlet tresses and total lack of modesty displayed by the alluring Mayven. Remy, equally enamored, ceased his prattle to do the same.
Wishing to walk on steady ground and unsettled by the tainted women passing him, Sir Duarte, makes his way to Lavinia, concerned by the rough character conversing with her.
Behind him, Nadir Fikri at last walks onto deck, his eyes darting to and fro as his bird-like head bobbed about, chronicling every move and action around him for later documentation. The long voyage from Katapesh had been exiting and insightful for him, novel weather, new people, fresh languages, so many new items to record and illustrate, it was invigorating!
The small person, Shonah, had started the voyage with him and the two had shared many novel experiences as well as many of the Goodtree legends. It was very insightful and frightening to hear her many family tales. The cheerful and chilling accounts often started with (something, someone, natural disaster, object) once killed my (mother, father, cousin, other family member), disturbing, but remarkable as well. During their many discussions, he came to believe that the Vanderborns would be excellent patrons; their vast library would allow him to indulge his craving for knowledge.
His keen eyes rapidly classify the chaotic muddle of the docks and quickly select Shonah out from the crowd; he also observes with interest Sir Duarte striding toward a female human in a sapphire dress with remarkable blond hair. He resists the impulse to seize a few strands of the spun gold and begins making his way to Shonah, head bobbing in curiosity, noting every action and sound.
Remy and Cumal, tearing their gaze from Mayven, also watch Sir Duarte striding toward the women.
Cora and Shonah finish their tearful embrace and begin chatting about Goodtree gossip, who is alive, whom has died, marriages, and babies.
Sir Duarte, passes the ruffian Lavinia speaks to, ugly, pot marked and foul this creature should not be allowed to speak with a lady he thinks.
As he draws closer to Lavinia, he notes her sobbing voice, shaking shoulders, and despondent posture, too upset to even perceive her friends arrival she is absorbed in her distress. Placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, he quietly assures her, he is here.
Without turning, Lavinia swiftly grasps his hand and quietly thanks him as she raises a handkerchief to her face, clearing away most unladylike tears. After composing herself Lavinia turns to properly welcome her long time friend.
Sir Duarte is appalled at the raw grief etched in her lovely countenance, far beyond this brief duress, her face shows an agony far more protracted than this brief moment.
Struggling to disregard the appalling state of his friend and to allow her a few more moments to compose herself, Sir Duarte makes the polite and formal introductions expected from his stature, Lavinia responds in kind and corrects him on her title, she is now Lady Vanderborn. With iron will, Sir Duarte upholds the poise expected of him, his mind races in speculation; Lord Verik and Lady Larissa are dead? What of Lasinda? When did this occur and how? Questions that etiquette forbade him to ask, but still he burns to know, what has happened here?
As the two make polite talk, the ship at their back unloads a large crate that moves and swings beyond what the gentle wind would have. Sir Duarte notes it with some interest, but the Lady in her grief, perceives it naught. A small opening in the conversation allows Duarte to pose a question, where is Lasinda in these appalling times? Lavinia replies that
she has been missing since the fire at the estates; she did not attend the interment either. Lavinia doesn’t know where she is.
A moment of silence passes between them at this news.
The front of the crate slowly pushes open, noticed only by Sir Duarte.
A reptilian screech shatters the brief quiet; ravenous, wrathful, and parched. The doors crash open and for a brief moment all falls quiet as the great reptile bursts forth in rage and hunger. Mere feet from it stand Lady Lavinia and Sir Duarte, further, the other rush forward in haste.
Sir Duarte readies his weapons with wicked haste as Lavinia screeches in panicked dread at the approaching death.
Drawn by the glinting metal and rapid movement of Duarte, the animal hurtles through the air, slashing and biting with claw and tooth, Duarte’s stout plate shrugging the blows off with great ease, only the least of wounds pierce its robust shell.
Duarte swings his small sword and morning star with grand flair and skill, ordering Lavinia behind him, but only manages a glancing blow, hardly enough for the famished beast to care.
Lavinia’s high-pitched screams echo from the hulls of the ships as she quickly moves behind Duarte, an instant later, Mayvan roughly shoves past swinging her sharp blade at the beast; landing a solid blow she gains it full attention, as it looks forward to rending the savory bits from her nearly unclad body!
The beast, angered by Mayven’s blow, quickly lashes out with blinding fury, splashing Maven’s blood about and exposing parts of her shapely mid-drift through her scant armor.
Cumal arrives at nearly the same moment as Mayvan; he instantly recognizes this beast as a raptor, a terrible creature of sharp claws and teeth that often hunts in packs. This one is much darker and greener than the legends of the north hint at, leading Cumal to believe that this is from a much warmer and greener place than secret vales of the north.
With a quick blow of Grimfang, Cumal slashes the beast. Cumals blow is soon followed by a throng of curses and strangled yelps as a bizarre, perplexed look adorns his face.
As your blade strikes, you feel momentary warmth from the hilt of Grimfang and a just barely felt sensation in your mind. The etched runes of the blade seem to shine with fresh, wet blood for a bare moment of time, almost too quick to notice.
In your head a shrill then deep multi voiced chorus shouts and screams
For 3 rounds you gain fast healing 5
You may inform the party if you wish, or not.
In the span of a moment more, Duarte downs the beast.
Cumal, with some trepidation, lances his rune etched blade deep within the still quivering corpse. A fearful, uncertain look on his face, he leaves the blade deep for a few seconds before wrenching it out with one hand. Duarte assures him the beast is dead. Cumal, now more confident, begins the bloody task of skinning the corpse, as well as cutting off talons and teeth for trophies of the kill.
All quickly notice Lady Lavinia gracefully walk away from the grim carnage to the side of the dock and, in a most unladylike manner, drops to her knees and becomes sick. Her pale face a most strange shade of green, Sir Duarte assists her by holding her long locks out of the way, while trying to act dignified and gracious. Offering her his handkerchief after she is finished, he helps her to feet and steps back to grant her a moment to compose herself.
Cumal quickly guts and strips the carcass, as Remy nibbles on some raw meat. Cumal is unsettled by this clear lack of civility,” You got to cook it first, and even I know that!” he comments in disgust.
Lavinia markedly keeps her back to Cumal as he works and instead watches the goings on of the others.
Bellowing out to the ship, an infuriated Sir Duarte commands someone of authority to stand forth and answer this outrage.
Mayvan assists by threatening to go up there and stick her sword up all of their behinds. Duarte pauses in his tirade for a brief instant, appalled by Mayvans clear death threats and language, then returns to his questioning. In the end, nothing can be done for now, but Duarte burns the ships name deep in is memory.
She is the Sea Wyvern.
Remy tried to ride the beast.
First of all that was a fresh kill it was still warm.
Secondly Remy was tasting not nibbling.
Remy will be writing a journal of his adventures for the Wiki.
Remy tried to ride the beast.
First of all that was a fresh kill it was still warm.
Secondly Remy was tasting not nibbling.
Remy will be writing a journal of his adventures for the Wiki.
Eeexxxeeelllleeent. Feel free to post it here as well, and correct my lies and half-truths.
Mwaaahaaahhaaaa, only a scant few days until I can inflict pain and horror on my players! I hope, they seem to have shredded most of the challenges with terrible ease. Hmmm, must make things harder. Back to planning!